Willmar tribune. [volume], March 02, 1910, Image 3

About Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
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HIS CONVERSION.
A Man Who Did Not Believe In
Woman's Standard of Honor.
By KINGSBURY WELCH.
ICopyright. 1910. by American Press Asso
ciation
"Girls," said Miss Spencer at after
noon tea. "'what do you suppose I've
heard about Harrington? He has open
ly avowed himself a woman hater.
Let's cut him."
"Let's," said Miss Hunter.
"Let's," said e\ery girl in the room
but one.
"Are you sure you'll all keep to the
agreement?" asked Miss Emerson in
credulously
"What do you take us tor?" said
Miss Hunter. "You're as bad as Har
rington."
"Well, I'll agree," drawled Miss Em
erson, "but 1 don't want any shirk
ing."
"All who agree." said Miss Spencer.
"hold up a baud."
Every girl except one held up a lily
white hand, with some sort of ban
gle or bracelet dangling at the wrist
The exception was Miss Emerson.
"Aren't you with us, Emmy?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't believe in judging any one
unheard, and 1 don't believe in con
spiracies."
"Very well do as you please."
That Miss Spencer was determined
to keep faith in the matter is pro\ed
by the fact that she did not wait for
an accidental meeting with the ta
booed man She brought about one the
next day Harrington was accustomed
to walk past her home every morning
on his way to his office. She had often
stood at a tront window purposely to
get a bow from him. but after the first
he did not deign to see her there On
the morning after he had been boycott-
HS WAS OBLIGED TO CATCH HER TO PRF
VENT HEtt FALLING
ed Miss Spencer went out on the
street a short time before his accus
tomed passing, met him face to face
and cut him dead.
The next morning Harrington walk
ed by the house as iudiffeivutlj as be
fore. Miss Spencer was watching for
him from behind a curtain. Foi three
successive mornings she was at her
post and saw the same indifference
Then she wrote a note to Mr. Hairing
ton telling him that she had declined
to speak to him because she had hoaid
something about him to his discredit.
If he would call on her she would tell
him she didn't wish to do him an in
justice.
Harrington called the same evening.
Miss Spencer wore her most becoming
costume. She was a prettj girl and
had never looked prettier. There was
no convenient place for him to sit ex
cept next her on the sofa. She told
him that some one had maligned him
had said he hated women. He replied
that he was not in a position to deny
the charge, for he had made such a re
mark a number of times.
"But you didn't mean it," she said.
"Don't say you did, tor I know jou
are a gentleman, and none such would
attack the weaker sex."
Harrington saw a pair of beautiful
blue eyes looking into his. He felt
complimented, and he felt drawn to
ward Miss Spencer.
"The reason why I condemn wom
en," he said, "is because of their
standard of honor, which is far be
neath that in \ogue among men. But
I am open to conviction. If within
three months you are able to conviuce
me that women are as honorable as
men 1 will renounce my opposition.
Meanwhile 1 shall see you frequently,
and we will go out together.
"Agreed," said Miss Spencer.
Harrington kept his word. He called
often and invited her to go out with
him. She declined his invitations for
places of amusement for feai she
would be seen by some of the girls
with whom she had made the compact.
She knew very well what she would
say to them when the time came to
say it, but the time had not come.
One day Harrington was about to get
off a trolley car. A joung lady on the
platform blocked his way. She was
about to step down into the street
when Harrington put a hand on her
shoulder and held her back. A second
later an automobile driven by a drunk
en chauffeur grazed the trolley car.
Had the girl stepped off. as she intend
ed, she would have surely been killed.
The auto having passed, Harrington es
corted her to the sidewalk. She seem
ed ouite unconcerned till she reached
it, then was all of a tremor. He was
obliged to catch her to prevent her
falling
Harrington called a carriage and
took her home. Before his departure
from her house she had quite recov
ered and asked him for his address
that she might send him some more
formal acknow ledgment of the obliga
tion than verbal thanks. He gave her
his card, at which she stared, stam
mered something, then bade bun good
day. She sent him a token of her grat
ltude—a dozen cambric handkerchiefs
with his initial* embroidered in the
corner by her own hands.
