I! Fads and Philanthropy fey ISA WRIGHT HANSON | i opuriyht, h\j E. C. Parcell* Q Honor Wilding, 10-king steadily out <i window of the city library, was see lug visions, all of which concerned a yellow haired young man Each vision was rose color at the beginning and s nnher l ray at the ending. That she borself was reasonable for the tinting did not alter the fact that Honor's eyes were wistful and her lips very near to trembling. She turned froiu the wiu dow to the readers, wondering aimless ly if any of them had had Ideals and were sorry. Finally her eyes traveled to the far ther corner, where were the newsni per file« There stood a man, his back to her. lie was very shabby, but ho had yellow hair, and he was about the height. Just then he turned a little and began tightening his belt. Honor heard the noon bells ringing She had heard that if oee were very, very hun gry it helped a little to gird one's waist very tightly. Poor fellow! Then ho turned entirely around and took up his ragged bat Honor dropped her mag wzlne. her gloves, her purse, her hand kerchief and her parasol and sprang toward him. "Why, Mervln Fairbanks, how glad 1 am to see you!" "Well, well, how my fame as a prophet soars! I said that you should not see me again till you would be glad of the sight. And how goes the gay world with you. Miss Honor Wild ing?" Honor expected him to shrink from her. ashamed of his apparent poverty, but she remembered he usually bad done the unexpected. He picked up her belongings, and they went out. Standing In the shadow of the gray "*\itone building, she lifted hesitating eyes to his. "Will you come home with me, Mer vln? I waut so much to know of your wanderings these past two years." She was surprised again at his quick conseut. She remembered Mervln Falr "WBT, 12SBVTN FAJKHANKS, HOW ' i T.AD I j AM TO BEE YOC !" banhs us furiously proud of his pedi gree, his good name and his appear ance What could have happened to red!;i--' him to poverty and to change his nature? "Vou expect to hear of Faris and London aud maybe Egypt and ludia?" he asked after luncheon was orer. To Honor's third surprise he had eaten very little "I haven't been outside San Francisco until yesterday." Honor regarded him with reproach. "You never let me hear from you," she ■aid. "What was the use? You said It was all off between us. I couldn't be as philanthropic as you desired, and I didn't like to pretend that I might grow to it, because I knew I shouldn't, i How are your proteges?" Honor colored. 'I don't know." Mervin smiled at her quizzically. "Did Bacagalupl rob your house, or Morlarity take to the black bottle again?" "Not exactly, but what I did for them didn't seem to last. They were constantly expecting more. I simply I get tired of It all and stopped. Theu , 1 realized that It was only a fad any-1 way, like my cat farm and other things. I woke up one day to the real ization that Honor Wilding was decelv- j lng herself; that she was oaly egotls- I tlcal when she thought she was char itable. 1 haven't had any fads since. I have beeu humble and miserable, - fchtt added under her breath. He smiled tenderly at h«r. "You were only trying your wings, little j girl." She looked at him gratefully. "But, Mervln, tell me of yourself, your—your —the past two years." She wanted to ask him why he came to be reduced to wo dismal au appearance, but she hes itated." "Let me see," he mused. "I asked you to marry me when you we-e elghteeu. That was five years ago, wasn't It?" "Yes," acknowledged Honor, her heart beating furiously. "And you refused because you wer« anticipating a career. It was to bi woman's rights, I believe." i; ,ov he - .?*-« downcast, was twlst t - ;.«>r bracde nervously. •i lie:. >vi i . i forgot your speeches iid l:«d -e ral unpleasant encounters .1., ' up!.