THE EM FLAME, A Story of What Happened In Death Valley. By CUTHBERT BAKER. ICopyrlght, 1910. by American Press As»o "Father, tell us a story about some thing that occurred when you lived out in the far west." "A true story übout something that really happened?" "Yes; a real true storyl" shouted several children at once. "Very well. I'll tell you what hap pened to Aaron Winters and his wife, Bosle, In the Death valley region." "Death valley! That must have been an awful place." "That's why they called It Death valley. It was so hot that people couldn't live there. Aaron and Kosle didn't live iu the valley, but In a gulch called Ash meadows, not far from the mouth of the valley. But even at Ash meadows It was desolate and lonely. The couple lived In a little hut on the side of a mountain. The country was wild and rugged, so wild and rugged that no one else would live there. Their cabin was a hundred miles from the nearest neighbor. Aaron Winters was a hunter, and that's why he lived away from other people. Hunters must live where there Is game, and when settlers come In I ho game moves away. "Aaron often considered the feasibil ity of taking Ills wife to a more cheer ful region, but lie knew no trade but that of hunter. And how could lie make a living except when there was game? Besides, having always dwelt away from men, how would he get on with them? If he had means to make hlni Independent that would be an other matter. lie had nothing but Ills cabin and the game ho killed. He longed for funds to enable him to make the change. "But how could he ever hope to gath er funds in a country where no man would come to settle? True, he could have all the land he cared to take pos session of, but it wasn't worth any thing. I have often thought that this might have been another cause to keep him there. Perhaps he thought that some day settlers would come in nnd he could sell bis mountain side for enough money to enable him to get MIXED IT wrru THE CHEMICALS, away. But if that was what he was waiting for lie was doomed to disai>- poiutuient. "One day a desert trnuip came along and asked for shelter overnight. He was the first human being that either Aaron or Bosie had seen In many a long day, and you may be assured the couple made him welcome. A desert tramp is not likely to be a very intel lectual or well bred fellow, and this one certainly was not. He was burned almost black by the sun, and his clothes -were dirty and ragged. But he could talk to them, and that's more than their cats or their dogs could do. And Just think how the sound of an other voice than their own must have delighted them! "Uosle got up a good supper for the tramp, which he ate as though ho had passed through Death valley, where there was neither tlesh nor vegetable that a man could live on. After supper, while Bosle was clearing the table and washing the dishes, Aaron gave the tramp a pipe and some tobacco, and the two sat down for n smoke and a chat. Aaron didn't care what his guest talked about ho long as he talk ed, and llosle at her work enjoyed the sound of a voice, rough and uncouth though it was. as well as her husband. ■"me tramp naa visireo many regions and naturally talked about them. He had been at Salt lake and told them that the water was so dense that per sons bat 1 ing iu it would float on its surface l: :© a boat on water. He had been in i olorado and told them how the gold was stamped out of the rock. The last place lie had been was Ne vada. There are borax deposits in that state, and he told Aaron how they looked. "Now, Aaron had often been In Death valley and had noticed something there that looked like what tho tramp described. He asked how one might know borax deposits, and the tramp told him that there were certain chem icals which when combined with borax would bum a green flame. Aaron also asked tho tramp what borax was used for, and he told him, as you au know that it was used for washing purposes and that a little package of it was worth about 10 cents. Aaron thought that if this was the price what he had seen must bo worth thousands of dol lars. "The next morning, after the trnmp's departure, Aaron talked over with liosie what had been said about the borax deposits, lie thought it was possible that what he had seen in Death valley might bo borax. But even if he went there be had no means of discovering whether what he had seen was borax or ordinary soli. " 'Bosie, dear,' said Aaron, '1 wojl.i like you togo to a town