I
A Hundred
Yard Dash
By HCNOKE WILLSIfc
j l>> M. M. < 'unninghaiu |
Harwell loped along the lake shore
path The spring wind beat in his
face. A mating blackbird trilled in
the greening marsh. Harwell In his
runii 1 g pants and jersey, witli his
bare legs and sandaled feet, with hi 9
tine head t ;c-d back and the muscles
of his back l-lppllng beneath his jersey,
was as beautiful In his perfection of
youth as the spring landscape through
which he ran.
It was getting a little warm for the
daily cross country trot, but the spring
meets would be 011 in another week,
and after that cap and gown In ex
change for Jersey during commence
ment week.
Until then Harwell had only three
things to remember. First, he was not
to overdo. He was so near the per
fection point now that with the least
■ro his armpits in hand, wtth his face
WHITE AND REXSiXESS.
extra work he would be stale. Sec
ond, he must be careful of that right
•high muscle. He had strained It in
tho fall as quarterback. And, lastly,
this third necessity being unknown to
the trainer, he must win the hundred
yard dash in the Colwell-Wilton meet.
The rivalry between Harwell and
Small had become more than physical.
To win first place In the meet was to
w!n first place In Alice Summer's eyes
—at least, this was the conclusion
leached by Harwell.
He hurdled the pasture bars into the
meadow. It was rather wet, and the
sir.ell of bruised cowslips and tender
new sprung mint followed the soft pad
of his sandals. At the sand pits Har
well halted at the sound of his name
shouted at the top of lusty lungs.
Small, In knickerbockers, was pound
ing awny with his geological hammer
at a huge bowlder.
"I'll chill if I stop!" called Harwell
merrily. "Why aren't you running?"
"Got this bloomln' five-fifths geology
to make up this week."
"Too bad!" shouted Harwell, bound
ing with his lung strides toward the
far side of the pits.
Small looked after him, then a mali
cious look crossed his eyes. If—lf Har
well should get chille.l! He sprang to
liis feet.
"Walt! Walt!" he roared. "I want"
—then "Great heavens!" he cried. Then
there was silence
Harwell did not turn his bead at
Small's call. He grinned appreciative
ly to himself. "Can't work me that
way," he thought. "A chill for me
would be very valuable to Small," and
he crossed the little meadow brook
with a careless bound. Then a vague
seise 01 apprehension entered his mind.
Email's roar had stopped very sudden
ly. He wondered why. Perhaps he
ought togo back, yet be kept on.
But the sense of apprehension grew
and would not go. Finally, with a lit
tle groan .1 his own foolishness, Har
well turned aud retraced bis course to
the sand pits, his stride never break
ing. At the brow of the slope he gave
n startled ejaculation. In springing to
his feet Small had dislodged a great
slice of the san-i pit wall. To his arm
pits In sand, with face white and sense
less and the sand creeping constantly
down to sift higher and higher about
him, was Small.
Harwell dashed toward him. As he
ran he snatched up au old tin can half
full of rain water and dashed It In
Small's face. Small opened his eyes.
"I'm suffocating. Harwell," he said.
"Oh, no, you're not; not by a long j
chalk. Here, lake this can and dig to
heat the band. I'll use this piece of
shovel, and we'll have you out In a
Jiffy." 1
He set to work feverishly. The bit
of shrivel proved very efficient wielded 1
by Harwell's sinewy arm. and the tin 1
can In Small's hands was not to be de
spised. Harwell worked with one eye
on the edge of the pit. The sand lay
ers, one by one, were loosening. If he
did not get Small free before they fell
—well, there was no use In thinking of j
that. Now Small was free to his %vaist j
line, now to his thighs, now—silently,
swiftly, a great wedge of sand gave !
way, and Small n-as again burled to
his shoulders
Harwell loo; ed about. The pits had
b- 11 n"> I og deserted that there wot ■
11 t a bom 1 li; -i;;ht. Yes. half buried !
. nd black .vir'i a* . there was one. He
pelted ii' iiws the |j:tve a great ;
v;rencli 1 Iv. .'is !; rk again with the
board, wh!"b ' e j laced as a bulwark '
a iiu t further sartd slides. Then to j
rk ig;. 1 v 11! 1 the broken shovel,
feverishly 112 • Small was growing ;
112 tint . nd limp.
\t Ist, pas ing. Harwell helped the
half unconscious Small to Ills feet.
'I hen i e was suddenly conscious that
bis bund- wore Mistered, that his feet
dragged, thiii his right thigh muscle
ached wearily. But he put his arm
aoout :smau aim ien mm siowiy rrom
the sand pit down to the turnpike road ;
that was the straightest course to the j
college dormitory. It was nearlng sun- j
*et, and a damp, cool wind blew from j
the mar(fte> Harwell shivered, but he
closed bis lips firmly and hurried Small
on as best be could.
There was the sound of hoof beats
behind thein. The two weary figures
drew to the roadside and waited for
the smart little dogcart to pass them.
But It stopped, aud Its solitary oc
cupant gave an exclamation of sur
prise.
"What In the world is tho matter?"
Mked Alice Summers.
"Small got uaugbt In th« sand ptt," r»-
piled Harwell, both men staring tip in j
to the beautiful, sensitive face. Tho j
girl gave a little cry of sympathy. "Oh,
get In here. Mr. Small, and I'll drive
vou to the doetor."
In a few moments Harwell was
watching the gay painted back of the
trap, now occupied by two figures, re
treating Into the dusk.
His lip quivered a little sensitively.
"They never thought of me," he mut- j
tered. "Small has got her. and I—l've j
got the chill he wanted me to have."
Then he limped on through the twi
light toward the dormitory a mile
away.
That evening Harwell sat in the liv- |
Ing room of his fraternity house nurs- j
Ing his aching muscles and giving an
occasional sneeze. The hundred yard
dash was lost; but, since Alice, too,
was lost, he was strangely Indifferent. ,
Then he was called to the telephone.
Miss Alice Summers, who was staying
at the hotel with her mother, would be
glad to have him call.
As Harwell, very cold and dignified,
stalked Into the reception room Alice,
her winsome face eager, led him to a
quiet corner. "Dick," she said hesi
tatingly. "did I act very brutal this
afternoon ?"
Dick thought for a moment. "Yes,"
he replied firmly.
Alice caught her breath. "But how
could I know that you had been so
fine? You said nothing."
"There was nothing to say. It was
Small's Inning."
"Small!" sniffed Alice. "Don't men
| tion Billy Small to me! I think you are
fine, but I could get that from what
Billy said only by Inference. Dick, did
you get a chill?"
Dick nodded, and Alice's face filled
with dismay. With two brathers In
college, she understood all the shad
ings of training.
"Oh. Dick!" she said. "Oh, Dick!"
Something in her tone made Dick
look up. "But you don't care," he said
bitterly.
"Don't I?" she replied. "Well, per
haps 1 do care, more that you were
brave and fine enough to give up all
chances in the meet to help a man
who was not worth It."
The room swam arourd giddily. Dick
clutched the arms of his chair, and
then both the girl's slender hands were
In his.
"Dick." she whispered, "don't you
see that what you have done Is better
than winning ten dashes?"
"I am sure of It," said Dick. And
there was a thrill of Joy In his voice
that left no doubt ns to his meaning.
MAGIC AND RELIGION.
Their I'nrtinji I)ae to the Advance ot
Civilization.
In west Africa the belief In a new
birth without loss of Identity is proved
by the fact that when a baby arrives
In a family It Is shown a selection ol
small articles belonging to deceased
members, and the thing which th«
child catehes hold of Identifies him as
"Uncle John" or "Cousin Emma," and
60 forth. So far as this belief prevails
it is held by some that garments once
worn or other objects which have beeu
In intimate contact with a human be
Ing are penetrated by his personality
and remain, as it were, united with
him for good or 111.
In nearly all stages of civillzatloc
uow to be found in the world what we
call supernatural beings were concern
ed with the Initiation of the magician
The schism between magic and reli
glou was a later development of civ
illzation. When It occurred, as the
history of heresy In Europe and the
witch trials teach. It was rather magic
In Its antisocial aspect than in Itself
which was reprobated and punished.
It Is strange in this connection to no
tice that the magician was only con
demned when he departed from estab
lished custom and established beliefs
which involved a severance from the
community and an imputation of anti
Bocial ends. Practices essentially mag
leal might be incorporated In religious
riles and exercised for what was be
lieved to be the general good. In such
a case they have continued to be ex
ercised with general assent in the high- j
est forms of religion.—London Hos j
A NAVAL REBUKE.
I
Two Admiral*, u Captain and a Fool ,
In Mnnila Bay.
When Dewey's fleet was at Manila ;
the late Admiral Chichester was then
a captain. On one occasion Admiral i
Diedrichs, the German, sent out the '
Irene on an unrevealed errand and •
without the customary notification to I
the commander of the blockading fleet.
Admiral Dewey had suffered, he
thought, sufficiently from that sort of
thing, and so the admiral sent a vessel
across the Irene's bows and notified j
her captain that she would not be per
mitted to depart without a statement j
as to her destination. It was not Ad- j
ruiral Diedrichs' mission to quarrel j '
with both the American and the Eng- j
Ush fleets 0:1 this critical occasion, so
he sought to find out Captain Chiches
ter's purpose in case of a collision. Go
ing 011 board Chichester's ship, he an
grily exclaimed. "Did you see what
Dewey did to my ship?"
"Yes," replied Chichester.
"What would you have done if it had :
been an English ship?"
"Well," said Chichester, convenient- i c
lv assuming that the Irene's captain
had sailed without orders from Die- 1
driclis, "I'd have pot my captain in ar- j ]
rest, and then I'd have gone on board J <
the Olympia and apologized to Admiral j j
Dewey for having such a fool in coin- j '
maud of one of my ships."—Harper's
Weekly. j *
A I'oet** ll<l m«-1}- Knee.