At the time ot this episode Harring
ton had spent two ot the three mouths
allotted for his conversion under Miss
Spencer's influence and had quite lost
his antipathv tor women. Indeed, he
was beginning to teel that with her
for a helpmeet lite would assume a
rosier hue. lie had about made up
his mind to tell her so when the trolley
car incident occurred But suddeuly
Miss Spencer noticed that ne was be
coming lnditterent to her.
The truth is that, heing on excellent
terms with two women, he was enabled
to contrast the one with the other. His
trolley car lady appeared trieudly, but
otherwise indifferent This revealed
to him the tact that Miss Spencer was
trying to catch him. The latter re
doubled her efforts, but this only tend
ed to make them more apparent and
rendered him more appreciative ot the
girl whom it piqued him to believe telt
for him only a natural gratitude for
having been the accidental cause of
saving her lite
And so it happened that the man
who had given a woman an opportu
nity to prove to him that womau's
standard ot houor was equal to that
of man round biuiselt in au a
position lie had gone so tar with
Miss Spencer that he doubted it he
were not in honor bound to go further.
At any rate, he shrank from what he
considered a backing out. When the
end of the thiee months he had given
Miss Spencer to convert him came
round she had made the conversion,
but he had fallen in love with another
girl.
Harrington decided to make a clean
breast of it to the girl he loved. He
told her that he loved her, but betoie
meeting her had become entangled
with another girl. Theu he coutided to
her his affair with Miss Spencer His
conhdante manifested no surprise, in
deed, she seemed to be cognizant of
the whole affair But she astonished
Mr. Harrington by telling him that she
could not accept a proposition from
him because such a course would place
her in an unfortunate position. hen
he asked her what that positiou was
she declined to inform him on the
grouud that she could not honorably
do so.
Mr. Harrington was astonished.
That a woman should decline an ofler
of marriage on the grouud that it
would place her in a false position and
decline to give that position through
motives of honor opened up to him a
new thing in the world of morals. He
had not been insensible to woman's
charms, which he had considered mar
red by their want of a high sense of
honor. Here was a woman with
charms and scrupulously honorable.
A Interesting Picture Puzzle
A Fascinating Pastime For Young or Old.
Beautiful Pictures Cut up Into Most Puzzling Sections
Mounted on heavy paper board. Will send one postpaid to any address for ten
cents in stamps or will send three (different subjects) for 25c
Special rates for large quantities to be used at parties or socials for contests.
TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY, WILLMAR, MINN,
He" begged her to put hlriT in tfie way
to get the desired information from
another, but she said that such a
course would be only a subterfuge and
no more honorable than telling him
herself.
Nevertheless the information came.
Miss Spencer was met one day by Miss
Hunter walking with Mr. Harrington,
and, looking up at him in the fashion
of a woman who means to be seduc
tive. Miss Hunter at once invited the
members of the cabal to meet at her
house the next day at afternoon tea.
Miss Emerson, having declined to cut
the victim, was not notified. When
they were assembled the hostess an
nounced the perfidy of Miss Spencer.
Great was the indignation of the
"signatory powers." Miss Wadsworth
declared that Mr. Harrington should
be saved from the wiles of such a girl,
and after much deliberation it was de
cided to send him an anonymous note
stating that for the protection of the
sex certain girls had decided to cut
him. Miss Spencer having made the
proposition. The decision had been
unanimous except for one girl. The
note having been mailed and tea hav
ing been drunk, the girls separated.
When Harrington received the note
he tools it at once to Miss Spencer,
telling her bis opinion of women who
could write such a note. Miss Spencer
showed unmistakable signs of guilt and
finally in tears confessed her part in
the matter.
"Will you inform me." asked Har
rington, "who was the girl who de
clined to enter upon this—conspiracy?"
"Irene Emerson." sobbed the culprit.
"Irene Emerson!"
"Yes. Do you know her?"
"I didn't when this boycott was de
cided on. I had never seen her. Since
then it has been my good fortune to
have been the accidental cause of her
avoiding a serious accident, and in that
way 1 made her acquaintance. 1 have
been converted to the fact that a stand
ard of honor may be lived up to by
persons irrespective of sex, but 1 re
gret to have to tell you that my con
version has not come through you. but
the girl who. though she had never
seen me. declined to join the conspir
acy that you instituted. I beg to bid
you good day."
Mr. Harrington called on Miss Emer
son as soon as he could reach her after
leaving Miss Spencer.
"The secret you were too honorable
to betray," he said, "has been revealed
to me. I have come to thank you for
the noble part you have played and for
re-establishing in me that reverence for
women which all true women deserve."
