The Holly chieftain., October 29, 1897, Image 2

About The Holly chieftain. (Holly, Colo.) 1897-1987

Image provided by: History Colorado

                
S-Allcommunications for thly paper snoul
beaccompanied by the name of the author, 00l
Beccesarily for publication but as an evidence
of good falth on the part of the writer. Write
only on one side of the paper. Be particularly
eareful In giving names and dates to Lave the
Jetters and figures plain and distinct.
R ——
THE DOME Or PICTURES
In a little house keep T pictures suspended
it is not a fixed house,
Itis round, it is only a few inches from one
side to the other: ‘
Yet Behold, it has room for all the shows of
the world, all the memories!
liere the tableaux of life and here tnel
groupings of death
—~WALT WHITMAN }
Ah. each man bears his Dome of Dreams
A picture dome |
Whereon are painted homely cares, ]
Defeats and triumphs and despalrs |
A gallery thronged with wider themes |
Than those of Rome
The pletures of this Dome of Dreams
Are memories,
Young Barefoot wandering through the |,
dew, |
Through daisied flelds when [lfe was new, [
By woodland paths, by lilied streams
And blossomed trees {
The pleture of a maid at school
With floating hair
Transfigured In the mist i« she <
On that dim shore of memory,
Life’'s dewiness about her, cool
And pure and falr.
The picture of a poad tha' leads
From an old home
A boy that from a Wooded swell
Louks through his tears and waves fare
well— I
Then down through unknown hills and
meads
Afar to roam.
The picture of the long, long way
e traveled far
Fair fruited hillside slanting south
Paked herblets upland smit with drought,
And nlght paths with no gleam of day—
Without a star
And plctures of wide-sleeping vales
And storm-tossed waves:
Of valleys bathed in noonday peace,
Of sheltered harbors of release,
Biue Injets specked with sunlit salls;
Of open graves,
And pictures of falr islands set
In golden foam:;
And pictures of black wrecks upcast
On barren crags by many a blast—
But on! Life paints more pictures yet
Upon that dome
—Sam Walter Foss, In N Y. Sun.
PERILS OF AUTHORSHIP.
- - !
ILDRED'S pretty face wore a new |
M expression as she toved with her |
teaspoon and tried to finish her roll |
and coffee. John had just left for his |
oftice. They had been married three |
months, and the serious aspects of hfe ‘\
were for the first time presenting them
selves. 1
“I wish I could do something to help
John,” thought Mildred, as she guzed
abstractedly out of the window. “He |
has to work so hard," and she gave a lit
tle sigh. |
“What can I do?" she pondered. |
“What can I do?" she asked herself |
again and again, as with deft touch she |
straightened and arranged the dainty ‘
Gpartment, |
Suddenly her face looked as if a rinur!
had opened and flooded it with sun- |
light. |
“I know what T will do; 1 will write
a story. 1 know Icanifltry. People '
do not have to be so awfully clever te
do that. It is a knack, not a talent
There is Mrs, - ~ who has mad:
heaps of money; and her stories are only |
poor trash—all of them. John saysso.”
Before another hour had passed the |
outline of a plot was dancing in her|
eacited young brain, and as soon
wie could get the time she sat down
with pad and sharpened pencil. Then |
rawme a pause. “How shall 1 begin?” "
She drew little geometric figures on
the margin of her paper as she reflected
her thoughts seeming to revolve in a |
sircle, returning ever to the place from
whence they started. Finally she
wrote:
“In a small village on the banks of
“Oh, that is so commonplace, No:
that will not do.” And she tore off the
first sheet of her pad and reflected |
ngain, then wrote: |
“Frank Atwood was the only son of |
a—" |
“No, no; that is too stupid,” and the
sccond sheet of the pad went into the |
waste-paper basket. !
She recalled what John had said “fi
the supertfiuous first three pages, which |
might with benefit to most stories be |
eliminated—for John was a journalist |
and literary critic, and his standards |
and ideals were just on the measure of |
her own. So she thought with great |
deference of what he had said ulmn(l
wdious preambles,
“He is right,” she said, with decision,
“It is the personal interest in the char
acters which we are looking for in read
ing a story. All that comes before that
is tedious superfluity.