The poet ltogers was afflicted with a
notabiy unpleasant, cadaverous coun- I
tenance. which, with all his intellectual
power, was a mortification to him. To <
hide his annoyance, he joked about his j
ugliness Incessantly and deceived his ,
frieuds Into supposing him Indifferent 1
to it. He once turned to Sydney
Smith, who, with Byron and Moore,
was dining with him, and said:
"Chuntrey wants to perpetuate this
miseraMe face of mine What pose
would you suggest that I should take?"
"If you really - isli to spare the world
us much a-> possible," said the wit, "I
would, if 1 were you, be taken at my
prayers, my face buried in my hands."
Itoirers laughed with the other per
.-■on-- 1 r 1 lit, but be sli.it a malignant
glance at iiu jester and, it is said, nev
er fully forgave him for the bonmot.
Tim 111* 112 allies*.
I am no friend to the people who re
ceive the bounties of Providence with
out visible gratitude. When the six
pence falls into your hat you may
laugh. When the messenger of an un
expected blessing takes you by the j
hand and lifts you up and bids you walk j
you may leap and run and sing for '
joy, even as the lame man whom St. j
Peter healed skipped piously and re
joice 1 aloud as be passed through the
beautiful gale of the temple. There is
no virtue in solemn indifference. Joy
is as much a duty as beneficence Is.
Thankfulness Is tho other side of mer
cy.— Haury Yau Dyke.
Alicia's 112
Home '" iliaA
Loizeiux
Coming ?e
Copyright. 19i*J. by iiuby Douglas
O =C
"It isn't even ns if yon needed to dc
Ihls, Alicia." Bob Ivondal held hla
I voice to a cool, argumentative tone
that made the girl before him still
j more Indignant.
"Who nre you that you should decide
! whether I need to do anything at all?"
she blazed indignantly.
| "I am your fiance, and"— he was be
ginning when she interrupted him.
"If that Is your excuse for such un
just interference with my wishes, I
can at least relieve you of your duty."
And she placed her engagement ring
on the table between them. The young
man glanced at it without seeming to
see it. Then he 1 >oked sharply at the
angry girl who was drawn to her full
height.
"Alicia," he said gently, "you are too
angry to realize what you are doing.
Put the ring on your finger again.
You don't mean this."
"Pardon me, I do mean it." said the
girl icily.
The young man's face whitened, and
a hurt look sprang into his steady
brown eyes. Then he straightened up
and squared his shoulders and set his
string chin firmly. When he spoka
there wa i a note of hardness In his
vi ee which the girl had never heard
fx iot L rii before and from which she
si ,V it mentally.
'o i. do yoli realize what you are
d; 'u ? W n were to be married in May.
V "j, t- )f seau is begun, I know. And
you've g'-en me every reason to be
lieve you cared for me as much as I do
fi.r you. And now. because I ask you
to do this one thing—for your sake as
well as mine—you are going to give all
this up!"
Tha girl turned suddenly and went
to the window, where she stood look
ing out into the dripping garden. She
felt her lips quivering, and she must
not let Bob see.
Bob looked at the crown of dark red
hair against the deep green of the
window draperies, and his voice sof
tenod.
"This is all I've ever asked oi you.
Alicia. I've been t.>o confident of your
love for me after you confessed it:
I've believed in you too utterly ever to
be jealous of your flirtation % as many
another man would have been—and
rightly too. I've submitted cheerfully
to being 'trailed' in public because it
was you wh3 did the 'trailing.' "
Alicia turned and faced him again,
her foot tapping the floor impatiently.
"Is the list of your virtues a long
one, sir?" she asked.
"I shall not name them all," he au
swered calmly. "The only thing I've
ever Insisted upon your doing is this
one we're talking about. (Jive up this
silly concert tour. I've never said a
word when you've sung for sweet char
ity's sake or for any society affair,
even when the publicity of the events
has often made me writhe. This time
you haven't any real reason. You are
not In need of money, and you're not
dolug It for charity. It Isn't even the
necessary ambition of the professional
to win a higher place for herself. You
will get flattery from the critic; who
do not think It worth the effort to
6pend real criticism on society ama
teurs. If they should criticise you
honestly—the way they do profession
als, to whom it means bread and but
ter—you'd see the point I'm trying to
make. I appreciate the charm of you
and your voice as no one else who
looks and listens to yju possibly can,
and, Alicia Fairall, I don't want to see
you 'damned with faint praise' or hu
miliated by any conscientious critic.
Can't you see that"—
"When you are quite through," inter
rupted Alicia, "you can doubtless find
your way out. I must ask you to ex
cuse me." And she swept from the
room, pausing once in the curtained
doorway as if to speak.
Unconsciously 6he assumed a theat
rlcal attitude. Her face was turned back
over her shoulder, and her lips were
parted a little. With her glowing head
and her soft green dross between the
mck, i. t 112. *ji tti*- curutiun »iie loua
ed like a tall, beautiful dahlia, and Bob
involuntarily started forward. But she
closed her lips to a thin red line and
went on dropping the curtains behind
her. Pre- r.f i<• he heard the tapping of
her slippers upou the stairs and then
the bang of a door.
He did not leave the house at once,
but stood at the window where Alicia
had stood and looked out into the gray
twilight. It was early spring. As he
looked wearily at the sparrows on the
soaked lawn Bob felt his throat tighten
and brushed his hand across his eyes.
"She couldn't menu It,"he muttered
as he turned and picked up the emer
ald ring and slipped It Into his vest
pocket. "It Is too close to May for her
to mean that." Then he sought for pa
per and pen and sat down at the table.
He wrote;
Dear, if I have been too harsh forglva
me. I have said too strongly, perhaps,
what I believe to be true, and all I want
la to spare both of us the pain any failure
of yours would he sure to cause. Think
It over well, dear, before you decide, j
What I came to tell you today is that :
our house Is all done. The last workman
has left. I am Inclosing a key—there are j
only two—and I beg you will go there |
and think it all over at least once before j
you decide finally.
lit; inclosed the key and on his way
out handed the envelope to the butler
to "be taken up to Miss Alicia."
As for Alioin. she had gone straight
to her desk and had wlitren the follow
ing note:
My Pear Mr. fourtenay—l have decid
ed. as I promised I would by today, about
the concert tour. Vou may depend upon
nie for your eop' ano. And as I have
the only one to object to the longer trip
you planned I withdraw my objections to
that Isn. t'nder your management I sur
sur- we shall be successful. Sin
c rely. AI.ICIA LEE FAIRALL. |
When i»e In I heard the closing of j
the 'niter door she gave the note to the j
butler and took from h!m the envelop# j
Hih hul left With it In her hand she
went slowly upstairs and sat down be- i
fore h"r grate tire. She felt her tinker i
melting a'vay. md by the ache in her I
throat kne-.v 'hat tears were not far j
»tf. Siie tore open the envelope, hop- j
lug to liud some stimulus to her Indlg- !
nation, but at the gentleness of the j
w •• ,i:. 1 (be sight of the key to the
home 'ie ml Hob had so eagerly, care
fully planned the tears came with a
rush. and, burying her face in the arm
of her e i-y ehair, she cried herself to
sleep.
Press notices of "a concert lo be
giv-n In the near future by the best i
un it! ur talent the city afforded" be- j
g i to in- ; r"queht during the next few |
w Then came t!ie programme and
pi-hires < 112 tho principals. Alicia was
ofteru--t mentioned, and one Sunday
paper contnineii her picture, a theat
rically po-ed. full length affair, with
her head over one shoulder and her
ttru iiu if soeaklnif. liob's heart sun*
and turned sick. She did
then.
As the time drew near he thought he
would goto the concert, and when the
night finally came he dre sed early
and fidgeted miserably till time to
utart. Then, suddenly changing his
mind, he had himself driven to the door
of tho little new homo he and Alicia
had planned together. Bob let himself
Into the house with his key, which ho
always carried, and walked through
the empty, desolate rooms, which !>y
now should have been furnished and
ready for the bride's home coming. lie
roamed clear through the bouse, draw
ing the shades and lighting all the
chandeliers till every room was blaz
ing with light. Then he turned them
all out and lit a blazing fire in the din
ing room grate, and, sitting down on
•he high settee built into the niche by
the fireplace, he closed his eyes and de
liberately conjured up the presence of
Alicia.
He was almost asleep when he heard
the front door open and close and tho
click of high heeled slippers on the bare
floors, accompanied by the unmistakable
swish of a woman's silken skirts. Then
he heard « match scratched and an Im
patient exclamation as something was
dropped. Then, with his heart pound
lug violently, he laid his head back
against the settee and feigned sleep.
Tie bear l the steps come to the din
ing room door, heard Alicia's voice say
"Oh!" In frightened, breathless sur
prise, felt his heart beat almost to suf
foeallon, and then he heard the ste; s
recede with a rush to the ball and (he
front door open. llu v. as about to call
to her <vbeii he heard her say to some
one on the peveh:
"Tell Mr. v'ourtenay I am sick or
dead or buriwl—anything you like only
that 1 shall n-.»t sing tonight." Then the
door closed again and Hob immediately
went to sleep. It seemed to be a very
sound sleep, tor lie did not opeu hi*
eyes, though Alicia couuhed three
time". But wh-'n she could stand it no
longer and sho »k his shoulder he woke
up with a most excellent look if sur
prise on his l'uce.
"Is (t too late?" she asked hroath
lesslv.
Looking at n< r as if dazed, he pulled
out ids watch.
"Oh, 1 don't mean for the concert! I
mean"- hot Alicia could gel n;> fur
ther. and, dropping to her knees beside
the settee she leaned her head nuainst
his arm and cried.
"I guess If Isn't too late for a wed
ding." sa ! il Ro!>, "but we'll have tc
hurry."
TRAILING DOG POLICE.
Bi-fii kiut; In of Che Seine I'litrol One
nt' l!i*» -•! ,lit» «»• Pari*.
The training of the young New
foundlands that are periodically added
to the staff is one of the sights of
I'aris. Ii place in the headquar
ters of the ugei>:< plongeurs, a small
building < n the euayside uot far from
the Cathedral of Notre Hanie. Hogs
and men enter into the exercise with
zest, and t! ere is usually a crowd of
onlookers, cnly dummy figures are
used, but the "rescue" is nevertheless
a very realistic affair. The big dogs
know peii'ecily v dl what the exercise
means, and they wait with comic eu
thusiasin until the dummy Is thrown
Into the water nnd plougeur
rushes out on hearing the splash and
the outcry of spectators. While the
men are busy with lii.es and life buoys
the dog plunges into the water, swims
to the dummy, watches with rare in
telligen e for an opportunity to get an
advantage. »ns hold, and then it either
swims ask ae or waits for its master,
who brings to the rescue long poles,
cork belts and the like. The more ex
perienced dogs, however, will easily
effect a rescue from first to last with
out human assistance, and it is an in
spiring sight to watch them looking
for a foothold on the slippery sides of
the river bank and pulling the heavy
dummy into a place of safety.
It takes about four months to train
the dogs efficiently. They are also
charged with the protection of their
masters when attacked by the des
perate ruffians who sleep under the
arches of the bridge in summer. Thus
in Paris the police dogs are a proved
success.—Century.
A GREAT BEER HOUSE.
Munich 0«!14 the Olilful nnd I.ar«renl
Snleon In the World.
The llofbraubaus of Munich is per
haps the oldest and largest saloon iu
the world, owned by the king of Ba
varia and patronized by an average of
12,000 customers a day. On holidays
the number often runs up to 15,000 and
10,000. Nothing to drink is sold but
beer, brewed at the royal brewery,
which was started by King Ludwigtbe
Severe In 1 The present Ilofbrau
liaus was built in 104-1, and the beer
was brewed on the spot until IS7B,
when the brewery was moved into the
country to less expensive quarters.
There are seats for 1,500 customers,
plain wooden benches without backs
beside plain wooden tables without
covers. Iu the garden or court are 100
empty beer barrels set on end, which
are used for tables. The steins, which
are very heavy and hold a quart of
beer, are piled up in stacks before the
bar on the floor in the morning, where
they remain until they are used.
When a customer wants beer lie
picks out a stein, takes it to one of the
basins of running water which line the
walls and washes it himself. Then he
carries it to the counter and hands it
over to the bartender, who fills It with
beer from the barrel. The price is (1
cents a stein, and the profits support
the hospitals of the city, although the
king could claim them If he desired to
do so, as the brewery and the llofbrau
baus belong to him by Inheritance.--
Chicago I:ecord Herald.
Members of the M'jiji tribe, who live
on the Limpopo river, wear an extraor
dinary "marriage dress." This weiru
and uncomfortable looking costume is
made entirely of split reeds, fastened
together with gras--. and the unhappy
bachelor who contemplates matrimony
Is compelled to wear it for three solid
months before the happy event comes
off. meanwhile leading a life of strict
seclusion. What effect this extraor
dlnary custom has on the popularity
of marriage among the M'jijis is not
known, hut it was only with the ut
most difficulty that some members of
the mounted police, who encountered
some would be Benedicts, induced the i
to allow their photographs to be taken.
—Wide World Magazine.
\<»t itn IriMliaiinn.
There i* a bust of Hugh o'Brieu. a
former mayor of Boston, in the < «n
dor of the Boston Public library and
one of John Boyle O'lteilly In the new
paper room. The other day a man ap
proaehed one of the clerks In the new
paper room, saying. "Isn't there a hust
of anybody except Irishmen in the
building?" "Certainly," replied the
clerk. "There is a bust of Lucifer in
the periodical room, and he wasn't an
Irishman."
I \
| G
* s
By JOHN J. O'CONNOR
Copyri'.' 1 1" ■ b' • H. Sulclillc j
' CWM". 'I.'.'VXW .tv aVMAt'WWS
'I think I iuivi better take you to the
train." til i: he! eohlly. "I do not
car* 1 to advertise to the whole family
tii:* fact that my affections were be
stowed upon a man so utterly un
■ worthy of them."
You will have to announce thu
: breaking of the engagement some
time. g>: te 1 Castron, "but 1 guess
1 it's bei;er this way. We'll talk it over
ion the a \ into town. You have not
j given n e :i c!'anee to defend myself
I yet. -It will • all right when I get a
j chance t > t..;u ' » you quietly."
| Ethel sin" That was precisely
i what -he \. -died to avoid. She would
j take the rtnsr cart and have the littla
:
"I'T/r. MAKE IT FIVE," HE OFFEKKD.
groom g> c.' iig. Castron noticed the
smi a ... •• jessed her thoughts. When
the t\. t «■;;• brought around the back
t eat was un >eci:; led.
"Jjire-t •:* 1 • -• had to send the boy
t > town," she explanation. "He
will l \ i irg fir you at the station."
Ethu ; >\i,e i and turned and walk
ed to v. her • hi r small brother was try
in.g t) * \ti • gd'.lflsb from the foun
tain b. • : i a bent pin and a bit of
b;' id. !i • 11 1 up guiltily at her ap
pi ;, bul was visibly relieved when
he saw wli > it was.
"I>>:'t you want to ride into town
w aii ■ . i;ro,i and me?" she said.
"No 1 ■ lid decidedly.
"I'ii ■: u that air guu if you
"it co■ $2. ' he warned.
"I !; : " he agreed. "Hurry, oi
Mr. < .- i iv.id in * his train."
Georgie raced across the lawn and
clin od 11:* j the back seat. "I'm go
ing. too." ' announced gleefully.
Fran! r i ;r ,;i s id something beneath
the cover I his luustaclie and scowled
as he i-e|pt ii ).tii ! into her seat oil the
box.
It v.:: ap •areut that Etliel was de
ter;; ■>d n,.: to a.l'ord him any oppor
tunitj for a tete-a-tete. lie thought
that ie! d *rr i rated !• r design when
be bad bril < 1 the bead coachnffca to
end t!: • ti"-r to town, but lie had not
counted i.a Ocorgie. lie settled him
self in his seat, anil Ethel took up the
lines.
They i vciv l the fir t half mile In
i'er ,• Tr 'U !;e broke the quiet. "I
I I i t -ll yon." 1 »» l"»gan, "that that
locket wa
"<■ \<i)l hear," she whispered.
'I i ,:- e ni l the annoyance of
,■ 'tche ! story spread all
over ' e hoi - e."
*T'..t if oid. you would listen for o
.' •pi ided. "Let Georgia
ted v all-: 1 ick. He won't
inlnd."
!•.» y. i/u
i ' ' " y wor ;e of you than
I do 're- : "
1! veil a miserable mis
i' 'd, ; aad you have not
'. m e for a single word
since it hapjieued."
For answer Ethel turned to speak to
the ! y. a; 1 •" tron gritted Ids teeth.
•Tr 112 ■ iii. •< -, jf-.d t!'e whole mis
ei bl mist ike would be explained. If
he could not get this chance, there was
no 1 .pe She would return his letters '
unr< ,d, J-.. t as : ' • had sent back the 1
note he had written l st night. A bit
of p .• i 'o-.lng a'-rass tlieroad fright
••ne.' t: eh >; -es and demanded her at
t 'at; > Car f r-vi leaned over tho back '■
of t'-e se-v.
"■ • yon u do"'r to fall off and
bade t > t n o ! -.r h - offered.
Is to ■ ive ; ■ two." he ex
idaliicd i
. ■ j ticts 8
i "■ ii iii 5 s I
U .RlOgi I
V i .*• V' j .' '*JW vS y fj'
r r» IPTION Prlee ii
{■ i-l'H S OUt. S. nd 50c hsl 00 |
I- Frc? fri3l. B
....... «■ .... —— -«jj
esl a .-kest Cure lor all H 1
Ej THROAT and LUNG TBOUB- 1
HLE3, < MOKEY BAvjjf. q
M EI ;
A Flolinbl©
ror aM kind of Tin Roofing
Spouting and Ceneral
Joh Work.
S toyes. Heaters. Raniiec,
Furnaces, etc.
mm TUB IMKJiT!
ijlll.in TUB BEST!
JOHN HIXSON |
NO. 116 E. FRONT ST. '
i II make : ! five," he offered.
(_!ee v re-solute "'I matle a bar
pain," lie der l::rpd. '• Twonldn't be
fair."
("astron i , ,1 ihe front again. Ev
erything <v \ to ho against him.
"I con-rar.uale yon upon your fore
thought in ' '"ih'ng (Jeorgie." tie said
bittcr'y. "V determined to al
low me n> < • ('■ . ty to explain."
"Tiiori* i- > possible explanation,"
1 ' said • My. "The least you
• "i do f< t •-p lient for the few
t -- ! y«u are to he bur
.l , ...... .
i • s d 'hortly. "If you
a; * ■ ( !#o- - e there N no
,vo VO! V-TTg."
• • ! ;■ ii], and as they
"i-i. the leafy avenue
is of the tumult
' r hi pride and afi'ec
*! . sat i:i silent anger re
> i-t.< ••{ tin- past twentv
i-i iM ?!i had given him a
ag tier picture. Yester
• ! .u\ ne ' the case anil had
:.n > .er picture and a
r that in no way suggested
. -
•a i explain she had run
no amount of en
• i .-r to ii'-ten to his
e' .* :«•!.
» ii • one • i><->!:•'. <Jeorgie
■" ui ui the back seat
ii ii' ;• to i . while the horse's
la; !. ling the smooth road
sec ■;[ t> < to count the lost
>(>•••.■
.'■ ( ! i ;t. in d« "atiou, he felt in his
p>-*.ct. here a bill he had slip
ped i'ii > his < i.. g;» pocket to avoid
the rror \? of lUing out his poeket
-I>'! »k In tiie stall; :i. Gently he with
ui-»\-* the bill a lid for an instant held
l( i-.-'diid bis i a<-k: then, certain that
-) gie had • :i it.he released his
hold and let ii flutter to the road.
Quickly the b .* slipped off the tail
board and scrambled in tho dust.
Castron turned k> Ethel.
"We are almost in town," he said.
"I ir ist upon being given tho right to
explain."
"Ili. b!" she warned, "(Jeorgie will
hear."
' s be ' ; exceptional ears,"
he ■■ >' !. i-j about half n
tr back."
i'ih"l half tut ' iii her seat to con
vince herself. -hen turned to him
again.
"I supno u I jt.gbt him off," she
salt! scornfully. 'Von told me you
-re av.-are of his price. I suppose I
shall have to listeu since I cannot
drive and stop up my ears too."
Til drive." he volunteered, "If you
want to -top up your ears."
"Wh t is it \ u wish to say?" she
d utile . !gr; .( ng his generous offer.
•'Tn t this" be said eagerly. "That
is :• >t nf. locket at all."
".\s though I did not recognize it!"
she sc :ffed.
"It 112 >;eu me," he argued. "You see,
I h t looked inside since I've been
un in- • because I've had the original
of the p!oturo to look at." I never no
tice! tii.t I picked up Frank Comp
ton'" !••« ' et by mistake. You were so
pro l of ti " uniqueness of the locket
that I I. h-d to teil you that my room
mate had one Just like it. From tho
sit ilinritv 112 the engraving I fancy It
came from the same store.
"When t picked up the chain I got
Frank' .'1 never found it out until
you op.*;. 1 ii. That girl in this locket
is Frank's fiam-ee."
For a moment the horses trotted
along in s : !en«- broken only ny rneir
hoof !>eats; then she turned to him
with moist eyes.
"What can you think of me?" she
cried penitently.
"That you are the dearest little wo
man in the world." he said promptly.
Her hand stole Into his.
"I'll never be so foolish again," she
said. "I'm so glad you persisted,
dear."
"Ale, too." he agreed.
A couple of dji ■; later Castron was
s;- r * • over a rawly letter that had
just com<■ it • d:
ytr It ain't fair
I didn't drop off that
«• five, but because )
I<r'tther-in-law som*
■ft & yam ,0 "ion op
lAi(i iiUiilC" 14ipUi
! r i
!
i
I y| HqHiIII^
I |
11 !
Of course you read
i.
! J
i j 11, 111 if no. 1
'j! \f
i'
! i 11
THE fIEOPLEIS !|
pOPULAR
I APER,
1
!
Everybody I?-, -ids It.
| ft/
I 1 - ■»—™. ~ r ~~
[ ! i
Publisher Every Mor' Except
Sunday .
I; ! !
[No. ii h /VI £?! ng- St. I
j
Subscription - ' r Week.
I Tvr>!u<"ci mo to. too. because she gave me
I the gun and cried over me. It's funny to
Ilivi; a r/' ) cry over you. Did you over
hi. e one erv over you? Come up soon,
i Ht broth. r- !j> !o\ to be, GEORGIE.
i f'astr n s :]r ] rcroinlscently, reeall
' * n £ tiie Inst n.v to town.
THE WAILING WOMAN.
A «|ti< <*r 4il«l Legend of the City of
Mexico.
i As is generally known, seuor, many
! IK: I things ar:; met with at night In
the >treets of the city, hut this wailing
woman. I.n I.iorona, Is the very worst
of them :il!. She Is worse by far than
tli> Vn -a d' I.umhre, that at midnight
c.'fne-i forth from the potrero of San
f:'el»!isiiiin ami goes galloping through
, the streets like a blazing whirlwind,
I !>! -at'ilng forth from her nostrils smoke
; vud flumes, because the fiery cow, se
| i) r. while a dangerous nulrnal to look
! at, n lly does nobody any harm, and
! I.a I.ioroua is as harmful as she
I can be.
: - iii l !' walking along quietly—
| at the times when sue is not running
! ami shrieking for her lost children—
I she sterns a respectable person, only
! odd 1 . »kiug because of her white skirt
and the white reboso with which her
head is covered, and anybody might
speak to her. But whoever does speak
j to 1: r !n licit very same moment dies!
N > one wh.» has stopped her to talk
v. hot- e .er lias lived to tell what
iff;;- •: s at tli.it terrible encounter, but
il i-j generally known that what does
happen is this: Slowly she turns to
ward ti: • • u'. i has s >oken, and
slowly she n ; llie •' jiils • 112 her white
reboso, and thin '< - en a hue grin
ning skull set l"' t a bare skeleton,
i and from her fleshier jaws comes oue
1 single Icy old 1 ■ sstli that freezes into
instant ds whoever feels it. After
that. shricUic.g c.u'ain for her lost chil
dren, she rushes onward, the white
gleam of her gashing the darkness, and
In the morning the one who spoke to
her is found lying dead there with a
look of despairing horror frozen fast
In his dead eyes.
What is most wonderful Is that sha
I Is seen in the same hour by different
| people in places widely npart, one see
; Ing her hurrying across the atrium of
the cathedral, another beside the Arcos
de San Cosmo and a third near the
Salto del Augua, over by the prison of
Belen. nr.d all in the very same mo
ment of time.
{■■!•■> is -) generally known, senor, and
so gr*.i»i% i-tired that nowadays few
people - ton her to spe.il,- with her, and
that is fortunate. Hut her loud, keen
wailing i I'j'.d the ound t»f her running
112 • t : • > heard often and especially on
i ..t >. ii.l myself have heard
• c e ■ "lit 1 have never seen her.
>. •: . r' A 11.:t t ever hall!— Thomas
T At KA *9ANNA RAILROAD
lJ - BLOOMSBUHG DIVISION
Lackawanna and Wswtvi
Railroad.
in Effect Jan. 1, 1905.
TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE
EASTWARD.
7.07 u. in. dad} tor Rlooilisburgi Kingston
Wtlkes-Biirre ;i..d Scrauton. Arriving S'-ruii
ton at H.Ua. in., aud connecting ai 3cranli.il
witli trains arriving nl Philadelphia at ".)? R
in and New Yorii City at 8.30 it.m.
j !o.lh a. ni. weekly for Hiooinsbnrg.Kingston
i WilkeH-Harre.Scranl.ju and intermediate sia
j iionn, arrivine lit Scrat.ton a! 12.35 p.m. ant
connecting th re with trains for New V^ri
• City, Philadelphia and Buffalo.
2.il weekly forßloomsburg,Kingston,VVilkO
j Barre, scranton and intermediate "tation.l
j arriving at Scranton al 4.30 p. a .
5.t0 p. m.daily for UlootiiHhurg, Jtispy, 1' y
j mouth. Kingston, Willies-Barre, Pitteton
Scrantou and intermediate station*, arriving
; at Scranton at s.ss p. m.and connecting the**
with trains arriving at New York City a', 0.51
; a - in., Philadelpeia 10 a. 111. and Buffalo "am
TRAINS ARRIVE AT DASVILLE
! 'i.lSn. w week Iv from Scr->iton. i'ittston
, t '> .11,.tbui* aud 'i.riq«dtat«Kt»-
• • '• Scranton at Tin. :a., where 1.
• v> iili trains IcavlDK N. ■.% Yor\ Cltj
• 1 >0 [• m , Philadelphia at " •:? p. tu. ano
j miffaio i»t V'.Sf- t. r •.
1U .. 1 11. daily li-oui Scranton I'ittston,
•- •• •st. .. r\.. li. tt'ocmsbnrn: and interme
-1 - »iH>ns. ;«*av 11'. '••rar.lou at 10.10 a. m
. . 1- •. • : with tralr. .t-aviDg Bnfl
i »•"»• • • ">•
i t3p .i weeklv n:a Kingston.
nisi-hi4 and ti>t4frned!Hie Nta
joj s, leivlng Hi c ."urn at !.5o p. m. ( whew ft
.ei 1 e.t- •*!'; r 1 :e»vlni! '■ w York Citj
•' tu.oo « sod Philadelphia at VJW m.
1 .>"■ 1 11 : "rem Beruttn. Klnsston
! iitn»ei IU-; AIC '» HiooinKhnrg and interme
, <J ; Kt- -11 • .ou«. i .'xvinij- Sera w>fi a! S.> r > p. 1:1.
! wi.er it couni.c'* with trains -1 avlnc Ntw
1 York ity at 1.0(J 1..m.. Phi lad- i-!iia a' 13-''
, 1 ■ i> .i Buffo -• »! W.S I n, tn.
!. K. CI.\KK i: Gen Soil.
T. W, I.Eb.'. tiCl.. /'asi- A«r<
Is want io ab
kinds al' Printing
I JDS
!;i I J.J
111
I
||'
||
ill's fifßlii
A. well pr:»
tasty, Bill or ] :
\f / ter Head, i ..
Ticket, Circ
Hlr I
Program,
ment or C irci
I w an advertiserru :-.
foryoui businesp
satisfaction to you
New Type,
lei Presses, x ,,
Best Paper,
MA fort A '
Frailness-
Al) can ask.
A trial will make
you our customer
We respectfulb r ask
that trial.
Mr siiinMlili' UK '•
r tn 1
L 11 iV> 1;! IJltvi I -s- i■ -
No. 11 H. Mahoning
♦
•J