There are men friends of Harring
ton crusty old bachelors who are
mean enough to insinuate that Miss
Emerson played a deep game.
An Anecdote of Greeley.
A call was once made by a dozen
noted artists ot the Academy ot De
sign in 1870 on Horace Greeley. Mr.
Clarence Cook, theu the art critic of
the Tribune, had been saying things
about the academy exhibition which
caused the venerable chiefs of that es
tablishment to boil with indignation.
One day a committee went down to
the Tribuue to complain. Mr. Greeley,
having listened in silence to what
these gentlemen had to say. looked up
from his desk, a twinkle in his eye.
and said, with bis peculiar nasal falset
to: "Gentlemen. 1 judge from your re
marks that Mr. Cook's articles are
widely read They will therefore con
tinue to be printed in the Tribune.
Good morning"
Turkish Rhubarb.
Possessing a savor all its own, we
come on scores of large cases full of
big, irregular blocks ot a bright yellow
colored root. "Uhubarb," says our
guide, indicating it. "Ah! Then it
comes from Turkey?" we cry joyfully,
glad to display our learning for once,
but our friend smiles contemptuous'7.
"There is no such thing as Turkey
rhubarb." he says, "and, what is more,
there never has been." All the rhu
barb of commerce hails from China,
reaching us through Russia for the
most part, but because in olden days it
made its journey by way of Turkey
it became knowu as Turkey rhubarb,
and Turkey rhubarb it will remain.—
London Telegraph
Tactful.
Mrs. Nosepoke—John, don't you think
it's about time for us to call on our
new neighbors? Husband—Why, they
only moved in this morning. Mrs.
Nosepoke—Oh. 1 know, but all their
stuff will be downstairs, and 1 can see
it better.
E
CARTE,
Fond Hearts United Through a
Dish of Dandelion Greens.
By O. HENRY.
{Copyright, 1906, by McClure. Phillips &
Co.j
It was a day in March.
Never. ne\er begin a story this way
when you write oue. No opening could
possibly be worse. It is unimaginative,
flat, dry and likely to consist of mere
wind. But in this Instance it is allow
able, for the following paragraph,
which should have inaugurated the
narrative, is too wildly extravagant
and preposterous to be flaunted in the
face of the reader without preparation.
Sarah was crying over her bill of
fare.
Think of a New York girl shedding
tours on the menu card!
To account for this you will be al
lowed to guess that the lobsters were
all out, or that she had sworn ice
cream off during Lent, or that she had
ordered onions, or that she bad just
come from a Hackett matinee. And
then, all these theories being wrong,
you will please let the story proceed.
The geutleinau who announced that
the world was an oyster which he
with bis sword would open made a
larger bit tbau be deserved. It is not
difficult to open au oyster with a
sword. Hut did you ever notice any
one try to open the terrestrial bivalve
with a typewriter? Like to wait for a
dozen raw opened that way?
Sarah bud managed to pry apart the
shells with her unhandy weapoti far
enough to nibble a wee bit at the cold
and clammy world within. She knew
no more shorthand than if she bad
been a graduate in stenography just
let slip upon the world by a business
college. So. uot being able to stenog.
she could not enter that bright galaxy
of office talent. She was a free luuee
typewriter and canvassed for odd jobs
of copying.
The most brilliant and crowning feat
of Sarah's battle with the world was
the deal she made with Schulenberg's
home restaurant. The restaurant was
next door to the old red brick in which
she hall roomed. Oue eveniug after
dining at Schulenbeig's forty cent tive
course table d'hote (served as fast as
you throw the tive baseballs at the col
ored gentleman's headi Sarah took
away with her the bill of fare. It was
written in an almost unreadable script.
neither English nor German, and so
arranged that if you were not careful
you began with a toothpick and rice
pudding and ended with soup and the
day of the week.
The next day Sarah showed Schulen
berg a neat card on which the menu
was beautifully typewritten, with the
viands temptingly marshaled under
their right and proper heads, from
"hors d'oeuvre" to "not responsible for
overcoats and umbrellas."
Schulenberg became a naturalized
citizen on the spot. Before Sarah left
him she bad him willingly committed
SCHCLENBEltG BECAME A NATURALIZED
CITIZEN ON THE SPOT.
to an agreement. She was to furnish
typewritten bills of fare for the twen
ty-one tables in the restaurant, a new
bill for each day's dinner and new
ones for breakfast and lunch as often
as changes occurred in the food or as
neatness required.