*1 will dash right on with a letter
from the heroine, which will at once
explain the situation.” So with the con
fidence which came from feeling herself
at lust on the right track, she wrote:
“Dear Frank—l return herewith the let
ters, which of course I have now no right
to keep. I need not tell you what it cost me
“1 have reflected much upon what you
rald yesterday, but I am at last resolved
I will not see you again. Any attempt to
make me break this resolve will be fruit
less. God knows yoy have only yourselr
to blame that this marrlage has—"
“Please, ma'am,” said the cook, com
ing suddenly in upon the young author
ess. “Please, ma'am, the butcher is
here. Will you come and see him and
give the order yourself about havin’'
them chops frenched or whatever it is.”
“Oh, what a bore!"” sighed Mildred.
1 was jm& getting into the swing of
it.” And she left the manuscript upon
her desk to be resumed later, ;
The matter of the chops disposed of,
there were other things requiring at
tention.
At last, however, she was at her desh;
agnin. She read over the letter with
which her story opened to see how it
sounded. “Really,” said she, “I think
that starts off very well,” and then she
took up the broken thread. “Only your
sell to blame that this marriage has—"
A violent ringing at the telephone agnin |
broke the current. “Hallo," said our |
Young novelist, J
“Mildred, is that you?" e f
“Yes, is it you, Alice?" 3
“Yes. Mamma does not feel very well
and wishes you to take luncheon with |
us. She has sent the carringe. Be |*
ready to comie as soon as it arrives.” Ob
viously no more authorship to-day. So |1
‘slipping z;: paper into the desk she ||
;dng:md, Avfi,k«.“,, Foa s p r_‘ Y i ;
F e ‘ g il b
¢ The mew purpose of muthorship |’
MJ}_} ought a greut light and hope into !y
| Mildred’s life. She pictured tol n'r'fl'll"
Lis reading her story, possibly few- |
| g it. “a&lter he has written ands {
'of nice things about it [ will te ::zn'
| that I am the author:" or—a her |
{ heart turned cold and sick—what if he
| should =say itwas trash? For, of «
yithe other good critics, John was ¢
{dom pleased. If things were all excel
[ lent, what would be the need of erities? |
| So he had cultivated the art of discover- |
|"lL' flaws in what seemed to ordinary '
readers pure gems. He had develojed |
rather a talent for pillorying people in |
w single terse phrase, and was much
| ~alued for his «<kill in beating down
with the editorial club tender youny |
aspirants who were trying to mahe |
| themselves heard. This sounds brita
!lut he was only professionally brutal
I hisx personal characteristics none |
| could be more tender or sympathet
| Mildred knew of this caustic veinand
‘ clieved It too-—as she did also all of
John's attributes and gifts—*"but,”" <l
thought, “if he should say any of tho
{dreadful things about me. what shouvll
1 do? Ishould never—never—tell hir
And so during the entire day sh
E"u-v::h' and planned, new intricacie |
Eu‘ ;.3.:.: geesting - themselves —vivid
ane. interevsting scenes coi g be ¢
! r stimulated imagination 2
I Her mother urged her remaining : |
rending for bher husband to dine wit
| them. Her secret desire was toreturn, |
[ but she Jooked at her mother's wistfn |
| face and had not the heart 1o refuse
| She would stay and send for John
l That gentleman arrived at home at |
the usual hour. As he put his latch- |
#.A.-y into the door he smiled, thinking |
lnf the quick ear which was listening for ‘[
|it, and of the pretty apparition which |
l\\m:‘«_ meet him in the hall. "By Jove" |
{ he thought, “whataiucky fellow Lam!™ ‘
But the expected figure did not come |
to meet him. He was conscious of al
little chill of disappointment, and still |
more as he wandered through the rooms ‘
and found ali silent and deserted
{ He rang for the maid.
