MP' i.— A mi i.—i| j I .'n; 3 Peter j jl - y I nll M DOANE •>> "■ i" < . Kafctincut C jjj « ,ii. i.i. res««rv ed, am t t id "112 the heavy libra n taUk Beside htm his pretty. • .jt - .-.1 softly with •li>!:.tl mahog I ! i-band sideways .•I »112 .er ■ w. inscrutable eyes * Lli/.abe'h, stood ! « 1 tter with a queer si ark 111 her hand. • ! I. ll.* stie said soft 1 <ii Tni kind of bun i -ieht »112 a fa«N' that be- j •id t' - 'I Je-»t want to ] 1 'i i. \ own folks'— 1 eboklcn.* she went on.i "<t - \ iftly I don't ask I d k lid of like to feel it to have the little : I rive will have a kindly • • • . M : HI who scraped It it lien lie's gdne * " v t[i swift couiprehen -e it iode of the other .* Mipp that 'little iN- fortune, do yon?" -I*? said half nervously It . ;s \ •11." Thomas Cole ! ' acquire more defl- : ••• »r ■ i •••! ■•'riiliiir It tie fore — ! .urselv.-s." Thomas 4'afafnan « ■ wfcMi his friends I ealkxl "level he ided." "May ' g n It." be added. Id lie?" suggested dug *"ftly on the 1 v b!» wife knew i as Coleman had money matters . r is <»r not, he has a r ' :t In Elisabeth, hotly. "lie < a p"»»r. lonely old man—our father s brother ** , '* • in raised a remon ■ ■ ! :. B" reasonable, Eliza U . iH't know him. It Is not t. ,it '■ e an offer him I 112.. { ' )kp '/" \ r 1 ■ „<~i fc/j ! i [ffli V \ vj%]l i W&j I/ / \ i / i ' /V W' | 112 / > v % tif i|i. /ppf I 11AI K < E TOT "HE YOU HOMK WITH UK." S kodie W -liinl.-lj MteM we rceelve ».i • htti ah r- niineratiou in the end." " \lth< jrh It wo ild be in line with Ell/.a cth julxot ideas to do so." said Tom's wife, sharply. I. i 1 •• t!i ii t.Hiding grievance ■ lib her i.;. Liizalteth, who " i sijprt-u.' !y iiKiiil'erent to the value u f Ei..' • ' li. t li nd straight aud npien ltd. lio preferred a self «; z li:.- ,n a tlui flat to de- I-M tei <• in h<*r brother's beautiful u l;.> j roponed to "throw herself away" on a 'Mow whose only la> k was that of m »uey. Mi nfronted tlo-m ii'«w iudlguant lj 'ltls a-! : a-:" he flashed, look ing Hke u ewrngiwl prlapf—, v. ith her tin in u <!)•-. an I heavy, red gold !, itr A 1 : ><< 1 man l«-gs for H:T> •"'•! i" fr- ■ !y ofters us all he has Be ;t Much ... lilt!'-, it is all. In return yen weiirb and apprajm and c«l.-ui;-ie oh," she broke off. "I am • I i' }ou Let us make him lion est!, ■Aclcome, whatc\er he brings." And in that first day, while the ..the:- held al<«if. It was Elizabeth wii ■ ':i arana hearted, lapoWn fash -I..ii «. m,.t| the little old man en \ . in a shaggy greatcoat, who r.'g i* d his "own folks" with shrewd bin.- . .win. h ImM out rather full; from under the shaggy brows, '• ,ii.) day Fncle Peter ap pr->a ' ■ I Tliomas I'oleman. N .u.e i,,.,rniu' when it's convenient i d like togo dosalwini with you. I w ant la In I WIHc Moore's office," ho sdd.sl aj»olo.Ttleally. Hmwm <'olemaa loofcad up quickly. Willi .' '1 Moore, the hiwyer?" Yfce •>! i naaa sodded. "WIMa M«x»re's fat er • 1 i ■* w « ln»ys together, and I i ! ! cii lerable confidence lit •• Ive i t a few papers I'd kh i 1 .<• I, nto ke.-p," he added. 1 112. , j.ers t'irntsi out to be r: '.f shares In the El Jua r«»iE gold mines. Fue 1 IV r's welcome was assured, r ■ ' he was the l ectplent ■»f . r* r i hicli the solicitude fI sb j.»\. I :i.l happily surprised ■ , ' ■ \ 1 wife c 'lid devise; ; a bolt from a clear ! ..I In J.i ire/, is w .ve floodisl! i■ I iii th ■ Mining Ex that had ls«en $l5O '< : ,*_•"> a share; then the it and the Journals le- nil.nes of "Panic In t . ire/ Mines Flood i. ■• t was confirmed. shares of the El ei ■ not worth the pajier i \ !i they were written. ■ " I i an to wb<>m the mines bail i- i lifelong companion stared des ,» l> at the tlaimtiug headlines, in.■ ' ii_ ins iace wiiii ms rougn, <■■ li 'id ■wiy to his grief with •lie at .11:.loll of il child. 