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THE Ol[_D PLAYHOUSE. When the golden sunshine sifted thro’ The leaves of the apple tree— Where the happy birds flew in and out To the nest we could almost see— And the guarded old boughs drooped lov ingly To shut out a summer sky. We built our playhouse in the grass— A dear little girl anu I. The little brown hands worked busily, And our childish longues flew fast As we planned and toiled for the tiny home— Ah, life, that such joys could last! And never a day was long enough, And we always wondered why The shadows came so soon, so soon— This dear little girl and I. The apple-houghs bend, just a* of old, Down over the warm, grassy floor, And-the nesting birds fly in and out, But the playhouse is no more. I'd give the world, if the world were mine, For one of those days gone by When we built our playhouse on the grass— A dear little girl and I. —Florence A. Jones, i* Minneapolis House keeper. •o*o*c§o*G«o#oaoao«oto«o#o«oiloioioio»o»o*o#o#ca A Chase for g II Millions *: |s _ So So-SS ;• By GISELLE D'UNGER % lo»o»o«o»o*g»o»g»ofo»o»g»o»ofo#o»o»o»g*o«c#o#o*cf? £*o*c*Q*o*o«o«clo*G*Gao«o»o*c*G«o«o*oiGio*o*o£Gto« THE editorial rooms of the Daily Pencilings presented a scene of activity. Men of brains and energy contributed their best efforts to gain the favor of the public, and were amp- ' ly rewarded by the encomiums passed upon the broad—platform established some 20 years. Vigorous and concise were the summaries of volumes of sta tistics, reducing them to a condensa tion that practically benehted the the reader. Two young men were holding a con versation in a remote corner where the desks were not so thickly placed. One was tall and of a serious manner, while the other was a typical Bohe mian, careless, happy-go-lucky, art istic, clever and a dare devil as to ad venture in assignments. He was dis cussing the latest sensation, the re ported engagement of a prominent so cial woman to a titled grandee. “Blake, all women are conquered by the glitter or gold. It’s a case of ‘if yo’ ain’t ernt no money, you needn't come round.' Grace Ward knows which side her bread’s buttered on," he remarked in a contemptuous tone. “You are all wrong, Johnson," re turned Blake, wincing under the oth er's careless words. “Miss Ward was not dazzled by the glitter of gold. Op portunity is like a diamond in the rough; it is spurned by man in its crude state, hut covered when it illum inates the jeweled gates of Happiness and Content in the land of Successful Attainment. Miss Ward appreciates opportunity, and. furthermore, the no bleman has intellectuality and man hood to recommend him.” “Where did Miss Ward live before the Fairbanks took her up?” queried Job n son. “She camp from Kings Kettle, near Ladybank, P'ifeshire, Scotland, when quite young—but the time flies, John son, and 1 must finish this,” was the reply of Blake. “All right, Ned. T must he going, too. That last edition of yesterday lacked a romance; 1 am going out to find one—in the slums.” Frank Johnson nodded to the older man, buttoned his ulster against the winter blasts and stepped off. whist ling softly the latest popular air. “One man hit in that quarter once, T believe - accounts for the precise knowledge of her former home. Well! she’s a beauty and Lord Alfred will have no cause to sigh over a good figure-head for his household. That’s hardly fair tn» the lady—but the way the dear Four Hundred tighten their grasp upon a poverty-stricken noble man with a bedimmed title reminds me of nothing more than the Laocoon. I declare, young, innocent girls are trained, taught to this exchange of their charming youth for the palsied hand of age. and its attendant serpen tine coils of a title, n decayed ruin of a chateau or castle, and they submit so tenderly. It is beyoifd me, for these proud, fearless American girls endure tortures known only to themselves.” Thus ran the thoughts of Johnson os he marched along the thoroughfare, but lie was no nearer to solving the mystery than before. Meanwhile Ned Blake was not so mindful of “copy” ns he had intimated to.Tohnson. Mem