- ;ant people you decided •'tat j-o i r -re mistaken In your call :g "' -s." said Honor again. "Wh'-'i ; ' i were twentv-oue I asked i • o io i iarry he. Then It was the cat fan- It! Ik possibly you might have let ii.e '• • a partner that time, only lob iected i" the cats. I didn't mind one feline i i. t>ut I believe I used some emphatic language in regard to the fumi " 1011 certainly did." answered Honor smiling faintly. "The third and last time was two years ago, wheu the farm had lost its glory and it- cats. You were Honor Wilding, philanthropist, then. You told me If 1 would Join forces and fortunes with you In your life's work that you would he pleased 'to walk rait nie.' as your friend, the scrublady. •eld. I couldn't see It that way, and you remarked that 1 loved myself bet ter than yon. and so we parted." "I was unjust," murmured nonor. "I have been sorry many times." resolved togo away and forget \ did the one, but not the other ran this minute toon tbML 1 •ver desired you In my life, una my eyes tell me that you are uot indiffer ent. Honor, ray little girl, will you wait for me till I nm come to you as a man ought" But she was leaning forward eager ly, lier eyes suffused with tears, hei sweet lips trembling. "Why must yon go away?" she plead ed. "'Don't let a wretched matter of money part us now. We have lost five years. Mervln. and I have dollars a-plenty for both. Don't let your prid« stand between us now, Mervln." For a moment he looked at her curi ously; then he smiled, albeit his eyes were gravely tender, and he put h.s arms around her. "Dear." ho said fervently, "I'm rlchei than you are twice over. I've kept ou making money these two years. Just st 1 shouldn't think so hard. I was going to ask you to wait till I went to the hotel and arrayed myself In decent clothes before we plighted out troth. 1 didn't want you to feel as if a beggar were making love to you. I spoke <~>f waiting, for though the tailor said he would have them there by noon 1 knew by sad experience that there might be a delay." "But. Mervln, your clothes—l don'l understand." she gasped when she had recovered her breath. "Well, you see," he began hesitating ly aud shamefacedly, "Jack Bronson was on my train yesterday. He is really trying to reform, and he wanted a certain position, but thought he was too shabby to make any showing. The man he wanted to meet was to be al the station, so there wasn't anything to do but goto the dressing room and change clothes with him. Fortunately these, though ragged, are quite clean. I thought I would wear these a day oi two, Just to Imagine what the fellows felt like when they were down on their luck. When you came to me I was so hungry to see you that I simply had to come, rags and all. May I go now. Honor?" "You are Mervln Fairbanks, philan thropist, and didn't know It!" laughed Honor gleefully. "No, don't go just yet." Jntiett and the Fighting Cndet. Admiral Jouett, familiarly known as "Fighting Jimmy,"was acting secre tary of the navy once wheu the com mandant of the academy at Annapolis came over and reported that he had been compelled to discipline a cadet who had behaved In a most unaccount able manner and had disgraced the academy, the department the govern ment and all civilization. lie then pro ceeded to relate how this cadet when passing through the lower regions of the town of Annapolis had somehow or another become Involved In hostilities with a tough citizen and proceeded tc polish him off. The friends of the tough came to his rescue The cadet backed up against a wall and whipped five of them In succession and then nearly hammered the life out of two policemen who attempted to arrest him. He was In the custody of the civil authorities, and the superintend ent of the academy was seeking the aid of the secretary of the navy in hav ing him transferred to the naval au thoritles in order that he might be court martialed and punished. "Court martial that fellow!" roared Jouett. "Licked five toughs aud two policemen. Not while old Jim Jouett is living! The boy ought to have a medal. What are you doing down there any how? Do you suppose the government of the United States hired you to raise a lot of boys to play checkers?" RUNNING EXERCISE. Said to lie i!ii> {Sent Mean* of Unking the Heart Strong, The kind of exercise one should take for his heart's sake is extremely Im portant. Exercise, to affect the heart sufficiently, must be vigorous, though not too vigorous. Ordinary walking, while healthful, falls short of this re quirement. That calisthenics and light exercises generally are also deficient in this respect Is proved by the fact that, while all humankind naturally in dulge In light exercises, yet heart ail ments are prevalent among them. Every one that Is not bedridden walks more or less, and I have read learned articles which try to prove that walk ing is the only exercise