The Kansas City Star from Kansas City, Missouri • 11

Michabo, he and When the the a of said, sun dreams. "the comes day like this in WINTER INCENSE. By FLoy CAMPBELL LD MICHABO 1ra. 9 'O nap." wakened "Michabo?" observed from I the his inquired. botantst.

winter He laughed. that's a story the Indians used to telL the leaves begin to fall, god, becomes sleepy, 60 lies down for his winter's repose. But before he falls asleep he smokes last divine pipe by way of composing his mind and the blue haze that covers the hills in summer that Indian from bedtime pipe Sometimes when there comes mild still midwinter and the frozen hills are far off blue with haze, I fancy he has waked up again for another pull at his pipe." "It is a pretty fancy," I said; "but his Indian summer pipe is a pipe of incense. The air 15 heavy with all sorts of rich, almost Oriental odors: while today, though his smoke is visible, one would say. scent had been frozen in his pipe.

I often think that the thing we miss most in the woods in winter is the perfume that comes from the moist earth or. the flowers or the dying leaves at the other seasons." The botanist nodded. "Yes," he sun is responsible for all that. If he only shone warm enough to day the woods would be alive with awakening odors. There is plenty of incense here, but it is all asleep, like Michabo, and one has to know where to find it and how to waken it." He caught up a handful of the dry and blackened wild bergamot that stood thick along the lane.

"Warm it and crush it between your palms," he said, "and tell me if any summer flower ever smelled so sweet? It has lost all the heavier odor that made its blossoms almost rank, and only the fine essence of it remains." Their soul which is their perfume'" I quoted. "Do you know Maeterlinck's 'Intelligence of Flowers? It does not require a very vivid imagination to see the parallelism between this dried and colorless seedhead that still clings to its sweetness and some beautiful woman from whom a life of suffering has torn all that was outwardly lovely and attractive but refined away at the same time all that was gross, leaving her spiritual perfection only the more The botanist shook his head. "That is not a very scientific sort of parallelism," he said; "but if you are interested in finding more 'souls' of plants, you might break a twig from that walnut and sniff at the bark of it." "Why, if I shut my eyes I could imagine I was at an October nutting party," I said. "That's 110 spiritual essence, however that's the strong virile life of the tree, as vigorous and pungent as in summer. I had an idea--if, indeed.

I ever thought of it at all- that the scent of the wanlut bark descended, to the roots with the sap for the "Not a bit of it. Here's another you can try." He pulled a twig from a shrub that lifted on the rocky hillside its many times subdivided branchlets, each one crowned with three tiny erect winter catkins, checkered with crimson. I exclaimed over their beauty before I sniffed the spice of the broken stem. "It is not only charming to look at, but far Sweeter than the walnut," I declared. "I don't wholly like that plant myself," said the botanist.

"There seems to me all almost smothering quality about its scent. I a of THE DEER SLAYER. Uncle It is the aromatic rather rare shrub in the neighbortood. "Now the common sumac which grows thick about here is not to be depended upon. You never can tell how the winter of its misfortunes will affect it.

Sometimes its red seed torch in simply bitter and acrid at this season, with all the fragrant juices dried away. But occasionally you will find one individual that has kept its faith in nature to use your manner of speech--and then you will enjoy one of the most delicious odors the winter woods can boast. There lA one of that "Yes." I said, "this is like an old man who has kept the spirit of a boy into the time of gray hair and a broken body. This is the freshness of spring and the ripeness of autumn." a yellow puffball under your feet." observed the botanist, "see how you like that." I threw it away in disgust after one sniff, but he rescued it and squeezed out the dust that fioated in golden showers through the sunlight as he talked. "Oh, now, don't find it so bad.

It makes me think of the old attic at home, with the dusty scents of things long shut from the suft and air, and a suggestion of musk that has almost forgotten it ever was a perfume. I like it myself, though not seem to belong to the it does wholly out of doors. But now I'm going to give you the real incense of Michabo's He cleared space in a rocky hollow, "where we can't set the woods afire," he said, piled 1p a mound of dead leaves, and touched the match to them. The tiny flames ran among them, and the fragrant blue smoke rose in a heavy column through the still air. "That is the sweetest of all the wood scents," he said.

"And now that the leaves are beaten out by half the winter's storms, I fancy they smell even sweeter than in the fall, when they are crisp and sharp. Next to the smoke of a fire made by leaves is the odor new cut decaying and chips, since they have been chopping out the saplings 011 the hillside, we can get plenty of them, too. Now sit down in this thick patch of dried grass we'll have a mint julep. We can use the air for liquor, and this little grass patch is thick with our flavoring herb. This tiny dry plant is really pennyroyal, but to the nostrils 'it offers a pretty fair substitute for mint." So, while our fragrant flame burned, we drank julep which no temperance society a could criticise, talking meanwhile of the things about us- of the tall brown mulleins standing in soldiery ranks along the fence: the black oaks, bare on the upper branches, where the mischievous wind could twitch at the clinging leaves, but thick with crisp brown foliage below, in the shelter of the sturdier limbs; the white oaks, heavy with their more persistent leaves, still showing a brave gleam of crimson through the ashen dullness of their hue when the stin shone through them.

The quick fire died, and the sinking stin gave the signal for turning cityward. "I wonder." I said, "if old Michabo is not a hard drinker of juleps, as well as an inveterate smoker?" Not Knocking. From the Chicago Record Herald. He laughs at scars who never joined college fraternity. I WAS ROUND UP STAIRS YESTERDAY'TA' DOOR OF NORA'S ROOM WAS OPEN So I LOOK ED IN he he THE KANSAS CITY STAR.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 19, 1908. 112 by a black cat at night is unlucky in Cape Breton and New Hampshire. In the last named localities it also is unlucky if a black cat come to one's house, while in Eastern Massachusetts and Pennsylvania it omen of good luck. In Massachusetts it "brings good luck" to throw a dead black cat over the left shoulder and turn around twice. In Alabama the spirit an old after death takes possession of some black cat.

In the same state off the end of a black car's tail and bury it under the door step is to keep sickness out of the family. The belief that it is bad luck to kill a cat is general, and in Pennsylvania and Iowa is found the superstition that if a farmer kill a cat some of his stock will die. The black cat also makes "good medicine." Here are some specimens of "catcure" lore: The blood of a black cat will cure A spavined horse. Blood from the tip of the tail of a black cat without a single white hair will cure a sty, Apply the freshly removed skin of cat as a remedy for shingles. The heart of a black cat, applied as soon as killed, will stop bleeding from a wound.

The skin of a black cat, worn in one's clothing, will cure rheumatism, Here are a few specimens of the omens which are associated with the feline: If you dream of a cat it signifies that you an enemy. In Canada, Michigan and Eastern Kansas a cat of three colors brings luck, and in the last named place is regarded as a protection against fires. A "smutty" nosed cat brings wealth to its owner. "Up in Maine" It means poverty to own a white cat. A spotted cat coming to your house a lucky omen.

A double-pawed cat foretells good luck. The possession of a black cat or a black and white one brings sickness to the family. If a cat runs across your path you will be disappointed if you do not immediately turn back. That you will break friendship with a person to whom you give a cat is believed in New England. In Ohio if a neighbor's cat come listening around your house it means newscarrying, and you may know that the I neighbors are gossiping about you.

In Massachusetts a cat putting its paw over its head means company. And when the cat licks its paws that also means company, and the company will come from the direction to which its tail points. In Labrador it means visitors when the cat scratches the door post, When the cat washes its face it is sign of visitors in Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio, In Eastern Kansas it is a favorable omen when the cat sits before the fire and washes its face. After washing its face visitors will come from the direction in which the cat looks. If a cat washes its face in the presence of several persons the first it looks at will be the first to get married and will be the first of those present to die.

If a cat washing its face before a fire, pause in its ablutions and looks directly at any one, that one will receive a letter, is a Kansas belief, as also is the superstition that if the cat follow one who is leaving home, it presages harm. Also, at- that it is unlucky to move into house air where former occupants have left their cats and dogs. In some localities it is bad luck not to move the cat when the family moves; in other localities it is an ill omen to move the cat. The cat also runs a weather bureau: A cat "bawling" is a sign of rain in Newfoundland. A cat cating grass indicates rain in Maine, Michigan and Massachusetts.

If a cat's fur shines and looks glossy next day will be pleasant. In Alabama a cat washing its face means rain. In New England this statement is limited to ablutions on the part of the cat before breakfast or in the parlor. The direction from which the cat's paw moves in washing indicates direction from which the storm will come. In Central Maine it will storm soon if you see the cat looking out of a window.

In Kansas it means a change of weather when the cat plays and frisks about in the house. And in New York a storm is looked for when an old cat frisks through the house at night, When a cat is sharpening its claws the way its tail points indicates the direction of the wind next day, is a Maine superstition. When the cat turns its back to the stove it means cold weather. If the cat lies with the back of its head turned downwards, it means a storm. When the cat holds its nose up in the air it signifies rain.

That putting a coal black cat under a bushel meastire when it is raining will make the rain stop, is a belief entertained in Maryland, It is a genern1 belief that a cat never should be left alone with a sleeping child, as the cat "may suck the child's In Ohio is found the belief that playing with a cat will make a child stupid. The following was found within the shadow of the state university at Lawrence, "Never take a cat near a dead person, lest the cat take the soul of! the dead." The cat and dog are hereditary enemies because the cat once stole the right of the dog. Grease a cat's foot and it will stay at your house. The belief is general that cats can't smell when their whiskers are cut off. In New England it is regarded as unsafe to have a cat in the room during a thunder storm.

In Maine it is believed that in the tip of every cat's tail are three hairs of the devil--which accounts for the cat's disposition to prowl SOME CURIOUS BELIEFS ABOUT CATS. all the domesticated animal companions of man, there taches to the cat alone an of mystery. This is doubtless due to the animal's weird looking eyes, its peculiar habits, stealthy movements, night prowling and its strange vocal accomplishments, ranging from soft, musical "mewing" to the "wailing shriek" described by Poe, "half of horror and half of triumph; such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the damned in their agony, and of the demons that exult in the tion." Upon this atmosphere of mystery which attaches to the cat and the widespread belief that the animal exercises a mysterious influence over the lives and destinies of human beings, the poet Poe founded his gruesome tale, "The Black Cat." These curious beliefs and superstitions attaching to the cat existed in very early times. In ancient Egypt the cat was sacred to the Goddess Isis and was held in the highest reverence. Temples were erected in its honor and sacrifices and devotions offered up to it.

When the family cat of an Egyptian family died, the members of the household were required to shave off their eyebrows. And in the city of Cairo there was within very recent years an institution for the care of destitute cats. When the Middle Ages are reached it is found that old Father Time has transmuted the Egyptian veneration for the cat into something quite the opposite. By this time cats had come to be regarded as the familiars of witches. The favorite shape of Satan was said to be that of a black cat and the animal was an object of dread, instead of veneration.

Their superstitious connection with witches and the foolish belief that a cat has nine lives have led to the perpetration of great cruelties upon these harmless and useful domestic animals. There is still current in America, and in these days of education and enlightenment, a great mass of folk-lore and curiouts beliefs about cats. Many of these have been collected by the American FolkLore society. The multiplicity of these "human documents" shows that enlightenment and education never have been able to run fast enough to escape from the company of the black cat. Eastern Kansas is found somewhat prevalent the belief that if one kills a black cat some member of the household will die soon.

In New England and Eastern Kansas it is an omen of good fortune to be followed by a black cat. But to be followed I THE INTELLECTUAL PUP WASN'T A AN THERE SAT A QUEER LOOKIN BIRD ON NORA'S I BARKED AT IT BUT IT DIDN'T FLY AWAY DEALING WITH AN IN MARRIAGE. BY HELEN ROWLAND. course," said the elor "every thoughtfully Girl, woman tilting on one her should head side, marry- The Mere Man set down his coffee cup with an abrupt little clatter. "When she finds her ideal finished the Bachelor Girl "But," she added, with a sigh, "that's such a diffcult thing to "And so disappointing, when you do it." remarked the Mere Man sententiously.

The Bachelor Girl raised her delicate eyebrows and glanced across the centerpiece of pink roses in surprise. "Ideals," explained the Mere Man, striking a match beneath the table, "are apt to be like the pictures in the anti-fat advertisements--so fearfully different 'before' and 'after' taking." The Bachelor Girl twisted her coffee cup reflectively. "All husbands are," the remarked placidly. "Ideals are likely," continued the Mere Man, "to develop embonpoint, or chronic "YOU MUSTN'T, IT'S RAD FORM. dyspepsia, or a bad head, or nerves, or the asthma." "All husbands do repeated the Bachelor Girl emphatically.

"But it's so much worse in an ideal," protested the Mete Man. "A woman places him so high that he has further to fall than an ordinary chap; and he's bound to come down with a crash. The trouble is," he continued, puffing thoughtfully, "that all husbands look about alike after marriage. In the dim, dismal dawn of the next morning you can't tell an ideal from an ordinary, everyday husband- especially if his mouth is open and his top-hair is sticking up in tufts and he needs a shave cried the Bachelor Girl, her hands before her eyes with a little putting shudder, "do they ever look like that?" The Mere Man shifted uneasily in his chair. "but "Yes." he acknowledged, regretfully, it's much easier to get used to it and to come out of your dream if you have married a plain, commonplace fellow cried the Bachelor Girl, with sudden inspiration, "that's why women who are married to great men never seem to appreciate them, I suppose poets and brewers and statesmen and storekeepers are all exactly the same around the house, and when they are hungry, or can't find a collar button, or have indigestion, or the nightmare-" "Or a grouch," finished the Mere Man.

"I suppose," mused the Bachelor Girl, cracking a nut reflectively, "that it is different. Listening to the dreamy voice of a poet while he reads you his fancies 011 2 summer afternoon, after all, isn't exactly like listening to the click of his typewriter and the muttering of his groans while he is turning out those fancies on a winter morning." "Of course," assented the Mere Man, "and an actor's flights of temperament on stage are considerably more inspiring than his fights of temper when dinner isn't ready. It's much more comfortable to spend your life with a man who can mend a broken chair or fix the faucet when it leaks than with one who can play Mendelssohn's Spring Song or write you a sonnet. "And I suppose it's more satisfactory," added the Bachelor Girl, "to the sort of man who knows how to say pretty things acroes the table and will lead the dog out to the park after dimmer than to the brilliant person who knows how to carry a crowd away by his oratorical outbursts and can lead the Nation on to glory." "Yes," agreed the Mere Man, puffing idly, "The great man, who can haid an audience spellbound work the country both ways by pressing a small button is BIRD DOG. So I THOUGHT ID BETTER BE LEAVIN! apt to be peevish about the way his ham and eggs are cooked." The Bachelor Girl poured herself a cup of black coffee and set down the coffee pot with a thump.

"Then I'll give it up!" she exclaimed with conviction. "What search for a I didn't know you were searching!" exclaimed the Mere Man. thought you were dodging!" -For a continued the Bachelor Girl, "to whom I can look upfor a man 50 big that I can't see over him and through him and all around him; for a companion who will be an inspiration and an example and a matter of pride; for "For a thing of beauty and a joy forever!" broke in the Mere Man cynically. "That's what most women are sighing and searching for; but the sad part of it is, that the thing of beauty is never the joy forever, nor even for a minute. The joy forever is the little, unobtrusive chap 111 a tweed suit and a brown derby, who is so far beneath you that he has to strain his eyes to look up to you.

Haven't ever noticed that all the most brilliant and happiest women are tied to little who adore them and sit under their thumbs with perfect equanimity?" "Mr. Porter!" exclaimed the Bachelor Girl, bringing her nut cracker down on the table with thud, "I couldn't stand thing like that! There's happy medium between a slave and a sultan "But the trouble is," declared the Mere Man tranquilly, "that in matrimony there's always one slave and one sultan- or sultana. Marriage is like a pie or a doughnut, difficult to divide evenly. Somebody is sure to get the larger half, and the other person has to be satisfied with what's left. The important thing is to pick out an opponentA -what "A husband or wife," explained the Mere Man, "who is weaker, not stronger than yourself; smaller, not bigger.

Then you'll get all the prizes, instead of the "And spend your life," exclaimed the leavings andBachelor Girl scornfully, "sitting with your feet on--a doormat better," retorted the Mere Man cheer fully, "than sitting at the foot of a throne and gazing up until you get crick in the "But not half so nice," declared the Bachelor Girl, with a toss of her chin, "as sitting on a "Or across a table," put in the Mere "With somebody exactly on your own whom you can admire," began the Mere Man. "Without losing your mental balance," finished the Bachelor Girl significantly. "That's just what I declared. exclaimed the Mere delightedly. "Now, we, for level." inMan stance, are on exactly the same "You flatter yourself, Mr.

Porter." "And while you are my aren't minel" "No," sighed Mere Man, reaching over and catching the Bachelor Girl's the table, "but I'd make a fingers across beautiful "Don't, don't," whispered the Bachelor Girl, blushing. "A perfectly- "Oh, Bobby, it's bad form, and you mustn't, and besides- "A perfectly ideal doormat!" "The wafter is looking The Mere Man withdrew his hand and straightened himself with a sigh. "He'll never believe," he remarked, "that that was merely a physiological emphasis in a psychological argument." RICH YOUTH A DAY LABORER. Young Guggenheim Shovels Ore for Wage of Flity Cents. Harry Guggenheim, the 19-year-old son of Daniel Guggenheim, the multi-millionairs president of the American Smelting and Refining company, commonly known 25 the Smelter trust, is working as a day laborer at the big smelting plant in Aguas Calientes, Mexico.

He is paid $1 Mexiean money per day, which is equivalent to fifty cents United States money. When young Guggenheim arrived there recently in a private car and announced his intention of taking a position in the big plant there was much surprise among smelter officials. He said that he desired to start in at the very bottom of the smelting business in order to learn all of its manifold details. He chose the Mexican plant of his father's company for his training place for the reason that there are comparatively few Americans here and he would not be subject to the curiosity and attention that he would be if employed in 2 similar capacity in the United States. The private car and valet of young Guggenheim were sent back to the man United here States after bringing the young and he shed his fine clothes for a pair of overalls and jumper.

He was given one of the hardest jobs to be found at the smelter. He is a member of a big gang of peon Mexicans who shovel the ore in the sampling bins. It is a job that the humblest American laborer in Mexico would not accept. Mexicans of the peon class perform this labor exclusively, and young Guggenheim is the only exception to the rule. Spanish is the only language that is spoken by the Mexicans and the noted millionaire's son was pretty some for a few days in his new surroundings.

He has begun to pick np the language, however, and already is able to carry on a broken conversation with his companions. He soon will be promoted to some other department of the smelting plant and will continue to work his way up, step by step, until he has mastered a knowledge of the business. Comparisons, From the Baltimore American. First American Heiress--How about your title investment? Second Ditto- Mime was of no account. First American Heiress--And mine was la baron waste.

THAT QUEER LOOKIN BIRD WAS NORA'S HAT- -GEE! BUT IM AUNGRY. THIRD GENERATION Father, I smokes afford a corncob cigare; rom He prefers the old style type Of rigs to motor care You see, there is a difference Between our tastes and preference Father's store is neat and plain, And likewise is his dress; Father works with might and I don't--I confess; Resides, you know, my means are much I do not need to worry much. Father never went to school; I'm from U. of And versed in pedagogio rule, As gentlemen should ba That makes a mighty lot of odds In these late days of fattened wada People ask my parent why, When he in on the cheap, The best machines are none toe high For his proud to keep. He winks and says, "My dad It makes a difference, to be sure.