where you can get these chemicals for testing borax, but it will require u week < r two, during which 1 shall have to stay here alone. Then when you come back we shall have to make a trip to Death valley, uud after all our trouble there Isn't one chance In a dozen that what 1 have seen there will turn out to be borax.' "'1 really think, Aaron,' replied the wife, 'that the chances don't warrant the trouble, but I'm worn out with this desolation aud am yearning to see people. I feel as if 1 must have one of my own sex to talk to, even if only for u day.' " 'Well, sweetheart, go, but don't stay any longer than to have a good chat, for I'm very anxious to make the test' "So the next day Aaron took her where she could get some one to take her ou further aud left her togo back to tho cabin. As she kissed him good by she looked at him wistfully aud said: " 'Aaron, I won't leave yon again. I know how lonely you are without me, how hard it U for you to have to get your meals, and 1 worry for fear something will happen to you. What would you do while 1 am away if you should become sick or meet with an accident ?' "'Never mind about that, Bosle. Bring back the chemicals as soon as you can.' I " 'l)!i, there's nothing in that. Aaron. Don't think about it. You're sure to be disappointed.' "They parted, Bosie going on anil Aaron going back to the cabin. It seemed very quiet there without his wife, and lie wished it was the end in | stead of the beginning of their separa- I tion After he had cooked and eaten | his supper he sat smoking bis pipe, i thinking about what the tramp had i told him. He realized that there was J scarcely a chance of what he had seen | being borax, but the thought of what would happen If it should be borax I sent a thrill all through him. He | would be the only person to know It. | and no one was likely to come Into Death valley to learn of the secret be | fore he had established his legal claim | to all the property tie cared to possess. I"In ten days Itosie came back with a j substance she had obtained from a I chemist. But neither she nor Aaron I thought much about this, they were so i glad to meet again. After a day or two Bosie spoke of it and asked her hus band when he was going to Dealh val ley. He said he dreaded to go.for ho felt sure he would have Ills trouble for nothing. But Bosie said that since they had the materials they might as well make the trip and she would go | with him. "So the next day Bosle spent the | morning preparing a lunch of antelope . steak—this was all there was, since i they lived only on game—and in tho j afternoon they set out for tho valley. I "They reached their destination some j time before sunset, and, having pro cured some of the substance they had gone for, they mixed it with the I chemicals. But they did not wish to ignite it till night came, because they might not be able by daylight to tell whether or not the flame was green. I More than an hour must elapse before : it would be dark, and they spent the | interval iu suspense, so much de pended on what they hoped for. Aaron j did not care so much for himself di rectly. It was of Bosie be was think ing. For years he had kept her In a wilderness, and now if this substance were borax he could take her wher ever she cared to go. While he was 1! inking of this tiie wife's mind was full of dread lest her husband, who I', d built great hopes on this matter, should be disappointed. "The sun set, darkness came, and yet V inters delayed to apply the match. "'Why don't you light It, Aaron?" nsked Bosle "Aaron made no reply. None was needed. Ills wife knew he dreaded the disappointment that both felt was almost sure to come. They had had no careful description of the appear ance of the substance the tramp had seen, and even If they had there might be resemblance without the substances being nt nil alike. What folly to ex pect that they were the same! "Then Aaron scratched a match and held It to the combination. It blazed up inn bright flnme. " 'lt burns green. Bosle!' be shouted. 