man requires. But if a man never runs he could not, if he would, run fairly fast even half a mile. So the argument is In effect that a man need not be able to run. I cannot agree with this conclusion, for walking at a moderate pace affects heart action only slightly. Running, of all exercises for the heart, is, I think, the best. Of course one who has a weak heart cannot im mediately run either fast or far, nor is It necessary for the average Individual to learn to run great distances at a high speed, but every one owes It to his health to be able to run without distress, say half a mile at n fair pace. Let him begin by Jogging one-eighth or one-quarter of a mile, then half a mile, which distance he may ultimate ly run reasonably fast.—G. Elliot Flint In Outing Magazine. THE OCEAN'S BOTTOM. Two Ynai Valley* Traverse the Bed of the Atlantic. The Atlantic ocean covers two vast valleys. One of these passes between the Cape Verde Islands and the Azores, and It Is of great depth. It runs close up to Europe and comes to an end close to the British Isles, where a ridge or crest of land separates It from the basin of the North sea. The other val ley runs in the main parallel to the first, from which it is separated by an elongated strip of land, of which the Azores forms a supermariue continu ation. This strip does not exceed a depth of i>.809 feet. while lt3 height amounts to'>, 500 feet. The first valley, liLe Its confrere, is also very deep. Its bottom being situated at a depth of nearly four miles below the surface. Passing along South America and leav ing the Bermudas to the left It passes al>ng Newfoundland and Labrador, finally ending Just south of Greenland. The sub-Atlantic landscape thus con sists of two vast parallel valleys or mountains. Farther north the land 1 -s higher, and the se : i Is. relatively spe incr. shallow. Between Greenland d the continent, close to Iceland and ie channel Islands, there is a huge plam free from any depression worthy of mention. It is quite clear that at one | time England was connected to the ; continent Scientific American. "1 wonder if there be any Industrie" j carried on in heaven?" Inquired the I town Ignoramus "I've a!l< rs heerd as how matches are made there," was the guarded an swer of the loen) sage —Louisville Cou rler-Journnl vera nee. "I think." said the reporter, "that the public world like to know how you managed to live to such a great age." "By perseverance," replied the cen tenarian. "I jest kept ou hvla'."— Philadelphia Ledger. ry wumi" g io atQ y j*- Doodle ji g By Harriet Batchelor Bradner 5 | Copyright. 11XM, bv Kuby Douglas # Q> WUmVUMMMMWW Q Iladley's horse was stepping slowly down the country road, with an occa sional toss of his high bred head when ever a familiar fiy alighted on his glossy coat. The reins lay Inertly in the young doctor's hands, for his mind was far afield. After a long silence he turned to the girl beside him and asked in a voice that he could uot keep quite steady: "Your answer la final, then? Vou won't marry me? And you—you don't love me?" he added, with a helpless movement of Ills head. "Why, Eliza beth, I can't realize it; I really can not." And the blue eyes he turned on her were full of tears. "I—Edward," she began, "Edward. I can't bear to hurt you, but"— And her voice lost itself in a quick sob. The young man put a quivering hand over the ones she had locked in her lap. "Don't cry, little Bess," he said huskily. "It hurts me terribly to see yon !f you can't love me, you can't, i suppose, and I'll have to bear it like many another man. But I—well, I j <• I vou so much that it didn't seem p- sii ' • that yon could help liking me • r a little." Th."* this humble, suffering man could !