GEORGE THOMAS THIS WOMAN IS A CARPENTER A Expert Wood Worker, She Earn Livias. In Hammersmith Road, Hammersmith, one of London's dingiest suburbs, la the home of the only professional woman carpenter in the United Kingdom. Her name is Mrs. Walter Jackson. She is not an Englishwoman, but was born in New York of American parents, and is married to an American.

She is a comely little woman, with snowy white hair, a face thin and pale, and the pluck and grit of 2 thousand women jammed into one. "Sure enough," said the little woman A MRS, WALTER JACKSON, AN EXPERT WOOD WORKER. 0 on the occasion of my visit to her home, "it's hard work, is this carpentry business, but there is a little money in This information was gleaned in about the queerest back room, where the sun has never been known to peep for a moment through the few square inches of window. and a kness reigns perpetually. Everywhere, too, are shavings, chips and half finished articles and countless other signs of many a heartrending struggle to carn a few pounds.

Mrs. Jackson is not of a talkative disposition; a feverish anxiety ever seems to possess her to make the most of her health, strength and time. It appeared that at one time her husband, who is also in the trade, owned a very large and flourishing carpentry business in the West end of London, from which he derived an income of over $5,000 a year, and which he built up with a capital of $500 given him by his father on his leaving New York with his wife over thirty years ago. At the time he owned the business he naturally also owned many tools. The business is but a pleasant dream of the past: it was the old, old story of a speculation that turned out badly.

Mr. Jackson has to go out to work, but many of the tools remain. Some of them hardly are worthy of the name. The majority, however, are still in good condition. Well, after the crash had come, and a pretty residence in a pretty suburb had been left behind, and her husband began to go out to work 3.3 a jobbing carpenter, it occurred to Mrs.

Jackson that if she tried very hard she might be able to turn the tools to good account. She tried, and although at first she made little progress, by degrees she acquired proficiency and began to build up a little connection, which has been growing ever since. A quick, careful worker, it is nothing at which to wonder that the woman's work has found favor. Her ambition is to earn and save sufficient money to enable herself and her husband to spend their old age in peace and comfort in New York city. All rough work is eschewed by her.

But those little knick-knacks which go to make the home comfortable she turns out by the score. Cozy corners, book shelves, tobacco, cigar and stationery cases, fancy chairs, 5 o'clock tea tables, work boxes, card cases and letter racks are her specialty. "All these articles," she says, "sell readily, for the demand for them is unlimited." Got His Omelet. said. 'Oh, yes, he answered me; there are From the Youth's Companion.

"I've never tried to be funny with waiter," the returned traveler was saying. "since the time when I had a little experience with one in California It was several years ago, and I was rather I stepped into a restaurant one morning an ordered an omelet. What asked the waiter. "Why are there more kinds than one bring me an ostrich egg omelet." right, he said, 'but you'll have to wait quite a while. It takes a long time to make an ostrich egg "I told him I had plenty of time.

He went away, and was gone fully an hour. Then he came back with a covered dish. you are, he said, placing it before me and uncovering it. "Well, it was an omelet, all right, and big enough for half a dozen men. Whether there was an ostrich farm in the neighborhood, and he got real ostrich whether he made it from couple of dozen hen's eggs, I don't know, but I dietinctly remember that it cost me 2-- I learned a valuable lesson." Chinese From the Baltimore American.

I JUMPED UP ON TH' BED AN HAD JUST SHAKEN IT ONCE, WHEN IN CAME NORA. SAE GAVE A AWFUL SHRIEK AN In the Chinatown of every city the cers sell toothpicks made of whiskers. These are excellent toothpicks and in China no fashionable dinner complete without a bundle of them. From either side of the mouth of the rus, whiskers, at once stiff and project. They are about four inches and the older the walras the more are these hairs.

When the Alaskans kill a walrus they pluck out the whiskers tweezers. packages, and, they ship bundling there there enough to.