'We're rich!' "So they were for people who had been so poor. They sold their proper ty for $20,000. "But they were not city people and would not enjoy a city life. Therefore the fortune they acquired was all they ; needed to niase mrui i-uuiiui ■ | happy. They bought a ranch in Neva- i da, where they enjoyed a country life i nnd had all the neighbors they wished i for. "That's the story, my dears, as I ! heard it. nnd I think it's about as it happened. The west is full of such wonderful cases of people without 1 money, even in rags, lighting upon something of great value to make | them rich. It wns not riches that j Anron Winters and his wife required j to make them happy, but sufficient j ma :'.s to enable them to leave the Drr.th vnl'cy region." Actor Fields' Joks on Tax Man. I.cw Fields, the actor, appeared at the tax depmtment In New York city j the other day and. tackling Tax Com- | missloner White, demanded: "Y'ou said ! you had $20,000 here for me. Now j show me" When Mr. White recov ered from his surprise he ascertained j that Fields had been assessed for that amount an;! was endeavoring to ex plain he didn't possess it. "Not a chance," Fields said. "I spend It fast er than I get It. Ask Mrs. Fields." Airship Excursions, During the sportsmen's exhibition to be held at Vienna Is to be run an excursion airship around the city, fare |2O the round trip. Cramped. Friend (looking over Brown's unfur- | nlshed flat)— And what is this passage- j way for? Brown—Passageway! Great j Scott, this Is the dining room!— Boston \ Transcript i It is difficult to say who do you the most mischief, enemies with the worst \ Intentions or friends with the best.— I Lytton. KIEF m KAUF, A Slory of Two Friendly Tele graph Operators By TOM CARLTON. CCopyright. 1910, Dy American Pr«« Aaa» elation. J Klefer of telegraph station 12, Cul ler's survey, was bored. His station was not a busy one. and he longed for some one to talk to.tie called up Kaufman of a neighboring station, whose acquaintance he had made over the wire some time before. "Kauf, are you busy?" "No. Are you?" "Yes I'm busy holding my chair down." "I'm reading a novel." "Who's it by?" "Maria Edgeworth." "Good gracious! You don't read ■nch stuff as that, do you? 1 thought Maria Edgeworth wrote for women and children." After a few moments this came: "1 don't read much Action. When Ido I ; usually read Hardy, Hall Calne and j Buch authors." "What's your favorite athletic I game?" | "Basketball." j "Don't you go In for football?" | "1 never learned the game." j "When we meet some autumn I'll i toll you something about it Nothing i pleases me so much as a fine punt. ; I think you'll like It too." "No: I don't think so. I'm not much |on athletics anyway. Pictures and ! music suit me bettor." ' "I'm with you there. I'm fond of both. I play the violin. Do you play I any Instrument?" | "The harp." ' "I love the harp. Hut with the ex j caption of street musicians I've gen | orally found Hie gi i'l-i take to the harp ■ rather than men. I've always fancied that the girl I should tie up to would 1 play the harp." "That so? I should like my partner j to play the violin." j There was a slight pause, after which Kief asked, "Aren't you coming up this way soon?" ; "Don't think I'll ever get off. If Ido I'd like togo In the fall so that you j ran show me how to kick football. You seem to be so bent on doing so." [ "And you can instill into me a tasto for Maria Edgeworth and that sort of I "WELL?" INQUIRES THE OIBb AT LAST. ! feminine reading. That's the only | thing about you 1 fancy I won't like if j we ever meet." "Oh, you'll find me manly enough! Don't fear for that." At this Juncture Kauf said that some one was comiyg. and the dia logue ceased. ; This is a sample of the chats t two operators bad over the wire, but a very small one. They got to telling each other their Joys and their sor rows. Kief said one day over the whv: "1 wish, Kauf, 1 could express syuti ,i --thy as well as you I feel li all. but I can't get it out." Kief possessed rer tain traits that Kauf appreciated, and so tlie two, though the.v had never met. became fast friends One day Kief was offered a leave. Kiefer had not been absent from duty in three years, lie had not wanted to be. Bui with that bit of ribbon Just ticked from the instrument before his eyes lie under,vent a sudden change. Suppose lie hurt no friends togo to and his InsMin'ts were not toward hunting, he would accept the vacation so tardily offered and make the most of It. His books said that a change was. good. 112« r a 111 I rs sou!, ami would come back refreshed in mind and body, lie loved the sand views of station 12, for they signified home, but the changeless monotony of the four sides had grown a little oppress ive since the arrival of 13. Before ticking back an acceptance to the home office he let his linger fall upon the instrument for a moment, touching the hand of his friend, as il were. "Hello, Kaufman!" he called. "Are you In for a vacation too';" "A week," came back the prompt an- ! swer, "'commencing on the 2,'Jd." "The 23d! Why, mine ends on that j date, and It's two weeks. But I under i stand. I've been hero three years and I you only threo months, aDd now it's | • dull time they're going to let you 1 control the section while I'm away and then I'm to do the same for you. Too bad. though, for I'd thought we might go off together. Odd, Isn't It? 1 feel you're the best friend I've got in the world —about the only one, for that matter—for we've wired no end of personal gossip and ambition, and our tastes run about the same way, and yet I've never seen you and don't J know whether you're short »«r tall, ! lean or fat, heathen or a Y. M. C. A. I or whether your mustache Is still to j sprout or your white hair Is dropping out from old age. Queer world, Isn't I it, Kauf? Mut say, I believe I'll run j down and spend my vacation Willi ' yon 'Mute's no oitiei |>!n< •» I i-an think ol we IV,I sHf linn eacb , other looks itiid tulk ami smoke UIKI' There was a quick. protesting click. "Don't you <1" It. Kiefer What Is your name any way the whole of it'r Kiefer j U so so unceremonious niul ultint ' lint 11 Is MM the vacation. You mustn't rislt me now mustn't. Why. Its m» possible! l—l haven't the accommo dations, anil—and I'm so busy, and"- There was a call from the home of fice. and with n hurried explanation li» Kaufman he Hashed lu an acceptance Of the proffered leave of absence, too* and answered the call, made • few fiual arrangef'iitii, then bent over to continue the conversation, hesitated and swung back from the Instrument. "I won't do It."he chuckled. "Kauf* likely ashamed of his looks, baklbead ed or fat or one eyed or something and don't want me to know. I'm going to visit him on the next train, and I'm not going to give him a chance for any more excuses. Ashamed! Great *cott! Don't we like the same books and mu sic and everything else? What do 1 care how the old chap looks? He onght to know my regard rises above such petty considerations. And 1 be lieve he thinks just as much of me Ills personal confidences prove It. I'll Just drop In on him so suddenly and affectionately that he can't help tak ing tne In bis arms." So when the through freight slowed at the water tank Kiefer swung him self Into the caboose with a generous outfit of tobacco and books and a brand new pack of cards ordered up jby the freight conductor. And this I same friendly conductor when they ! reached telegraph station 1.1 obligingly [ slowed the train so Kiefer could drop I into the white, yielding sand, the fa j miliar, unvarying landscape of his own j station. "Accommodations." he chuckled as i he strode eagerly toward the open \ doorway of the little building. "It's ' got two rooms like my own, and that's j plenty of accommodations for any rea j sonable man. But perhaps Kauf was used to a big house at home. Hello! Window curtains and llowers at the j end of the house, and—Lord!" ! For a young woman, pretty and neat j ly dressed and with lips and eyes that j were meant for smiling, but that just < now were sober with Inquiry and con ■ steroatlon, had suddenly appeared In j the doorway. Kiefer had not seen a ' girl in over three years, and such a girl as this one appeared to him never. His mouth opened nnd shut without sound. J "Well?" the girl Inquired at last. ! "Is—is Kauf In? How's KaufT Well? I T-tell Kauf I'm out here to see lilin," . answered Kiefer dazedly. "I'm Kauf—Adalla Kaufman," said the girl. Then the utter blankness in : the face before her seemed to restore : the girl's equanimity, for she smiled. "You're Kief. 1 suppose—er—Mr. Kie fer. I mean," she said. "Didn't I wir«# I you?" "1 wouldn't take it." miserably. "I I thought it was some foolish excusing of a man who wasn't used to visitors. I heard the Instrument calling and rec ognized your touch, but I wouldn't lis ten After that first time 1 kept my i back turned and dodged out soon's the ; train came in sight." lie looked to ward the track as though to see if the i train were s'ill waiting for him. but all that was visible of it was si dark lino trailing Into the white ho.'sfc "Train's gone," he fai l teutalively, "and it's fifty miles to the nearest house, and there aren't any more trains either way until tomorrow. Now, if I'd brought some food I might walk the fifty miles or start off one way or i the other to meet a train, but It's been i eight hours since 1 had breakfast, and fifty miles— you see," deprecatingly. ' "I felt so sure that Kauf—l beg your pardon, Miss Kauf—Kaufman, 1 mean ! —I —l—it doesn't seem possible there j isn't any real Kauf after all the tails- I ing— wiring— we've done." j "You've camped outdoors a good ! many times, I suppose. Mr. Kiefer. All ! western men have." j "Of course," inquiringly. Then, with an odd note of eagerness coming into i his voice, "you mean 1 can cainp right ! hero by the track until a train comes? It won't bo presumptuous after—after j my density?" ■ "I control only the station, Mr ' Kiefer, and you have a right to rump j anywhere you please out of doors, j Ilut what 1 wish to say Is that I'll be ' glad to have you take supper with me I and all your meals until the train comes. At home I was considered a very fair cook. We can talk about books and such things." Tlie next day the down freight was four hours lute, and when It begnn to slacken speed In answer to his signal Kiefer released, a baud which lie had caught suddenly on the first appeiir ance of the train Into the sand's level horizon. "I'll go and llx up my station some." ' he said, his voice tremulous with the I awed wonder In It."and maybe have' another room put on. The company i will stand that much. I think. Then I I'll run back and transplant the flow-1 ers and take over your things, and— I and the day before my vacation ex- ' pires I'll wire for a parson to meet; us here. You'd better send In your resignation at once. Kauf" "Ami announce my promotion. Kief." i she finished softly. Lord Southcy's Guillotine. r he most eccentric action of an ec centric man was Lord Soutbey's cool ; arrangement for suicide by means of a guillotine. He had a magulllcent one erected In the drawing room of his house In the Hue du Luxembourg at I'arls. The machine was of ebony in laid with gold and sliver, the frame work carved with artistic skill; the knife, sharp aa a razor, was of polished uud ornamented steol. Preparing for death, his lordship had his hair cut close, and, clothed iu a robe of white silk, ho kneeled upon the platform un der the knife before a mirror and pressed the spring which should re lease the knife. But th.- sprlDg failed to work, and the would be suicide de cided to give the guillotine to a mu seum Instead of making a second at tempt to end his life. It is said that he rnado an annual pilgrimage to see the guillotine until the end of his life. Queer Custom. Comancherete—Yeh, panl, I knowed 'lm. He dl°d with his boots on. For eign Tourist—Deah me! How very singular! Is that one of your—aw— fads out here? -Chicago Tribune. HER REVEHGE, How a Woman Punished an Innocent Man. Dy MURIEL E. GRAY. ciation.] Johanna Scl fridge was unfortunate tn love. She was wooed and won by Ben Tlllotson, a dashing sailor lad She loved hhn devotedly, but he was at heart a mean, overbearing man and treated her cruelly, especially when under the lulluence of liquor. His wife's ardent love was turned to bit ter hate. One of his voyages having lasted four years without tidings from him, his wife concluded that he had found a watery grave. Johanna at this time was but twen ty-two years of age and a very at tractive young woman. She longed to meet some one who would heal the wound, occasioned not by the loss of her husband, but by her disappoint ment and suffering on his account. It was not long before she met George Trevor, a man socially her superior. He had a fine way with him that was very attractive to women, and Jo hanna bent the knee before him. lie was without fortune and had got an idea that Johanna had some money stored away. It was this and not Jo hanna herself that tempted him. As there are people who are color blind, so there are people who are blind in the mater of character. Jo hanna was one of these character bllml persons. Trevor fooled her with the greatest ease. A few flowers, which he never paid for, and a drive | or two. at a livery man's expense, were | quite enough to give him the victory. I For a whole month Johanna reveled in a deleiiuni of happiness intensified by ! the memory of her past misfortune. Then Trevor suddenly ceased his vis- Its without even taking the trouble to make an excuse. He had discovered that she had no money. Six months passed, during which the young widow fretted without tell ing any one. Some said she would never dally with the little god again, | "I SHALL TAKE UKB TO IIL'.H HOME." some said she would goon