A WOMAN'S QUESTION.
Before I trust my Fate to the.,
Or place my hnnil in thine,
Before 1 let thy Future give
Color and form to mine,
Before I peril all for thee, qugtion thy soul to night for me.
I break all slighter bonds, nor feel
A shadow of regtt :
If there one link within the Paat
That hold thy apirit yet!
Or ia thy FiMth as clear and free aa that which I can pledge to thee?
Doea there within thy dimmeat dreama
A poaaihle future shine,
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,
Untouch'n, unshared by mine?
Ii ao, at any pain or coat, oh tell mc before all ia loat.
Look deeper atill. If thou canst feel
Within thy inmnat aoul,
That thou haat kept a portion back,
While I have ataked the whole
Let no falae pity (pare the blow, but in true mercy tell me to
la there within thy he,rt. a need
That mine can not fulfill?
One chord that anv other hand
Could better wake or atill?
Spoil now leat at some future day my whole life wither and decay.
Livea there within thv nature hid
The demon-spirit Change,
Shedding a paaaing glory atill
On all thinga new ana etrange?
It may not be thy fault alone but ahield my heart against thy own.
Couldat thou withdraw thy hand one day
And anawer to my claim.
That Fate, and that to-day's mistake
Not thou had been to blame?
Some soothe their conaciencc thua; but thou wilt surely warn and save mc now.
Nay, answer not, I dare not hear,
The words would come too late;
Yet I would spare thee all remorse,
80 comfort thee, my Fate
Whatever on my heart may fall remember, I would riak It all!
r Adelaide Anne Proctor.
rruunuunTOnnuuna o a o poomropppup B pppppppp.
The Drowned Bedroom.
By RENE BACHE.
The feelings with which I accepted
"Worthlngton's Invitation were
strangely mingled. He had declared
himself unalterably my enemy, for no
other reason than that I had won the
woman be wanted to marry. She was
absent from my side, at the sick bed
of he i- father, and, being made aware
of the situation, he asked me to come
and spend a week at his house. He
suggested that the visit might make
the enforced absence of my wife more
endurable, and the tone of his letter
In a general way seemed to Indicate
that he desired to renew the friend
ship which had formerly existed be
tween us.
Considering the fact that not more
than six months had elapsed since he
vojved toward me such bitter enmity,
I' was surprised at the cordiality of
the communication. My Intimacy
with Worthlngton before my mar
Mage had been close and I had
formed the notion that he was a per
son singularly tenacious of an idea
once formed in a word, that he
would cling-like death to a decision,
Whether wrong or right. That he
would ever forgive me for the "ln-
u; : " I had done him In marrying
he girl he wanted he used that
term at the time, I remember I did
npi imagine. But I had always liked
him exceedingly, up to the period of
our rivalry, and It was a matter of
course that I should be glad to "make
It up" with him. Indeed, It was ow
ing chiefly to this desire on my part
that I decided to visit him at his
country house, which he called In hu
mor the Moated Orange, perhaps ba
causo there was neither farm nor
-ditch connected with the estate.
The absurdity of the name was ac
centuated by the extremely modern
aspect of the dwelling, which was
constructed In accordance with
.Worthlngton's own peculiar notions.
It was of very moderate size, but pro
Tided with every possible end-of-the-century
Improvement. Domestic ar
chltecure, Indeed, was always a fad
of his, and I well remember that as a
schoolboy he used to make plans on
his slate for the house he was going
to build when he grew to be a man.
Another notion of his was that he
would have two small stiver bars of
appropriate shape and size to cool his
toa a beverage of which he was in
ordinately fond. That metal having
a property of absorbing heat, he
would use the bars alternately In his
cup at meals. I may mention that
the first thing I noticed on sitting
down at table with him, immediately
after my arrival at the Moated
Orange, was two such silver bars
which he used for his tea. He was a
man who seldom, If ever, relinquished
an Idea.
There was something about his
manner that struck mo as odd. While
cordial. It seemed to me a bit forced,
though maybe the notion was imag
inary on my part, Inasmuch as I was
feeling out of sorts myself. He was
decldodly gay at dinner, talked more
than was his wont, while I contented
myself with listening, and he drank
a little more than was good for
him. When he showed me to my
bedroom I chose to retire early, be
ing wearied by my railway Journey
ho had Borne joking remarks to
make about the peculiarities of the
apartment, which was entered oddly
enough by a flight of six steps lead
ing down from the landing. That Is
to say, on crossing the threshold,
one descended these six steps to the
door of the chamber. I thought it a
strange mode of architectural con
struction, but having had long exper
ience of Worthlngton's eccentricities,
it did not occur to me to wonder,
knowing that he had built the house
on his own plans. He had only
finished It within a couple of monthB,
by the way, and he told me that I
was the first person to occupy It.
"You will find It very comfort
able," he said, chuckling to himself
as If over some jocular Idea of in.
own which he did not see fit to com
municate. "It is something quite
original In the way of a bedroom, I
flatter myself built after a whim of
my own, you know. Bleep tight, old
man. If you want to light up In the
night Just touch the button at the
head of your couch."
He chuckled again as he left the
room, and I found myself speculating
as to the cauBe of his amusement
While I undressed myself. In three
minutes I was In bed, and in no time
at all fast asleep.
1 do not know what it was that
housed me, but some hours later J
Cecums' suddenly wide awaka. May
be it was a certain peculiar sensation
of chill In the air that disturbed my
Blumber. I pulled the heavy blan
kets closer around me It was late
In November and tried to go to
sleep again. But it was of no use;
my eyelids would not stay closed, and
I began to think and think in an nn
noylngly perlstsent way, while gaz
ing absently at a spot of flickering
light on the celling.
The spot had a curious sort of
tremulousness, and presently It oc
curred to me to wonder where it
came from and what was the cause of
flickering. It looked like a patch
made by a moonbeam, but I did not
see where the latter entered. For
some time It amused me to speculate
on the nature of the phenomenon,
but my surmises did not lead me to
any satisfactory conclusion. I gave
It up at length and turned over, with
the intention of wooing reluctant re
pose, when, being nearer to the edge
of the bed than I bad supposed, my
right arm fell outside. It plunged
up to the elbow Into Ice cold water.
I was extremely startled and even
alarmed. Hastily leaning over to
ward the other side of my couch, I
stretched out my arm again. It was
no illusion. The bed was surround
ed by water up to the height of the
mattress, or nearly so.
I lay back and tried to think. On
what conceivable theory could such a
condition of affairs be accounted for?
Who ever heard of a bedroom in the
second story of a dwelling house
flooded in such a manner? And the
water was unquestionably rising; al
ready I felt the mattress beneath me
growing wet.
Just then I remembered what Wor
thlngton had said about touching the
button at the head of the bed In case
I wanted light. I groped anxiously
for the knob, pressed It and pressed
It again, but no Illumination fol
lowed. Then I remembered having
noticed, when I retired, two knobs.
one above the other. I groped again
touched the upper one this time the
lower one was for shutting off the
electricity and instantly the room
was flooded with light from eight or
ten Edison bulbs which were attached
to a pair of chandeliers overhead.
Tho sight which met my gaze was
by no means reassuring. As I had
supposed, the entire room was flood
ed with water, which was already
nearly high enough to overflow the
bed. It was up to the third drawer
of the dressing table, and three or
four chairs were floating about. 1
cannot Imagine a more extraordinary
scene.
Encouraged to action now that my
surroundings were mado vlBible, I
jumped out of bed Into the icy water
and nearly frozen by Its chill waded
to the door, ascending the six Bteps
to reach It, I found it locked, evl
dently from the outside. Surely, it
was very strange. I shook the door
with all my might, but it did not
budge. Standing on the threshold,
at the top of the flight, I was some
distance above the level of the water,
but it was not a point of vantage
from which to force the lock.
By this tlmo I had begun to be
really frtghtenod. I called out re
peatedly at the top of my lungs, but
my voice died away without eliciting
any response. Something cold
seemed to take a grip on my heart
and looking down I saw that the
water was over the bed. It was evi
dently rising fast.
Summoning my courage 1 descend
ed the six steps and waded across the
room to the windows, which, I then
noticed for the first time, were at an
extraordinary height from the floor.
There were two of them, and I tried
them In sdccesslon, but I could hard
ly reach them, having nothing to
staud upon, and It was obvious that
the shutters were securely barred,
though the sashes were lowerej from
the top as If for ventilation. Some
minutes of frantic effort convinced
me that there was nothing to be ac
complished. It was now, for tho flrBt time, that
a suggestion of foul play came Into
my mind. The Idea struck me like a
thunderbolt; it was Indeed the only
conceivable explanation of the situa
tion. Worthlngton, who hud sworn
eternal enmity toward me, had not
forgotten his vow. I was at the mer
cy of a madman. Pretendlug to ra
pent his hostility he had Invited me
to his house for the purpose of de
stroying me by a method frightful In
its originality. He might easily have
murdered ue In some other way, but,
having resolved upon the deed, it
was characteristic of him to select a
method wholly nove1 and hitherto
initio, in lit of. I wasj to die by
drowning, and as slowly as possible.
How well I understood now the sig
nificance of that chuckle of his as he
had left mo a few hours earlier.
"Built after a whim of my own," he
had said, speaking of the bedroom
assigned to my occupancy. Why, It
was Into a trap, constructed express
ly to capture myself, that I had fall
en. Halt mad with fear and rage, I
made my way to the steps again, the
water up to my waist, and, trembling
with cold, climbed out upon the top
step. Then beating the panels with
my 11 g. I yelled and screamed In my
despair, alternately cursing my
troacherous host and calling upon
him to have mercy and spare my life.
I suppose this must have continued
for five minutes or so, tho.ugh It
seemed hours to me, when I thought
I heard a noise outside the door and
listened. It was a man's footstep,
and as It approached f recognized It
as Worthlngton's.
"What's the matter, old man?" he
said. "Uot a nightmare?"
"Have mercy, Worthlngton," I
cried. "For Ood's sake, have mercy!"
"It's a nightmare, sure enough."
I heard him mutter. "He's walking
In his sleep."
"Open the door!" I walled.
"How can I open It?" he replied.
"The catch is on tho Inside, just
above the knob. Press It buck with
your thumb."
With trembling fingers I obeyed
him; the door, released by the spring
catch one of Worthlngton's freaks
of Ingenuity flew open, and I fell
outward, half fainting. He caught
me In his arms.
"Why, what's the mat ?" he
began, when, as he gazed down Into
the brilliantly lighted room, an ex
pression of the utmost astonishment
came over his face. Then he began
to swear with much elaborateness
and emphasis.
The situation began In some meas'
ure to dawn upon mc, as he ran back
to his own room and, returning with
a pocket flask, poured half of Its con
tents down my throat. The fiery
stuff nearly choked me.
"You didn't mean to murder me,
then?" I said, as soon as I could re
gain my breath.
"Murder you!" he echoed. "Ha,
ha! Ha, ha, ha!" I thought he
would have a fit with laughing. Then
he began to apologize with the ut
most humbleness, saying that he
could never make adequate amends
for the unfortunate accident that had
occurred. He still feared that I
might have pneumonia In consquence
of the exposure to which I had been
subjected. After wrapping me In
warm blankets, putting my feet In a
tub of hot water, and making me
swallow the rest of the flask, he
explained In a few words what had
happened.
"In putting up this house," he
said, "my notion was to build It
around a bathroom. That was my
bathroom which you occupied to
night I have two or three other
tubs for winter use, but for summer
I wanted a tank that my guests and
I could swim In. In winter, according
to my Idea, it was to be converted
into a bedroom, thus providing an
extra chamber for gueBta. To shut
off the water, carpet the floor and
put in the necessary furniture was
simple enough. I confess that I
thought It rather a clever notion.
You will have noticed the walls are
tiled, and you will now understand
the peculiar construction of the
apartment, the steps leading down
into It, and the height of the win
dows. The arrangements are such
that the water cannot rise higher
than Ave feet, so that you could not
have been drowned, though you
would certainly have been frozen to
death had your cries for help not
awakened me. I can never forgive
myself for the misfortune that has
occurred. In some way, which I will
find out about In the morning, the
valve shutting off the water must
have opened, flooding the -room.
There Is only one thing I cannot un
derstand, and that is why you should
have jumped to the conclusion that I
had doslgns upon your life."
"You sworo everlasting enmity,
you know, Dick," I said, weakly.
He laughed long nnd loud like his
old self. "I meant It, too," he re
plied. "But changed circumstances
have caused me to forgive the out
rage you committed In cutting me
out with a certain young lady. I am
now engaged to be married to Miss
Evelyn Goldthwalte, whom I believe
you know."
"I do. Indeed, Dick," I said. "She
is a charming girl, und I wish you
all the bapplneBB you deserve."
That Is all of the story. I suffered
nothing from my extraordlnnry ad
venture beyond a bad cold In the
head. It Is hardly worth mentioning,
but I may as well explain that the
curious flickering light which I saw
on the celling 'on that memorable
night was merely a moonbeam tbut
entered through the upper part of
one of the window Bhutters and was
reflected by the wuter. Good Literature.
Buffalo Memorials.
The Trail, the Wallow, the Rubbing Stone.
White us Mourning Color.
The news that a European has been
noticed In Jamaica wearing white as
mourning for a relative lost In the
recent catastrophe recallB the fact
that that color wau originally em
ployed In many countries to Indicate
reverence for tho dead.
In fact, the custom obtained In
Europe as late us the reign of Charles
vim. of France, and In Italy, too, It
lingered, though for women only, the
men wearing brown. In Ethiopia tho
white soon changed to graty and In
Egypt to yellow.
China, however, employs It to this
day. Other colors have had their
vogua blue, for InBtauce, which even
now la used In Turkey, Armenia aud
Syria. The latter signifies the heav
enly region, white stands for purity,
gray and brown typify our mother
eath, and black, most repellent of
mourning colors, would seem to sug
gest an eternity of night. London
Chronicle.
What Is regarded an the world's
shearing record bus been established
by nine men on Hawkos Buy station,
Australia. They succeeded In shear-
ling 289 4 sheep In nine hours.
Over much of the Western country,
where the buffalo used to 1 am 1 the
plow has turned over the soli and
buried the memorial which he left
behind him. In the territory that
has been cultivated no signs of the
wild inhabitants remain. Even where
the earth villages of the Indians used
to stand along the streams, forming
low mounds, an the supports and
earth walls and roofs sank to decay,
the plow, passing again and again
over the soil, has so leveled It that
the mounds are no longer seen. So
In such regions It Is with the buffalo
trails and with the buffalo wallows.
But In the arid Northern country
all over the hills, the trails of the
buffalo may still be traced. Often
they are visible merely as green lines
showing brightly agalnBt the yellow
prairie over which they run, but
sometimes they are deep worn, six or
eight inches, even a foot below tho
surface of the surrounding soil. To
day many of these trails are used by
the range cattle, which occasionally
are so numerous as to wear away the
grass which has Bprung up In the old
path, but more often the number
passing over the trail Is so small us
only to keep the grass worn down.
In ancient days in the soft chalky
soil of Kansas, these trails were
sometimes sn deeply worn that the
buffalo as they passed along rubbed
their sides against the walls of the
trail.and over the herd, moving stead
ily onward at a slow walk, hung
clouds of fine dust, a chalky powder
as fine as plaster of parts but yellow,
or cream colored.
When undisturbed tho buffalo us
ually traveled In single file, often the
nose of each great brute close to the
hindquarters of the one ahead of It.
Oroups of buffalo followed estab
lished paths, and sitting on a high
hill, overlooking some river or little
prairie lake, one often saw the buffalo
in long strings stringing in from all
directions. For the most part the
trails led to water, or perhaps to
some favorite crossing place on a
stream. If they led toward a river,
many of them would be parallel or
nearly so, or they might converge
toward some point where the descent
of the bluffs was gradual and easy,
for the buffalo always chose for him
self the easiest ways.
To-day, as one observes these trails
memorials of ancient days he
may wonder why they stand out so
brightly green upon a prairie that In
late summer Is sere and yellow. The
reason Is obvious. Millions of buffalo
traveling for uncounted years over
the same paths have fertilized them
by their droppings, so that the soli
there Is now far richer than else
where on the prairie, for the buffalo
chip deposited In the trail never grew
dry and hard as It did on the prairie,
but was at once trodden Into the soil
and reduced to powder, to nourish a
subsequent growth of grass.
It is not surprising that these trails
over the hllU are noticed by travel
ers who are whirled along in the rail
road trains of to-day, nor that they
inquire what they mean, nor that
when their significance is explained
the thoughtful Inquirer should con
sider with Interest and wonder the
changes that have taken place over
the broad land of the West.
Far less conspicuous than any oth
er of the memorials that he has left
Is the buffalo wallow. This was sim
ply a place where in the heats of
summer, or when greatly peBtered
by Insects, or when worried by last
winter's tattered coat which he had
not yet gotten rid of, the buffalo
threw himself down In some damp or
wet place and rolled until covered
with mud and water. The process
haa often been described, and Is well
understood. Tho practice is not pe
culiar to tho buffalo, since In the
heats of summer the elk, and bears,
and probably many other animals
bathe themselves In this fashion.
Sometimes a buffalo wallowing on a
soil which was white, or nearly so,
emerged from his bath a white buf
falo Instead of a black one, and more
than once people havo been deceived
by this color, and Imagining that
they saw before them an albino buf
falo, have chased it and killed It,
only to find that the color came off
on their fingers In white powder.
Such an experience was had by Colo
nel D. L. Bralnard, of Arctic explora
tion fame. In the same way, many
years ago, I became highly excited
over what I believed to be a black
elk, which a closer Inspection showed
to be merely an elk that had been
wallowing in a spring hole In the
timber. Sometimes, too, the buffulo
coming from such a bath coated with
thick mud, dried off quickly, und the
clots of dried mud clinging to the
long hair of head and forelegs, rat
tled curiously against each other as
th animals galloped away, to the
mystification of any Inexperienced
pursuer.
Rubbing Stones.
The buffalo's pructlce of rolling on
the ground, which, when the ground
wus wet, mude the wullows thut huve
been spoken of wus, no doubt, often
done for the sume reason that', a horse
rolls; that Is, In order to Irritate the
whole skin by a thorough rubbing or
scratching. In the timber country
where buffalo were abundant it was
not uncommon In old times to see
cottonwood trees browned and pol
ished to a height of flvo feet or more
by the rubbing agalnBt them of the
buffulos' bodies. A hundred yeurs
ago Henry the younger speaks of
pluces where the bark had been
rubbed off the trees by the scratching
of the buffalo, and a river not far
from the old fort he occupied for
years at 1 emblna was named the
Scratching River.
Close to the mount . or ulong
stresms where there is much timber,
these scrstchlng places are scarcely
noticeable, because each one was used
by only a few animals and at long in
tervals, and the evidences of their
rubbing have been removed by the
weather. But In some sections of
the treeless Northwest over which
In glactal times the great Ice sheet
passed, there will be found boulders
dropped by the Ice, sometimes very
targe, and at others projecting ouly
a few feet above the level of the soil,
which In ancient times the buffalo
used as rubbing stones. If In travel
ing over the prairie on foot or on
horseback, the traveler happens to
see such a lonely erratic, It Is worth
his while to go to It and examine It
closely. He will find It polished on
all sides by the friction of the tough
hides of buffalo, and if he passes his
hands over its round smoothed sur
faces he can still feel there the grease
which has accumulated from the use
to which tho stone was put. All
srodnd It, und close to it, he will find
worn a deep trench In which nre
boulders, stones and gruvel, but
where there Is no vegetstlon, for
there Is no soil to nourish It This
trench hss been made by the buffalo
as they walked about the stone and
comfortably scratched their sides
agalnBt It. Their ponderous hoofs
havo cut and torn up the soil and
reduced It to fine powder which the
winds huve then carried away, leav
ing only the heavy stones at the bot
tom of the trench.
Of all the memorials which the
buffalo have left on the wide plains
where once they were bo abundant,
the rubbing stona Is by far the most
permanent. These huge erratics,
brought thither by the Ice of glacial
times, and dropped seemingly hap
hazard here and there on the prairie,
will endure for a long time. They
will last until a day shall come, if It
ever does come, when the vandal
white man, having cultivated all the
rest of the earth, will use on them
some high explosive, break them to
atoms and bury the fragments.
Several years ago there was print
ed In tho Forest and Stream a men
tion of one of these rubbfhg stones,
which I quote here. It Is as follows:
"From a high hill which gives a
wide outlook may be seen, far off,
on the verge of the horizon, where
the sky bends down to meet the
earth, a tiny speck. At first It seems
a haystack, then a cabin, then a
wagon, at last a buffalo; but It Is
none of these.
"Still riding on over the yellow
rolling plains, where the short stems
of the prairie grass quiver with a
constant motion, where little ground
squirrels flash across the horse's path
and hide behind tufts of grass, and
shore larks with sweet, soft notes
rise and swing away with undulating
flight, where dainty antelope slowly
walk to the top of the hills, on either
side and look about with curious
eyes, the object draws nearer. Some
times from the crest of u hill It seems
close at hand, again, descending Into
a little valley. It Is lost to view behind
a swell of the prairie. At length It is
close by and Its nature can bo seen.
"In those ancient days when the
vast ice sheet was melting, a great
mass of Btono was floated from tho
distant mountains. Carried on some
huge berg, parted from the glacier
which gave It birth, thlB rock Jour
neyed from tho west, and at length,
falling from Its long-time resting
place, sank to the earth, and when
the waters disappeared, remained
there, a landmark on the prairie.
, "Here for uges It has stood, stead
fast, Immovable. The winds of win
ter buffet It; tho heatB of summer
scorch and bake it. Behind It the
storm piles up a long white drift of
snow; spring floods collect about it
in a little lake, soon dried up. Under
Its lee, perhaps, the chilled Indian,
returning alone from his unsuccessful
war Journey, has stopped to seek
shelter from the bitter blasts which
sweep over the prairie, bearing death
on their icy wings; or in summer tho
panting wolf has stretched himself
for a moment In its grateful shade.
Tho birds have visited It. Eagles
and hawks havo perched hero and
with watchful eye surveyed the
prairie, alert to see the slightest
movement of grouse or hare or
ground squirrel. Tho little birds,
too, havo rested here for a moment;
sparrows and the titlark with sedate
walk and gravely turning head. A
mountain rat has made it his home,
and In tho crevice of the rock has
bui't his nest.
'Though It has traveled far on
ice the boulder shows little wear. Its
knobs and roughness are still sharp,
but each protuberance and anglo Is
polished with a bright brown gloss,
like the corners of fence poBts in a
barn yard, against which cuttle huve
rubbed their sides.
"For ages this great erratic has
been the buffalo's scratching pit.
Here in passing, tho dark herds havo
turned asido and halted, and mighty
bull, sleek roung cow, and playful
yearling have sidled up to this mas
sive rock, and with grunts of content
ment, have pushed their rounded
bodies against It, and been Jostled
and crowded and struck by the horns
of others, eager to tuko their turn.
About this stone they have walkeu to
and fro and cut up the soil with their
hoofs and made It fine duat, which
the unceasing wind bus carried away
and scattered far over the prairie.
So, utter the lapso of centuries of
tlmo and the passing away of many
generations of buffalo, a deep trench
has been worn about the erratic, and
it stands on a pillar of soil, the top
of which !b level with tho prairie.
"Never again will the boulder wit
ness the slghtB th: t It has beheld In
the past. It Btands In Its old place
as firm and steudfust as of yore, but
the friends that used to visit It have
passed and are passing away. In
these latter days no Indian crouches
behind It for shelter from the storm,
nor do buffalo crowd ubout it. No
gruceful untelope sweep by In rupld
flight, seldom does a wolf spprouch
It, or un eugle from Its top look with
unbleuchlng eye towsrd the sun.
"The life of the old prulrle has
passed away." O. B. G.( in Forest
and Streum.
Relieving the Poor.
By BOLTON H H.I,.
"I hear you have joined the Stole
Settlement, O Eupraxslllies. Is your
Settlement another Society for tho
Suppression of Vice among the.
poor?"
"No, Socrates, we have had such
a society ever since the fourth Olym
piad, and we have more suppressed
vice than ever."
"What, then, do you accomplish,
Enpraxslllles?"
"No man knows what the Gods
accomplish through him, Socrates,
but we try to save the poor from
the consequences of error and vice."
"But If you succeed, O Euprnxsll
lles, will they not commit more er
rors and vices?"
"Well, perhaps I should rather
say, from the evils of poverty. Wj
have a Neighborhood House."
"Bul who made the House, Eu
praxslllies?" "Why, we Indeed paid for It, but
necessarily the poor people made It."
"And do they make all the wealth
that you spend In relieving their pov
erty, Eupraxslllies?"
"Certainly they make It them
selves, Socrates, for we do not work.
In truth, we do not know how to
make such things ourselves."
"Then would It not be better to
teach them how to keep for them
selves what they make?"
"It would Beem so, Socrates, but
they are too Ignorant, so we give
them back a part of what we get."
"You do well to call it a 'Settle
ment,' although It Is more like a
Compromise with Creditors. But,
Eupraxslllies, you said thnt they pro
duce what you do not know how to
produce, except that you know how
to tako what they make. Is It not
rather, then, you who aro Ignorant?"
"Nay, Socrates, they know only
how to build houses and such things;
they know how to make things wo
know how to get them, but only in
accordance with the laws, and wo
do good with what we take."
"But we make tho laws, Euprax
slllies; are we, then doing any good
by relieving the poor of their wealth,
and then making tbem more comfort
able, and so more contented with
such laws?"
"Well at least, Socrates, we have
improved the neighborhood. Since
we made our Settlement, that street
has become safe and respectable, O
Socrates, and a better class live
there."
"Have the rents risen also Eu
praxslllies?" "It is true that the rents have
risen, so that the purchase price of
the land next to us has more than
doubled."
"Then It seems, Eupraxslllies, that
It was not for the Lords of Heaven
you have been working, but for the
Lords of earth not the good Lord
but the land lord. U that of any
use?"
"You say truth, Socrates, but It
is ot use for I am the land lord;
and It Is natural that every Improve
ment In the condition of the earth
should benefit the owners of the
earth."
"Do such improvements benefit
also those who, on account of them,
pay more for the use of the earth?"
"It certainly seems that the benefit
to the one class must be at the ex
pense of the other, Socrates."
"Then It seems to me, O Euprax
Billles, that yours is a Society for
Improving Conditions and Increasing
the Number of the Poor." From
Puck.
THY. WOMAN WITH TH I' MmmM.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Character Is a kind of worship; all
true life is worthy. Robertson.
There Is always a certain air ot
peucefulness pervading a clear con
sciousness of duty. A sense ot duty
which does not bring with It a quiet
restfulness ot soul Is an imperfect
tense of duty. Newman Smith.
In the meanest things of every day
no one Uveth, no one dteth unto self
alone, so luwrapt and lnterfolded are
human destinies in the continual ac
tion and reaction that goes on
through life. Dora Greenwell.
For In heaven the stature Is meas
ured by love, and not what by what
men call genius or Bkill or wit or
1 fancy; and, therefore, thoBo that
love most and grieve most give them
selves most to the care of God, and
He will never disappoint the hope ot
a loving heart. Henry Wilder
Foote.
Keep Mum.
Women, as women, are pretty
much alike. They huve the same
hutr, differing slightly onlj as to color
und length; same features, sume
thoughts. When w love one ol
them, therefore, w are In reality
loving them all. But it is Just as
well not to mention this. ---Lite.
We are so tried and tossed, so
compassed round with pain, so much,
appurently, the sport of fanciful pas
sions, so ourlouBly framed, as It were,
for temptation, with high aspirations
living In us, along with base desires,
so hovering ever on the verge of
good or HI, so weak to choose the
good, so troubled by the necessity
of buttle, when our heurt Is weary,
with the passionate longing for rest,
that God knows that we do wunt
some symputby higher thun uny one
on enrth cun glvo us som sympa
thy which will not weaken, but
strengthen, some certainty thut the
eternal love and righteousness ran
feel with us und usslst us. F. W.
Robertson.
How It Impressed Him.
Ex-Senutor "Billy' Muson tells of a
polltlcsl campaign in South Dakota
wherein he had been called upon by
the State Committee to take a part.
When Mason arrived at his first town,
where he was to deliver u speech the
next duy, he found thut the two so
called hotels were crowded to the
doors.
Not having telegraphed for accom
modations, tho Illinois man discov
ered that he would have to make shift
as best be could.
He was compelled for that night to
sleep on a wire cot that had only
some blankets und a sheet on It. As
Mr. Mason 1b a man of considerable
avoirdupois, he fouud his improvised
bed anything but comforluble.
"Well," asked the proprietor, when
the polltlclun uppeared In the morn
lng, "how did you sleep?"
"Fairly well," answered Masom
"but 1 certaiuly looked Uks a waOW
when I got up." Harper's Weekly.
Bowed by the cares of cleaning iiouse ahs
leans
Upon her broom anil gazes through tht
dust,
A wilderness of wrinkles on her face. 1
And on her head a knob of wispy hair.
Who made her slave to sweeping and to
soap,
A thing that smiles not nnd that nevef
rests,
Stanchioned in stall, a sister to the cow?
Who loosened and mude shrill this angled
jaw?
Who dowered this narrowed chest fos
blowing up
Of sluggish men folks and their morning
lire?
Is this the thing you made a bride and
brought
To have dominion over heart and home;
To acour the atairs and search the bin for
flour,
To bear the burden of maternity?
Ia this the wife they wove who framed
our law
And pillared s bright land on smiling
homes?
Down all the stretch of street to the hut
house
There is no shape m re angular than hem,
More tongued with gabble of her neigh
bora deeds,
More filled with nervcache and rheumatic
twinge,
More fraught with menace of the frying
pan.
O lords and masters of our happy land!
How with this woman will you make ac
count ;
How answer her shrill question in that
hour
When whirlwinds of auch women shake
the polls,
Heedless of every precedent and creed.
Straight in hysteric haste to right the
wrong?
How will it be with cant of politics,
Vith king of trade and legislative boss,
With cobwelie of hvpocrisy nnd greed,
Win a ahe shall take the ballot for ber
broom ?
And sweep away the dust of centuriea?
- Edwin W, Sanborn, in New York Sun.
BIm "He's going south for the
grip." Tim "It's cheaper to get it
here." Cleveland Plain Dealer.
"You arc beneath my contempt,
sir!" "So are you beneath mine, and
I'm piling on more every minute."-
Philadelphia Lodger.
"When opportunity arrived at my
door," said the Harlem pessimist, "I
suppose the electric bell, as usual,
was out of order." Puck.
The Truant. Father "Why do
you loaf around here all day?" Son
"Well. I wouldn't If they didn't
make the school hours so long."
Judge.
Lives of some great men remind us
That we will, if we are wise, A
Leave our modesty behind us,
And get out nnd advertise. i
Judge. 1
"May I ask your father for your
hand to-night, Miss Ketchem?"
"Can't you wait until to-morrow
night, George? I think Charlie
Chumpley is going to ask him to
night." Cleveland Plain Dealer.
"Very few people read my poems,"
said the discouraged youth. "In
that caBe," answered Miss Cayenne,
"you should, have less hesitancy
about writing them." Washington
Star.
Caller "So sorry to hear of your
motor accident." Enthusiastic Mo
torist "Oh, thanks, It's nothing.
Expect to live through many more."
Caller "Oh, but I trust not!""
Punch.
Day by day the blessed trolley
Thumps, flat-wheeled, along the street;
Day by day the people murmur,
Using words we can't repeat.
What the need of all this protest?
Why the endlesa round of talk?
There ia auch a plain solution
If you're in u Lurry walk.
Public Ledger.
Schoolmaster "Why did you stay
away from school, Frankle?" Boy
"Me muther brnwke 'er arm."
Schoolmaster "But why did you
stay two days?" Boy "She brawke
It 1' two pla-aces!" Punch.
First Magnate "This problem of
taking care ot the poor Is a hard
one." Second Magnate "Most diffi
cult. It's easy enough to get money
for them, but It ruins them to give
It back." Life.
Hole in tho Watch Key.
"Tho queereBt patent?" Bald the
attorney. "Well, the queerest patent
I know of was the patent of a hole.
"An old farmer out St. Louis way
patented a hole, and what Is more, he
made a lot of money on It. Now,
though. It Isn't worth the puper It is
written on.
"This farmer on 3 morning In the
dim past went to wind his big silver
turnip und found the key stuck full
of dirt. He tried to dig the dirt out
with a pin. No go.
' 'Consarn ye,' he said, 'I'll fix ye.'
"And he drilled a holo In the key,
and with a single breath blow out
every bit of the dirt.
"He patented that hole. He built
a factory, bought millions of keys und
mude holes for them. His plant
turned out 27,500 holes a day.
"In fact, all the world used the
farmer's watch keys, which were the
only kind that would keep clean, and
the old fellow got rich.
"That, of course, was In the dim
past. The hole factory Is only run
ning on halt time now, for few per
sons . to-day use any save the stem
winding or keyless watch." Minne
apolis Journal.
The Worth of Nurses.
Contrasting his Indian experiences
with those of South Africa, Field
Marshal Lord Roberts said that for
the first two or three monthB of the
siege of Delhi not a single case ot
amputation survived, und at' Luck
now the death statistics were very
similar. In fact, it would hardly be
possible to describe what the wound
ed und sick suffered during tbe In
dlun cumpuign from the overpowering
heat, the swarm of insects, the stench,
the lack of surgical und medical
treutment und the want ot proper
nursing. During the South African
War a totally different state of affair
prevailed, and the presence of trained
nurses materially contributed to tbe
difference. London Hospital.
Called U Order.
"Armed with ouly a aeuso of out
wrongs," began tbe suffragcUs,
"we "
"You forget our hatpins," inter
posed the lady In tbe chair, she being
stickler for accuracy. Philadelphia
Itfdstu1.