'I he-;, .;ilies was Jest like my own ti l" t, ■ sotilM*d "I knowwl they v. ii't act n' up Jest rlidit when I left ei I never susplcloned they'd fei where they hev," ami again tear i' i unrestrainedly down the furrow «sl cheeks. D ,'»* d. iinliltter.il, almost mad f ieiic I |.y the h»ss of sorely lie<*de<l c. i;», j'it within his lirnsp, Thomas < ..I ;<i iII broke the silence. "J• ait worry." he said coldly "You are not too oia yet 10 nnu some- Bail able employment." T'ncle Peter looked up In astonish ment. then as the meaning of the cruel words dawned upon him his face went suddenly and pitifully white. "I kinder thought if 1 was ever in | trouble 1 could depend on my own j folks." The old voice quavered plte- | ously as the curtains parted and Eliza beth enter*! the room. Sweeping past the others, she took the old man's bauds in her young ones. "I have come to take you home with me," she said simply. "But the mines," he said unsteadily. "Never mind. There isn't much room In my little fiat, but there's a loving welcome, and soon" she blushed hap pily there will be a little house in the suburbs." "But how about that young feller you're goln' to marry?" questioned the old man doubtfully. "lie told me to come for you," an swered Elizabeth, with proud, happy eyes. The old man rose and, still holding Elizabeth's hand, faced Thomas Cole man and his wife. "You said I wasn't too old to find suitable en 1 >yment," he said, "and I ain't. I've found it. I'm goln* to buy , that bouse out In the suburbs, and It won't be uo little one, either. Au' I'fti goln' to set the young feller up In whatever business he wants to be set up In, mi', what's more, I'm goln' to give Elizabeth a million dollars In gov ernment bonds fer her weddin' gift. I ain't through with the other million yet, l>ut when I am she an' her chil dren gits It. My money wan't In them mines. I told Willie Moore how they wuz actin' up, au' he took it out fer me three inoathß ago. I ain't denyiii' I felt bad about 'em, but 'twarn't the money I wuz think!n' of. "No," he repeated, "I warn't thinkln' of the money, an'" he patted her hand lovingly •neither wuz Elizabeth, but," he added slowly, with a shrewd trlance at Thomas Coleman's white, baffled face, "it kinder looks as though there's others that wuz." Puncturing a Fallacy. The barber applied the rich brown dye with a fine tooth comb, combing It evenly Into the grizzled locks of the old man. "Hair dye, sir," he said. "Plain, un- j varnished hair dye Is the base of that absurd fallacy about people turning gray in a single night. "If you Investigate those yarns you find that Invariably they concern per sons In prison. Orslnl, pining In Jail, had his hair go back on him. Marie Antoinette, languishing in a cell, found the deep hue of her hair changing to an ugly gray. Ualclgh, Imprisoned in t the tower, developed grayish streaks with incredible speed. "The secret of all that, my dear, Is this: "These prisoners in order to conceal their gray hair dyed It, using a poor sort of dye, one of those sorts that have to be applied every day or two. In prison, naturally, they could not get hold of this dye, and hence their locks whitened at a miraculous rate. W hen people said of them pityingly that their terror of sorrow had turned their hair gray In a single night they acquiesced themselves In the decep tion, for is it not embarrassing—l leave it to you, s!r, Is it not embarrassing— to explain to the world at largo that one uses hair dye?" St. Louis Globe- Democrat. Well Timed I'niiH. A southern clergyman, an inveterate punster, says that while he Is well aware that puns lielong to the lowest order of wit he is seldom able to resist the temptation to make one when op portunity offers. On one occasion after preaching an eloquent sermon ho was met by two friends, one of whom began to praise his discourse in enthusiastic terms. When ho paused for breath the other man said, with a laugh: "Well, doctor, can you stand as much soft soap as that?" "Indeed 1 can If there Isn't too much lye in it," returned the minister quickly. At another time he was present at the marriage reception of a young cou ple of the name of More. The occasion was somewhat stiff up to the time of the minister's entrance, and he quickly discovered the state of affairs. "Madam." he said, with Ills radiant smile, addressing the awkward young bride, "how fortunate you are! Ibere are so few people who can say with truth, 'The More I want the More I j have.'" The laugh which followed put the company at ease. THE LOVE OF SAND. Man'a I iieonat'lous Marking Hack to Primitive Tiniea. The love of sand is universal, felt by all and at all ages. The child Unds In in a ready anil a plentiful material for giving something of deflnlteness to the world of his ehildlsli Imagination, and when experience shall have proved the real world to be less pleasant and not expressible lu sand he nevertheless as a grown man tacitly admits the attrac tion of the old time medium and spends his holidays upon it. No water ing place need trouble as to Its pros perity If It h is a broad forefront of rand. Probably so general and Ingrained a i love is only to be accounted for as the | result of a sympathetic and uncon- | scions "harking back" to the feel of j the life on the dry sandy soils of the j east, upon which man first wandered ; and it. which he first delved. He can sit or lie with greater comfort and ease as he originally sat, without a chair, or lay, without a couch-upon sand than upon any other kind of earth, and upon sand lie reverts read ily and without fear of convention to pr, ic al barefootedness. Possibly even the charm of the "sanded floor"—In the concrete to our forefathers, the corn f >rt and co/iness of cherry inn parlors and kitchen-, warm with the ruddy heat of sUow ing logs, on snowy nights may also be due to vaguely assertive Instinct. In proof it may be readily concluded that far distant man would not have , been long In finding out the advan tages of a dry cave as a dwelling j-! ■ •>. It would be found most readily i:i >ft, friable rocks. The natural and fin her easy expansion of the cave to meet growing demands for house room by scraping down of roof and sides would result In a sanded floor. Litter of rude cave living and housekeeping could be more easily swept out with the leafy bough or bunch of sedges acting as the original broom when mixed with sand than without Its aid. The savage family which swept its cave out oftenest and most thoroughly would certainly t>e the healthiest and strongest.—London Spectator. Her U lil«' Gipfrience. Dottle I woiuter If a blouil i* more attractive to men thau a brunette! Lottie Vsk Tottie; she's been both.- Cleveland Leader. 1 le Bnough By O. R. PHELPS || Copyright, lflua. by C. 11. Satcliffe || "Shut your eyes while 1 tell r«>u n story," Alwyn commanded. "It j Iritis as stories ought always to he ; l?iu, 'Once upon a time' " "Dear uie! 1 kuow 1 shan't like It. j I'hose 'once upon a time' tilings have > grown to he such a bore!" Lolitxi mur- | inured plaintively, hut without in the least cheeking the story teller. He ran on, his eyes fixed high above her he.nl, "A foolish fellow, foollsher than tl** common, set himself to hate wisdom, whose other name is woni uu" "lie got his come-uppauce, of course. They always do in stories, never out of them," Lolita interjected dispassion ately. This time Alwyn laughed. "Whose other name is woman -woman," he repeated with all the emphasis of capl- ; tals. "But you're dead wrong. He got no come uppance. It was rather his 111 luck to come d >\vn very hard—so hard he groveled in the dust when one par tlcular \\<>:.uni looked him over with out seeiug him. That has happened, let me sec. ::!>■ >;st three times a day for full six weel -. ltesult"— "One hundred and twenty-six grov vo :r figures can he trusted. I doubt it. l doubt. Indeed, if there Is an., t. :;»'i trustworthy about you," Lo lita flashed at him. with a smile so covly engaging it took all the sting from her >" ce -h. "Suppose you stop being tlres'i j ?he went on."I don't ask y >u to be ■ ctisible, I'm so far from sensible ioy ell But let's get away from thi? eternal me. There must be such lot* <•!' things better worth while." "What wi!l you have? Shall I dis course on ' ;liips and shoes and sealing wax and cabbages and kings?'" Al wyn asked, his voice submissive enough, but dancing rebellion In his eyes. Lolita smiled demurely. "I think," she said, with an air of grave reflec tion, "If you don't mind. I had rather hear things about Gordon Fleming.' "There's nothing I can tell you—he's so openly, so offensively, so disgust- Irmly rich and so patiently In love with you," Alwyn burst out. Lolita gave him a sldewise look. "Are you sure?" she murmured. "Don't you see it would be cruel to experiment with my credulity?" "As cruel as your experiments with my affection?" Alwyn flung back at her, trying to speak tragically, but laughing lu spite of himself. What a rogue she was to play with him so. She loved him almost as he loved her. It had been instantaneous- they had hardly more than looked at each other when eye spoke to eye, heart to heart. But she had flouted him daintily all along, thereby making him more than ever captive. And he in turn had teased and vexed her, now with exag gerated and open devotion, now with reproofs for wholly Imaginary faults. Really he did not think she could own a fault—she seemed to him perfect and altogether lovely. But in spite of his overcoming, he had wit enough to see that tame and abject devotion would never suit her—he must show himself a man of spirit and temper else he would be no man for her. It was ten days since they had come together at the Glenwold house party, ten blissful days of Lolita and love. Incidentally there had been walks, rides, drives, golfing and moonlit maundering?. Mrs. Ark low, Glen wood's chatelaine, had looked on in smiling approval. Lolita had but a scant fortune, and Alwyn, though not overrlch, was clearly at the beginning of a great career. Were not the Flem ings, father and son. behind him, the Flemings who had millions In hand and the potentiality of other millions in their mere approval? Gordon Flem ing, the sou, was well in the middle age; he had married very early—as had his father before him—but it had turned out very badly. In a year there had been a separation, later the threat of divorce, but fute stepped Into save the family pride. The wife sailed away on a ship that went down at sea. She had not been heard of In the fifteen years since, so It was safely assumed that she was among the lost. None of the few survivors had any knowledge of her; she was, moreover, so slight and frail she could hardly have lived -through the terror. Morally and legully her husband was free—to love, to woo, to marry, If he chose. So far he had not chosen. In deed, until Lolita came lu his way wo men had been to him as shadows shadows which must be well and ten derly used, but given no further thought. Her freshness, her unspoiled fairness, her simple natural charm, had swept him off Ills feet as completely as they had bowled over Alwyn. At first he had seemed to see how the land lay between the pair and contented himself with standing aside to watch their de light In each other. But for three days past he had shewn a disposition to en ter the lists—a disposition which roused ! in Alwyn rather pity than apprehen ! sion. Lolita knew—that was bis sure hope- knew what it was to love, to be loved. All Fleming's millions were no offset to the knowledge. Still, it did no ! harm to mako believe he was In fear j of them. Lolita looked at him in silence for a i minute, her face the while subtly chang ing. It smiled still, but with no mirth lu the smile, and the dimples and curves somehow shaped themselves to firmer lines. At last she said abruptly: "Don't you see I have to marry him? .{ I don't. I shall marry vou. ar.d that «■ :T1 in yo'T ruin. Don't interrupt, I run i -ay i. a.l at once—l have not promis' 1. bit (bat's how it will end. List night 1 had a letter, a home letter. Vou Uu >\v we're desperately poor rich folk, which is much worse than being poor outright. Mother lias heard how things are. That made her tell me tilings things I had never guessed—of debts, privations, humiliations she has endured to make me what I am, some thing to retrieve our fortunes. Mr. Fleming h i-; written asking her leave to < nirt me. site gave It, of course, in her own dignified, diplomatic way. I am free lo choose If I choose to tako nun the choice will meet her approval. Oh. 1 know it all by heart"— ' I kn "\- by heart you are not going li ■! i it. Vou can't," Alwyn broke in, his face gray and lined. Lolita looked away from him, shaking her head. But after a minute she sprang up, say in with a laugh that was half a sob: "Come. I want one more walk— do\x ii past the d ivecot. And while wo walk we won't talk or think of things." "Least of :i!l (! irdon Fleming," Al w. ii lid, taking her hand. But some how it proved easier to say than to do it. Ly 11io time they came opposite the dovecot i leming's name had been many nn.es ou uie.r lips. The dovecot was a detached col! tage set thickly about with trees anft flowering shrubs and so stoutly hedged passers by got but glimpses of the in terior. The house was smothered In vines, and either upon the piazza or In a small sunnj lawn spaee upon clear days there appeared a wheel chair with a helpless man in it and a woman, slight and frail, hovering about him. Today she was Invisible, although tlie chair stood In Its usual place. Sight of it, thus desolate, somehow hushed the pair wh>> walked outside. A feel ing of something imminent fell upon them It was hardly a surprise to llnd the woman herself standing with tho gate half open or to have her beckon them in Mde. "I heard what you were saying—you two I could not help It—there In the raspborrj thicket," she said abruptly; then, her eyes fast on Lollta's face, "And 1 had to call you in because— because I am <;onion Fleming's wife— and I couldn't see you, so young, so fresh, make a bitter mistake." "His wife!" Alwyn echoed, with star ing eyes. "Why, his wife has been at the bottom of the sea this long, long time." "So he believes; so he must always believe," the woman said hushedly, whh a backward glance at the sleep ing occupant of the chair. "I should be there if 1 had gone on that ship, but I didn't sail; I was not strong enough. Listen. I married without love, and I did love sot ebody else, yet that was not what made the break. I never saw the man I loved until It was all over with my hnsiiaiid. Gordon Is a good man. but we did not suit. He Is un yielding. If you do not bend to him you must break. And I was impa tient and qui !; spoken and young and unhapj \. lie i mid not understand my unhappiu ileti he had given me so much, lie ' e me everything but libera to enj v it in my own way. If I had not left him 1 should have killed my -elf. That might have been better, yet I can't be sorry when I look there." As she sp ike she waved her hand toward the sleeper. "lie would have nothing, nob idy. if 1 had died." she murmured, her voice breaking from its tense liar .tic "I was going away to escape hiei. 'ihe i at the very last I heard th had been so hurt lie would lie < ■; !k again. I went to him at once. 1 have been with him ever since, ihe ship went down. It seemed kindness, the best re turn 1 1 mi ! ' e (lordou, to let 111 in think I wa- ,".ig the lost. 1 should never have spoken t > any one ill any other case. Don't, don't." laying a light and wiihered hand timidly on i Lolita'- . . "let anything make you • go against y >ur heart. There are wo men made to tie bartered. \ou are not of them. Believe me, I am happier here nurse, drudge, de stay of a human wreik than was or would bo the mNtre- of millions with a dead heart in tut breast Alwyn bared his head. Lolita drew the wasted to her breast and held it there >•!:. • her tears rained down upon it. "llor. can I thank you for saving me?" -he wltis; ered at last. The v\ priii ; eiitly loosed herself from the . irl's ela p and pointed to ward the ate. "t !o anil 1 »rget that you came in and all things save one." she sail. "Hut remember love If enough and only 1 ive!" The t.rny Parrot. The li mie of the gray parrot, an in teresting but oily i I used creature, is In sunny central Africa, from the Kon go and < luine i ' i.ist to the east of Lake Nyassa. Here th.? "pretty Polite*" lly ln flocks, as rooks and pigeons do in England, for they are very friendly birds. The birds when caught are liud died together and carried to the coast. Such as are ill alive on reaching it are packed, generally without mercy or pity, in tho holds of ships or are stowed away in any corner on board where spa • can be found, to suffer torments from want of air, want of light, want of proper food and space to spread their wings, and, worst of all, lack o water, which they dearly love. The w.ugs of many wretched, suffering bin s brought to this country are tied so a-i to prevent them from fluttering an I spoiling their beauty. Choking, gaping, stifling from heat or shivering with damp and cold, hun dreds upon hundreds die on their way to this country. It has been said by a famous bird fancier that hardly one in a thousand survives the terrible suf ferings vvh'ch gr-iy parrots undergo on their way from their own land to tho cage in England. Our Animal Broth ers. ST. ANT HON Y. The Temptation* of the Father of Moiminl i«* i m hi . What were the temptations of St. Anthony? St. Anthony was one of the earliest names placed on the calendar. He is called the father of monasti cs m because his life and teachings Mere really the foundation of the many monkish orders of a mediaeval times. He was born in a city of Egypt In 251 A. D. of parents who were both Wealthy and pious, and he early de cided to give his life up to religious contemplation. He went into the wil derness, taking up his solitary abode !u an old ruin on a hi_h hill, where he disciplined himself in austerity. But his devotion- were interrupted by a protracted series of sadly irrelevant hallucinations, believed to be sent by the devil to tempt him aside from a holy life. He was visited successively by visions of all the idolatries of the early world, by the princes and poten tates of history and their wives and daughters, by Solomon and the queen of Slieb,i, by the gods