trying till she got the right man, but not eveu | her friends knew her feelings. One day a real man came along, lie I was. forly years okl, a hard worker, ' kind ami considerate to every otie and j strictly honorable. He saw Johanna, . learned of her past bad luck in love j and proposed to her. i When it was announced that Joban | na had accepted a third offer of mar j rlage, this time from John Parke, i everybody said: "Thank heaven, she has at last found a good man! John j Parke is the salt of the earth." j This time Johanna kept her own t counsel as to her feelings toward her j lover. She didn't say whether or not she was very happy or whether she J was about to marry for the sake of ending her unfortunate train of love j affairs by taking a worthy if not a j showy man. Her most Intimate j friends were at a loss just why she | was Intending to marry John Parke, j Some said he wasn't the kind of man | to produce that love the others had I excited, and they didn't believe that j she was very much lu love. To tills others replied. "Still waters run deep." | John Parke knew more about the inal'er !'• in any one else, but be was I not a .ii to have confidences. Be | sides, what l.e knew was very little. I lie, too, fo\: ii i, difllctilt to under stand hi; t'.i t"o S!u> W't i not demou uli-.::ive. ;/i 'i • trild lihu that she I had Im.i • . .1\ • twice and that lie must i 'lent w "i her piv.-ent treatment . i jive her up. Sot being | a very «'en - •; i j■. m tiinise'f and Itir ' n>.- n v v r.in ! <;•' Jo hanna, I'. • i'i'l : ::■ • itn iM"-. Johanna insisted that the wedding ceremony should be a public afi'air lu a church. Iter women friends noticed that she took no interest in collecting a trousseau and wondered why she should care to make a display in the matter of the marriage ceremony. But Johanna did not enlighten them. When the wedding day came round overy one that Johanna kuew was there. All were interested to see bow a woman who had been twice crushed In love would bear herself when tak ing a third risk. The hour was set for high noon At the appointed time Jo hanna appeared iu traveling costume. She met the groom at the chancel steps, and the ceremony was begun. When that part of It wherein the groom Is asked "Will you take this woman to be your wedded wlfo7" wag put to him Parke answered In i firm voice "I will." Then the clergy man asked Johanna, "Will you take this man to bo your wedded husband?" The bride. Instead of replying with the accustomed "I will," answered harsh ly: "No." Had a blue bolt from heaven struck tho church the astonishment could not have been greater. Having spoken the word, Johanna turned and walked detiantly down the broad center aisle of the church. But she had scarcely started when I there was another surprise. From the j T T"—■* back of the church came a voice: j "I forbid tho banns." Johanna stopped. Her defiant look was changed in a twinkling to one of horror. Down the aisle reeled a mm in a pea jacket and sailor cap. "I got liaclt jus' 'n time, my dear, didn't I? in a few rnin'ta you'd 'a' been a bigamist." Approaching Johanna, lien Tlllortsnn attempted to put his arm about her. She drew away from him as from a serpent. The assembled guests, men and wom en, the clergyman, all except one per son, stood transfixed with horror. That one person was John Parke. Stepping forward, he placed htmself between Tillotson and Johanna. "G'way!" roared the sailor. "She b'longs to me! \Vha' right you got to her?" "The right of escort. I brought her here, and I shnll take her to her home." John Parke had always been consid ered a prosaic man, but at the moment he spoke these words he looked like a god. The intruder shrank back cowed. Then the one good man whom Johanna had stabbed for the sins of two other bad ones drew her arms through his and took her out of the church. The guests for a time remained where they were, then began silently to dis perse. Not one but felt that a tragedy had been enacted before them instead of the happy event they had come to witness; not one but condemned, not one but pitied, tho woman who had been driven by barbarous treatment to wreak her vengeance on an innocent man. Tillotson found his way out among the others, every one he passed avoid ing liiui as if he were an adder. Once out of the church he was lost in the crowd on the street, lie had been wrecked ou an Island in the Pacific ocean and lived there with the natives, preferring to remain among them rath er than return to civilization. lie had finally shipped on a vessel that brought him to his own country and arrived Just in time to complete the dramatic climax of Ills wife's revenge. If those who had witnessed the scene in the church mingled pity with their condemnation of Johanna those who had heard of tho alTair—and it was a seven days' wonder—said that she had deserved far more than she bad receiv ed. But one held Johanna blameless. That was the man she stabbed. What ever may have been his inner feelings, his words snid that to a woman who had been wronged as she had been wrong ed there must come an irresistible de sire for revenge and that women, since they do not possess judicial minds, are as likely to punish tho wrong man us the right one. In defense of his posi tion he reminded those to whom lie made this defense that no woman had ever been appointed to sit on & judicial bench or serve on a jury. But as to what passed between him and Johanna on tlieir way from the j church to tier home or on their ar rival there or afterward John Parke spoke no word. The Ilippant looked upon liini with that contempt one nat urally feels for a man who has been duped. Others gave Dim sympathy. i To those who had witnessed his splen i did self <oi-,trol, his assumption of tho | manly part, under any and all clrcum- I stances, of protector of the weaker ; sex, lie was a hero. There was much speculation, much ' curiosity, to know the condition, men tal and physical, of Johanna, she slm i herself up. Kor a long while not even ! her most intimate friend was permit ! ted to visit her. When this friend j was at la t admitted she 1" -11:111 Johan na in a far better condition than she j had expected, but withal unintelligible. I Johanna seemed to be in a state of ! mental fever. Her friend had expect ed to find her crushed. She was emo* j tional. ller friend had expected to | find her hopeless. But not a word | passed between them concerning that 1 frightful scene of which one had been ' witness and in which the other had i acted the principal part. Not a word j of regret escaped Johanna's lips, not , a word of appreciation for the man • who bad returned good for evil. "It seems to me," said the lady after I the visit, ' that Mr. Parke is to Jo ! hatitia simply as a block of stone. All 1 the use she had for liltn was through | hltn to stab the male sex. i'.'it I judge ; this merely from appearances. Jo : ha una confided nothing to lye." One morning a newspaper contained j an item that a man found ou the street j in a drunken stupor had been taken | to a hospital and had died there, j The next day John Parke called on j Johanna and sent up his card. She I came down the stairs and entered the j room so quietly that Parke, who was ! standing at a window, Jul not near 1 her. Presently ho turned and saw her j standing near the door, her hands rest i ing on the back of a chair. She was 1 very pale. "Now that I have the right." he said j deferentially, "I have oome again to I ask you to be my wife." lie made a step forward and stop ped. She wan trembling. She did not ppeak, though for a moment he thought he saw her lips move. Then she be gan to sway. She put out her arms to him. lie ran to her and caught her only in time to prevent ber from fall ing. WashingtOii's Size. George Washington was big as well as great. One of the doctors who at tended him in his last illness mwis ured the body and found that the great man's exact height was six feet three and a half Inches. A man who saw him during his service as presi dent wrote thnt Washington looke-J to be at least six and a half feet tall. Washington's tallness, however, was not accentuated by spareness. as in the case of Abraham Lincoln, who was half an Inch taller. The average man wears 6hop.s ot No. 7 or No. 8 size. Washington's enormous boots were No. 11. Accord ing to a memorandum written in 1811 by David Akerson. who saw the gen eral several times, his hands were cor respondingly larger than his feet. Why He Is Disappointed. "I am disappointed," said tho doc tor, "If 1 don't make a hundred dollars a day." "Ob. come off!" they cried. "What are you giving us? You know you never make a hundred dollars a day." "I know it,"he assented plaintive- ' ly, "and eo I'm always disappointed." —New York Press. BOTH WANTED TO KNOW. But the Beautiful Daughter Got th# Bettor cf the Contest. "Maria," said tho choleric father of a beautiful daughter, "who was that | young fool who called on you last | »izht and stayed until midnight? I wnnt to know at once." "You fhal' know indue time," said Maria, "hut tirst I want to know some thing. Was lie a young fool simply because lie called on me?" "What"— "Or was he a young fool he thought me attractive enough to talk to until midnight?" "Why"— "I suppose you think that any young man who comes to this house at all Is a young fool, but why?" "Now, see here"— "Is It because there are bo many girls who hive sensible fathers that any young man who calls on th« daughter of nti 111 natured old curmud geon is a young fool 7' "For goodness' sake"— "But I suppose—(sob)—l ought to-, (gurgle)—be grateful (sob) because • you didn't call him h fool to his face i for coming to see me. I know you despise me iboo-hoo-hoo), but"— > Uut Maria was talking to space. The • choleric father had lied to the cyclone cellar.—Pittsburg Dispatch. The Thirteener. A nervous lhtlo man stepped briskly ' Into a Knelid avenue jewelry store ' the other morning with a medium [ sized clock under his wing, says the Cleveland I'lain Dealer, lie placed ' tho chronometer on the counter, turn ed the hands around to about one tnln* ' ute of 12 o\ lock and told expit ' behind the counter to li- 1 . "It l.< ojk 1 perfect tlnii'." t!;.> "iistoiner : 'd, "1 ut I want to find out yo.i rii.tice any • thing wroir: with the way it strikes." " The jeweler listened. "'i here's noth ' ing wrong," he replied, with a pi in, t after the clock had struck, "exc«*;ir 1 that she strikes thirteen Instead of -' twelve. That can easily be remedied." Tho customer looked as relieved as If • he'd Just awakened from a bad dream, r "Thai's just what I've always thought • «ver since we've had the clock," he 1 burst forth. "I've always felt sure it i struck thirteen. But no one else in tha • family ever spoke of it, and I was • afraid to say anything about it for ■ fear there was something wrong with • my own works. Well, it's worth the d 1 price of having the thing repaired just - to And out I was right." e The Pun. a The golden age of the pun In Britain • was the reign of King .lames 1., the - "Stuart Solomon." That learned sov -8 ereign was himself a passable punster j and made few privy cou;. .!o»*s or bish . ops who were Bot reputed to ho good at a quip. It was therefore in Ids day i that the pun appeared with pomp and i* dignity. It had been before admitted into merry speeches and ludicrous i> compositions, but was now delivered 1 with great gravity from the pulpit or pronounced in the most solemn man a uer at the council table. The greatest author* in their most serious works* • I made frequent use of puns.— London • | Globe. Mistaken Identity. "Oh, doctor, he growled so savagely ' I I was sure he was mad even before lie • went on in such a biting way." | "I beg pardon, madam, but Is it ! your large dog or your small pet one | you are speaking of?" 1 j "Law. doctor, it isn't my dog I am talking about. It's my husband."—Bal ' | timore American. A Legal Difference. The Client—How much will your opinion be worth in this case? The ' j Lawyer—l'm too modest to say. But ' ! I can tell you what I'm going to charge ■ you for it.—Cleveland Lender. 1 i 1 ! The Meat Boycott. « I Stomnc'i ;-;l:«t. "You'll eat It." Cor-ci nc said, "You won't!" 6tonu."i! said, "You reed it." i ConFc "You don't!" Stomac said. "It's Juicy, : Dom* hi r ■.-« class s f '*le." Const-It* .'- * liil; "Yon !! ha dead! | The stu.T is simply lilo!" j ' Stomal')] Riiid, "Don't waste it." I Co:*-..: . :-.V "ilctvTire!" | Storiac!, .- • Jupt tasto It." Cotweii-in ■ HPld. "Doa't dare!" j I Well. p| te 1 nte It. What car i follo'v do'.* t 'Twns i te*. r ste:ii< In a sravr lake. [ I lied io -.Vouldn't you? —Henry (Jeors* :'eed in New York Sun. ; , His Pslay Stunt. "Dad. I was simply great In relay ! events," boasted the boy from college. "Good enough, son! We'll make use of them talents. Your ma will soon be ready to relay the carpets."—Louis ville Courier-Journal. Miles of Them. Lady (in modern bookstore) - I wish 112 to see all of the latest books. Sales man—Very well, madam. Will yott kindly step on board this scenic rail way?— Life. j There is record of wlwat growing in China as far bacl. as soon B. C s; cs» h ez, •, > Hi SEW! A Sellable TIN SHOP for all kind of Tin Roofing* Spoutlncnnd Ceneral Job Work. Stoves, Heaters, Ran«ee t Furnaces, oto. PRISES THB LOWEST! QOiLITT THB BEST! JOHN HlXSOtf IfO. 11# E. FRONT ar.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers