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.