ory had reminded him of the days when the letters of Grace Ward had flown to him like a flock of tiny blue birds breathing love and affection and a happy future. Now all was changed. A misunderstanding, coldness, silence, the advent of Lord Alfred Brace, im portunities of friends and—the en gagement. “Johnson is a bright, breezy fellow,” reflected Blake, as he leaned his weary head against the chair, “and as sharp ns a steel trap. He would make an excellent correspondent of an explor ing expedition, as lie enjoys adventure. I'll speak to Henderson about him. He is too contemptuous of the follies and foibles of humanity to suc ceed here. He spoils a good story by having a sympathetic or antagon istic chord relative to it. By Jove! I must get out of here and have some air and quiet." Blake had been working at a terrible pace for months and he was even now straining every nerve to accomplish more than was expected of him, through the feverish restless striving from thoughts of himself. Work was the panacea. What mattered i,t if he did lie awake night after night con scious of gradual loss of strength for the day’s labor, if at the close of the conflict for sleep he fell into a com atose state, neither awake nor sleep ing, wherein a delicious, restful lan guor predominated, granting him float ing visions of the woman he loved. Upon his brow he felt the gentle touch of her cool fingers; he heard her murmur words of pity and tenderness, in low, sweet tones, and for a few mo ments his soul seemed to leave the body and float with hers, as did Fran cesca and Paola, through space. It was worth the hard grind of the wearisome day to welcome night, the old struggle and once more this de licious and dreamy languor. Surely Paradise could confer no more ex quisite sensation than was granted him in this hour of the early dawn. As the sun’s rays flashed through the room and the discordant sounds of early traffic broke rudely on this rev erie, he arose unrefreshed, depressed in spirits, feverishly anxious to take up the duties of the day. With a sigh of relief, Ned Blake, managing editor, pushed the copy front him, arranged his des,., locked it carefully, summoned a boy and deliv ered certain instructions. He left the room and in a few moments was on the street where the lights danced and flickered like will o’ the wisps tinder the influence of a raw.-etrst wind. On the way to Chickering hall, Blake encountered a crowd. On inquiry he learned of a collision between the cable and a private carriage, and front that description his heart knew that it, was Grace Ward who was injured. He beckoned a passing hansom and drove to her home, regardless of all except that he loved her more dearly than *ver. At last he saw her, pale and wan, but -was he dreaming?—a delicate blush mantled her cheek as she held out her hands to him. “My darling—my darling! I thought T had lost you!” he murmured, as he fell on his knees at her side. “No, Ned. it was a narrow escape. Fortunately, Lord Alfred was driving near and he averted the most serious consequences,” she replied, nervously. “Lord Alfred! Grace, is he ever to be near you?” the agitated lover ejac ulated. while the color flashed into his pale face. “Ned!” That was all, but the tone of re proach cut him like a whip. "My darling girl, it is rumored everywhere that you are engaged to marry him, but I could not believe it. You would not sell yourself for a title and the paltry gold he controls?” he asked in a bitter tone. “Ned! you are unjust to me now as always. Lord Alfred has been very kind, lie is a connection of my family and he is arranging to restore certain estates to me that have been in liti gation for years. Indeed, Ned, I fear you will be shocked to hear that 1 am Lady Grace Ward instead of— Oh, Ned! don’t look so horror-stricken,” she added, roguishly. “It is a small af fair, anyway. The title goes with the estates.” “Where are the estates, may I ask?” he free/.ingly inquired. "In Fifeshire, Scotland, you know my birth-place. You are not angry with me because of this stroke of good fortune, are you Ned?” She looked