In return for this Schulenberg was
to send three meals per diem to Sa
rah's hall room by a waiter—an ob
sequious one if possible—and furnish
her each afternoon with a pencil draft
of what fate had in store for Schuleu
berg's customers on the morrow.
Mutual satisfaction resulted from
the agreement. Schulenberg's patrons
now knew what the food they ate was
called even if its nature sometimes
puzzled them. And Sarah had food
during a cold, dull winter, which was
the main thing with her.
And then the almanac lied and said
that spring had come. Spring comes
when it comes. The frozen snows of
January still lay like adamant in the
crosstown streets. The band organs
still played "In the Good Old Summer
Time" with their December vivacity
and expression. Men began to make
thirty day notes to buy Easter dresses.
Janitors shut off steam. And when
these things happen one may know
that the city is still In the clutches of
winter.
One afternoon Sarah shivered in her
Cause and Effect.
••Well, nurse, and how is our patient
this morning?" "He appears to be
very much improved this morning, doc
tor." "Alive!" "Yes. sir that medi
cine you said you were going to send
out to us wasn't delivered."—Houston
Post.
one way ot Tewing.
Curley-You see that fellow loafing
over there? He used to go to the same
college that I did. I wonder if he re
members me. Burleigh—Ask him for
the loan of $5. Curley—What for?
Burleigh—If he remembers yon, you
won't get it-Judge.
elegant hall bedroom, "house heated,
scrupulously clean, conveniences, seen
to be appreciated." She bud no work
to do except Schulenberg's menu cards.
Sarah sat in her squeaky willow rock
er and looked out the window. The
calendar ou the wall kept crying to
her: "Springtime is here, Sarah
springtime is here. I tell you! Look
at me, Sarah! My figures show it!
You've got a neat figure yourself,
Sarah—a nice springtime figure! Why
do you look out the window so sadly?"
Sarah's room was at the back of the
house. Looking out the window she
could see the windowless rear brick
wall of the box factory on the next
street. But the wall was clearest crys
tal, and Sarah was looking down a
grassy lane shaded with cherry trees
and elms and bordered with raspberry
bushes and Cherokee roses.
Spring's real harbingers are too sub
tle for the eye and ear. Some must
have the flowering crocus, the wood
starring dogwood, the voice of blue
bird, even so gross a reminder as the
farewell handshake of the retiring
buckwheat and oyster, before they can
welcome the lady in green to their dull
bosoms. But to old earth's choicest
kin there come straight, sweet mes
sages from his newest bride, telling
them they shall be no stepchildren un
less they choose to be.
On the previous summer Sarah had
gone into the country and loved a
farmer.
(In writing your story never hark
back thus. It is bad art and cripples
Interest. Let it march, march.)
Sarah stayed two weeks at Sunny
brook farm. There she learned to love
old Farmer Franklin's son Walter
Farmers have been loved and wedded
and turned out to grass in less time.
But young Walter Franklin was a
modern agriculturist. He had a tele
phone in bis cow house, and be could
figure up exactly what effect next
year's Canada wheat crop would have
on potatoes planted in the dark of the
moon.
It was in this shaded and raspber
ried lane that Walter bad wooed and
won her. And together they had sat
and woven a crown of dandelions foi
her hair. He had immoderately prais
ed the effect of the yellow blossoms
against her brown tresses, and she bad
left the cbaplet there and walked back
to the house swinging her straw sailor
in ber band.
They were to marry in the spring—
at the very first sign of spring, Waltei
said. And Sarah came back to the
city to pound her typewriter.
A knock at the door dispelled Sarah's
visions of that happy day. A waitei
had brought the rough pencil draft 01
the home restaurant's next day far
in old Schulenberg's angular band.
Sarah sat down to ber typewrlret
and slipped a card between the rollers
She was a nimble worker. Generally
in an hour and a half the twenty-one
menu cards were written and ready.
Today there were more changes or.
the bill of fare than usual. The soups
were lighter. Pork was eliminated from
the entrees, figuring only with Rus
sian turnips among the roasts. The
gracious spirit of spring pervaded the
entire menu. Lamb that lately ca
pered on the greening hillsides was
becomingly exploited with the^sauce
that commemorated its gambols. Tb«
song of the oyster, though not silenced,
was diminuendo con amore. The fry
ing pan seemed to be held inactive be
hind the beneficent bars of the broiler
The pie list swelled the richer pud
dings had vanished the sausage, witt
his drapery wrapped about him, bare
ly lingered in a pleasant tbanatopsi?
with the buckwheats and the sweet
but doomed maple.
Sarah's fingers danced like midgets
above a summer stream. Down
through the courses she worked, giv
ing each item its position according to
its length with an accurate eye.
Just above the desserts came the
list of vegetables—carrots and peas,
asparagus on toast, the perennial to
matoes and corn and succotash, lima
beans, cabbage—and then-
Sarah was crying over ber bill of
fare. Tears from the depths of some
divine despair rose in her heart and
gathered to ber eyes. Down went her
head on the little typewriter stand,
and the keyboard rattled a dry accom
paniment to her moist sobs.
For she had received no letter from
Walter in two weeks, and the next
Item on the bill of fare was dandelions
—dandelions with some kind of egg.
But bother the egg! Dandelions, with
whose golden blooms Walter had
crowned her his queen of love and fu
ture bride dandelions, the harbingers
of spring, her sorrow's crown of sor
row, reminder of her happiest days!
Madam, I dare you to smile until
you suffer this test: Let the Marechal
Niel roses that Percy brought you on
the night you gave him your heart be
served as a salad with French dressing
before your eyes at a Schulenberg
table d'hote. Had Juliet so seen her
love tokens dishonored the sooner
would she have sought the lethean
herbs of the good apothecary.
But what a witch is spring! Into
the great cold city of stone and iron
a message had to be sent. There was
none to convey it but the little hardy
courier of the fields with his rough
green coat and modest air. He is a
true soldier of fortune, this dent-de-lion
—this lion's tooth, as the French chefs
call him. Flowered he will assist at
Iovemaking wreathed in my lady's nut
brown hair young and callow and un
blossomed, he goes into the boiling pot
and delivers the word of his sovereign
mistress.
By and by Sarah forced back hei
tears. The cards must be written.
But still in a faint, golden glow from
her dandeleonine dream she fingered
the typewriter keys absently for a lit
tle while, with her mind and heart in
the meadow lane with her young farm
er. But soon she came swiftly back tc
the rockbound lanes of Manhattan,
Sens.ble.
Clancy—Oi'nt art her a ticket ter Chi
cago Ticket Agent —Do you want an
excursion tuket. one that will take
you tnere and hack Clancy-Fhuat's
the sinse of me i.\ in tei jro tneie :iu"
bak vvhiu Oi in h«i-e alri'ldyV—Hotel
Rpiristei
The Color of Air.
Pure air is blue in tint because, ac
cording to Newton, the molecules of
the air have the thickness necessary to
reflect blue rays. When the atmos
phere is blended with perceptible va
pors the diffused light is mixed with a
large proportion of white.
and the typewriter began to rattle
and Jump like a strike breaker's motor
car.
At 6 o'clock the waiter brought her
dinner and carried away the typewrit
ten bill of fare. When Sarah ate she
set aside, with a sigh, the dish of dan
delions with Its crowning ovarious ac
companiment. As this dark mass had
been transformed from a bright and
love indorsed flower to be an igno
minious vegetable, so had ber summer
hopes wilted and perished. Love may,
as Shakespeare said, feed on Itself, but
Sarah could not bring herself to eat
tie dandelions that had graced as or
naments the first spiritual banquet of
her heart's true affection.
At 7:30 the couple In the next room
began to quarrel. The man in the
room above sought for A on his flute.
The gas went a little lower. Three
coal wagons started to unload, the only
sound of which the phonograph is jeal
ous. Cats on the back fences slowly
retreated toward Mukden. By thesw
signs Sarah knew that it was time for
her to read. She got out "The Cloistei
BEAPED AND OAKNEBED HEB.
and the Hearth." the best nonsellin.5
book of the month, settled her feet ot
her trunk and began to wander with
Gerard.
The front door bell rang. The land'
lady answered it. Sarah left Gerard
and Denys treed by a bear and listen
ed. Oh. yes you would! Just as shs
did!
And then a strong voice was heard
in the hall below, and Sarah jumped
for her door, leaving the book on the
floor and the first round easily the
bear's.
You have guessed it. She reached
the top of the stairs just as her farm
er came up three at a jump and reaped
and garnered her, with nothing left for
the gleaners.
"Why haven't you-written—oh, why?"
cried Sarah.
"New York is a pretty large town,"
said Walter Franklin. "I came in a
week ago to your old address. 1 found
that you went away on a Thursday.
That consoled some it eliminated the
possible Friday bad luck. But it
didn't prevent my hunting for yon
with police and otherwise ever since."
"I wrote!" said Sarah vehemently.
"Never got it!"
"Then bow did you find me?"
The young farmer smiled a spring
time smile.
"I dropped into that Home restau
rant uext door this evening," said he.
"I don't care who knows it I like a
dish of some kind, of greens at this
time of the year. I ran my eye down
that nice typewritten bill of fare look
ing for something in that line. When
I got below cabbage I turned my chair
over and hollered for the proprietor.
He told me where you lived."
"I remember," sighed Sarah happily.
"That was dandelions below cabbage."
"I'd know that cranky capital W
'way above the line that your type
writer makes anywhere In the world,"
said Franklin.
"Why, there's no W In*dandelions,"
said Sarah in surprise.
The young man drew the-bill of fare
from his pocket and pointed to a line.
Sarah recognized the first card she
had typewritten that afternoon. There
was still the rayed splotch in the up
per right hand corner where a tear
had fallen. But over the spot where
one should have read the name of the
meadow plant the clinging memory of
their golden7 blossoms had allowed her
fingers to strike strange keys.
Between the red cabbage and the
stuffed green peppers was the item:
"DEAREST WAXTER. WITH HARD
BOILED EGG."
Jefferson as an Inventor.
Mr. Jefferson invented the copying
press. He writes to Mr. Madison in
1787: "Having a great desire to have a
portable copying machine and having
studied over same experiments with
the principle of large machines made
to apply in the smaller one. 1 planned
one in England and had it made. It
answers perfectly. I have set a work
man to making them, and they are of
such demand that he has his hands
full. I send you one. You must ex
pect to make many essays before you
succeed perfectly. A soft brush, like
a shaving brushy is more successful
than a sponge." He also sent a copy
ing press to the Marquis de Lafayette
as a present He invented the revolv
ing chair, now a familiar and neces
sary article of furniture in all offices
and counting rooms.
vThe
Federalist
newspapers used to call it "Mr. Jeffer
son's whirligig" and declared that he
had devised it "so as to look all ways
at once."
Missing.
"Our son doesn't get his brains from
yon," says Mr. Jawback.
"No," answers Mrs. Jawback, with
meaning. "I confess he must have
got his brains from yon. At least
somebody got yours if yon ever had
any."-Cieveland Trader.
A follower.
Caller—The minister's son is follow
ing in the footsteps of that spend
thrift young Jinks.
Miss Prim-Isn't that scandalous?
Caller-Hardly as bad as that You
see, he's a tailor and is Just trying to
collect his bill.
MS SHADQWER.
By SARAH J. ATWATER.
tOopyrlffht. 1909, by American Press Asso
ciation.!
In the town of Selkirk during the
reign of Henry IV. of Scotland a shoe
maker sat working at his bench. From
the rear of his shop came a child's
cry. The man paused in his work and
listened. The child was bushed by its
mother, and the shoemaker went on
with his work. Presently a woman
entered the shop. She was young and
handsome.
"I pray you. Alec." she said, "give
up this mad freak. We are not strong
enough to successfully invade Eng
land. Let the king lead an army over
the border if be likes and take the
consequences which will be sure de
feat But do you stay at home. If you
go you may lose your life if you re
turn our people will revile you for
bringing misfortune upon them."
"I think you are wrong, Margaret"
replied her husband. "Our people are
turning out In great force. I alone
am to bring a hundred men to the
army of invasion."
"And wreck a hundred families!"
"Scotland will be the gainer."
"Scotland will be the sufferer. I be
seech you desist."
"I have gone too far to retreat Mar
garet I would be upbraided for a
turncoat"
Margaret Hume returned to the
dwelling portion of the cottage, but in
a moment returned with their baby
girl, five months old. Holding the child
up to its father, she said:
"If you are killed. Alec, in this
war who will keep me and your child
from misery?"
The appeal brought tears to the
man's eyes. Gladly would he have
abandoned his intention, but pride held
him from doing so. He would not
desert bis king and his country in their
hour of need.
"Your desire to be thought brave.
Alec," cried his wife, made desperate
by his firmness, "will not supply the
child whom you are bound to support
with bread or clothing. Honor, for
sooth! Here is where honor lies for
you—dishonor in deserting your wife
and baby!"
The couple parted in anger, Hume to
Join the force marching to battle.
In the fight that ensued Alexander
Hume was in the thick of the battle,
performing prodigies of valor. The
men he had induced to join in the en
terprise and whom he commanded, in
cited by his example, stood by bim
nobly. One man In leathern doublet
and with a small white feather in bis
helmet, who bad come on to the field
just as the battle began, took position
beside him and fought with equal cour
age as himself. An English soldier
succeeded in getting very close to
Hume and was about to plunge bis
spear between the clasps of his armor
when the man with the white feather
struck down the enemy.
"Your name?" cried Hume.
"Never mind my name," replied the
man who had saved his life.
Wherever Hume went that day the
man with the white feather went, pro
tecting him from the many perils that
beset him and on many an occasion
forestalling an enemy who was about
to crush him. At last the scattered
army gave way and fled hi every di
rection before the victorious English
men. Hume, with the others, escaped
from the field and for a time lay con
cealed to avoid capture. His first
thought after emerging from his hid
ing place was the soldier who had
hovered near him. Of every one he
met he inquired if he knew of the
fate of the man with the white feather.
Had he escaped or was bis dead body
lying on the field of battle? All he
could learn was that the shadower bad
disappeared.
Hume's next thought was for bis
wife and child. He hurried toward bis
cottage his mind filled with her proph
ecies as to the misfortunes the invad
ers would bring upon Scotland by their
rash course and her pleadings for him
to take no part in it, reserving his life
for her and their child. He would ac
knowledge her superior judgment, and
he would ask her forgiveness. He
longed to fold her and their child in a
single embrace.
He hoped as he approached his cot
tage to find her looking for him. She
would be at the door or he would find
ber on the street, coming to meet him.
He did not meet her, and she was not
at the door of the cottage when he ar
rived. There was an ominous silence.
With a dread he could not account for
be lifted the latch and walked in.
There was no one in his work room,
and no sound came from the rear. En
tering there he looked about him.
There was little light and be could dis
tinguish no one in the room.
Presently his eyes became used to
the darkness, and he distinguished a
man sitting In a chair. Going to him,
he saw on his head an iron helmet and
in the helmet a white feather. Re
moving the helmet he recognized the
pale face of his wife. Their child was
clasped tightly in her arms. She was
dead.
The coat of arms of the town of
8elMrk show a woman seated on a
tomb on which is placed the Scottish
lion. The legend about this heraldic
device Is the story of Alexander and
his wife Margaret Hume. It is his
torically true that when King James
was about to invade England the town
clerk of Selkirk, William Brydone,
tried his best to aid his sovereign by
persuading the Scotts to enlist in the
royal cause. Among those was a
strong, brave young man, a shoemak
er, named Alexander Hume of Selkirk,
who brought a hundred men to the
royal standard. The rest may be leg
end, but why the woman in the Scotch
coat of arms?
Peculiar Lakes.
On the Mangishlak peninsula, in the
Caspian sea, there are five small lakes.
One of them is covered with salt crys
tals strong enough to allow a man and
beast to cross the'lake on foot An
other is as round as any circle and a
lovely rose color. Its banks of salt
crystal form a setting, white as the
driven snow, to the water, which not
only shows all the colors from violet
to rosy red. but from which rises a
perfume as of violets. Both perfume
and color are the result of the presence
I of seaweeds, the violet and the pink.
5JBT*&ri!«*S?J.^
Ths Arctic Summer. **&&*&!$
The arctic summer is brief, but" for
weeks together there Is nothing to dis
tinguish day and night- Once at Dvor
nik two naturalists had left their ship,
at different hours. When later they,
met one said, "Good morning," the
other, "Good evening." Both agreed
that the hour was 7, but while one
traveler held that it was 7 tomorrow*
morning the other maintained that Iti
was 7 o'clock last night On returning W
to the ship they settled that it was
last night, so they dined and went to
bed again.
By HARRY VAN AM BUG.
(Copyright. 1901. by American Press
ciation.J
"Donhoff!"
"In heaven's name, what Is it?"
"The police!"
Donboh* sprang up and darted to a
closet, seized a package of papers and
threw them into the stove, watching a
bright streak in its side—a crack—till
the flame died out. when be turned to
his friend, who bad hurried hi to warn
him.
"Any one peached?" be asked quick
ly.
"Yes. Alex."
At that moment there was a step on
the stairs. Douhoff turned pale, clap
ping bis band to his coat pocket at
the same time. But he did not speak
there was no time. The door was
thrown open, and an officer of police
stepped into the apartment.
Douhoff bad a letter in his pocket
that be bad forgotten. It was from
the chief of bis revolutionary society
detailing a plan for the assassination
of the minister of the interior. It had
been written using assumed names,
and some attempt bad been made to
disguise the different steps to be taken
by using commonplace words and acts.
Nevertheless in the bands of the po
lice it would be interpreted without
trouble.
But no finer display of nerve was
ever given by a man. Donhoff faced
the officer with well feigned surprise.
"Pardon me, sir." said the officer.
"I am ordered to search your apart
ment."
"What for?"
"That is a matter which concerns the
government."
"1 have an enemy. Doubtless be has
accused me. 1 desire that you should
make a thorough search, that I may
be vindicated and may punish him.
I will aid you."
"In any event that will do you no'
harm."
"Here are my keys. I beg of yon to
open every drawer, look in every cor-"
ner."
The officer took the keys and opened
everything that was locked. He hunt
ed through closets, desk, bookcases.
Donhoff went about with him. assisted
him and often called his attention to
places that he had either overlooked
or had not yet reached. When he had
taken the books from a case and
shaken them Donhoff seized one of the
volumes and, turning over the leaves,
took out a paper, handing it to the
officer. The latter opened it glanced
over it and handed it back to the
owner. Not a scrap of incriminating
paper had been found, and the officer
was beginning to tire of the work
when Donhoff opened a drawer brim
full of papers.
"Come," he said. "These must be
looked over carefully. I don't wish
you to go back to headquarters with
out being able to vindicate me en
tirely."
He handed each paper to the officer
separately, opening it and insisting on
his reading it The officer read a few,
glanced at others, and when he had
finished the suspect opened another
drawer equally voluminous. The of
ficer began to tire of the work, but
Donhoff insisted on his doing it thor
oughly.
Then Donhoff began to rip up the
carpet
"Never mind that." said the searcher.
"I am not instructed to tear things to
pieces."
"But I do mind it If a gentleman is
to be treated as a felon he is at least
entitled to have the work done thor
oughly, that be may not have a second
party to go through the effects."
So the officer was obliged to take
hold and help get up the carpet Of
course nothing was found.
"That will do," said the tired man.
"It only remains to"—
Donhoff knew very well that the sen
tence finished would be "search you."
He rushed to a closet and took down
an old portmanteau hi which there
were more papers. The officer sighed
and began to look them over.
"Hello!" exclaimed Donhoff. "There
is a batch of business papers which 1
have long missed."
Seizing the papers, he opened every
one of them, showed each to the offi
cer, who looked at it perfunctorily,
and when be bad seen all Donhoff
asked if be objected to his putting
them in his pocket He received the
necessary permission.
Donhoff dared not put the officer off
any longer from his search of himself.
"Come, now!" be said. "I must in
sist on your going over me as thor
oughly as you have examined my ef
fects."
He began to disrobe.
"That isn't necessary!" said the offi
cer, almost angrily.
"Well, then, here, and here, and
here."
He thrust his band in his coat pocket
where was the incriminating paper
and in which be had put the papers
from the portmanteau and, pulling out
all together, began to open them under
'the officer's nose.
«j»ve geen those."
"So yon have."
When Donhoff said this he was on*
.folding the letter that would have sent
bim to Siberia or death and, holding it
Jfor a moment so near the officer's eyes
that he couldn't easily read it be re
jfolded it and thrust It back In his
pocket Then, turning all his other
pockets wrong side out he asked:
"Wen. are yon satisfied
The officer turned on his heel and
went out without a word, indignant
that'the man he bad been sent to
[search had annoyed him by Insisting
fon
so much attention.
When, the door closed behind bim
lonhoff fell over la a faint.
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