<> th' ; mie cold, unmoved per son wh > had. ouly a short time since, with s'Hi reluctance and ill concealed Impatience, left her for the bedside of a dyi old woman seemed Incredible to Elizabeth. But she clung to her de cision to give him up, a course of ac tion made inoperative by the dictates of her reason, so she answered hesi tatingly: "I am so sorry, Edward, but I can't." They rode along In silence, the thor oughbred moving with nearly noiseless steps, and as they were turning an abrupt bend in the road half a mllo HAI3ED HIM WITH A GENTLENESS OP MOVE MENT WHICH WAS A HE VELATION. farther down a thin groan struck up from the tull wayside weeds. Hadley brought his horse to a standstill by a violent Jerk. "What's that?" he asked sharply, j "Listen!" Again the sound was repeated—a faint, piteous note of pain. "It's a baby," declared Elizabeth, \ trembling, "and It's hurt." Hadley was already poised between j the wheels of the runabout and iu an Instant was striding through the long grass, which he suddenly stooped to part. After au appreciable space be straightened up aud held out a hand to Eliza' eth, who had followed him, aud the girl's fingers cbsed tightly over It us she leaned forward to peer Into the grass. "Oh, Ned, a puppy!" she exclaimed, relief and fresh pity blending in her voice, for at their feet lay a poor little morsel of a dog. His little black nose was dry and bleached with pain, and the soft curly white of his hair, through which the skin showed faintly pink, was soiled by blood and dirt, and, saddest of all, one tiny hind leg lay shattered and limp In a pool of blood. "Some brute has run over him and chucked him In the gutter to die," Hadley said between his teeth. "I only wish I knew who It was." In a moment he stooped and, slipping his hands under the little creature, raised him with a gentleness of move ment which was a revelation to Eliza beth and which filled her eyes with sudden tears. "I'll have to ask you to drive," said the doctor as he got In the runabout after her; "it would hurt cruelly to put him dawn." And then as he saw the anxious questioning of her eyes he an swered: "I think I can fix him up all right The leg Is badly broken, but he's so young I think It will mend quickly." He fell to watching the quivering heart beat against the tiny ribs. The tip of a pale little tongue Just showed In the d»y mouth, and a great brown ear fringed with black drooped listlessly against the white pulsing throat. "Isn't he beautiful?" sighed the girl "How like a little hurt child he looks! What does make people so careless and so cruel?" As she turned her head sorrowfully away her glance fell upon a sn ail boy standing by the roadside. "Little boy," she called, stopping the horse "do you know whose dog this \iY' A pair of stolid eyes were obediently focused upon the puppy. "Yep," he announced after a mo ment's survey; "that's Sammy Casey's I'atsy Doodle. No; you can't find Sam my. Him an' his maw moved to I'latts vllle day 'for' yeste'day. She's a widow woman. <"ourse they didn't take him— dorgs 1 too easy got—an' they had 'uougii to cart along 'lthout Pafsy Doodle. Why. they had three"— But, her Interest In the Caseys' movements having been satisfied, Elizabeth sudden- | ly touched the horse with the whip, I and in a moment they had left the dls ' cursive urchin for heMnd. Once In Hadley'-- oalee the little dog ' was deposited upon the table and his broken leg bound up with deft and tender fingers. With the intelligence often vouchsafed his kind, Patsy Doodle seemed content to lie quite still and relaxed in the atmosphere of sym pathy. So motionless was his attitude that they thought lie was sleeping, but when Elizabeth withdrew ber hand from the head she had been softly stroking the great brown aivas stUi bloodshot witli pain, opened lmmeai ntely with an anxious expression, and the puppy lifted his drooping ears in quiringly. "See, Bess; he misses your touch," Raid Hadley, dropping the towel with which he was drying his hands. With a murmur of tenderness, Eliza beth slipped her hand under the soft little head, and after a snuggling move ment of the nose, which was becoming moist again, Patsy Doodle gave a little breathing of content and, closing his beautiful eyes, fell asleep, like a tired child. When the office had been restored to Its former Immaculate order Hadley walked to the open window and stood looking moodily out upon the summer street, but when Elizabeth stirred In her chair he turned quickly, for his mind was centered only upon the oc cupants of the office. She beckoned him, and he came across at once, seat ing himself on a corner of the table. For a moment neither spoke; then the girl lifted her face and said in a tone that thrilled her companion: "Ned, dear. I've done you a horrible injustice." Iladley leaned forward suddenly. "How?" he asked, with eager eyes. Elizabeth caught a fluttering breath. "You remember the night they brought you