at him keenly as if to read his soul. “Oh, no, 1 congratulate you, but it seems all a dream. Naturally you will go abroad and look after your affairs. In that ease, you are free—in any case, 1 may say, as I have no desire to hold you t o—” “Ned! Ned!” the girl interrupted him, in a beseeching tone, but his un reasonable overtaxed system refused to recognize it. “I am no fortune-hunter, Grace, but your opportunities are greater, and you must marry befitting your sta tion.” “Ned Blake! T am ashamed of you -—an American gentleman discussing station and caste in this age and in this country. That is as absurd as your unreasonable jealousy over Lord Alfred. He is not young—more like a father to me, but you assumed that T was like most of the women, dazzled by gold and splendor. There are some exceptions, Ned Blake,” retorted the new thoroughly angered girl. “You men credit us with intelligence, and at the slightest deviation from the line of your interpretation of us, from your point of view—lo! we are not an gelic. seraphic, but individual. Dear me! Why are you all so illogical? We have been waiting for certain condi tions to prevail that we may marry. Poverty was our bug-bear; you have been half-killing yourself to swell your bank account to respectable pro portions, as you term it, that we may not be followed by that silent subtle serpent of life that stealthily follows from place to place, seeking to poison one in some vital spot—that lmg--bear poverty. Now we—or 1 at least”—she hastily corrected herself—“have a suf ficiency. Fortune or fate brings us together once more, and when I have the pleasure of telling you of our—my j good fortune, you talk of ‘station.’ ” During this impetuous speech, Blake had time to think that he was not quite the hero of this little tragedy; the heroine had the middle of the stage. “Grace, T beg your pardon,” said he. gently. “True, true, every word you say, but there is a sequel. I have been successful—-the mines have panned out well, and those stocks have gone whirling up. scattering dividends like snowflakes, and I have been longing to come to you and tell you of it. You must confess that when Mine. Grundy asserts that one of Beauty's daughters is to make a sacrifice to Croesus or the nobility—that is the same thing-—a poor devil of a newspaper man feels his chances are nil.” “The newspaper man is supposed to be possessed of average intelligtnce, I have always understood.” Grace said this in a bitter manner, her indigna tion being still great. “Certainly, but in this chase for millions, the spirit cf the age, the man with the greatest number carries off the prize. But, forgive me, and take me back to your loving little heart. Thank Heaven for the accident and no serious results except to my heart. In your good Scotch—‘a man’s a man for a’ that, a' that,’ dear, and we will let by-gones be by-gones.” lie drew her to him in a quick em brace, and as she hid her flushing face in his coat, she whispered: “How about the. settlement of the estates. Ned?” “We will start at once. Henderson gave me leave of absence for a year. I am pretty much run down, as you see—” “Poor boy!”_ “So we will be married at once—” “Oh, no! my trousseau!” “Hang the trousseau! we can get it on the other side.” “How imperious we are, all of a sud den.” “A slave is never imperious to his queen, my darling.”—Radford Re vi CHAMBERLAIN’S ORCHID. In the Opinion of n Vlorklncnian t* IV a H Noth inn' Hut a "Tater BloSNOlll.” Mr. Joseph Chamberlain’s lore for the orchid is well known, and is respon sible for the following, says Pearson’s Weekly: During the progress of a po litical meeting lately in the provinces, at which Mr. C. spoke, an old man of the laboring class pushed his way to the front and asked of an old acquaint ance: “Which is he?” “Who?” “Why, Chamberlain. Which of that lot’s ’im?” “That clean-shaven chap theer—him with the eyeglass,” responded the man addressed. “Is that Chamberlain?" ejaculated the querist in a disappointed tone. “Of course it is. What’s do’e think of ’im?” “Why, T think lie’s a regular fraud. That’s wot I thinks.” His companion at once entered intio a spirited defense of the politician. “I knows nothin’about politics,” re marked the laborer, pushing his way to the door. “They said as ’e wore a little orchard in his buttonhole, and, theer, it ain’t nawt but a tater-blos siom.” Finding His Rating. It was on the beach at Southamp ton. A number of children were playing and digging in Ihe sand in charge of two nurses and govern esses. Two little fellows in immac ulate white duck sailor suits had scraped up an acquaintance. Neither of them was much over three years old. “I live in New York,” said one, with somewhat of an air of superior ity, “and where do you live?” The other chap looked him over for a moment and then retorted: “I live at Tuxedo Park. How many horses does your father keep?” This last was a crusher, but it showed the spirit of the rising mon eyed generation.—N. Y. Times. Valuable Cut, “It seems strange to me that Mr. Ketchmn has forced his way into so ciety so soon,” said a conservative old lady to her son-in-law. “In my day a man with his table manners would not have been considered a desirable addition to any dinner company. Why, he has no idea how to use his knife and fork!” “No-o,” said the young man, slowly, “that’s perfectly true; but his ability to cut coupons is such that they overlook his awkwardness with steak, fish and game.”—Youth’s Companion. Where the Trouble Comes In. “Every man may have his price,” remarked the Obeserver of Events and Things, “but the trouble is you can’t always ge them at your own price.”—Yonkers Statesman. A Continual Culler. Mistress—Did anyone call while I was out? Bridget—Shure, mum, an’ the baby kept callin’ fer yez all the toime ye wuz gone! —Judge. Greece has cut down nearly all her forests, and is forced lo spend £400, 000 a year on imported timber. <> ^ . Capital, $50,000 -„ ,\t/’ A GENERAL BANKING BUSINESS TRANSACTED, AND THE AC COUNTS OF MERCHANTS, MANUFACTURERS AND INDIVIDUALS SOLICITED. \ Directors:—T. J. Watson, John M. Cook, Ben Adler, S. Woilt, J. O. Taylor, T. J. Graham, G. W. Hurley, W. A. Billingsley, L. B. McDonald. , -OFFICERS- | | Sigmund Wolff, President, G. W. Hurley, Vice-President ' W. A. Billingsley, Cashier, F. A. Jones, Assitant Cashier. the I N SLINEf \ BETWEEN I; THE 1ST WEST, I Double daily Wide Vestibuled Trains between 1 Memphis and Oklahoma Territory Close connection at ten junction points wl%i trains in all directions NORTH, SOUTH, EAST and WEST?^ Pullman Sleepers and Free Reclining Chair Cars on aim^rains. The very best line to HOT SPRINGS, ARK. ' JNO. V. TEDFORD, aEOROF, H. LEE, J. P. t Trov. Pass. Agout. O. P. & T. A. Tra LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS. r “THE ONLY WAY.” ST. LOUIS TO CHICAGO. 4=^=perfect tra>ns=4 MORNING, NOON, NIGHT AND MIDNIGHT, EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. The eqirpment of these trains is matchless in every detail. Free Chair Cars; Pullman Compartment and Standard Sleep ers; Cafe Dining Cars; Parlor Cars—Observation Platforms. v ' v r . — .. mmmmmm - ■■ -- - - CHICAGO &. ALTON RAILWAY Write for time-tables, rates, etc., to D. BOWE£, Asst. Gen. Pass. Agt. ST. LOUIS, MO. ..Riddell Barge Line.. ON BLACK AND WHITE RIVERS BETWEEN Newport and Black Rock j@*Steamer Joe Wheeler leavet Newport every Monday at Noon. BS-gTSTEAMER CURRENT VIEW leaves Newport every Wednesday at nooc for all points on Black River to Black Rock. Freight received at elevator at aL times. E. G. Riddell, Elmo Riddell General Mgr. Sec. and Treaa, S. R. PHILLIPS & CO. Largest Insurance Agency in Northeast Arkansas . . . representing Twenty-Five Leading Companies. Rates Quoted on Application. -— - . - OFFICE: . .-■■■ 121 WALNUT ST., NEWPORT, ARK t I WHEN GOING EAST - WEST - NORTH - SC'ITH_ -■4 TAKE THE OLD RELIABLE t Only line with Double Daily THROUGH SERVICE TO HOT SPRINGS NO CHANGE. CONNECTION MADE AT BALD KNOB FOR MEMPHIS. UNSURPASSED SERVICE 4* FAST TIME DIRECT CONNECTION MADE AT ST. Louis and Texarkana with lines DIVERGING. For information call on or ADDRESS WM. M. GREGG, Agent, Newport, Ark. H. C. Townsend, G. P. A., ST. Louis, mo.