The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on October 19, 1892 · Page 3
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, October 19, 1892
Page 3
Start Free Trial

MADCAP; STORY OF A BIN. HKtJssr S. MATHKBS. "Why notr saia Mr. j'jyre. "At any SV.IP T'll kiss you for your sake, and 1 IB give you up to him. I'll live to - - you—to make you miserable, 3i vpn some day, if necessary—but I IS die." Il9 drew her closer, but Deluded his grasp. ... ''Husband," she said in a whisper, nrfid you ever—ever kiss her?" •'And kiss you after?'' he said with a • "Oil" you have not kissed me fora time," said Madcap; "we have only 3 pecks at each other's faces, aiid I tiioti*nt, perhaps, it was because "I take my kisses elsewhere," , said ||j[ ri jjvre grimly; "and where were "Oiii the children got them." '"i'hey will only get their own share •ter to-day," said Mr. Eyre dryly. "JJut did you?" said Madcap, still jeping her lips out of reach. '"As often as you kissed Frank; not "one more or less." : > "But he did kiss my hand,"saidMad- ifcap, looking down with grave dissatis- tlfaetioii at that guilty member. "And the Duchess—but, no; we are I tven, Madcap, if you never kissed Crank's hand, and if I never kissed p"liody wants to say his pairs," said 'Body's awe-struck voice in the door|"way;"and mummy's teaching him what "•to say," ClIAl'TBR XI. •Twnslio Onvolicnt Into tlio Injury which returned, Liko n pcliinl Ill-liffliluil into tliu bosom Of him jfiivc fli'u t' It. ,.'.There followed on that visit to the •'•Towers a period of the most vivid hap- I piness that Mr. Eyre had ever known, T for his fears being in lied to sleep by Frank's assurance that Hester was more determined to avoid an interview J ivitli Madcap than the latter was to ob- |(toiii it, and also a keen sense of having (•recovered something that he had almost ['lost, gave a clnirm, a zest, to the merest trifle of every-day existence in Madcap's company; so that, unconsciously •to himself, he was going through the j phase that she had done after "Frank I tad told her that he was the sinner, not I'Mr. Eyre. I It was one of those ideal autumns I'.that renew the senses with all the fresh- Ji'ness, without the languor, of spring, rand late October itself brought no 1 shroud of fog, but only an added charm and brilliancy of atmosphere that kept Madcap and the children out and about •allday, often with Mr. Eyre, though | ofteuer still with Frank. And Frank, in a fashion, was happy I too; for hard as be found it to be for- 1 ever in Madcap's company and not betray himseif, he bad lound even a few day's absence from her harder still; and J each day was being brought into finer •[discipline, by the unconsciously selfish |;lmppmess of the two persons who dearly loved him. And no echo of the world's scandal, or its clamor, came to disturb that golden season to husband and wife; if none |:0f the usual invitations reached them. I the state of Madcap's health accounted l:for the omission, and Mr. Eyre, too hap- i;pyin his home to wish to leave it, even ^neglected those duties as magistrate •for which lie had ]<>ng liad a secret disinclination. Job alone felt a bitter dissatisfaction at the position of affairs, the more so, as his "dear little Master Frank" never permitted him in any -.way to allude to the conversation that he had overheard on the occasion of I Mr. Evil's visit. "But murder will out," tlie old man would mutter to himself; "we've not seen the end of it yet, and though you may snatch an Eyre out of the devil's mouth once, Nick's safe to get him in .the long-run." About this time Josephine would. with locked doors at night, gloat over ceitiiu trinkets and gewgaws that had I lately come into her possession, though 1 sometimes a shuddering thoughtof the .coin in which they were to be paid tor, (would make her hide them even from I lierown eyes. : Between the two women was no spoken contract, but Josephine knew ;lio\v gradually, and in such a way as to .disarm suspicion, Hester was making her arrangements to leave the village; /•"to join her own people," she said, with r a brightness on her face that seemed to I tell of the welcome with which they : Would receive her. .;• The village opinion had veered round I; toward her during the six months she V had dwelt among them; her utter m- I difference to tlie effect her beauty pro- Nuced upon the men, her acquaintance I With Frank limited to a lew words spoken on both sides when by chance they met, her passionate devotion to Mr. Eyre's child, that by some strange hallucination or so the villagers thought) she believed to resemble her drowned baby, had earned tlie respect , of more than one wife and mother, though thev wondered greatly that she should willingly leave the boy in whose very life she seemed bound tip. There were many prayers put up for Madcap in the village at this tune, the • ; chief being that a woman-child might be born to her, and so win Mr. Eyre, tor the lirst time, to love a child of Ins own lor the sake of its resemblance to its moth- r. "Ithink if I'd got anew-born baby Mot NES, ALGONxL IOWA, WEDNESDAY* OCTOBER 1»* 18»2. imgby the sun on its many win ou s and so giving warmth to the otlienvis- cold coloring of the facad-. Is bhe dead!" thought Hester, as she turned the handle and went in struck by the qniet that reimi-,1 i" tho'nS- imVnf 8 . ai V v 1 nt forward, trembling and all-aid, she lieard a ste|>behind her* •.in 1 turning, came face to lace with Mr! * See " her enter and foU to lie iu my arms/' said Hester one day •mlata Ootober, when the gossips wera wondering what l r ule-tide would bring ' 1<> the It.-d Hall, -'I could bear to let one of the other ones go. Gouldn t S'OH?" Shu added suddenly to Bet ot the Mill, ,,"1 don't know," said Hatty rumina- tlngly, "you see, we grumble when they f.Vtf coming, and there's the pain; but there ain't a true woman that hates the f'lild lor th it—and somehow, whether H's Tommy or Tolly or Mat or Hill, they 'nuke their way to our hearts, and we ankle to lose 'em, oven if the I (-Hub do p.iy up handsoina, aim Hie sitis'faction of knowing , -jco!n;'orcabler up top as clieru- J)s, wlu'iv, having no stomachs, they Cl «|'i fed huugry-like, as they do more °tletdown below. And what with 'Miing days, and a husband getting 'it most Saturday nights," she added enter, and: S:ie neither moved nor spoke, but stood a petrified mi me of detected guilt, leeling that what she had periled her soul, and her vow to Madcap to win, had escaped heiv ."What is your errand her,??" lie said, ins oldsuspicionsreturnin;'iii full fora as he marked each sign of guilty terror written on h-r face, "you'are lookin ' for my wife 1 '" he said, quietly. A sudden gleam shot across her features—he had suggested to Inr an idea, and she boldly seized upon it as a bulwark behind which to shelter her real intention. " Why not?" she said, sullenly. "She was kind to me. 1 have a tnind to see her-she wants to see me. Times and times I have got out of her way; 'out now 1 would like to have a word wiih her before it is too late; for she is ill, they say, and she might bn beyond my reach to-morrow. Sho isn't dead!" sin added, struck by the cnrioiu change that had passed over Mr. Kyro's face. "Dead!" he rppeated, th« hatred of Ins glance, the scorn of his voic •, keen as tho stab of a knife to her heart; "and you living? But yon tempt fate." he added abruptly. "1 gave you your warning once bofor.;; I give "it to'yon now again. Make.OIKS more, effort to see her, and the couse'queiices be on your own head." "Ton told ins that before," she said, slowlv, "and! might have listened to you then. I'd only got a taste of happiness; and a soul tint's faint with starving 'II sometimes lay the bit of food down, feeling that she's got beyond it, and it's easier to die than to worry on. But when you've got to love your life, and morning, noon, and night your heart cries out to be fed, it isn't in human nature to go away to oblige somebody who's been cruel to you from tlie beginning." Warped and stultified as was the woman's instinct of right, even now it yet moved her toward the father of bet- dead child. She could have forgiven him, she thought, if it had lived in his image, representing the good he might have brought to her lif.;, and not the evil; but implacable and stern, Mr. Eyre stood, tne judge, not the sharer in the sin. and the moment of relenting scorched up in her breast as suddenly as it bad been born. "You can be reached through her," she said, with one of thos?, impulses of reckless untruth that sometimes will sweep a good as well as a bad woman away; "if she came in here now, tuis minute, I'd tell her before your eyes. It would not take very long to say, 'Tour husband is tlie father of my dead child. L'ird Lovel told you a lie!'" She came close to him, possessed by a rage that tempted violence; but Mr. Eyre returned her glance with a calmness liiat still further maddened her. "I'.jrhaps you'll keep us apart after all." she said, "but deeds can speak as well as words; and when yon see her heart wrung, and her cheek white with misery, perhaps yon will understand a Jirtle of what I felt when I los; my baby '' She ceased abruptly, terrified lest she should have given him a clew; but as she moved a step away, her foot struck asainst something that lay on the ground. Her lips quivered, her eyes softened as she stooped and lifted the little shoe and put it to her lips, crying out below her breath, "O.i, my little love! my little angel! I am good when you are in my arms—and I don't hate her then— I'm not jealous of her then." If a woman had been by, she must have understood what was in this poor wretch's heart; but Mr. Eyre saw nothing in the outburst but one frenzied woman's jealousy of another, salved over in her own eyes by a sentimental fondness for a child. '•Go!" he said, and held the door "Shall I?" she said, pushing back the masses of black hair from her wild beautiful eyes. "Ay, but I'll come back. You shan't turn me from my purpose; I'll carry it out to the end." "Unless you die first," he said. "Die!" she repeated; "and may nob she die, as well as other people? Have you ever thought of that—how some day you may lose her, and so get your punishment at last? Even, now she is III !) "Who said so?" cried Mr. Eyre, start- in "So that touches you," she said bitterly; "but when your child sutters—is nVt lat his voice?"she added abruptly, and went to tlie window and looked out. Madcap was passing with the children, her straw bonnet pushed back, hei t, ce slowing with health and happy smiles as the boys ran beside her. • A look of bitter jealousy clouded Hester's face as she gazed; perhaps she had never before been so struck by the fflerence in their two lots than at ;hat moment- and Mr. Eyre, catching that loo™ was to be excused if afterward it came back to him with n significance at once fatal and sinister. As the three disappeared, Hebter moved to the door, but pa.ised on the m , threshold and looked at Mr. Byre. "I'll coma back,', she b.iiu. -to ,, mav think to save her from mo, but you won't- "-•rlmps after all there won't be IBl?sis£fi£«;sii Hinish- more , "the ebiPen gots a poor »>ne a? it; but there, you've got the ier's heart, and you understand, aildml, clutching Hester's unringed a with Iier.ownweutuer-beat0n.hou- "tone. 'ly in November there was oivcu- one d iy in $t ie village a. report of ty'iv's sudden and piv.qM.we «!• ol UM» urjt to steps "and was gone. CIIAt'TKB XII. For I imvo di-oumoU a dreary dream, lU-onil the Islo o SU.yo I siiw n ilwul inmi win u IK'lit. ^ButlthlnktUutmanwiwI. TT.,if nn hour before dinner Mr. Jy his wife's room, and found h b re And, that loose soft robe von were goin •' to put on is whitf'-will you wear them?" lie added, in a strange voice, as he lifted the stones from their satin bed, and held them above h«r hea I. sh •. looking with pleasure at the dazx ing glitter. lou 11 let the children come and sae me she s.iid; whereupon Mr. Eyre bade the woman bring the b.ivs, and maanwhile fastened her necklace and bracelet* himself, and secured the lace at her neck with three brilliant staVs. Dody came in his night-gown. He had been interrupted in his prayers, now IroiiT, Josephine's arms claspi'il his little hands and said, in an awe-slrncK voice. "Mummy's going to heaven! 1 ' while Doiiiie, half in fear, fingered her bracelets, exclaiming that they were made of lire, seemingly more parplexed than delighted with her unwonted adornment. Perhaps that luxuriance of womanly beauty that had come to Madcap ot" late struck Mr. Eyre as lie gazed at the three; perhaps he then, for the first and last time in his life, realized how beautiiul her motherhoo.l was. as she sat with Dody's dark, flushed face ajjainst the whiteness of her throat, while Donne, curious to discover how that necklace of sparks had got fastened round her n?ck, peeped' over her should.-'! 1 , completing the croup. In the background Josephine looked with greedy, sp.irklHig eyes at the jewels in which her mistress was decked, while tlie maid's stolid eyes expressed more amazement at than covetousness of the baubles. Mr. Eyre was struck by Josephine's look, and as he lifted Dody out of his mother's arms, and placed him in those of the woman, he said to himself that in future he must study her more carefully than he had hitherto done. Dody knew better than to resist, but his lips quivered, and a look of despair came into the little face. "83ep wiz," mummy!" ha said imploringly, as Josephfne carried him away, tne contrast of his warm nest in hjs mother's arms and the loneliness of bis little cold cot piercing him with a sense of loss and misery as he went. But sooner than Dody dreamed of was he to bo safe with his' mother — to sleep, ay, and to awake with her, the threads of their lives inwoven to all eternity. : "Don'lilook so sad," said Mr. Eyre, at they went down stairs together. "In five minutes Dody will be safe again in your arms— in dreamland." "We have been holding a dress rehearsal,'' lie added, as they entered the drawing-room, and Frank rose to meet them. Mr. Eyre led Madcap to her own chair, brought a footstool, arranged a screen to guard her from draughts^ but Frank said nothing, lie was looking at Madcap. and wondering at her beauty, till catching that iixed look, she laughed, and said he was as unappreciative of her diamonds as the children had been. "A glow-worm will outshine them." said Mr. Eyre. "I saw 'throe to-riiffht, tempted out in tlie belief that spring had come again, I suppose." "That is very unusual," said Frank. "Where did you see them?" "In Synge Lane," said Mr. Eyre carelessly. 'and both Frank and 'M/uluiin looked up suddenly; but Mr. Eyre's eyes were inscrutable, and told uoth- incr. Yet he seemed to be laboring under strong nervous excitement, and presently something occurred to caus^ Frank the keenest anxiety. They were crossing tlie hall to the dining-room, when Mr. Eyre suddenly stopped, bis dilated eyes apparently iixed on something in the distance. "Look!" be exclaimed. ."Did you sse that'under tho cloak?" They looked, but there was nothing. Frank knew tlie legend, but Madcap did not, that when death or misfortune of any kind threatened the Eyres, the uncouth figure of a dwarf appeared for a few seconds to one of tlia family be- leath the old clock on the stairs. But in a moment Mr. Eyre had recovered himself, and led Madcap into he beautifully lit room. "See," he said, "tlie table is dressed vith as much care as you." And to her surprise, she saw a quantity of beauti- :ul hot-house flowers heaped in the center of the table, and a small choice bouquet laid beside eacli napkin. •'Whore could tlie gardener have sot thmny" exclaimed Madcap. "Ha had lot one in the place this morning, and _ie will never bag any from, the surrounding houses." "Oh, I got them," said Mr. Eyrecare- ;essly; "that honest fool had nothing to do with it. Try that wine, Frank; it las been in the cellar over a hundred years. 1 bade them bring it out to-night n your honor." Frank just tasted the wine, but he was haunted by an uneasiness that Mr. Eyre's every look and word tended to lonflrm. Ha knew how danger roused and excited this remarkable man, stimulating iiis intellectual powers to extraordinary brilliancy; and while Madcap laughed in delight at her husband's spirits, Frank felt more and more convinced that something fresh had occurred with regard to Hester. ' "Ho, you are wrong," said Mr. Eyre, suddenly turning his keen eyes upon the youngfellow. "Glow-worms, Frank, have been known to walk in at an open window, attracted by the light; and moths, too, are often attracted to their own destruction; but they do not kill, they are usually killed." Madcap looked from one to the other nothing," said Mr. Eyre, smiling; "it is an old jest, Madcap, yet all jests must have an end. Your health; and yours, Frank. May next year find you both as handsome and as happy as you are now." "And you," cried Madcap. "What of you?" "Nothing," he said, removing a glass that she was lifting to her lips. '.'You know. Madcap, I always had a horror of toasts of weddings, as well as of— 4 black beetles," he added, laughing. lie kept his hand upon hers, talking nonsense, until she had forgotten her intention; then, Frank decliningtotake anv more wine, they went back to the drawing-room, where a cheerful wood lire burned, and seemed to invite their com'iany. Tiiev drew round it, Madcap between them; 'and nsver had an hour passed to her more happily than with these two beside her, whose love made such an atinospherj of rest and content. Ac half past ten Mr. Eyre rose. "I must leave you. Madcap,' 1 he said, "but uot for Ion". Don't let Frank go until I come back. I have work that must be done to-night, and then— ay— then ini'v neavi in:; K,'y tuv.i in tne KX'K as the'door closed. "Tiii're !»••! but n few p vies to a 11 to bis work.'' ft lid M idn.ip, \v:io-*<* t'ncj had slriilow.'d ovrr at IMS d jp.truire; "it will (K his gtvarest.'' s'm a-lih'd. with worn inly prid •. tVn tuniel t>~> tin piano: but ivcoilir.111 : ihat Mr. Eyr.i must not hi! dist'irh • I. closed it, and approached tin- windo\v. '•Then 1 will be a mmm to-night,'' she said, liftin r the curtain, and looking through MIR glass loft unshuttered each evening until s ic had ivtiivil to rest. Frank cams to her side, a;id to rothsr they looked out at tiie b.iiiM>luck domo pierced with a million d.u-n of Iliv. tipped with wild, blue spirit-like brrrht- IIPSS—atraddy Mars and brilliant S.nn', already iKuinuin^ to pale b'i'oiv t!io ci'i'sce'nt just r.smg out or'her silver- lined clouds. "I never look at the stars,' 1 sbe said, "without thinking of iliac V; j nd;!:m 'peasant who, mi being told Ills churoii-atecp'.es were to bo demolished, and so the last traces of tli"ir religions belief swept away. said.'Ton rn.iy do that, but yon caniiot abnlisn our stars, and we see them from a much greater distance.'" Frank thought she looked a part of the starlit skv itself, soiinthing too oi its solemn beauty se>'iuud to h;ivo touclied her. as she went on wistfully— "How it quiets one to look at them; how all one's little an .fry, jealous thoughts drop away—one sees th'e temptation, not the fall—the struggle after right, not the failure; one scorns nothing'and no one " "Frank," and she turned to the young fellow, "I seem to see things so differently now. Open the window a little way, and let me see the sky without the glass between. 1 think I used to look at many things as through glass, Frank; not face to face, as 1 look at them now —perhaps it is because I am so happy —sometimes I think no one could be as happy as I am, without being punished for it—there was only one little cloud to make me less perfectly content, but it's gone now—I'll tell you to-morrow, but I must tall/u'm Qrst." To be continued. Cleanliness. Most of the serious diseases to wlilcli human llesh. is heir arc clue to filth, or are fostered and spread by lllth. But it is tho hardest thing in the world for the race to be cleanly. Personal cleanliness, for example, as understood by the Anglo-Saxon race, by the Dutch aucl by tho Japanese, is unknown to most other people. Cities go' on for generations drawing their water supply | from polluted sources and lamenting at "visitations"—the impiety of it!—of fev- • ei-s. Or they invite diphtheria, by carelessness in regard to 'drainage, or reck- , ing masses of liltn in defective cess- ! pools. Filth out of sight is so generally out of mind. By and by an awful pestilence comes—through the "inscrutable providence" of the Almighty, as people used to say, reverently but at^ the same time impiously. It is a" "providence," but no one thinks of it any more as inscrutable. It comes in the nature of thing*, as effect from cause. An immutable law is violated. Quick or slow the inevitable retribution comes. It is curious to reflect that this has been tlw usual course of the annum race from the very earliest timos: namey, to invite pestilence by lilthi- ness; then, when the invited guest appears, attended by goodman Death, to charge his coming to divine wrath— at something other than the true offense; and then, while seeking to up- pease the angered deity with sacrifice like you su u . \vhom it would nt „„»»'«!?"»" l « W - k unnatural _UOIIA.V em uo aiaidraoo gou p;p ejj nat|M ,,noX,, eq irons T puy ? IIIA\, (,'wojeq or increased devoutncss in religions sor- vice, incidentally-to clean the camp, or house, or city. One of the earliest pes- tilc'iices on record was that which assailed the hosts of the Achaians beleaguering the city of Troy, which Homer describes in immortal verso in the lirst book of the Iliad. How far back of the dawn of history it w,\s we do not know, but how true to human life it all is after these thousands of years! The Greeks, "child minded men," were sure when the pestilence struck the camp, smiting mules and dogs as well as man, that the wrath of the gods had been kindled against them. A prophet was ready to recall that, their most powerful chief had only a few dnys before despitefully treated an aged priest of Apollo, who came, grief stricken, to the camp, bearing rich ransom, and piteously pleaded .to be allowed to redeem his daughter. Agamemnon brusquely refused and bade him go; and the old man had prayed for vengeance. Surely this was the cause of the pestilence! The only tiling to do was to send the maid home to her father without ransom and, with her, rich gifts to the outraged god. Tho Greeks applauded the wisdom of tneir prophet; public opinion compelled the reluctant chief to accede, and maid and gifts were dispatched with due ceremony to the house of the insulted priest. That done, Homer naively adds, as though it were an after-thought; "Atreidos bade the folk purify themselves. So they purified themselves, and cast the defilements into the sea and did sacrifice to Apollo." And so they rid themselves of the pestilence. We have reached the stage where we begin to clean up as soon as we hear that a pestilence is on the way, seeking for congenial filth. Some time—some time we shall have, in us that belief which compels practice in the truth of the old adage, cleanliness is next to godliness (on which side the adage doth not sny), and we shall keep clean all the time.—Indianapolis News. \ Ctillil-s \\Mi. It was dusk. A cool twilight had fallen upon the hot city after a clay of hasufforablo boat. The sun flamed through ft golden mist, Tho breeze, like a caress, crept through the trees; the roar of the city • the growl of a weakened lion. In the pnrk a pair of lovers strolled up and down, oblivious to nil the world in their inocent passion. She wore a cluster of panlsics at her bolt. Half ( a dozen yards away sat a woman and a child on -si bench, two pathetic instances of humanity bom only to poverty and squalor. Mother and child they wore, the child an infantile reproduction of its mother, with that weird, uncanny effect that premature ago always makes. He was but four years old. She was old in suffering, in experience, in im- mniited love and hope that had loysi since turned' to despair. The child was already old iu his inheritance of all these. Heredity had done its work. The lovers came back and walked near them. I "Yes, dear," she said, "you see how wel I can manage everything. We shall live like a king and queen." As she spoke she took one of the panwlos from her belt and fastened it In her lover's coat. He drew her into tho shade of a tree and kissed her quickly. They passed on. I "Mamma," said the boy, faintly. "What is it, darling?" said the mother, drawing him closely to her broast and bending tenderly over him, "Mamma, I want some flowers like the lady has on." Ills eyes glistened with unnatural light. A heavy dew lay iu great drops on his almost tranuparent skin, Tho mother's heart gave a great tlirob. "Dearest, I will get you some tomorrow." "But, mamma, I Avnnt them now." "Dear child, there are none hero TO get for you." The boy wailed. "If I only had some flowers like that lady." Tho lovers were coming back. He was loking tenderly into her eyes. "How clover you are," he was saying admiringly. "If all other women wcro like you." . "I beg yon to forgive me, but my boy is sick; he has been sick a long time. He wants flowers and I cannot got them for him. I would not ask yon for them for myself—but my boy! If you would " Tho [mother's accents died away. She clasped her hands with an eloquent, impasioned gesture. < Tho girl puickly took the flowers from i her belt and handed them to the woman. With a. sudden impulse, the young man took his solitary flower from his coat and offered it also. | "You are a thousand times wel- •• come," said the girl, graciously, i Tho lovers passed on with an incroas- I cd tendcrnc's in their hearts. The mother sped back to her boy with frantic eagerness. I "Paul, Paul," she cried, "here arc your flowers. The lady haw given them to yon." i Tho bloodless little hand, as frail as :i snowdrop, clasped the flowers languidly i "Prot-ty flowers." he murmured. A sudden icy terror froze the mother's veins. , j "Paul, Paul," she said, in a hoarse, convulsive whisper. j Tin; child did not answer. The i "pretty flowers wore still clutched tightly by the bloodless little fingers, which now lokod thiner than ever, but ho would never see their beauty again. There was a faint smilo on his lips, caused, perhaps, by things more beautiful than the pretty flowers he had wanted so much. I A few steps away, the lovers were laughing again, while the breeze, like a caress, crept through tho trees, and the roar of the city was like the growl of a wakened lion. "A man should bo n Siegfried," sayg Schopenhauer, "armed cap-a-pic, to ward the small troubles of every day- those little differences we have with our follow-num, insignificant disputes, unbecoming conduct in other people, petty gossip, and many other similar annoyances of life-; he should not feel thorn at all. much less take to heart and brood over thorn, but hold them at arm's length, and push them out of his way, liko stones that Ho in the road, and upon no account think about them and giv.o thorn a place In his reflection." Wltiit Smoking Docs. Burdclto concludes nn article on smoking with those words: "So don'* smoke, my boy. .It makes you stupid, so it doesn't help you in your studies. It is bad for the heart, so it doesn't advance you In athletic sports. It makes you nervous, so it doesn't make you a bolter shot. It makes you smell like a tape worm, so it doesn't make you pleasant; company. It doesn't do you one particle of good: It. makes you appear silly and ridiculous; it is as disagreeable and offensive to yourself as it. is to anybody olso; you don't get a bit of comfort; out of It, and you know it; so don't smoke!" OIIITII Vlrtiirlit'H Niirmimo. Tile oft-raised quest Ion as to Queen A'ietoria's surname Is thus answered, by a recent writer: '"She is, of course, a. Guolph by ancestral lineage, which is traced by (lie genealogists from tho Empress St. Cnnogonda, consort to tho Kmqeror St. Henry H., A. D. 1024. Both arc canonized saints and both wore solemnly crowned at Homo by Pope Benedict Vlll. But all this ro- lates merely to the pedigree of Princess Alexandria Victoria prior to her mar- rlago In 18-10 1o Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg Gotha. This prince was of the undent house of Saxony, whoso family name is, and has during moro than four centuries been, AVettiu, Obviously, therefore, the Guolph princess became upon her marriage, Mrs. Wettln. Ono Woman's Wiiy. The following conversation wetwccn two well-dressed ladies was recently overheard on an elevated train: "Yes, I have boon away all summer, up in the country." "Did you close your house?" "No, I lot a young couple in." "Anybody I know?" "No, they were strangers In the city- young people from Vermont." Pause. "I shouldn't think you would like to have anybody iu your house during your absence." "Well, I'll toll you." She lowered her voice, "You see, tho house was full of—of—of those dreadful insects— those, you know—and the young woman looked as neat as a pin." Giggles. "Did she got; thorn out?' "I haven't soon one since I got back." Checked by Musir. It. is said Hint when cat.lo utter the , roar which is the sign of approaching stampede, they are often checked in what would prove a "headlong rush over the plains" by everyone on watch beginning to sing, Avhich at once the nervous animals. Strangely enough hymns, of which the cowboys know a great, number, are most used on these occasions. I'» r) Iu men tn r.v 11 lntor,v« The parliament that met on Aug. 4 is the thirteenth of the present reign. The reign of Queen Victoria stands unique in the annals of parliamentary history, having broken all previous records. Since the days of Henry VIII. when parliaments of more than one session began to bo usual, no sovereign has called into being thirteen successive parliaments. The AJr's Density. During a thunderstorm the air is of such varying density that thunder peals are never heard at a distance corresponding to their violence. For the same reason the roar of the cannon on a field of battle is not noticeable, and the day has often been lost within a short distance of the reserves of the defeated army which were waiting for the sound «of artillery to call them to the scene pf action. The air tit night is move lijonaogeneous, and hence sounds are heard more clearly and farther than ThoH<< (iooil Old DII.VH. After she had seated herself in the ferry boat, little Willie broke away from her and began rolling around in the dust and dirl; before us all. "All, anadam," whispered tho old gentleman, "do not try to stop little Willie! I love to see the child have fun." "Yes, indeed." "It does my old heart good," ho wont on, as AV.Ulie turned a double soimuor- sault; "It carries mo back to the early days. I tell you ma'am, there's nothing like youth." "That is true, sir," she said, sweot- "It recalls to me, madam, tho old farm where I once romped, a carefree mortal all the livelong day." "Willie is such a good boy," she ventured. William yelled rats three times and threw up his hat. The old gentleman suddenly let out a roar that was heard over the river. "Wo-w!" he gasped, howling with pain. "Mercy, me!" exclaimed tlu woman, st;iring. "Why don't you leach your boy some mannersY lie has just stuck a pin in my leg." "But he is only a, harmless child, sir." "Wow-w!" "And his conduct carries you back to the early days!" "Wow-w!" "And youth fades so quickly, sir." "Wow-w, madam, wow-w, 1 a-iy!" "And it reminds you of tho days on tho old farm." "That will do, madam," bo gasped, rising and glaring at us all, "1 see, madam, that 1 am in the presence of a spoilt child, your sweet Willlmi. you expect we should all sing and dance, but you are mistaken, ma'am—mistaken to the utmost. I predict niadiin, that your boy will grow up n burglar and a horse tblei,-iyid if ho do'-su't break Date I'uliiiH In Arizona. The Tombstone- Epitaph recently spoke of a garden near Yuma, Ari/.ona, in which are growing twenty-five data pabns, the largest of Avhich is thirty, feet in height and fifteen years old, This and five of the other trees arc now In npnring.and some of the bunches of thoir fruit weigh fifty pounds, and aro estimated to contain 8,000 dates each. Tdo iniwst:. nrlfffll/il sfono In thn world fontis the. bnse of Hie Bnrt.holdl Stntno of T,iliprtv on Bodloe's island, Now York hnrbor. This immense stono wns inn do from broken trnn rook, sand and Ainprlr-nn com on t. Five hundred cm- londs of snnd Hurt over 20.000 bar- rol« of fomont wore used in manufacturing this monster. mrm who won the nrlxe offered TIT nn T''>KrU«Ti TtflTlPl 1 for the llPft floflnl- firm of vnonov lint it thus: An nrt.'c.lo' ivl>i"li nmv bo n«od ns n nnivorssnl pnsft.. rwirt. to nvorvM-liorP Pvpont HoHVPll. find.' ni'n unlvpvwl nrovidrr of everything except happiness. A T>."ffolo mother, tbinldnir thnt her (loTTa.litnv'q "vrmiifv lllfln" '\v f l t ? TVinl'Tfllfi; tor, innrr n visit tho other nlsrht, (">i\- tinnnlv pfrnvvl Into tbe nni-lnr, Rljo v,'"s emwlsor]. Irulped, to snp tl'O Imwrs js«,i7irt noiopri. one nt either end of the rr-fn. Tlir* TV"i7i<* ?nor), vben nwiVon- pci. t^ov iiiq leaA'o without even saying good night. A T „.,„ f.n 0> in ,ttu? daytime. Jai foggy weather eouaOslRffw innumerable deflections pom, the mist, ftn4 we soon destroyed. Ws mother's; hjilvt before he J» 31 xuy •<1 sleep lins for TT<i'npS, of Onlnev. Minn. His onlv pfvrWi <vf -vvnVpfuinoss (Ini'inc nl l flint ttmo -\vnve twn weeks Inst .Tnlv. two jnnTitbs in 1RRO. nnfl some few eio'i day for eighteen months

What members have found on this page

Get access to

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free