the message that that old lady was dying and how you hated togo? Well. I thought your profession had made you cold and hard and unfeeling, as it has so many men, and after you had cone I—l decided that I couldn't love a man like that"— Her voice trailed off uncertainly. The doctor's eyes darkened. "That's another and the worst of the tricks that miserable old woman has played me!" he declared hotly. "Sweetheart" —his eyes claimed her attention—"l knew there wasn't a thing on earth the matter with her when they sent for me. Some member of her family had probably got up sufficient nerve to put Into execution a long cherished plan or something of that sort. She'd been dying regularly for the last two years whenever things didn't goto suit her. And to think she came so near separating us!" He slipped his hand under the one In which the little dog's bead lay. "I owe everything to the intervention of Sammy Casey's Patsy Doodle." "Our Tatsy Doodle." gently correct ed Elizabeth. A Diilicnlt Mutter. There was strong family feeling in Brookby whenever any question affect ing a member of the little community arose. The matter of Abel Wood's ar rest illustrated the state of affairs. "You see, we all knew he'd been dis honest in his dealings and that he'd ought to be put away for a spell, aud the warrant was Issued," said Mr. Hall, explaining to a visitor what seemed like cu unnecessary delay iu a simple process of the law, "but 'twas kind of hard for us to settle on the best place to arrest him. "You see, it had got to be done either at his mother's—that's Die only good woman for extry scrubbing in the place —or else at his uncle's -that's the ex press agent, and none too obliging even when he's l'eeling pleasant—or else at his brother-in-law's—that's the only man in town that's got a fust class carpenter's set-out, monkey wrench and all. Anyway, the sheriff, being his fust cousin, made It kind of awkward, now I tell you. "Seems to me we did pretty well to get him arre-ted Inside of a week, con sidering what drawbacks we had to contend with." To Ilou the Gautlet. "To run the gantlet" originated In Germany and traveled thence to Eng land, finally becoming domesticated in America. In both the German and English armies and navies about the time of the settlement of America run ning the gantlet was a punishment for misdemeanor, the soldiers of a com pany or regiment being placed in two lines facing each other, each man arm ed with a switch. The culprit ran be tween the two files and received upon his bare back the switches of his com rades. An officer stood by to see that the punishment was properly enforced, and any soldier whj failed ta do his duty was himself liable to make the Journey between the two files. The In dlans along the oast of Virginia are said to have observed this punishment Inflicted upon some sail >rs of an Eng lish man-of-war and Immediately adopt ed the idea for torturing their ene mies; hence came the belief that tho punishment or torture was peculiar to the aborigines of North America. AeooM !<•«» and COURIIIRR. Coughing is one of the nuisances that no one has been able to abolish in churches or In theaters. A physician, however, claims that the coughing nui sance Is a mere question of acoustics. "There is a subtle connection be tween the ear aud the throat," he said. "When the ear Is strained the throat is afl'ected, and a cough i 3 the result. When we can hear perfectly in church or theater It never occurs to us to cough. But when we bend forward, straining every nerve to catch the ac tor's or preacher's muffled syllables, then we find ourselves coughing every little while. Build auditoriums with perfect acoustic properties and I war rant that the thunderous choruses of coughs so common now among us will be no more heard." ,\u Place For Grtuul>!er». A man who stands on the rtreet cor ner chewing and spitting, telling how the government should be run, cursing the town, finding fault with his grand mother because she was a woman, claiming that the merchants are a lot of thieves, that the lawyers and news paper men would skin a man to a fin lsh and a whole lot more. Is a nuisance and an abomination Any town pes tered with one or more such worthies would be justified In exercising cow hide authority on the bosom of their trousers. No one Is obliged to live where he Is not suited. If things don't suit you go where they will. A growl er aud a sorehead in a town is an en terprlse killer every time Macksvlll# (Kan I Enterprise ORMIK<* KI<>HN<>III». Much uncertainly exists as to why the orange blossom has been so much worn by brides, hut the general opin ion seem;- 10 I*- that it was adopted as an emblem of fruitfulness. Accord lug to some authorities, the practice lias been derived from the Saracens, among whom the orange blossom wa.