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Picture By A. R. BURKE There are commonplace things and there are strange coincidences that turn the current of our lives. A human career may be likened to a chip cast into a rivulet. It goes with the current, over stones, tumbling from tiny cascades, until it is caught in an eddy and stranded. Some slight disturbance starts it again, and after a few setbacks it re joins the channel. Caught by a fallen branch, it waits till released bv a swell in the waters, and so it goes till it is at«.last thrown into the ocean. When I was abotit twenty I went to a corn-husking. I remember sit ting in a pile of corn beside a girl of Iff. Suddenly in tearing a husk I saw that the ear it inclosed was red. Claiming the privilege of corn huskers when a red car is found, I kissed mv companion. I had met one of the deflections in the current of my career. There was a pretty blush, a slight resistance, the kiss, the blush and the resistance making a charming combination. Later, in the barn, I danced with my little girl, went with her at midnight apross thp moonlit fields to her home and kissed her again in the shadow of the vine overhanging the porch. There followed a courtship as ten der, as sweet, as fragrant as a young rose plant, only there were no thorns. The thorns grew later. We became engaged. There was no opposition to our engagement and no reason why we Should not marry, though we were Kisaatf Hsr Again. too young to marry at once. For two years life was a garden spot, though we djd not know how happy we were because we were inexperienced. Lov ing was like breathing. Then when we were ready to be married my little girl and her moth er must go to the city for her trousseau. I joined them there after the pur chases had been made for a few days’ sight-seeing and to bring them back. We two, my fiancee and myself, went to the park, to the theater, to shows of different kinds. One day we were walking down a broad thoroughfare, jostled by an immense erowd of people. Seeing some jewels blazing in a shop win dow, I called my fiancee’s attention to one of them and asked her jocu larly if I should go in and buy it for her. Her only reply was a smile. But, oh, how sweet'it was! Fate threw in our way an ob stacle. The wedding did not take place. 1 did not ki\pw the real /ause, but I suspected her mother Jot changing her mind. My fiancee was at an age to be dominated by a stronger person and gave way. She broke the engagement. After this the country grew dull to me and I concluded to go to town to live. I went into business and prospered. Tan years passed and I had not married. Being a member of several clubs and having the means wherewith to enjoy city life, I did not care to give up my bachelorhood. At times I even con sidered my mother-in-law that was to have been as having done me a favor in throwing me over. Had it not been for her I would have been tied down to the drudgery of a family. One da}% being away from home —I really had no home in the full meaning of the word—while waiting for an appointment T sauntered into a vaudeville show. Motion pictures were a feature of the performance, and one of the scenes given was a crowded street in a great city. The throng was both going and coining, those going fading in the distance, those coming growing larger as they advanced till, reach ing the foreground, it seemed that they wo\ild walk right in among the audience/ My eyes suddenly became fixed on a young couple. My heart stood still. My love of some ten years before was the girl. Then, to my amazement, the young man was my self. My photographed figure point ed to a shop window. The girl looked at my double and smiled. Then in another moment they came on as if about to walk over me, when they disappeared. When we two lovers were together, preparatory to our intended wed ding. wo had been unconsciously photographed. But that smile! It brought back the delightful period from the mo ment when at the corn-husking I had found the red ear till the break ing of my engagement. I was older now and was conscious of the change in me. Indeed, it had taken me some time to recognize myself in the pic ture. She was the game in my mem ory as in the picture, though I realized that she must have changed. I felt again the delight of a young love. Quick as lightning my inner self was transformed. My bachelor life became not only dull, but dis agreeable. I saw myself cold, sel fish, corrupt. I had not realized the low tone of a bachelor clubman, a man of the world. The smile of a simple country girl had not only re vealed it to me, hut had shown me the beauty of purity. I made a resolve. I nvould go and find my young love, and if it were possible, to win her again, I would do so. I found her grown from a girl to a w;ornan. She had been living a life j)( regret that a decision in her life had conic when she £as of such a tender age as to be dominated b)r an older person. All this time when I was associating with people whom.l cared nothing for and who cared nothing for me. she had been wait ing for me to come back to her. My married life had been settled by a motion picture. AFTER CHRISTMAS. “Is Air. Spruce at all—er—given to drink?” inquired Mr. Milyons anxiously of his confidential clerk. “No. indeed,” was the decided an swer. “He never touches a drop. But what put such a suspicion into your mind?” “Why. I have noticed that he has been late for the last two mornings, I that he looks tired, jaded and worn out. Perhaps some overwhelming family affliction —” “Oil. that’s all right, sir. He gave each of his boys a drum for a Christ mas present.” PAINTING THE LILY. A tourist wandering round a vil lage church yard not long ago fell in with some rustic members of the choir coming from rehearsal. He asked them casually what music they had been singing. “Handel, zur,” was the reply. “Handel? Don’t you find his music rather difficult?” asked the tourist,«thinking the composer a little difficult for so rural a choir. “Why, no, zur,” was the reply— “not very. You see, we alters him !” —Home Ghat. • DESCENDED PROM IRISH KINGS. Chevalier Marconi of wireless fame is a daughter of the late Lord Inchiquin and boasts of descent from one of the old Irish kings. One of her sisters is the Hon. Miss Lilah O’Brien, who is quite a fa vorite in the society of Dublin and London, both of the sisters being quite proud of their good Irish blood. PROUD OF THEM. “Pardner,” said the tall tramp at the water tank, “yer don’t seem much worried about dem openings in de under part of yer shoe.” “I guess not,” chuckled the short tramp, as he warmed his feet on the hot cinders; “dey are de windows of me sole.” HIGH PRAISE FOR NEW YORK Visiting Britishsr Acknowledges 'American City to Be Superior to “Dear Old Lunnon.” Writing to the London Daily Mail of! “New York ; An Impression,” Sir Harry Johnston says: “New York, with some four millions of inhabi tants, struck me as being not only more beautiful, healthier, better fed, and happier than London, but as be ing far better endowed with educa tional facilities of every kind. Apart from those offered by Columbia uni versity, there are such splendid free institutions as the American Natural History museum, the Museum of Art, the Bronx Zoological and Botanical gardens, and last, but not least, the finest aquarium in the wholfr world, that of the Battery, the old building once the landing place of immigrants and then a concert hall” WOMAN WINS HONORS. Miss E. Marion Wade is the first woman lo be appointed by the Bos ton board of health as bacteriologist and chemist. She was an honor graduate in the department of phy sical and natural science of Trinity university, Toronto, in 1894. She then entered the Massachusetts In stitute of Technology, where she took a special course in air, water and food analysis. During the sum mer of 1907 she took another spe cial course at the Harvard Medical school. For three months she acted as voluntary assistant in the labora tory of the board of health. She is an analytical chemist in the research lalioratories of the General Electri cal Company at Schenectady, N. Y. WORDS THAT BURN. I am pleased to say that the old stove has been fed hot for a week past. Two crates of declined stories and poeniß'eame in last week, when there was not a lump left in the coal bin, and—the stove got ’em! I didn’t even have to strike a match to start the fire, as many of the poems were love songs, which were warm enough to blaze. Under these cir cumstances it may be truly said that the fire of genius keeps me warm. So I snap my fingers at the coal trust and enjoy life—up ten stories closer to the stars!—Atlanta Constitution. HIS CONTINUED CONFUSION. “Are you working to-day?” asked a visitor of the poet. “That is, are you going to work ?” for it was quite evident that he was not working at that moment. The poet ran his fingers distract edly through his hair. “1 have so many ideas,” he sighed. “So many, many ideas; hut they are all so confused that I really haven’t worked for a year or two.” SUFFICIENT. Citizen —Officer, I should think they’d discard that old police patrol. Officer—Oh. well, sorr, ’twill do In a pinch. IN A FACTORY TOWN. Horror stricken, the pretty fac tory inspector regarded the little boy and the black cigar. “But don’t you know.” she said. “That you will never grow if you smoke ?” “Wot al>out ehimnevs, then?” And he laughed and waved a red. chapped paw towards the stacks that pierced the sky on every hand.* JUST A BIT. His Friend—l hear that you are a head of the company. Guilty Director (absent minded ly)—Ah, yes. About a hundred thousand dollars. PA’S LITTLE JOKE. Little Willie —Say, pa, what is a strategem ? Pa—The diamond, my son, is one kind of a strata-gem. NATURALLY. “I understand you bought some stqck in the new aeroplane com pany ?” •Yes, I took a flyer.” SOCIAL EVENINGS IN EUROPE There the Mad Pursuit of Wealth Is Not 8o All-Engrossing as in America. I was much impressed by what the head of a large and prosperous bourgeois French family said to an American friend: “During the day we ar<- all busy with our various avo cations The evenings are devoted to more serious tilings—reading, music, conversation, society.” This is surclv the normal point of view of a civilized man living in a civilized society. In Italy, where social life, as in Franc**, is taken somewhat more seriously than with us, it is usual for the women prominent in society to receive in the evening. One eve ning a week (sometimes two, in a few cases every evening) is set apart for receiving the friends and hab itues of the house. In Rome, where society is more crystallized, where the society game is better played than in any community I know, one or two of the great houses are open to visitors oh every evening of the week.—Maud Howe, in Harper’s Bazar. MEMORIAL TO BUNYAN. The stained glass window in memory of John Biinvan which is to be placed in Westminster Abbey will certainly not transform the story of “The Pilgrim's Progress” to suit Angelican doctrines. But there have been some remarkable performances of that kind. The book in which Giant Pope is an unpleasant figure has even l>cen rendered in a Roman Catholic version, with the head of the Virgin on the title page. Quaint er still was the Traetarian version of 1853, wherein the Wicket Gate be came a type of Baptism, and the House Beautiful of the Eucharist. Since no infant passes the Wicket Gate in the story, and Faithful hur ries past the House Beautiful, this Anglo-Catholic version, as Macau lay pointed out, seemed to teach that adults alone should be baptized and that the eueharist may be safely neglected. WILL THEY EVER STOP? Kitty—My new hat must be very be coming. Did you see that fellow smile at it? Peggy—He wasn’t smiling; he was laughing. TIT FOR TAT. The shoemaker took the shoe home to the doctor. “I can’t do any thing with it,” he said. “I have looked it over and it isn’t worth mending. Seventy-five cents is the charge.” “Seventy-five cents!” exclaimed the doctor. “Why do you charge mo when it isn’t worth mending?” “When I came to you the other day,” explained the shoemaker, “didn’t you examine me and tell me there was nothing the matter with me, then charge me two dollars?” HAS LOVE FOR ALL. •fudge Gray of Delaware is one of the most humane of men. His lose of natnre extends to all living thinjs and he refuses either to fish or shoot. Cats are his particular friends and lje never passes a stray tabby on the street without trying to give it a pat. He is also fond of horses and when driving always dismounts when he reaches a steep hill ami in sists on walking all the w’ay to the top. REAL WATER. Visitor—ls this lake in your gar den artificial? Child of the House—No, sir-ee. It’s real. I fell in and got as wet as anything. THE LONG KIND. The Police Sergeant—Have you had the dog long? The Man in Trouble—Sure, he's a dachshund. ONE WAY TO ENJOY A CIGAR. Hewitt—Did you get any pleasure out of the cigar 1 gave you ? Jewett —Yea. I gave it to my wont enemy and he smokad it. FOUND FISHES IN THE MUD Discovery of Indiana Man That Has Boon Rocoivod with Doubt in Soma Quarters. Frank Long was digging in an old drainage ditch northwest of Greons burg when he made the discovery of his*life, says the Indianapolis Star. The ditch was mostly dry, hnt Frank swears he found groping along through the mud and muck 25 fishes, each nine or ten inches in length. The record* aren’t very dear at this point and some persons who heard the tale insist that Frank’s fishes were making their way right through the solid ground. This, however, cannot be true, for fishes progress by using their tails as pro pellers. and surely a fish couldn’t wiggle his tail in the ground. It seems more reasonable to be lieve those Mr. Long found were swimming in mud of about the con sistency of mush and milk. This would give the fislxes something to do and still would not be utterly be yond the bounds of reason. It is very discouraging to a fish to have to swim through the solid ground, because it wears out his fins faster than they can grow. AN ADVT. Out in the street, amid the raging blasts and whirling snows, he stood, coatless and distraught. “Gone!” he shouted wildly. “Gone! Gone! Gone!” A dozen curious men emerged from their business houses, offering sympathy. “Did your cashier skip off with all the oof?” inquired one. “No—ah, no!” “F/ost a kid?” said a second. “ Nay, nav!” “Ix>sc your watch or pocketbook ?” “Not that —not that!” “Then what in the name of thun der is it that is gone?” “Why, yesterday, my friends— yesterday. But before to-day iB gone you should take out a life insurance in the—Ow, yow ! Help, help!”— Answers. CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS. The population of the city during the day is nearly 100 per cent, in excess of what it is at nightfall. The census shows “after office hours” a density of only 30.2 persons an acre, as against 63.6 for London at large; whereas during the day the figure, according to the medical officer is no less than 56.5 an acre. The last named figure only refers to persons actively engaged in the city, and not to passers through, the visitors num bering. it is estimated, as many as 1,500,000.—Pa1l Mall Gazette. RATHER STRENUOUS. “Stop this instant!” exclaimed the old lady as she passed the crowd of bad boys on the lot. “What do you mean by punishing that poor boy ?” “We ain’t punishing him, ma’am,” grinned the leader of the gang. “But you are standing him on his head until he is black in the face.” “Dat ain’t mitt in’. We are going to give a show in old man Dooley’s hack yard and we need a black-face comedian.” NUGGET IN GOOSE'S CRAW. Mrs. Ulmer killed the goose that was preparing to lav the golden egg. She didn’t know it, however, until the well disposed fowl was dead and done for. In its dissection at the Callerman establishment a nugget was found in its craw. This goose was raised by Bill Matthews and had been roaming al»oiit the beach in search of pro vender. Mrs. Ulmer is to have a pin made of the nugget.—Daily Alaskan. WHEN A WOMAN IS OLD. A Chicago club of women has de cided that, as it is called a young woman’s club, only those who are not over 40 can longer remain mem bers. There used to be a time when 25 was considered the dividing age between youth and middle age, but so advanced are the times where women are concerned that the line hit l>ecn moved on to the fat, fair and 40 limit. HE EMBRACED IT. Freshman —When I get interested in a subject, I don’t stop till I have embraced it thoroughly. College Widow—How perfectly delightful! Do—do you consider that I am an interesting subject?— J udge. SMALL BOYS OF QUICK WIT Kansas City Voyngstars Sssm Wall Equtppstf ts Maks Thstr Way kt tf*s Wsrtd. When two tnrants meet two at tendance officers it’s a case of Greek meeting Greek—the quickest wits or the fastest legs win. J. G. Erskine and J. D. Thomason met two tru ants on a street corner not far from the city hall the other afternoon. “What’s the vacation?” Mr. Thomason asked. “It ain’t a vacation,” the smaller l>oy answered. lie was wearing a silk handkerchief to protect his ears from the cold. “See this here band age? I’m goin* to the city hall to see if I ain’t dyin’.” “And you?” Mr. Erskine asked the other boy. The boy showed a tiny red spot on the side of his neck. “I’ve got the smallpox,” he said. The attendance officers decided that it was so late in the afternoon that arrests wouldn’t be necessary. Quick wits had won. —Kansas City Star. APARTMENT HOUSES. “Where can I find Jenkins’ flats around here?” asked the stranger who was returning to the neighbor hood after a long absence. “There’s no such place,” respond ed the policeman on the corner. “About two years ago old man Jen kins received a legacy, raised the rents and changed the name to Menkyn’s court.’ ” - “Ah, then I can find the place un der the heading of ‘Jenkyn’s court ?’ ” “Oh, no! Last spring the old inan received another legacy, raised the rents again and now his flats go under the name of 4 La Jenque apart ments.’ You’ll find them two blocks south.” BACK TO THE LAND. What can lie worse for the morals of young people than to be unable to marry because they cannot obtain a home? That drives them to the towns when it does not drive them into immorality. Make it possible for a young man to find a decent house, a bit of land, which lie holds with a certain tenure, and he will not leave the country. Now the least capable are left in the country and the more enterprising move into the towns. I do not believe in emi gration. We cannot spare the peo ple, for rural England needs them. —Rev. G. Hooper, ill the Sundaj Strand. WHEN THUMBS COUNT. I.adv Ritchie, daughter of Thack eray. has many interesting stories to tell in her book of reminiscences about the great men who came to her father’s Ijotise. Turgenieff once said to her: “l>ook at my thumbs, see how small they are. How could a man with such small thumbs be capable of anything? People with little thumbs never do what they in tend to do; they always let them selves he prevented.” BREAKING IT GENTLY. “Excuse me, madam, but my hat Is sitting on the same chair as you." HIS CHARACTERISTIC. Dubley—.Judging from a remark Krotchett made al>out you. he seems to consider you a man of great de termination. Pinchpcnny. —I’m surprised to hear of his saying anything compli mentary. He’s usually knocking me. Dubley—Ha! maybe that’s what he was doing. He simply said you never gave up. BORROWING TROUBLE. Hardup—l’ll never go to that rea taurant again. The last time 1 waa there a man got my overcoat, and left his in its place. Welloff —But the proprietor waa n’t to blame, was he? Hardup—No; but I might moat ♦he other man!—Stray Storiaa.