“Where is your mistress?” |
| *“She is ont, sir I'here’s a note, sir, |
E vomewhere,” and she looked anxiously |
labout. *Oh, it is on her desk.” suid she
} with returning memory, starting to go
i for it. |
i “No matter, I will get it,” and . John |
[turned his impatient steps toward s
| wife's room. There was no note on the |
desh, and quite naturally he opened the |
’l'.X_ His eyes were riveted upon lln-i
words before him: |
| “Dear Frank [ return herewith the |
‘\ letters which | have no longerany right
Ito keep. 1 need pot tell you what ill
| costs me-—-"* |
| He felt as if his blood were turned |
linto ice.
i *“1 have reflected much upon x\hn:[
vou said yesterday—" |
l “Yesterday!" -John felt as if he were |
| going mad. “Yesterday!"-—and he had !
{ = trusted her! The room had grown |
| bluck, and a great sledge hammer was
! beating at his brain, but he read on— |
| “upon what you said yesterday, but | ‘
lam at lust resolved. I will not see you |
:.xu;.n Any attempt to make me break {
| this resolve will be fruitless God |
| knows you have only yourself to blame |
'll.ul this marringe has—" A
| John stood for a few moments as if
l(urnmi into stone, his face hl:nvhwl.l
his muscles tense. Then a ray of hope
seemed to come to him, *There is no |
}dgn:unn-; it is not hers.” He looimli
again. How could he doubt it! e
L kunew too well the turn of every letter
He was alternately livid with ragcand |
| chokingwith grief. His dreamof happi- |
| ness vanished., Something like a curse |
teame from between his closed teeth |
| “She loves this man, and she mevts |
[him and tells him <o, and only yester
f(l:l_\. Oh, it is too horrible! too hor
[ rible!™ He buried his face in his hands
l and groaned, I shall go away; I shail '
never—" At that moment the tele
| phone bell rang. He took no notice of |
[it. I shall never—"" Again it ranglonz
Land loud. What should he do? Ther. ‘
was no one else to answer it; he must
go. So he said hoskily: “Hello!"
Mildred’'s silvery voice replied:
“John, is that you?"
The situation was shocking. low
'4-lnllll he reply 2—but--there was no
time for reflection. He knew that the
gv('lllrnl oftice would share all his conti- I
| dences through that infernal piece of
| black walnut and ebony. So he said: !
“Yes." 3
\ “Why do you not come? Dinner i~l
waiting for you.”
? How well he knew the pretty nflec.
(tions of that voice!
| *I wish no dinner—l am going away
| —good-by."
1 It might have been the (~on\'l-miu|ml!
telephonic “good-by,” or it might con
tnin a profounder meaning. }
The effect at the other end of the line ‘
cannot be deseribed. Ten minutes later |
a cab drove furiously up to the door of
the apartment house, and Mildred, with
white face and fast-beating heart,
rushed into the room, and would have
| rushed into John's arms if he had let
ber.
“You uare going away,” she suid,
breathlessly,
“You are a very clever actress,” <aid
that gentleman, repulsing her intended
embrace,
“A what?” said she, amazed. *“John,
| what's the—"
: “A very clever actress,” said he, quite
| as if she had not spoken, “but hereafter
we will have a more perfeet under
standing. and you need not trouble
yourself.”
“Why, John." suid she, “have you lost
your senses?"
“No: on_ the contrary, I have recov
ered them, I am no longer a dupe, [
was fool enough to think you--""
“John, for God's sake tell me what
this means!"
“Oh. Mildred! Mildred!" said he,
breaking down utterly. “Why did you
not tell me like an honest woman that
you loved some one else?”
*John, you know, I—-"
“Stop!” said he. “Stop! do not stain
your soul with any more falsehood.
*You veed not have married me,"
went on the wretched man, “God
knows I wish you had not.” g
She tried to put her arms about him
as he paced to and fro in rapid strides,
but he pushed her away angrily. *“No,
no more of that. That has lost its
charm.”
Mildred burst into tears.
“I never — would—have—believed—
ywu would--be—so--so—acruel,” sobbed
she. “What have I done?” g
. “Done?" shouted thé exasperated
man, “done? Why, you have spoiled
the life.of an honest man, who doted on |
ou, believed in you—like a trusting
fool—who would have risked his life J |
your bopesty—* )
[ “Stop,” said M:ldred, and she gath
ered herself up to a fuller height than
John's eyes had cier before beheld in
her. She, too, was angry now,
“If you have any charges to make |
demand that they be definite and not in
J base innuendo. Yoo are very eruel and
|olso very insulting to me. | shall not
| remain in this house to-pight; nor re
ilwrn to it until you have apologized.”
| And she swept from the room and from
'.lollu‘s astonished sizht.
A moment later he heard the messen
! ger call, then heard his wife give an or
| Jer for a cab, then saw her packing a
| handbag. He intended doing so him
i <elf. But somehow having herdo them
was infipitely harder to bear.
Mildred was very angry. *“Not a
| tding of his,” she suid to herself as she
| stripped off hier rings and gathered her
| trinkets. “My purse, t0o,” she thought,
|and went to the desk to find it. Her hus
!banc had been watehing for this. He
| knew she would try to secure that let-
Lter.
| “Oh.” said he, “you ave a little too
late. You should have thought of that
! lll"llr"_"
] These, to her, unmeaning words, nt
tered with much concentrated bitter
| ness, made her seriously doubt, his san
| ity. She looked at him carionsly. How
| +lse could she construe this incompre
| bensible fury? she pursued. The
Il.‘mu;:hl had calmed her rvesentment.
| “he went to his side, placed her hand
| kindly on his arm. *My dear John,"”
| said <he. “will you expluin to me what
all this means 2"
He felt tonched, and oh, how he
longed to tuke her to his heart; but that
]mmhl never be again.,
| “Will you first explain to me,” he an
lu\\vrml. trying to be hard and cold;
“explain to me where NYou were yester
day 2"
i “Certainly he is mad.” she thought,
| and she tried to be very calm,
I “Ab, yes" he wenton. “You can look
| very innocent, but, woman. look at
[ that!" and with tragic gesture he held
lup the paper.
Mildred looked at it bewildered: then
I-hv read: “Dear Frank.” A gleam of
| light first caimne into her face, and grad
| vaHy deepened into an expression of in
| terest and amusement. She understood
it all,
| John looked to see her crushed, de
spairing and penitent; and instead he
witnessed this unaccustomed, this ex
traordinary change, and laughter—
l peal after peal of silvery lnughter—rang
| through the rooms. She tried to«peak,
but conld not,
l John in his turn began to think that
‘sln- was mad. At last, with tears run
ning down her cheeks, not from grief
[ this time. she said:
| "Oh, you dear silly—silly thing! Oh,
you dear goose—that's my story-—and
I was going to surprise you—and bring
you ever——ever so much money—and
| now you have gone—and spoiled” ~and
| here she began to ery in carnest. “And
—you—have — said — Such — cruel—
l cruel—*"
Her sobs, together with Johu's great
!cnfuhling arms, stifled the rest. “Oh, my
angel. my angel, 1 have been such a
brute. Can you ever forgive me ?"'—N,
Y. Graphic. § %
WHY SOLDIERS WERE TOO SHORT
Il'rlnva- Bismnrek Mystified hy (‘rlll-I
4 cisnm of German Troops. |
| Just at the time when vague reports
| were beginning to creep abroad that
:(u-;'n.uh_\ was meditating fresh ex
tension of her frontier at the expense
| of Hollaud a Duteh officer of high rank
|bappened 19 be visiting the court of
: Berlin and among other spectacles got
| up to amuse bim a review was organ
‘n/wl at Potsdam.
| “What does your excellency think of
;mnr soldiers?” asked Prince Bismarck
i as one of the regiments came marching
Epu-t in admirable order,
| “They look as if they knew how to
; fight.” replied the visitor, gravely, “but
| they are not quite tall enough.”
| The prince looked rather surprised,
| but made no auswer, and several other
| regiments filed past in suceession, but
| the Dutehman’s verdict upon esch was
| still the same: *“Not tall enough.”
| At length the grenadiers of the guard
| made their appearance—a magnificent
[ body of veterans, big and stalwart
enough to have satisfied even the giant
[loving father of Frederick the Great,
| but the inexorable critic merely said:
i “Fine soldiers, but not tall enough.”
| Then Prince Bismarck rejoined:
| “These grepadiers are the finest men in
| our whole army: may I ask what your
| excelleney is pleased to mean by saying
| that they are not tall enough?"
| The Dutechman looked him full in the
face and replied with significant em
phasis: I mean that we can flood our
country 12 feet deep.”—London Tit.
& Bits, ! : e, |
Contidence Restored. 1
The oriental gentleman in the xidc-i
show was smoking a hubble-bubble
when two sight-seers from the rurul‘
districts passed. They paused to ad
wire his gaudy costume and watehed
him with great interest as he paused in
his narcotic luxury.
“I'd just like to kuow what they eall
him.™ «aid the woman.
“He's advertised as a Turk. 1 took
that to be short for ‘turkey.' But I don't
see anything about him that justifies
their puttin® sech a statement onto the
billboards.™
“Ef they're goin® to palm him off as
a human turkey he orter have feathers
or claws or somethin' like that ™ she
commented. “The only difference [
Kin see between him and other peopls
is the way he smokes tobacker,"
“Ef 1 was as skeered of gettin' clus
up to the weed as he seems ter be [
wouldn't smoke at all. And anyhow I
don’t believe he's smokin® tobacker.,
He's just drinkin® lemonade through »
piece of hose,”
As they turned away in deep disgugt
at the delusions of life. the Mohamme
dan took a long puff at the hookah,
The deep low gurgle arrested the mon's
attention and he shouted:
“Come back, Mandy! ‘Tain't no
swindle. He ain’t got no feathers and
he ain’t got no claws. But there's no
denyin® that he kin ‘gobble’ most life
like!"—Washington Star.
Hnd Him There.
Youwg America (to Young Englaud,
on board of a transatlantic liner)—You
se:, our great Washington was the one
man on earth who never told a lie.
Young England-—Then how was it lie
swore aliegiance to King George and
served against the French?
(Calmly)—*l didn't say he never
swore. I said he never lied."—Londen
Punch. o .
The Proper Authority.
{ Basbund—l thfix, my dear, I must
;onsult a physicign, >
| Wife—What fop?
“For some remy fly for my dyspepsia.
[ have most ho freains at night.”
I “Better counsulf a . crinary sur
geon.”
! “A horse doctol
I "Yes. A horse @octor ~hould be the
best authority om nightmare.”—Tit
l Bits. w
Two Terrible Animnls.
| We find it hard 9 keep the wolf
Away from Oup fron: door,
But sometimes s hari-r <ll
To keep aw: bore
I b “;, VN Y. World.
NOT VERY MUSIc AL,
Young Lady (1o servunt) -Auna, put
the muzzle on Fido; I'n going to sing.
—Fliegende Blaetier.
Broke the Record,
Mrs. Suburbs—My dea our new
kitchen girl is a marvel. She has been
here three weeks and husn't broken
i single thing.
Mr. Suburbs—Hasn't broken any
thing? 1 should say she had
Mrs. Suburbs—What do you mean?
Mr. Suburbs—Did we ever have a girl
vefore who stayed more than three
fays?—N. Y. World.
His Occupntion Gone,
Why does the undertaker frown?
Why does he weep, why <o cast down?
Hecause to-duy
He put away
The only doctor In the lown
N. Y. World
“Oh wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel’s as ithers see us.”
A Normal Woman
Jinks—~What a foolish guestion! Of
‘ourse my wife objeets to my smoking!
Fiikins—\Why, how eould I know?
Jinks——You ought to be well enough
acquainted with me to know that |
would not bave married an eccentric
woman.—~N. Y. Journal.
Getting His Evens
She—What do you mean by circulat
ing the report that l’ live a hauod-to
mouth existence. Howdare you?
He— Well that was the way it seemed
tome. Whenever | eall cu you, you put
in most of the time yawning.—lndian
ipolis Journal, <
s ,_“,.,..,_‘_ ot
Thoughtless Girl.
“Didn’t Miss Sprocket’s fatherdie last
nonth «
“Yes. What of it2®
“Whyo the unfeeling cveature never
tas had the decency to have the frame
of hee bicyele painted plack.”—Chicago
'ost.
A Fitting Head.
“\What sort of a head shall T put on
his story about the fellow who was
tarred and feathered?” asked the new
‘eporter,
“How will ‘He was a bird’ do?" sug
cested the court man.—Philadelphia
North American.
Menn Thing.
Miss Chatter—l knew you would be
nere to-day to see sister,
Mr. Cuddler (interrog.)—lntuition?
Miss Chatter—No—observation. Yon
always appear on the same day that
Ethel refuses onions at dinner.—Judge.
A Word of Warning.
In buying diamonds, let's not haste,
But watch lest dealers trick us,
For oh, they have some made of paste
With which they love to stick us.
—~l.. A. W. Bulletin,
Not Whnt She Meant.
Mrs. Parvenu—Yes, I'm proud to say
that my husband hus made his mark.
Mrs. Hautton—How singular! He
writes such a nice hand now.—Brook-
Iyn Life.
No Unnecessary Display.
“Let me sec—lust Saturday was Miss
May Tewer's birthday, was it not?
tiow did the day pass off 2"
“1t passed off quietly., It was her
fortieth."-—Chicago Tribune.
It Should Be So.
“I ehould think baseball would be a
rery popular game with the girls.”
“Why so?"
“Why, they usunlly take so naturally
to a diamond.”—Chicago Post.
A Sensible View.
He—Kissing is unhealthy.
She—Oue can't expect to be well all
the time.—~Town Topics, f
Not One of That Kind.
“No, Mr. Hankinson,” said Tommy
to the young man who was waiting in
the parlor for Tommy's sister, “I ain't
{ the Kind of a little boy sou're always
lrz-unlin' übout in the papers what begs
s""""'3' from the fellers 'hat comes to
| see the'r sisters. Still, if you've gotany
|in your pockets I'd be willin® to take it.”
l -~(Chicago Tribune,
Why?
| Tenant—l demand o rebate on my
rent. Your darned old water-pipe
burst, flooded my cellar, and my chick
cus were drowned,
Landlord—But, my dear sir, wky
'dhln'l you keep ducks?—Philadelphia
I.\'urxh Americai,
A Sad Blow.
| =Mz, Bliffers—Beg pardon, Mr. Ham
| mer, but can you tell me where my
‘\. fe is seated? 1 can't find her.
| Mr. Hammer (auctioncer)—She has
| Lot been here to-day.
{ Mr. Bliffers (wildly)—My! My! She
| must be dead.—N. Y. Weekly.
Had Thought of That,
| “Young man,” said the elderly gen
{:,--m;m in a choking voice, “she is the
only danghter I have.”
j “Yes.” acknowledged the young man,
!*that is one reason | thought I would
I'like to marry her."—lndianapolis Jour
‘h;ll. i e e
Perils of Society
~ *“Your daughter, madam, is suffering
rrow reperal functional derangement.”
“There—['ve told her often that at
tending all them functions *d be the
death of her.”—Louisville Courier-
Journal.
Suspicions,
i Governess—\Why don’t you eat your
consomme, Bertie?
' Bertie—'Cause [ asked Harry what
| beeame of the cook papa discharged,
land he said she was in the soup.—
; "uck.
Sure Death,
' She—His widow engaged the Ob
| Hush Quartette to sing at her hus
bund’s funeral.
He—l suppose she wanted to avoid
all possibility of his ever coming tn
life.—N. Y. Journal.
Generally,
S Ty WS R .
Old nature oft {g contrary,
Deal with her as you may;
The man who talks the most is he
That has the least to say.
—~Chlcago News.
Caught at Last,
She—l've been trying to catch that
Mr. Huggins in an untruth, and | be
lieve I've done it.
He—~Well, you ought 1o be happy:
You've been trying to catch him for a
good many years,—Yonkers Statesman,
Mammna's Numerous Duties,
Little -Dot—Mamma! Mumma!
Muamma (in next room)—What ?
Little Dot—My Kittie hus caught a
wouse, and she acts hungry. Plenss
come and cook it for her.— N, Y. Week
ly.
NO ROOM FOR DOUBT,
‘ Uncle Fatenough—Why don’t Willi.
come and sit on uncle's knee?—N, Y.
’Juurnul.
Offered in Evidence.
Judge (to plaintiff in divorce)—You {
say this weman induced you to marry
her while you were intoxicated, do
you?
Plaintiff—Look at her, your honor,
and judge for yourself.—Harlem Life,
Rendx That Way.
TS R i e A
s didn’t know that Deacon Good
committed suicide,”
“He didn’t. Who said so?"
“This obituary says that *he walked
fearlessly down into the dark river.'”
-~Chicago Record.
Where Science Came In,
*Do ‘)-'uu feed your baby scientifical
1y 2"
*Yes; it takes science to keep his
grandmother from stuffing him to
death,”—Chicago Record.
One Form,
“Davie, what's a friend 2"
“Why, a friend's some one yuh tell
things about yousself to sc's they can
tell about yuh to some one else.”—
- Judge. :
A Friendly Tip.
o AR R L R
Hewitt—l wear out a good many hats !
in the course of a year,
Jewett—Stop talking through them.
~=Town Topics. 5 6 X
Why Some Men Are Weary.
AL loh < b otonmill 120 ARSI
A good many hundreds and even thou- |
sands of long sufiering husbands can bear |
sorrowful testimony to the fact that this is |
the sort of catechism the wives of their|
besoms subject them to every time they put
on their hats to go out in the evening: {
“Where are you going?*™” 3
¢ Ob, I'm going out for few minutcs. o i
“Where*" |
“Oh, nowhere in particular.”
“What for?"”
“Oh, nothing.”
““N¥hy do you go, then?"”
“Well, | want to go, that's why.”
“Do vou have to go %"
“I don’t know that Ido.”
“Why do you go, then?”
“Because.”
“Because what *”
“Well, simply Lecause.”
“Going to I!n' gone long?”
“No
“How Jong?"”
“J don’t know.”
“Anybody going with you?”
N
“Well. it’s strange that you can’t be con- |
tent to stay at home a few minutes. Don’t |
be gone long, will you?®”
AOS, |
“See that yon don't.” |
This is the reason so many marria; are
8 dead flat fizzle and x‘.ilu.-c.—Philng:l'pbin
Times. |
. —_———— 1
He Ralsed the Wind.
! ol 5 4 - '
The ship had lain becalmed in a trofncgl i
sca for three days. Not a breath of air i
stirred the mirror-like surface of the sea or |
the limp sails that hung from the yards like |
drapery carved in stone. The captain re- |
solved to wait no longer. He piped up all |
hands on deck, and requested the pumnfien:
to also come forward. “‘I must ask all of |
vou,” he kaid, “to give me every match yon
im\'a." Wonderingly the pascengers ax:d'
crew obeyed. Tgl" captain carefully ar-|
ranged the matches in his hand as each man
handed him his store. until all had been col- |
lected. Then he threw them all overboard |
but one, drew a cigar from his pocket, and, |
striking the solitary match on the mainmast,
endeavored to light it. In an instant a fu. |
rious gale swept over the deck, extinguished |
the match, and filled the sails, and lgle good I
ship Mary Ann sped through the waves on
her course.—Philadelphia Inquirer. I
Domestic Curves,
“Pusher is furious.”
“What's the matter '
“He was arrested on suspicion of being
a scorcher.”
“Well--isn’t he?”
“No: that's a baby-buggy stoop he wears.”
—Detroit Free Press.
Now comes that trying time of year
Whose woes each benedict can tell, ‘
When madam sheds the scalding tear
Because her jelly railed to jell.
~Chicage: Record.
BN RRRARAR R ARARAARRARLAARARARARAARARIE]
pe pe
- ——
= Coughs &
el e
e b
= -
- —
I that kill are not distinguished by any mark or sign from I
| @ coughs that fail to be fatal. Any cough neglected, may sap _-t
I the strength and undermine the health until recovery is @
O& impossible. All coughs lead to lung trouble, if not stopped. :
: Dr. Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral Cures Coughs. e
' :t “My little daughter was taken with adi:'tr»ssing cough, :
s which for three years defied all the remedies I tried. At e
s lecgth on the urgen". recommgndahun of a friend, I l-»_exan to -
e BT fonsi IGk e wicprae et il wan ooy e pe
o Thres iotiied tompl{ag‘l’g:;ured ber”—J. A. GRAY, Trav. pa
- Salesman Wrought Iron Range Co., St. Louis, Mo. I
| Sl
8¢ Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral 5
| Oat Is put up in half size botties pe
| pe at half price . . 50 eents =
| oS
‘ ™
A e
| % Don’t drudge.
| Use Pearline.
‘ ( There is the secret of a comfortable,
‘ ‘ pleasant, healthy life for women. Don't
3 @ stand up over the wash-tub, doing that
i [D) grinding hard work, that isn't fit l%r any
i) woman. Use Pearline. Soak the clothes
[ over night, while you sleep; boil them a
i U P little; then there's no work to do but to
0y # rinse them. Don't make a slave of your
! w self trying to scrub things clean in the
l ordinary ways. Use Pearline, and make
all such work easy and quick and more economical. o 3
RS TR
' INNNNNORNS =SERCNNN,
l GET THE GENUINE ARTICLE!
‘ ’
1 Walter Baker & Co.’s
g
) &, Breakfast COCOA
; "" ' Pure, Delicious, Nutritious.
i ,~“ Costs Less than ONE CENT a cup.
i . AT Be sure that the package bears our Trade-Mark,
B i
Y , Walter Baker & Co. Limited,
i “ (Established 1780.) > Docchester, Mass.
rade-Mark.,
‘ e e S
| CANDY
! CATHARTIC
I
|
o CURE CONSTIPATION
a'{’-‘”‘, SNV TN okt ot
o cure sny case of constipation. Cascarets are the Ideal L
e A e e e o 4 B
e e e
“TO SAVE TIME IS TO LENCTHEN LIFE.”
DO YOU VALUE LIFE? ; EhRE
THENUSE. °© B
>y ; v 2Yo TR '
s . sEmamar g iy
‘ I.adlfls THS ‘NAME GQ\ &
| I 8 STAMPED OX ) X
" ‘of swous vfl'-’&'-v."‘"‘ A e
Ask Your Dealer for Them. e .
HER SCOLDING LOCKS.
She Tried to Oblige a Friend But She
Got Angry About It.
Some people are absolutely devoid of tact.
(e of these 1s a youthiul matron who,
wishing to make her very dearest friend—
suother young matron—a birthday present,
decided on the purchase of a hamflome pair
ot shell side combs. b
Nothing could have been more appropri
ate for the blonde tresses of her friend, and
the giver felt much pleased with her selec
tion when she went to call on her and give
her the pretty ornameata,
“1 thought you would iike tliem,” she
said, when her friend had admired them and
thanked her rapturously, *you will find them
s Landy to fasten up your scolding locks.””
- “\Vhat do vou mean?" asked her friend, in
a surprised tone. :
“Did you never hear of mldmfi locks?
They are the short ends of your hair that
are always flying loose. They hother one
so much, but side combs keep them in or
der, besides being very becoming orna
ments.”
*So you think I have scolding locks—then
1 must be a scold. Thanks, awfully, dear,
but I don’t believe I need any combs. Keep
them for vour own scolding outfit,” and the
face of the “dearest friend” clouded with
anger.
'g\'ery well, just as you like. Good-by,
dear,” and the donor of the combs snatched
them up and carried them home, where she
had a fit of hysterics. And all because she
necded a little tact.—Chicago Times-Herald.
Fits stopped free and permanently cured.
No fits aiter first day’s use of Dr. Kline's
(ireat Nerve Restorer. Free $2 trial bottle &
treatise. Dr. Kline, 933 Arch st., Phila., Pa.
An Even Exchange.
Author Husbaud (trving to write)—My
.L-:r. why don’t you take up the study of
Gerran?
Wife— Why, Jolin, what do you mean?
“Well, mv dear. I mean that you might
then give the English language a much-neede
ed rest.”—Judge.
Hit hard, bruised and sick.
Used St. Jacobs Oil; cured him quick.
Unanimous.
Medium-—The spirit of your wife is herg
and says she never dreamed of such happi
ness since you two parted.
: '}‘).r Man—Tell her I feel the same way.—
JAie.
It is made for it. St. Jacobs Oil
Cures Neuralgia—soothes and strengthens
Attorney (sternly)-—“The witness wil}
please state if the prisoner was in the habit
of whistling when he was alone?’ Wit
ness—| don’t know. | was never with the
H))ri-nnfli when he was alone.”— Columbus
ispateh.