< regarded as a symbol of a prosperous marriage, a circumstance which is partly to be accounted for by the fact that In the east the orange tree bear* ripe fruit and blossoms ;it tin- -• sme time Street eat of All. Outlate— I tell you, I enjoyed th« sleep I got this morning. Fogey—Sci entists say it's the sleep you get bo fore midnight that does you tho most good. Outlate—That may be, but It's the 6leep I get after I'm called In tho morning that makes me feel good Breaking a Compact By BELLE MANiATES Tom Dalton paced the blue gravel road in front of the palatial hotel waiting for Dorothy. Waiting for Dor j otliy had been his normal condition this summer. lie was a man whose well made shoul ders alone marked him as man of ac tion. This new role of his was not consistent with ills principles and hab its. lie consulted his watch frequently , and said tinners under bis breath, but the Instant he caught sight of the fair young form in the doorway he forgot his impatience. When Dorothy's ingenuous, dazzling eyes looked Into his he drew a quick breath and told himself she was well worth tho waiting, however prolonged. Time was made for slaves, not for Dorothy. It did not even occur to b°r to ask him if she were late or If he "I HAVE PROMISED TOM TO GET CP TO msEAXFAST." had been waiting long. She was the only daughter and had been subjected to no rules or regulations. Iler father, William Lloyd, had been perceptibly troubled when approached by Tom on the subject of his love and desire for Dorothy. "I don't know of a fellow anywhere I think as much of as I do of you, Tom. and there is no one else whom I would like to lnve for a son-in-law, but you haven't said anything to her yet." "No. Still, of course, she must know I love her." Lloyd smiled. "Very likely. But I don't want you to sny anything to her until you have known her longer—until you are en tirely sure you care enough." Tom stared. "Do you think anj one could know her at all and not love her?" "I must admit." replied I.loyd, "that we have done all we could to spoil Dorothy, and yet she Is not spoiled—to us. She has always had her own way but It lias been such a witching, sweet way we were glad to give it to her. It Is our dearest wish and hope that she may always continue In her princess role. "She has many little characteristics that we can laugh at, but to a con ventional. practical, systematic nature like yours I fear wilt prove distracting. Her oblivb •> to the tiight of time, her irresponsibility and utter disregard of anything approaching a system will be wearisome to you. I fear, after the glam >ur of <• lurtsbip and honeymoon Is over. You must take her as she Is, with no th right of alteration." Tom prorated tint be loved Dorothy as v. , and that In naught would h" have her changei. but Lloyd had seen hia looks of I: '.patience and their sudden v hing this morning. "There'll come r. time when his Im patience will linger after Dorothy's rr rival uu t~e scene,' he reflected, with a sigh. Meanwhile Tom was mildly remark ing to Dorothy that he feared they would be late for the starting of the re gatta. Dorothy gayly rejoined that she had never seen the starting of any thing. "I nm dreadfully uupimctual," she added, with a little sigh. "it's Incon venient 112 •!• my friends, but I can't heip It. I get t;p late In the morning and everything has be;um. I've never seen the fir t act of a n atinee yet." "Do«:'t yen brc,.':;'a<t with your fa ther and tr. ji.be;•?" ■ asked gravely. "Breaki'a. " she 1. with a little ■—l 111 ■■ IHIIIHI » s I KTLLtHE OOUCH I B AND ■ : LUNCSI I /TOrtSUM Price 112 * FOR 3 t-'UGHS •. ! 