and goddesses of Greece and Home, especially by Di ana and Venus, and other interesting characters. According to the legend, his devoutness at last breaks the pow er of the visions, and they leave him forever. He remained twenty years In his lonely ruin, then, yielding to the wishes of other anchorites, went to Memphis and there founded the first monastery, which was little more than a group »)' cells. After six years of j teaching he returned to his desert i home and at la I died there at the age ! of 105 years The French novelist Gus , tave I Imil. ( has written an entire j volume .in "Th" Temptations of St. j Anthony," • \in ■ all Ills visions with most elabor le description. A decidod | ly flippant, not to say profane, poem j bearing the same title and In the style < 112 the "lii'joldsby Legends" is some | times Included with these humorous ! ballads. Hut Barham did not write it. It was ine work ol one Toui Sellers, a much Inferior scribbler. Housekeeper. • ii.nl Morality. One in .er hears of a duke going wrong. Every one bearing any other title in the peerage may be perhaps subjecti ! t . the temptations of"the v\ >rld. the tlcsh and the dev 11," but a duke never! Indeed, the old Scots man's verdict that dukes are "verra, verra respectable people'* seems one about which there can be no doubt.— London Tat lor. I Two Tramps P.y BELLE MANIATES <"I'l/rii/ht, I:K«\ hy ir. R. Caldwell "Let's piny tramp, Aunt Lou." "All right, Hob. Walt until 1 change my slippers for shoes nnd find my old- j est skirt." Bob wailed impatiently, shouting "Hurry up!" at intervals. Presently his blithe young aunt came forth, equipped for the Jaunt. "Tramps never change their clothes," growled Bob, the ten year-old despot. "I wouldn't If I were really a tramp all the time," she argued, "but, you Bee, where 1 am compelled to lead a Joky 11 and Hyde existence I have to dress for my part—my two parts. Where do you suggest an expedition to this time?" "Through the woods by the river," he replied promptly. "Tramps generally favor river roads, j Shall we catch fish for our supper?" "No," he objected strenuously; "tramps never work. I found a dlmo ' last time, you know, and bought bread and honey at the grocery. Now It's your turn to provide the eats." "You had such luck," she replied In an envious tone. "I'll have to beg or steal. 1 yt M We 11 uot go hungry. I.et me see, have you any matchesV" "(»f course. Tramps always have matches." "Do they? Well, let's take this road i up past the Hill farm." "Oh, 1 bet I know what you are go ing to do. You are going through Hill's corntield and swipe some ears of corn, and then .v >u are going to build a fire In the wood ; and roast corn!" "A veritable Sherlock Holmes!" she quoth admiringly. "But I am not go ing t > swipe it. When one goes Into a field like that It is only foraging." "I wish we had smie salt and some butter," said Hob longingly. "You're above your station.' she re torted. "The idea of a tramp wanting luxuries!" In the cor.ifleld they secured halt a dozen ears of ripe corn, and then sought the woids. "It's my t.irn to cook. Bob," assert ed his young aunt, 'icginnlng to collect twigs, brush and dried leaves. "AH right! Yoti build the lire, and I'm going down to ihe river." "Leave me ihe matches, and don't stay long." There was method in Bob's depar ture. lie s ill hid longings for salt and butter, and he knew there were apt to be picnic parties on the river b ink Who i he returned, a fire was burning ch< erily. and the corn was In the oven. • Look lie ■ \ Aunt Lou!" he cried gleefully. displaying salt, a little pat of butter, two chicken sandwiches, two pickles and a quarter section of banana cake. "Oh. L ib! A regular feast we will hav You're a mascot always. I»id you be,: of u. Eof the picnickers?" ".No," h * replied. "1 found lunch 1...'1.et oil I'.iL- si. >;e and no one near; at least I didn't see any one. I Just helped myself. If I had been a real tramp I would have swiped the whole layout." "Oh, Bob!" she said ruefully. "You shouldn't have gone into their baskets. That wasn't right." "Well, I like that! Will you please tell me who stole this corn?" "That's quite different. We know Farmer IIIII." "Worse yet, to steal from your friends." "Nonsense, B;>b! You know we can tell him, and In- Ins corn"— IKILLTHECOUCH AND CURE THE LUNGS w ™ Dr. King's New Discovery ___ /CONSUMPTION Price FOR I OUGHSand 50c & SI.OO W OLDS Frce Trial - Surest and Quickest Cure for all THROAT and LUNO TROUB LES, or MONEY BACK. SOMEM HEW! A Reliable TIN SHOP Tor all kind of Tin Roofing, Spoutlne and Caneral Jolt Work. Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, Furnaces, etc. PRICKS TMLOYKST! QUI.W Till! BEST! jJOHNHIXSON NO. 11l E. FRONT BT. | "To burn!" laughed Bob, carefully | spreading out his spoils on the ground, i "But thee strangers"— "Well, they' , e got plenty and"— He stopped shirt, listened, and then Seized the hand of his companion, run ning her to i pile of wood corded up by so: <• ch >pper. "Duck now and keep still!" "Whit was It?" she whispered breathlessly. "1 heard some one coining through the wood- M ... be they're after their stuff." After a I nig interval of silence Bob j lo'V; observations. Seeing no one, ho #-ni:11 nisly and by detour sought the <> •; .-ineis of th« ir camping ground. A vliisilo assured his aunt In waiting tlr t nil was well, and she emerged in Me wood pile and rejoined her !l» |(!ll ' "Kverything is here!" he exclaimed '< ally. "I'ellf! What's this?" ile i >ek down a note which was iod to t'.ie t .ink of the tree beneath <h h< I.:. I stored his booty. "A fair i .el nge," he read, "is no bery. I r< • >gnlze our subsistence i • 1 then fore take four ears of your ! • -t corn. I judge there are but two | In your | trtv, and two ears will be j ] Monty for you in fact, all you should rat." . .! tinging laugh of Bob's Aunt 1.-i.i e.-iioeit through the woods and can 1 t the attention of a young man who was serenely contemplating a de sp »M' I cornc >b. He smiled apprecl atively and turned as If he would fain j trace the origin of the echo of mirth, ln.t tlie people who were boarding tho litti • launch on the river called warn ingly to him, and he desisted. The mxt evening Aunt Lou was put ting the finishing touches to an elabo rate t )ilet and Bob was surveying her with admiration and discontent. "You're going to have a bang up din ner. an 11 won't be in It,"he said de ject 'illy. "I shall nit enjoy it half a.s much as I did our stoli n feast," she said earnest ly. "I have never tasted anything so good as our picnic supper." "If I am awake when you come home. Aunt Ton, will you tell mo nil about it?" "Bob, you little fraud—as if you didn't always stay awake until I re turn! I'll bring you my souvenir, if we have souvenirs." Aunt I.ou tiptoed down the hall when she returned late that night, passing the door of her little nephew's room. "Aunt I.ou!" lie called imperiously. She opened the door, turned on the electric light and swept across the room to the little white bed. "Oh. Bob!" she said exultantly. "I've got si much to tell you!" Bob sat bolt upright. "Did you have souvenirs?" he asked excitedly. "Yes." hesitatingly; "but. Bob. dear. 1 want to keep mine. Look!" And she pointed to a huge bunch of violets fas ten 'd t) her gown by a dainty little scarfpin. "i :h, 1 s ;y. Aunt Lou! That's not fair! You promised!" "I know But, Bob, wouldn't you rather hive a terrier like Frank's?" "Sure!" came In eager emphasis. "Say. Aunt Lou, will you, honest?" "I'll buy y HI one tomorrow to make up for the pin. but I must tell you what h ippened. As soon as I was In troduced to tlie rnnn, Mr. Hampton, who was to take me Into dinner, Fred llunter came up to me and told me an awfully funny story. You know how loud 1 laugh. It's bad form, but I can't help it.l was so ashamed. I stopped short, but every one was look ing at me i t surprise, and Mr. Hamp ton had such a peculiar expression that when we went Into dinner I could think of nothing to say, and no re marks passed between us until the soup course. It was puree of corn, nnd what do you think? My dinner part ner said suddenly, 'Don't you like corn roa.-teM in a bontlre best of any way?' I thought maybe it was only a chance shot, and I tried to look indifferent, but my 112 se.' betrayed me, anil then we both I thed. and I told him all about our game of tramp, and he wants togo with ii next time." •Tat ' ''l know?" demanded "« )t ' '> '. < * t ■.» I'Ml'/h 1 I I flie Home Paper | of Danville. Of course you read I Bi|| BUS. 112 | THE PEOPLE'S ft KQPULAR 1 APER. Everybody Reads It. 1 i ' Published Every JVlomiif.* Except Sunday ,?f No. II E. Ma!u>; ng St. Subscription o t\ : i r Week. - W read the note, you know, and he said as soon as he heard me laugh in the drawing room the identity of the thief was revealed. Forgive me, Hob, but I laid all tlio blame on you. I think I am going t > like him, and I had a love ly time, and altogether, Bob, I'd like to keep the pin if you'd just as Boon have the terrier." HOW MUCH PEOPLE EAT. In finding :i unit for the food con suming power of each family it was assumed as generally true that— Husbands consume a like amount of food. The wife consumes 00 per cent as much us the husband. A child from eleven to fourteen years of age consumes !»0 per cent as much food as the husband. A child from seven to ten years of age consume s 7." per cent as much food as the liii.il>ii!id. A child from four to six years of age consumes Mi per cent as much food as tlie husband. A child "112 three years or under con sumes I*> i i t - cent as much food as the husband. Children of fifteen years of age and over are considered as adults so far as the consumption of i'ood Is concerned. —Boston Transcript. MonkeyN nntl Color*. In order t.> prove its power of dis criminating between colors the scien tist Dahl made some interesting tests upon a monkey. He colored some sweets with a certain colored dye and some bitter substances with that of another color. After a few attempts the monkey learned to leave without even tasting those articles of food col ored with the dye which indicated bit ter tasting substances and seized at once upon those which indicated sweets. Varying the experiments suifl clently he found that the monkey dis tinguished all the different colors read ily, save only dark blue. Many savage tribes cannot distinguish dark blue I from black and even children distln | gulsh this color later than all others. Raa«. Slander. "Your husband,said Mrs. Highmus graciously, "is decidedly interesting and original, even If he does sometimes blow his own horn a little too" "It isn't s*j!" indignantly exclaimed Mrs. Oasw®?l. "My husband always uses his handkerchief!"— Chicago Trlb nne. It Is a common fault to be never «atlsfled with our fortune nor dissat isfied with nut uu/lnrrstanding.—Roche foucuuld. T ACKAWANNA RAILROAD " -RL«M»MSBDRH DIVISION Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad. In Effect Jan. 1, 1905. TKAINS LEAVE DANVILLE. EASTWARD. 7.07 a. m. dally fur Bloomshurg, Kingston, Wilkes-Barre :u.d Scrautou. Arriving ton at 9.42 a. iu„ and connecting at Scrautou with trains arriving at Philadelphia at M.4K a. rn. and New York City at 8.30 p. m. 10.19 a. in. weekly for Bloouislnirg. Kiugston, Wlllrcii Hum nrmntnn and intermediate sta tions, arriving at Scran ton at 12.35 p.m. and connecting there with trains for New Yorfc City, Philadelphia and Buffalo. 2.11 weekly forßlooniNhurg,Klugston, WllkM Barre, Hcranton and intermediate stations, arriving at Scranton at 4.">U p. rn. 5.13 p. m.daily for Bloomshurg, Kspy, Ply nioutii, Kingston, Wilkes-Barre, Pittston, Scranton and Intermediate stations, arriving | at Scranton at 8.25 p. m.and connecting ther« I with trains arriving at New York City at t>.so a- in., Philadelpeia 10 a. m.and lluflalo 7a in. TRAINS AKKIVE AT DANVILLE 9.15 a. in. weekly from Hcranton, Pittston, Kingston, Bloomshurg and intermediate sta tions, leaving Hcranton at 0.35 a. in., where tt connects with trains leaving New York City at 9.30 p. in., Philadelphia at 702 p. m.and Bntfaio at lU.-S0 a. in. | 12.44 p. in. dally from Hcranton Pittston, Kingston, Berwick, Bloomshurg and Interme diate stations, leaving Scrautou at 10.10 a. m. and connecting there with train leaving liutT alo at 2.25 a. m. 4.33 p. in. weekly om Scranton. Kingston, Berwick, Bloomsuurg and Intermediate sta tions, leaving Hcranton at 1.56 p. in., where It connects with train leaving New York City | at 10.00 a. in., and Philadelphia at 9.00 a. in. 9.05 p. in.daily from Scranton. Kingston, Pittston. Berwick. Bloomshurg and Interme diate stat ions, leaving Scranton at 6.35 p.m., where it connects with trains leaving New York City at 1.00 p. in., Philadelphia at 12.01' p. m.and Buttoto at 8.30 a, 111. T. K. CI.AKKK, Gen'l Snp't. T. W. hUK. (Jen. Pass. Agt. Mill! PIIJL He want to ilo an Ms nf Printing * | hi 112 , II! LI'S itll. II fl Pltß. 1 . ITS RtßNtt I "I A well prti : tasty, Hill or W/ ter Head, P Ticket, vJii. Program, b'l .' ment or I ard (y> an advertise men foryoui business, a satisfaction to you Sew Tyje, New Presses, ~ Best Pajer, M Skilled Vort, Promptness \ll you can ask- A trial wili malce you our customer. We respectfull" asl that trial. ■ No ii F. M thoninjc St.,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers