FAN ANGEL:
f'LEPHANT
RiTCHEN CRAYDON
, by K. Parcel Is 1 |
112 vou dream how atlor
i * 1 that blue sown," Ileth
< • ins w himself of ;
> ! t away, pursed her lips
; fluns ba< k at him, "Oh! j
1; - sown. Is it? Thank you for
i .-- 1 shall 1M- Mire to wear it j
t li: e thf MacCarty comes to
in the MacCarty!" Ilether
i -.1 "I'd like to break his
li n, the presumptuous oaf.
> , bush. has he even to admire
v ili t a eat look at a king?" Pliilo
iter ipted demurely, lier eyes
„• ii the screen of their long
hi I the charm of infinite va
- she was positively
otla « ravishlngly beautiful, i
- . i!i - lantlM days. |
si,, karar it. ami aeted upon tho
s:,. OMi lletherton for
t I tli ;s, hiefly Miss Mannering
1). ikNl 1 !«e paid In full. lie had I
: i"it! to her outright, but .ill '
i .-.1 gnyly that she would
. ;• ill g openly, In a light
... M\ manner that might meau
cwytl g or nothing. She bad not
tie Bgfct comedy manner, be- j
i - <iir«'of her own mind.
Still ad been distinctly agaravat
liim run off after the Man
l in* same as the other men.
•lei. »ys ho had kept In tho
■ s tr . n; worse still, he had
In Philomena not merely re- !
it with the air of one who
• l.e has discharged the duty
t»f a p -oper man.i
' \ y Ink at a king; the prov
jt a- tn queens," lletherton
• t'-d. "Moreover, you can scarcely
eh It t » tit an elephant, which Is
■ • M rty's animal prototype." ,
" v i kii"W how I came to promise
h • iauces I adore elephants—al-1
*' Pllomeua murmured, re
l! < h as If aside.
caught both her hands aud
to her feet. "I>o you meun to
I, prom «■?" lie asked, his face
SI •• smiled up at him an- 1
da- a< she answered:
nous? He may prefer to sit
But if he should, you needn't
w II take eare to keep out of
t you and Miss Mannering"—
■" lletherton laughed, not
I but wth a magical light
coaatentMe. "I must say
'•e haudsmue of you," he
t!!••:». his hands slipping up
r 1 -rs. Sweetheart, let's run
:i« us everything tbe grand ball,
M nr. th- MaßMTiaff rim atAy
srrled. Listen! It will be
« ii \ ;i pin across eountry to
it r I ttle stone chureh we saw
• ■'II take along witnesses
;i.iph f..r our traps to follow
ii :f v.re <* iiie, when 'twere done
v w«'twere done quickly.'
i 1.-nv much we shall escape, all
th . and frills and upsetmonts of a
Idiiu And this Is the only way
m . ,|n" thc;n. I know your aunt has
I, !; 4 rt eton St. Thomas', with
bridfsii): s and all the rest
S y yes. there's a darling. I will
- t to keep you from l>elng sorry
f«r it, even one time."
"It • iini'ls enticing," Phllomeua said,
tlx :i ■ i:h .i l -ilci "But It
can U' done Vou see if 1 ran off
will ••• i.the Mannering would inevlt
. t the Muc< arty and his millions.
Tka what si..- is !., re fat, and that's
wh;it I'M bound not to let her do."
"11. your .ke." lletherton grum- j
Mel. t :. r to draw her to his breast.
SI it him away with gentle
.1 . \ .• "But It is not a joke. I
Th Is\ I am si» provoked with
\ ; ourscif be one of her bait
guds - oil. she's a shrewd piece— I
si,.- knows a man like the MacCartby
i. . n- .j> , a wife as he has picked
a rt s'.title, from among those
other n • 'i want very much."
•||.i .» vou know?" lletherton de
tuanled.
r opened her eyes very
vi. \VI In* till me so," she said.
• \ i know we !• ;-reat friends and 1
talk 112 u t! > t! And he Is really j
raatlj entertaining such a big bulk of
tii nature, with stre.iks of
> tln-r -treaks of understand
_ 'iifiiiiih It- honest ignorance."
II : Vou are somewhat a lielle. j
II \ ti:nes has he proposed to
vnii?" lletherton asked.
vie the tir-t day." Philomena
>-. i ■!. si liits wickedly. "1 asked time
fur :•'ration, but he wouldn't give ;
t Me wanted a straight yes or no.
1 me by telling me that if j
• 11• twhile lie was not engaged he
ild s- e me another chance. So I j
■ i!~t be rare and make up my mind. I
kieiw ! - not engaged, not unless I
M 1 This I is lamleil him since
morning."
i nitid made up?" lletherton
teasingly.
1"! ! m.eti; shook her head, but said
I■ . tl .Vot yet Still, there's no
t.-lli ■ I t iit.'t \ hapiten between
"it v „ refuse tny olan ami
everything?" lletherton salil, paling
I ' i i'-na shot a glance at him and
faintly. ' ut said, with an nc
• -.-tit gentle pr m, 'Why. I <li«L
that s .r «■ time agn."
• ',l ' slit t je Mannering wo
>i • . M ur Vou would not
' ! : :e," lletherton
u 1 .rt. malicious
a novice from
wli. r v ho knows the
i t i "surd luip as an Im
..t: :itf " -!se said.
- teeth. "Gotxlby."
. I.ii ;ly above his breath, hold-
I' lii 1 • icna l<Mik»Hl at
v and a I.eil, "Where are
t i the devil ni'ist
k- . " l.e answeretl recklessly.
I.- • pti '. 'ii, ti'legrani f>»r you, sir,"
t . . . i l.i 'luing to the pair with
i ycOnw i his tray.
I open, ilsnrrel at its
, i,t. then food twisdnf It be
tween bta llngera and nHn| an odd,
l-ti.ed smile After a long breath he
, I hiloniena in his arms and kissed
her. sitjing in her ear:
"I khi stusl your friend. I'm a
• tr, or hall he In two hours more.
That wm a i-ail for BWfgbM I can no
more put up 111■ i:i 1 t .tn tly I've been
spei-ul:-' _ v. ildly I wanted you so
badl> I thimght I must offer you mll
ilons no I- - than myself I'ntll totlay
th. \ wen .-.i 111 i. j (map That was
why I dared. But I'm losing every
thing at once."
"Not quite," she said, dinging to
him, her eyes shining up at him
through a uilst of tears. "You may
have me, If you lose everything else.
I'm not afraid of poverty if I may ]
have love."
"Seems like it's time l took a hand in
this game," a throaty voice said be
hind them, and there stood the Mac-
Carty, very red, and all over perspira
tion. lie had been ambushed all the
while in the summer house outside
which the lovers stood. "You folks
think list'nin' ain't the right thing," he
went on. "No more it ain't, but I
waked from a nap as you were in the
midst o' talkin', and it didn't take ten
words to show me the lay o' the land.
I like the lay of it. The little lady
thai - ," nodding toward Philomena,
"has got me doped out fine and pat,
but she didn't make sport of the old
galoot. She said it in sport, but she j
lias looked out fer me. And tnore'n
that, she's made me understand thar
was at least one woman money j
couldn't buy. You ain't half good I
enough fer her," this to lletherton with I
a chuckle. "Hut since it appears she
likes the looks o' ye, be hanged If
you're a goin' to take her and try love
in a oottage. At least, not onless the
cottage's got all the flxin's. No need
to tell me how you stand. I ain't quite
out o' the market if I am up here in
the mountains, eourtln' and rusticatin".
If you need inargius, I know the rea- '
son why. (io risht straight to the tele
phone. I'll lie along o' ye; together
we'll get the straight o' things down to
a dot over my private wire. I'm goin'
to see you through If It takes one
million or even two. Rut when you
are through you git married and keep
out of sech messes."
"I will," lletherton said, holding out
his hand.
Before tho MacCarty could take it
Philomena flung herself between them,
threw her arms about Ills thick neck
and kissed him on both cheeks.
"You're an angel elephant," she mur
mured. "I shall love you always, no
matter what he says," with a nod
toward lletherton.
"lie says. 'Amendment accepted,"'
lletherton said, wringing tho Mac- ;
Carty's hand.
That gentleman laughed apologetical
ly, but returned the grip heartily, and
said as he puffed away with lletherton
at his elbow:
"It takes jest an angel elephant to
skeer the bulls and bears good and
hard."
Women of Anrlrnt Home.
"We are assured by Seneca," says
the historian Inge, "that there were
women In ancient Rome who counted
their ages not by their j ears, but by the
husbands they had had. Juvenal tells
of one woman who hud married eight
husbands in live years. Divorce was i
granted on the slightest pretext. Many
separated merely from love of change, j
disdaining to give any reason, like
iUmlUus Paulus, who tokl his friends !
that 'he knew best where his shoes j
pinched him.' Rich wives were not
much sought after by wise men. Their
complete emancipation made them dif- \
licult to manage. Accordingly, since
both rich and poor wives were objec- :
tlonable, the large majority of men 1
never married at all. In most cases a j
Roman bridegroom knew practically
nothing of his wife's character until :
after marriage. Marriage for the Ro
man woman meant a transition from |
rigid seclusion to almost unbounded
liberty. She appeared as a matter of
course at her husband's table whether
he had company or not. She could go
where she liked, either to the temples of j
Isis and Serapls or to the circus and
amphitheater. She had her own troops
of slaves, over whom she ruled without
interference."
WATERLOO.
Gronchf Wn* Solely to niam* Foi
the Dow II fa iI of Napoleon.
Napoleon would have won the battl* j
i>f Waterloo had Grouchy prevented j
the junction of the Prussians with the
English arniv, because he would uoi
bare had to light two battles at once
Few'persons realize that the so called
battle of Waterloo was in reality 8
double battle, somewhat like Jena and '
Aoerstadt. Napoleon fought one bat
tie at Waterloo against the English.
On the arrival of the Prussians he was
forced togo In person toward Planehe
nolt and there fight another battl*
against the Prussian army, leaving tc
Ney the conduct of the troops at Wa
terloo. It Is a well known maxim li
war that a very great or decisive vie •
tory cannot be gained unless one com '
mander makes a serious blunder ol J
which the other takes Immediate ad |
vantage. It Is very evident that the
fact of the emperor having to flghl
two battles at once instead of concen
tratiug his attention ou one alone enor
mously increased the possibility of e
mistake. Moreover, Napoleon did nol
have the able lieutenants of his formei
campaigns. liesaix, Kleber, Lannes
and Bessleres were dead, Massena and
Macdonald had taken the oath of alle
giance to the Bourbons, and Murat had
Hx>llt with the emperor. Napoleon'f
personal attention was therefore im
pemtlve. To Grouchy alone all blame
must be attributed, for had he prevent
ed the union of the Prussians with the
English the emperor would have had
to light only one battle at a time and
could have given his entire persona
attention to that one battle.
In tiie second place. Napoleon would \
not have been forced to tight with 71, '
lt-17 men against two armies numbering
about J 25,000—nearly two to one;
against him. He would have had 71,
017 good soldiers pitted against a raw
undisciplined army of 07,001 men un j
der the IMike of Wellington, which was
not only inferior in mere numbers, but'
far Inferior In morale and experience I
The chances would have been greatlj
in favor of tho French. Then, too, the |
French army was commanded by the
acknowledged master of modern war
fare, who«e brilliant successes at Rl-!
vol!. Marengo, Austerlltz, Jena, Fried
land. Wagram. tho Borodino and Fires
den had dazzkd tho whole world. T'n
til then Napoleon had never been de
feated In any great decisive battle ex
cept Lelpsic, and the French were
strong in tlieir confidence of the em
peril's succe Two of Hie best writ
«rs 1,11 the Waterloo campaign, Shaw
Kennedy and Sibourne, both English
me:!, concur in saying that had Grouchy
kept the Prussians away the English
army would have been badly beaten.
This view Is also held by the ablo<?1
writer of all, .Mr. Ro|»es.—United Serv
ice Review.
fiin l.iiM|u<*nee.
The curate of a country parish lately
preached a charity sermon, and the
coll.- -lion which followed amounted to
C'-'o 7s. I'/l. In the vestry after the
service the church wardens counted It
out «nd mentioned the result. "Well,"
said the reverend preacher, "I must
have preache | pretty well to get all
that." "No doubt you did, sir," replied
one of the church wardens who had
been collecting, "but the squire put In
a £lO note, and he's deaf."—London
M;j!l
Trespassers
By C. B. LEWIS
i ipuright, IfJii, hi/ E ('• I'arcell.i
When Captain Ben Golden retired
from the sea and bought a place on the
Connecticut shore he made only care
loss inquiries as to who were Ills neigh
bors As a matter of fact, he did not
rare. As lie explained It:
"I ain a man as attends to my own
busiuess and expect other folks to at
tend to theirs. I shall have a house
keeper nnd ii servant and live very
quietly. My nephew, George I.ee, may
| come down from the city now and then
to stay over Sunday, but that's all the
company I shall have."
I Two weeks later, in buying and tak-
I Ing possession of the property adjoin
! Ing Captain Golden's on the west, the
i purchaser, who was a man of sixty
ami rather crusty, had said to those
who sold to him:
"I don't care who lives around here.
All I want of them Is to mind their
| own business and let me mind mine.
If I catch any of them trespassing on
my land they won't do it a second time.
I shall live here quietly, with my niece
! to manage the house."
There were no fences dividing tho
property, but for the first few weeks
rapt i Golden and Mr. Bingham, who
w::< tii.' man with the niece, were too
In \ to wall: abroad much. They saw
e.tch ol'.i ".- from a distance, but made
i:o o: 11 t to get acquainted. One day
1 th -y were tramping through the shrub
' be: v near the dividing line and came
face to face I'.oth were there for the
same ii ij. e: Kneli one of them had
been thin).lng of putting up a lino
i fonc ■ to si. ii the other out. There was
1 some eusiia: n.ssnient for a moment,
and then Captain Golden, being the
| more jovial of the two, called out:
"Good day. neighbor; glad to meet
| you."
"Good day, sir," replied the other as
he drew himself up in an icy manner.
"Being we a. 1 " neighbors"—
"We are n»t neighbors, sir. You sim
| ply happen to live near me. That Is no
~"> V, J
"YOO ARK AT LEAST ForUTEEN INCHES
ON MY LAND."
excuse, however, for j'oti to trespass
on my property."
"Who's a tre-passing?"
"You are, sir. The line runs this
I side of that beech, and you are at
least fourteen inches on my land."
"Then I'll set off your land, right
J off!' exclaimed the captain, as he be
gan to bristle up. "Yes, sir, I'll get
off—l am off—and if you are that sort
of a man I warn you not to set foot
on my property."
"I will be careful not to. I will see
about a fence at once."
"I shall also see about it at once."
"I shall build the fence."
"Sir." said Mr. Bingham, "I forbid
you to put up a fence here!"
"And I forbid you!"
There was further emphatic and even
violent language, and they finished up
by almost threatening the shotgun in
case of further trespass. When Mr.
Bingham reached his house his face
[ was so red an 1 his manner so per
turbed that his niece, Miss Jennie
Gray, was forced to take notice of it
and ask If he had been attacked by
tramps. He thereupon explained what
had occurred, favoring Ids side of the
case as much as possible, and con
eluded with the declaration:
"I am not going to let that old brute
of u sailor bluff me, and If you let
him scare you off you are no niece of
mine."
"I've taken a great liking to rambling
through that shrubbery," replied tho
niece, "and now I've got to be very,
very careful not to get even one toe
I over the line."
"You go right ahead and ramble just
where you want to, line or uo line,
1 and if that old lump of salt says any
i thing to you make faces at him. I told
lilra I'd build a fence, but I won't. He
' may build one and pay for It. It's
curious how the Lord lets some folks
continue to live."
Miss Jennie Gray nail lived with her
uncle long enough to know how hot
headed and irascible he was and that
If there had been any trouble he had
done his full share In provoking It. But
i she also felt It her duty to stand by
| him, right or wrong More than that,
she also felt it her duty to trespass up
on Cnptalu Gol Jen's laud because tres
passers had been forbidden.
T! e old sailor was also In an angry
moo 1 when l.e reached his house, but
he did not explain matters to his house
keeper. He waited until his nephew
came down, a week later, and then he
told the story and added:
"George, I don't want no trouble with
anybody, but if that old fossil drives
me to the wall I shall drive him under
ground. I ild I'd build a fence, but
1 w >n't do it. He can build and pay
for it if Me wants to. I've warned him
1 to keep off my land, and if he don't
tlo it" l.ee,
l.ee, civil engineer, had a
win: ! i t for his bluff old uncle, and
!l was only natural that he should
espouse his cause. He arrived at the
house on Saturday evening, and soon
after breakfast Sunday morning he set
out for li ' shrubbery with o cigar In
his mo'iih mid a cane In his hand to
look the ;; uind over. He found n belt
of shrubs .-i nl trees about forty rods
wide an i esiendlng from the highway
back tot! >ii no. He could walk there
and al:. t > nagine himself in a forest.
The ground was dear of any tangle,
and the whole thing was a happy
thought < air ed out between neighbors.
Young Mr. Lee had left the house
1 roofing oniewnat belligerent, out tie
lost li all soon after entering the grate
ful shade. A rabbit ran nway, squirrels
chattered at him, and he caught sight
of birds' nests among Hie branches. It
was a place of good will and peace,
and he was feeling so when lie heard a
suspicious noise on the other side of a
heap of brush lately cut and stacked.
110 thought lie heard the movements of
a man. If It was a man he was a tres
passer. If he was a trespasser ha must
be sent about his business.
"Iley, yon, beyond the brush, what
are you doing there?" called tlie young
man.
There was no answer, but he heard
a movement lie advanced and gave
the lx-ap a whack with his cano and
shouted:
"Come out and show yourself, you
skulker!"
Tl* skulker made no response. The
silence aggravated Mr. Lee, nnd. draw
ing his cane up to his face like a gun,
he continued:
"if you don't come out of that before
1 count (en I'll lire a charge of buck
shot into the brush."
"You'd better not!" replied a voice
that Jumped him a foot high, and ho
circled around the heap to find a young
lad\ standing there with a freshly
gathered bouquet In her hand. lie
looked at her with open eyes and
mouth. She looked at him with her
chin stuck out and a glint of defiance <
In her eyes.
"Good I .ol d, but you really must ex- j
cuse me!" •; sped Mr. Lee after a long
minute.
"You can no ahead nnd shoot now," j
replied the girl.
"Hut i I didn't think to find a wom
an—a girl—here."
"No. Neither did I think to find a
young man ready to do murder. Do
you l;i ow that you are a trespasser,
sir? You are on my uncle's land, and
as his ropn -e itative 1 warn you off.
The dividing line is two feet behind
you."
Mr. Lee slowly moved over the line,
and his 1":: ■ • I—trayod such astonish
ment and perp! vitv that the girl could
not prevent a smile.
"Can can I say anything to explain
this unfortunate occurrence?" he beg
ged."
'•v-otii!:,.' except that you wanted to
? hoot me.''
"I'.ut you ! now 1 didn't. You know
that I ha 'n't the slightest idea of your
presence. 1 cam:* out here to—to"—
"To shoot my uncle. I infer that you
are stoppi: • wiih the sailor and. hear
ing of the 1 ;!• di pute of a few days
ago, you vol■ i- -ere 1 your services as
assassin. Very kind of you. I'm sure."
Mr. Lee looked at the girl In a help
less way. II • didn't believe there were
words enoiv: i in the English language
to set hiiii r: lit.and yet If felt a great
longing to !>■ for-riven. She maintain
ed a saucy, acen ;i:i: front for a minute
and then melted enough to say:
"I se ■ my uncle coming In search of
me, and if you do I't slay him you may
o;;i! do things to his satisfaction.**
A track I; ' in v otild have made it a
LiO to 1 "<l!o; ::ua!:ist, but he would
have t. It tool; a year and more to
do it.and ther» was Captain Golden to
p! N"M • ide e. but the "assassin"
has bccoi • :i d". >:ed hmband and the
"skulker" : loving wife. :::id the two
old men . •inn in arm through the
shrubbery ami timl no for quar
reling.
THE REAL LINCOLN.
Slf* WIIN V»t llonifl), untl Ho Wm
\ot Slovenly In Drew*.
For many ; 'irs It has been the fash
ion to call Mr. Lincoln homely. lie
WHS very tall and very thin. His eyes
! were deep sunken, his skin of a sallow
pallor, his h.iir coarse, black and un
( mly. Yet !■" was neither ungraceful
| nor awk- a: I nor ugly. His large fea
tures fitted his large frame, and his
i hirge hands and feet were but right on
: a body that measured six feet four
Inches. was a sad and thoughtful
face, and from boyhood he had carried
n load of <ar •. It is small wonder that
when alone or absorbed in thought the
face should ! ake tin deep lines, the eyes
appear in if - 'dug something beyond
tli" vision of other men and the shoul
ders stoop «ts though they, too, wero
bearin? a weight. But In a moment
nil would he changed. The deep eyes
could flash or twinkle merrily with hu
mor or look out from under overhang
lug brow-; ; they did upon the Five
Points children in kindliest gentleness.
So, too, in public speaking, when his
tall body ro.e to it - full height, with
head thrown back and his face trans
figure;! v. iiit the fir'- and earnestness
of tii> thought, lie would answer Doug
las in the h gh, clear tenor that came
to him in tli'» lie: i: of debate, carrying
his Ideas so fir out o-er listening
crowds. An 1 later, during the years of
war, when he pronounced with noble
gravity the words of his famous ad
dresses, not one in the ihrougs that
heard him could truly say that lie was
other than a handsome man.
It has been the fashion, too, to say
that he was slovenly and careless in
his dress. This also is a mistake. His
clothes could not fit smoothly on his
gaunt and bony frame. He was no
tailor's figure of a man, but from the
first he clothed himself as well as his
mean# allowed ai. 1 in the fashion of
the time and place.
In read ins the ; rotes-pie stories of
his boyhood, of the tall stripling whose
trousers left « d osed a length of shin,
It must lie r< lembered not only how
poor he was, but that he lived on the
frontier, where other boys, less poor,
were scarcely better clad. In Vandalia
the blue jeans he wore were the dress
of bis companions as well, and later,
from Springfield days on, clear through
his presidency, bis costume was the
usual suit, of black broadcloth, careful
ly made and scrupulously neat. lie
eared nothing for style. It did not
matter to him whether the man with
whom ne talked wore a coat of the
latest cut or owned no coat at all. It
was tinman inside tiie coat that In
j terested him. Helen N'icolay in St.
j Nicholic.
Coltsfoot or the leaves of lettuce, be
ing slightly narcotic, would form a
harmless make believe for the good
' folk who persuade themselves that
| they could not leep a wink were they
deprived of tli> r evening comfort
Ages ago both Creeks : ud Romans, ac
cording to I >ioscorhl sand Pliny,
found comfort in smoking through n
: reed or pipe the dried leaves of colts
foot, which relieved them of old
' coughs un.l difficult breathing. And
as to Icttuee, it lias been famous since
! the time of Colon (Claudius Gnlenus)
who nsser!-; tb >t It • 112 >un<? reli 112 froir
j sleeple -Jlie ! I : ; g it at lligllt.
Mother r.artli'w t 011.
I Force oui-elvt ln»w we will to leat
| a strained 1111,1 Mural life, we car
I never < i; 'i 'y us >.l to it. It is
never lice Is a yearn
In; for the MIII| '«■ life, for the natura
life. and. foi most of us, country life
\Ye want to el Mother Earth, tc
breathe the lie !i air, to drink In thr
beauties of flower, of field, of moun
tain and ■>! s inset, which never tin
or pall upon the mind. Ficbange.
I WITHOUT
| license!
£ By EDITH M. DOANE
j< Copyright, Hffl, •») W. It. Caldwell |
There was such excitement In Four
Corners as had not been known In
that small settlement for many a day.
The quail on the Cornish estate were
protected l>y the game laws from April
to September and by Dawson, the
gamekeeper, at all times, yet one May
morning found I »an O'Connor in the
Cornish preserves with a brace of
quail at his belt, whereupon Dawson,
BUinmonlii; the sheriff from Windsor
Bend, had promptly arrested O'Connor
and jailed him.
Such a thing had never happened be
fore In the history of Four Corners,
and public feeling ran high. A crowd
had gathered at the one store the place
boasted, and their muttered threats
finally merged into open defiance.
"I heerd that Dawson had kinder got
his eye on a couple more o' tho boys," I
hinted old man Plerson.
A ruffianly looking fellow leaning
against the counter looked np with a
| heavy scowl.
"He'd better look out tho boys don't
| get their eyes on him first," he growled
savagely.
"A few birds more or less ain't noth- j
In' to make a fuss over nohow," put In ,
a tall, lank fellow behind the stove.
"He's got to look fer a little shoot-
In'," mumbled old man I'lerson.
The hard faced fellow against the
counter straightened up and moved
slowly toward the door. "He might '8 1
"HIST, MISS MOLLY, HIST !" SAID A
VOICE.
well look for it; it's comin' to him," he
i said menacingly as he slouched heavily
from the ro mi.
The rougher element of Four Corners
were ;, -e I to depending upon their rifles
to eke out an • > i fence, meager enough
at best, and in the lifetime of old Mr.
; Cornish, the 112 >m er owner of the great
estate, the'.* depredations had been
practically unchecked, but now a new
1 order of thi :•» pr> ailed. Old Mr. Cor
' nisli was d -ad, and the villagers re
garded the • who had succeeded lilin
! i with sus|ili >:> and the gamekeeper he
' J had appointed with sullen hatred.
The villa L'OM were not alone in their
disapproval o - Dawson.
' "You are I :akin;; a mistake in ap
p »lnting h: < the doctor's daughter
1 had declared, her brown eyes resting
1 on the tall y n m beside her.
"I don't ■ • » why," Robert Cornish
' had retnriie | stubbornly. "Something
' lias to be to preserve the game.
: These fei! c are a lawle s set, shoot-
ing in seas hi :iii< 1 out and ruining tlio
preserves. **l ;des" his voice rung de
terminedly "it is n:y property."
••yc.-i." she admitted, "and yet they
have so little it doesn't seem quite fair
tliey slui!: 1 have no rights."
"Hut i i villlng they should do a
certain jus • of hunting," lie pro
teste!. '•n!. liiey must observe tho
me lav i'nd they must also realize
that it is my pi >perty, not theirs."
"Do they l:n nv you will allow them
a cert:'.'!) amo it of game?"
Hubert (' *ii ii sli Mtk Ills head. "Not
yi t. Dawson advised cutting them oIT
*>: irt until they learn to realize the es
tate is r • property. When tfiey
i. . ' 1 ! •: Is a privilege, not
a right, they will give less trouble."
Molly slunk her head doubtfully.
"I know ♦hem better than you do,"
she said. They are lawless and Ig
norant, taw there is more good in
them than you believe, and Dawson
Isn't the man to deal with them. I
wish you would talk to them your
self." she went on.
There was a brief silence.
"I will if you wish," he said impul
sively. "1 will do it tomorrow."
lint on the morrow two unforeseen
thin - :s h n > ;■ 1. Uobert Cornish was
railed suddenly nwnv on n?i nrrent
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business trop and Dan O'Connor 1 »ar»-
ged the quail.
It was the evening after the excited
discussion at the store that Molly,
prompted by an unusual feeling of
restlessness, crossed the room to the
window and, stepping out on the ve
randa, wandered down into the moonlit
garden. Robert Cornish would l>e back
that night, but of course it was no
"ague hope of meeting him that bright
ened her eves or led her through the
gai:> into th • road, made light as day
by the full noon overhead.
"Hist. Mhs .Molly, hist!" said a voice
close at her ear
She starter! violently as a small, uu
kfinpl figure crept through the hedge
ai.l Mopped short In her path.
"i in.! t goon. miss." said the boy,
vii i iiic'i i A<-iteinent. "Don't! They
;i v. aitin' fer Dawson below, an'
i: n> th y might do ye some harm."
• Vv'aiting? For what? To shoot
h: nV" asked the girl breathlessly.
Yes miss. The wagon has gone to
Wiii'l •>!• 1 lend to meet him, an' when
i: ..rr.es back well, they're waitin',
. . down in the hollow."
.• ,tit -n't Dawson the wagon has
> t > s ii t." said Molly in a horrl
. I ■ :.ls;»er. "It Is Mr. Cornish."
i • nes-; i; won't make no difference
t > th •!;!, miss, whether it's Dawson or
the master himself. They're bent on
bit. . i "
'i !: • boy fi.ii'ied through the hedge,
leaving the jjrl, white and horrified. In
the middle of the road. For a mo
ment she stood as if stunned. Then
her mind leaped riotously to the
chance ot escape. "If I can reach the
Windsor road through the cross path,"
she thought desperately, "I may be in
time."
She turned through a broken gap in
the hedge, into a field beside the road,
and, breaking into a quick run, rushed
through the wet srrass into the thicket,
over a high bank, Into a tangle of
blackberry hushes, whose thorns
clutched at '• -r light dress, through
another gap. across a wall, whose
stones slipped and slid''finder her feet,
on again, lightly, swiftly, through a
plowed field, across a diteh, over a
marsh where her slippered feet sank
deep in the soft, wet sod, still onward,
with a passionate thankfulness In her
h< art as she heard the distant ring of
horses' hoofs.
Could she reach him?
"Robert! Robert!" she crieu desper
ately.
'llie sounds came nearer. A light
road cart swung swiftly toward her.
"Robert!" she cried again. Then, as
a tall young man In the cart pulled up
his horses sharply, she sank, spent and
breathless, beside the Windsor road.
**•»•#•
The excitement had largely been a
matter of misunderstanding, and when
! young Cornish had explained his plan
of sharing the game, and, furthermore,
had refused to prosecute the ringlead
ers of the disturbance, Four Corners
was with him to a man.
It Is hard to say which of his two
next moves—his marriage to Molly or
his appointment of Dan O'Connor to
the position of gamekeeper—evoked
the more admiration.
"Each av 'em beln', so to speak, a
* stroke o' genius," mumbled old man
■ Pierson.
Once there was a man who thought
Russell Sage ought to stop work. He
spoke to him about it. "Why get to
gether any more money, Mr. Sage?
You can't eat it; you can't drink 1L
What good will it do you?"
"Ever play marbles?" Uncle Russell
asked.
"Yes, when I was a boy."
"Couldn't eat 'em, could you?
Couldn't drink 'em, could you? No use
to you, were they? What did you play
marbles for?" Harper's.
Tlio Rmull of Kn vlronment.
"I saw the oddest freak the othei
day."says the man with the hones*
eyes and the trustworthy face.
"A three leurged cat?" we ask, smil
itig.
"No. It was a chicken that had fur
instead of feathers."
"I'.ir?"
• Yes !; s Patched from a cold
s: •. . . .. 1 e.
The Home Paper 1
of Danville.
Of course you read
i i mi«.,
\\ * i
1 THE nEOPLE!S \
pOPU L AR
I APER.
.. j
i
Everybody Reads St.
! >l
Publisher l;verv Except
I
Sunday r.'
■
I
No. ii E. Maht ngSt. I
II
L J
KILLED THE LAUGH.
The Story of il»e Prayer I u Rnn*ini*i
"Mose in Kgitto."
The sublime prayer of the Hebrews,
when preparing to cross the Red sea,
Is, perhaps, one of the most solemn
and majestically grand compositions
that <-an be found in the choral reper
tory. yet, at the 'ante time, simple to
a degree. This was an afterthought
of the composer and was not intro
duced until the second season of the
,iro(luction of "Mose In Egitto" at Na
ples.
'I lie opera then, as; now, terminated
with the passage of the lted sea by
the Israelites; I tit. although the audi
ences were entranced with the music,
they invariably saluted the passage of
the lied se.i with peals of laughter,
owing to want of skill of the machin
ist and scene | aiuter, who contrived
to render this p irtion of the affair su
perbly ridiculous and brought down
the curtain amid uproarious mirth.
Rossini exhibited his usual indiffer
ence, but poor Tottola, the poet, was
driven nearly crazy by this unwel
come termination of his literary la
bors an I intensely chagrined at the
idea of so sacred a subject exciting
laughter. This lasted throughout the
first season; tlie next it was repro
duced with similar brilliant success
(0:1 the fir. i for the music, and
similar laughter at the end of the op
era. The next day, while Kosslni was
indulging in his usual habit of lying
in bed and gossiping with a room full
of friends, in rushed Tottola, In a most
excited state, crying out:
"Eviva, I have saved the third act!"
"How?" asked ltossini lazily.
"Why," replied Tottola, "I have
written a prayer for the Hebrews be
fore crossing the dreadful lied sea,
and I did it all in one hour."
"Well," said Rossini, "if it has taken
you an hour to write this prayer I will
engage to make the music for it in a
quarter of the time. Here, give me
pen and ink," saying which be jumped
out of bed, and in ten minutes he had
composed the music without the aid
of a piano and while his were
laughing and talking around Idm.
Thus, owing to the blundering igno
rance of a stage carpenter and scene
painter, the world is indebted for the
most sublime preghiera ever penned.
Night came. The audience prepared
to laugh as usual when the Red sea
scene came, but when the new prayer
commenced deathy silence prevailed,
every note was listened to with rapt
attention, and on its conclusion the
entire audience rose en masse and
cheered for several minutes, nor did
they ever again laugh at the passage
"t the Red sea,
T A( KAWANNA RAILROAD.
* -BLOOMSBURG DIVISION
Delaware, Lackawanna and Wester r
Railroad.
In Effect Jan. 1, 1905.
TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE
EASTWARD.
7.07 a. m.daily tor Bloomsburg, Kingston
Wilkes-Barre aud Seranton. Arriving S«?r:ui
ton at 9.42 a. m„ and connecting at ScrautoL
with trains arriving at Philadelphia at "t.4K a.
m.and New York City at a.30 p. m.
10.19 a. 111. weekly for Bloomsburg, Kingston,
Wi 1 kes-Barre, .Seranton and intermediate sta
tions, arriving at Seranton at 12.85 p. m.and
connecting there with trains for New York
City, Philadelphia and Bufl'alo.
2.11 weekly forßloomsburg.Klngston.Wilksk
Barre, Seranton and intermediate stations,
- arriving at Seranton at 4.50 p. m.
> 5.43 p. n.. daily for Bloomsburg, Espy, I'ly
mouth. Kingston, Wiikes-Barre, Pittston,
' Seranton and intermediate stations, arriving
112 at Seranton at ->.25 p. in. andconnecting lliert
j with trains arriving at New York City a! 'j.fif.
■ | a- m.,Pli;.adelpeia JO a. m.and Buffalo 7a m.
TRAINS ARRIVE AT DANVILLE
I 9.15 a. m. weekly from Seranton, I'itiston,
Kingston, Bloomsburg and intermediate sta
| tions, leaving Seranton at 6.85 a. m., where It
connects with trains leaving New Yori City
s at 9.80 p. m., Philadelphia at 702 p.m. and
! Buffalo at 10.80 a. m.
I 12.44 p. 111. dally from .Seranton Pittston,
, Kingston, Berwick, Bloomsburg and interme-
I diate stations, leaving Seranton at 10.10 a. m.
and connecting there with train leaving Buff
alo at 2.25 a. in.
I 4.88 p. in. weekly 0111 Seranton. Kingston,
! Berwick. Bloomsburg and Intermediate sta
t tlons, leaving Seranton at 1.55 p. m., where it
i connects with train leaving New York City
' i at 10.00 a. 111.. and Philadelphia at 9.00 it. 111.
I 9.05 p. 111. daily from Seranton. Kingston.
' Pittston, Berwick. Hloonisburg and inter me
diate stations, leaving Seranton at 6.85 p.m.
1 where it connects with trains leaving New
YorkCityatl.oop.nl., Philadelphia at 12.0»
' p. 111. and Buflolo at 9.30 a. m.
! T. K. CXJAHKE, Uen'i Sup't.
T. W. LEE. (Jen. Pass. Agt.
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