50c &SI .CO B I Free Trial. | | fin rest andtjuicicest Cure for all 1 * THROA': and r UNO IROUB- g Ij.ES, or Fi'CNEY BACK. | VTBIB£9! A riellable TIN SHOP for all kind of Tin Roofing Spoutlne and Ceneral Joh Work. &XOYO9, Heaters, RanfttS, Furnaces, «to- PRICES THE LOWEST! QUALITY TOE BEST! JOHN IIIXSON SO- 116 E. FRONT BT. shriek "I've never seen a oreaxiaat table I was brought up that way. I was a delicate child, and they never awoke me, and now, oh, there's some thing deadly in the earh morning sun shine! It eems so lonesome at the starting of d '.y. 1 > you think It such a crime as your face indicates?" "I really think you ought to break fast with your parents. Dorothy." was the seriously sp >!: en rejoinder. "Do you. Tom?" she asked deject edly. "lie doesn't know he <-a i t imagine— what a difficult thing it would be for me.'' he tl >!• "It would lie as Ftran -e ton •:■ '' ould to iilm." An inspiration eame to oer. "Tom," <!i" !-ked. "if I turn over a n >v i-,:f and u up to breakfast, will v>ud is •metliing for me?" I".- • iw ' I with enthusiasm ard "ih. r i i!.!' ng in the world 1 n uids t for ; ■ Dorothy." !'H g•• ~i tn breakfast and tnaU u; eilort to be on time if you ■ ';i !■ t >ur >-r in the middle." ' V. h.ii 'r' "Ye;: it's the onlv Haw I've discov -1 la I can't bear hair >■■■'< on the side It's so old fasli '. I'd l »->k n-rfeet'n Miotic* with rr p '.i-'.'d in the ml ldli." he pro i ppalled at iiia prospect. ■ ' you can ■ she cried In trl ;• . v/ith dan-'lntr eyes, "how strange •aid seem to li e to get up In the r.io: .lg!" 1 s v.v that this was his hour, and ho > tit un!lin< hiugly. "!"s a eompsct, Dorothy. I'll part v ' 'ir hi the middle or anywhere if : 11 sot up in 'he morning and oc c i My consult a timepiece." s uie evening Dorothy received " <t pleee of advice ever bestowed i li.-r by her ado.'iug father. "Y are ouite grown up, Dorothy." h • • 1 i: -a 1 don't you th'i . \ >u si. I a little more sys ten itic ir punctual In your mode of life?" " T.t r h, Brute!' " she thought, saying aloud: 'Say :r> more. papa. I have promised T m to get up to breakfast every morning and that I would try and be on time generally." "You have?" he exclaimed in surprise and with the thought that she surely must love Tom. "Yes, for a consideration. He is to part his hair In the middle." "Tom Dalton part his hair in the mid dle! I'd as soon think of Abraham Lincoln dressed as Little Lord Fauntle roy." This comparison amused Dorothy, and she began to wonder bow Tom would look. "I've invited iiim to breakfast with us tomorrow. • > we will have an op portunity to see how his hair becomes him " Dorothy tihl not face the next morn ing iu a spl 't of buoyancy. She came Into the dining room listlessly and with a feeling that life was a desolate waste. Her father and mother were already at the table, and Tom soon entered, looking sheep -hand conscious. An unwilling of amusement was forced bacl; by Dorothy as she looked at his hair and expression. It was in congruous. hut she was not going to admit It Iler words were few, her voice sad, her manue martyred throughout the meal. \Vh.- > '.iter Tom came to take her f<>r a t'rive she was patiently and dejectedly waiting for him. In the evening was again on schedule time. Three days of methodical life drag ged on, and th "a Tom felt that he could no longer endure the new life and thf surprised glauces at his head. "Dorothy," he said Impetuously, "you seem nuliai ■;>y Will you tell me why - Is It coming to breakfast?" "No, Tom." she replied, with a little laugh th it was more like a sob. "1 think it's your hair 1 can't bear to lo< nt y«u." and s!>o burst Into tearful laughter "Dtnthy darling," he said, "1 am glad ;>o-i can't. Let me, too, make a ■IK 'S-'..: | have learned that your .. i t «'• 'itilr 1 : was your blissful 1 ! i. > <• >uie iii from - ■>. m ■ i iiie Hoiiie Pii|j6i j ; i ! | | Of course you read , ' j ' T !J[ Mllifl l[P HII ll J J!p, o| ■■■ 1111 ijl •. 1 •- I : !l i ! »; I I | is THE HEOPLE'S POPULAR 1 A PER. i Everybody Re*ds It. : _ ' ,j ;j i Publishes Every Mom;:. : hxcept i Sunday ' i I No. II h. /Vk/i, og St. I I! Subscription < ca. ,\r Wee!-:. zris-- "" " life city where man, woman nnd child were on a mad rush for trains and see your delicious oblivion to the twelve figuit*s cm a timepiece was most restful." "Then siiall we go back to our old life?" she cried Joyfully. "Yes—or will ,vou begin a new llf« with me, Dorothy?" "Without breakfast?" she asked en treatingly. "Without breakfast!" he replied sol emnly. Horrora of Close Shavpt. A New York barber has on a corner table a tine pocket microscope and a framed announcement that says: "Do you know what a close shave means? Bring a friend here, If you don't, have him shaved close, and then look at his face through this mlcro p<op>\ The entire skin will resemblfl n piece of raw beef. "To shave the face perfectly smooth requires not only the removal of the hair, but also of a portion of the cuti cle; so that a close shave means the removal of a layer of skin all round. The blood vessels thus exposed are not visible to the eye, but under the micro scope each little quivering mouth, hold ing n rainrte blood drop, protests agaiust such treatment. Bring a friend and see! "The nerve tips are also uncovered by clo-» -haves, and the pores are left unprotected, which makes the skin tender i n-1 unhealthy. This sudden exposvre of the Inner layer of the skin renders a person liable to colds, hoarse ness and sore throat." New York Press. Lite Ift the Kennel. The following story from a well known Devonshire clergyman shows how the life hi the kennel Is brightened by play: "Some fifty years ago I was Visiting Mr. Garth's kennels when the first whip sluwed me n tuuuel In the airing gropud about six feet long which the hounds had dug themselves and utilized us follows: They used to choose one of themselves and start him to run round the yard, they being in full pursuit, till he had enough. Then he went to ground In the tunnel, while another hound took his turn to be hunted and goto ground." This is one way in which hounds train them selves.—T. F. Dale in Outing Magazine \o Comparison. Mrs. rpmore was recalling her early married life. "Ah, yes." she sighed, "we were hap py then—foolishly happy In our little Utopia!" "I've seru the place once or twice," sail V 'Inwol!. "and I don't blame yon I'*.'!* tvsnlii-; nw;iy from It. New »»»••:. i > much finer. Isn't It?" T M KAW ANN A it -J 1.-Kt >. D u -BL-;jivi.MUN Delaware. Lackuwanua and Western Railroad. In Effect Jan. 1, 1905. TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE EASTWARD. 7.07 a. m.daily tor Bloomsburg, Kingston SVHkes-Barre and Seranton. Arriving ton at 9.42 a. in., and connecting at Scranto with trains arriving at Philadelphia at 3.48 a m.and New York City at 3.30 p. in. !o.i« a. ni. weekly for Bloomsburg. Kingston Wiikes-Barre.Seranton and intermediate «ta tioDH, arriving at Serauton at 12.36 p. in. aw connecting there with trains for New Yorl City, i'hiladelphia and Buffalo. i.ll weekly forßioomsburg,Kingston,Wilkn Barre, Seranton and Intermediate stations arriving at Seranton at 4.50 p. m. 5.43 p. m. dally for Bloomsburg, Kaj.y, Fly mouth, Kingston, Wilkes-Barre, IMttstoi Seranton and intermediate stations', arrivinj at Seranton at 8.25 p. m.and connecting then with trains arriving at New York City ato.s a- in., Philadelphia 10 a. m.and Baflalo 7am TRAINS ARRIVE AT DANVILLE y.iaa. m. weekly from Seranton, Plttstoi. K niiMon. Bloomsburg and intermediatesta lions, leoi in ; Seranton at US a m., where i eonii*. vis with trains leaviu# New Yore Cit} at H. 30 p. m., Philadelphia at 7l' 2 p.m. ant Buffalo at 10.30 a. r . 12.41 p. m.daily .Tom Seranton PlttstoT' Kingston, Berwick. Ilfoomsburg ami interme stations, leaving Seranton al 10 10 a. n and connectingthere witii train leaving BuC aio at 2.25 a. in. t.A-: p. m. weekly om seranton, Kingston i;> rwit-K. BliHjinaburg and intermediate stf • ieaving Seranton at 1.55 p. in., where ! connects wit-h train leaving New York Cit: >t in.oo a. in., aud I'hiladelphia at 9.00 a. in it.a"; pin. daily from Seranton. Kingsto:. rittston. Berwick, Bloomsburg i»nd interinr d<ai:stations, leaving Seranton at 8.35 p. m where it connects with trains leaving Nev York City at 1.00 p. m.. Philadelphia at 12.0* j). m. aiid Buflolo at 9.30 a. in. T. K CIjAHKK, Gen'l Sup't. T. W. LEK. liei. fas* Agt. mi pi' miL fe wait to do ati Ms of Priming 4 I m\ '■ i t H l< U. J iff I I Ill'S H. 11l MR ! ll'S RtlSl* I? A well ];vi: . <• tasty, Bill or \ / ter Head, Pj * AH Ticket, Circu". Program, St; 1 /-..- L> J ment or Card (y ) an advertise:• -en for your business n Batisfaction to yoj He* TUB, Sew Presses, x ,, Best Paper, sjfc ii!M fori!, A ' Prnjtiiess- All you can ask. A trial will make you our customeh We respectfully that trial. Hi 11 ~ . No ii H. Mahoning St..
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers