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THE MAN
A Little Comedy of
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WHO WON. >
the Summer Hotel.— p
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Perhaps You Saw It There. :: :: : =
TE I Ig + a a ag ag gr ag
The young men summering at the
Westminster-on-the-Sound, a hotel
which required references and was not-
ed for its distinct air of aristocracy,
were causing a great deal of quiet am-
usement to the older gues amuse-
ments which, as time went on, became
more general, afiecting even the wait-
ers and other servants, who discussed
it among themselves and awaited de-
velopments with the same amount of
interest as the person whom they
served,
Miss Kennedy was a coquette. Every
one but a few of her intimate friends
would tell you this without hesitation.
This fact, however, should not have in-
terested the guests to any great extent,
Coquettes of all ages and degrees of
beauty were not uncommon at the
Westminster. But the trouble was that
Miss Kennedy was different from the
ordinary run of coquettes; so decided-
ly different, in fact, that the amuse-
ment furnished by the young men, of
which amusement Miss Kennedy was
the indirect cause, grew into specula-
tion as the guests tried to explain her
peculiar actions and the strange in-
fluence which she wielded over young
men. Influence she certainly had. Nev-
er in the history of the Westminster
had so many young men fallen so des-
perately and uncempromisingly in love
with one girl. It seemed impossible for
them to know her simply as a friend.
In fact, platonic friendship seemed
quite out of the question so far as
Miss Kennedy was concerned.
It was quite inexplicable. She was
good-looking, of course, but then there
were numerous girls in the neighbor-
hood, and, indeed, some at the West-
minster no less fair, who never in their
careers had caused such general furore
among a gathering of young men.
Her enemies said that her heart, if
she had one, was as cold and as im-
pervious as steel. If this were not so
how could she lead man after man
along, keeping his hopes at fever heat?
Her enemies thought this cruel. Her
dear friends, however, thought other-
wise. They said that if she really was
as cold as steel then her sweet smiles
and her sincere and winning manners
certainly belied her. If men insisted
on becoming so enamored with her,
was it her fault? And if her sweet and
sympathetic disposition and smiles—
which she bestowed on all alike, were
misconstrued by some ardent though
deluded admirers, would she be cen-
sured when, as time went on, it be-
came her painful duty to dispel the
hallucination? No; they thought she
was rather to be pitied. One of her
philosophical friends, a young law stu-
dent, hit the nail on the head when he
said that beauty was not the essential.
The real thing, he said, that appealed
to men was the knack of appearing
congenial and sympathetic; in short,
to understand a man and have an
adaptability to various natures; to give
weight to one’s opinions and to exhibit
other flattering marks of attention and
respect which could not fail to impress
the average man. Some girls feign
this, according to the law student, but
Miss Kennedy was innocence itself, and
her interest and sympathy for her
friends came not from duplicity but
from pure goodness of heart. The law
student might just as well have kept
silent, however, as he had already been
voted a great bore, and no one ever
paid any attention to what he said.
At all events so many of the young
men at the Westminster had fallen
prey to Miss Kennedy's charms, only.
to rise sadder and wiser, that it fin-
ally got so that whenever a fellow be-
gan to avoid the usual evening gath-
ering on the veranda, the boarders
merely nodded wisely and said noth-
ing, while the young men hugged one
another in ecstacy, and when, after a
week or two, perhaps longer, perhaps
not so long, he began to mingle in with
the crowd, and with a saddened face to
take up once more the old order of
life, the boarders smiled again, while
the young men, most of whom had
been through the same course, welcom-
ed him effusively, and he, though sore
and sour, joined them while they
waited for another unfortunate. The
prospective unfortunate was generally
designated as “next.”
And so when the depot hack roiled
up the winding driveway one August
afternoon and a rather good-looking
young man alighted and walked up the
steps, a general smile fiashed over
the faces of the older guests, while the
young men chuckled joyously.
“Gad, another victim,” chuckled a
stout young man of the name of Jud-
son. ‘All we've got to do is to get
the mintroduced and then watch for the
another hotel said he had known her
in New York. Goldthwaite was very
close mouthed and would not talk of
his affairs. He siill clung tenaciously
to Miss Kennedy, and although he had
Witnessed the downfall of many he had
never been in a. position where he
could experience their sensalions. His
friends unkindly said that this was bhe-
cause Geldihwaite did not know when
he was rebuffed or squelched. How-
ever tha: may have been, he seemed
perfectly happy and said ncthing.
Sonie tine after the arrival of the
hewcomer a number of the boys were
lying in hammocks enjoying the coocl-
ing breezes from the Sound and dis-
cussing plans for bringing the “next”
to his fate, when the sound cf merry
laughter in the direction of the hotel
caused them to look up. What they
saw caused involuntary ejaculations of
astonishment to escape the lips of the
young men in the hammocks, for there
coming down the steps together, were
the prospective victim and the very
young woman they wanted him to
meet. They appeared to be on excel-
lent term for so short an acquaintance,
and this fact struck Chauncy so forci-
bly that he rose in his hammock and
gazed at them with curiosity.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Some one
seems to have got ahead of us. How-
ever, it’s just as well. And now,” he
added, slapping a companion on the
back, “all we’ve got to do is to push
things along gently and watch.”
That evening at gewurer the boys all
met him, and found, among other
things, that he wes a lawyer, and that
he lived in New York City, Miss Ken-
nedy lived in that city; so did Goldth-
waite. He was a very interesting, self
reliant sort of a man, and he was pro-
nounced a very promising victim. His
name was Lawrence.
By the end of the week things were
progressing splendidly. Lawrence nad
paid attentions to Miss Kennedy in
a way that excesded the wildest
dreams of the hopeful, and he had
surely become entangled in the meshes
that had captured so many youthful
bearts. In the morning he accompanied
her to the beach or ‘sat under some
shady tree while she read, and in the
afternoon they went driving. Of everp-
ings they took long walks in the moon-
light or sat together on the porch,
Goldthwaite managed to get in an oc-
casional tete-a-tete or a moonlight
stroll. In short, he played a very ex-
cellent second violin with a complais-
ance that dumfounded his comrades.
“The best part of it is,” said Curtis
one night, “we did not have to do a
stroke of work in getting them togeth-
er. He seemed to take to her as soon
as he saw her and now they are as
thick as thieves.” .
“Who introduced them?” asked
Geldthwaite. “I have been trying to
find how it occurred and the circum-
stances for a good while, but no one
seems to know anything about it.”
“That’s so,” said another. “Come to
think, it does seem a trifle strange that
they should be seen hobnobbing so
thickly an hour after he arrived.”
“Well,” said young Dwight, “how-
ever they may have become acquainted
or whoever introduced them, one thing
is certain, they know each other now.
So let's not worry about such a trif-
ling matter, but look forward to that
plaud. As for me, I am done with the
whole business.”
The boys got their heads together
| and from that time forth Mr. Law-
| rence’s life became unbearable. One
| night, when he came in late, he found
| his doors and windows nailed,shut and
was compelled to sleep in Goldth-
| waite’s room. He was subjected to
| many other annoyances. One evening
when he attended a dance at a hotel
at North West Hampton he found that
his dancing pumps had been stolen
from his satchel and replaced by =a
pair of dusty goloshes. Lawrence,
however, bore these indignities with
the stoicism of an Indian chief.
The end of the three weeks brought
with it the time of Lawrence's de-
parture, but strange to say there was
little happiness among the young men
over that fact. They had come to
the conclusion that Lawrence had won
out.
“We accomplished absolutely no-
thing,” said Chauncy.
“Nothing,” said Grey. “Yes, we
have; we have succeeded in bringing
them closer together. If we had kept
on much longer we would have had
them engaged. That is, if they are not
engaged already.”
“Oh, don’t let that worry you,” said
Dwight, who became angry when any
one spoke of Miss Kennedy being en-
gaged.
The boys were all seated in the sum-
mer-house near the winding pathway.
Lawrence was to leave on the 10 o'clock
train, and it was already 9 o'clock.
Miss Kennedy and Lawrence had not
been seen for some time and Gold-
thwaite was also missing. There was
no moon and it was quit dark. Chaun-
cy and his companions sat silently in
the summer-house, every man puffing
gloomily upon a pipe. There came a
sound of laughter from the porch and
a second later three persons came
strolling down the driveway. One
was Miss Kennedy, the other two
were Goldthwaite and Lawrence. One
was walking very near Miss Kennedy.
He was Goldthwaite. Lawrence seem-
ed content to fall into the background.
He carried a dress-suit case in either
hand. As they reached the summer-
house, Goldthwaite looked back at
Lawrence and said:
“Say, Jack, it was blamed fine of
you to turn in and help Edith and me
out the way you did. The boys would
have killed me had they known that
I was engaged to her before she came
here, but we were not quite ready to
announce it at first and did not dare
to afterward. You'r a good actor,
Lawrence, and I see no harm in your
flirting with a girl even if she is your
sister-in-law. You came at the right
time; I could not have kept the secret
much longer. We will follow you to
the day after tomorrow.”
Then they passed on to the depot.
The summer-house remained as
dark and as quite as the abode of the
dead. Far into the night shone the
glow of the embers in a dozen bull-
dog pipes, and when the damp mid-
night breeze began to set in from the
Sound a line of ghostlike figures stole
silently and sullenly from the summer”
house and went to bed.—New York
Evening Sun.
|
|
THE RATTLESNAKE.
A Gallant Gentleman Who Always Chal-
lenges Before He Fichts.
The rattlesnake, probably the most
deadly American snake, is really a
gentleman, as snakes go. He never
eats his own friends, as most other
snakes do, and he always plays fair
and gives warning before he strikes.
In the early pioneer days, west of the
Rockies, rattlers were frequently eaten
by hard-pressed travelers, and their
glorious day when the Hon. John
Lawrence will go around with a face |
as dark as a November landscape and
vainly wavering between the pistol,
arsenic or a foreign clime.”
“Just as Charley Dwight did,” inter-
rupted Chauncy, with a grin.
“Oh, there were others,” retorted
Dwight. “At any rate, I give him an- |
other week before he lands on his back
on the cold, cold world with a hideous |
realization that life is not what it
seems.”
“Hear, hear!” cried several, and
then, as the strains of dance music
reached their ears, they adjoined to
the music rocm so fully assured that |
the end was near that even the most |
sceptical could not but smile gleefully |
as Lawrence and Miss Kennedy glided
by to the tune of the latest popular
waltz.
But as the time went on, things be-
came serious. The week allotted for |
the downfall of Lawrence passed, and
still another week clapsed. The young |
men began to get worried.
“Say, Jack,” growled Dwight to
Chauncy one Sunday night, “this thing |
Goes not seem to go off as smoothly |
as some of us have been pleased to |
think it would. Here's two weeks {
passed and no change. Moreover from |
all appearances there does not scem to |
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fun, Eh, boys?”
“That’s just the idea,” assented Gil-
bert Chauncy of Amherst. “Every fcl-
low must make it his business to see
that they meet as soon as possible
and’ —
“Oh, yes, get them together,” inter-
rupted Goldthwaite. “You will get hold
of the wrong man or rather the right
man some day, and you won't have
kalf the fun you expect. He will win
her.”
“Ho, ho, Goldy’s getting nervous,”
jeered several “He is afraid of his
chances. Never mind, Goldy; a man
with your figure need never fear a
rival.”
Stout, good-natured Goldthwaite on-
Iy smiled. le was, in fact, an enigma
to mogt of the boys. He had early fal-
len prey to Miss Kennedy's charms
and, strange to say, he still remained
in her good grace. Some one from
be any likelihood of any change ex- |
cept for the worse—worse for us,” he
added.
That young Dwight voiced the senti-
ments of the entire crowd was very |
evident. His sentiments were accepted |
as disagreeable facts by every one. The
guests smiled significantly. |
|
|
“We have got to smash things some-
how,” said Grey one evening, as Law-
rence and Miss Kennedy strolled
down the driveway. “This game is too
one-sided. I fail to see where our fun |
comes in at all. It is time to make
some on our hook. We've got to |
make him ridiculous, make a fool of |
him by some practical joke. I tell you,
fellows, we've got to do something.
We can’t let one man beat a dozen of
us, can we?”
“All right,” grinned Goldthwaite.
“You bright bo: s get together and do
{ 80 overrun with rattlers that it was
| every last rattler.
| a rattler will bite himesélf and com-
| self on a stone, this thoughtful and
| around him.
| called the ssrpentine, which is made
| of wood ard leather and has six finger
your prettiest and I'll look on and ap- |
\
flesh is said to be as good as chicken.
Great skill must be exercised in catch-
ing this snake, if he is to be eaten, as
he has a trick of biting himself when
cornered and so committing suicide,
and in this case his flesh is as deadly
as his bite.
The maligned pig, who is known by
those who properly understand him to
be a really brave and intelligent little
beast, regards rattlesnakes as the
greatest luxury and attacks and kills
them with absolute fearlessness. On
a California ranch a certain field was
practically useless. It was fenced in
and a pair of young pigs turned into
it. The pigs grew fat and sleek, and
in a shont time they had gobbled up
Piggiwig has been
known to attack the largest and most
deadly snakes and come off victor in
the fight.
Apropos of the well known fact that
mit suicide rather than fall into the
hands of his enemies, the tale is told
by hundreds in the far west that a
little bird, a native of the Rockies, is
extremely interested in the extermin-
SPL BRT
COLUMN
Op Ame
What the Chicken Thought.
Before the chicken burst his shell,
He could not see things very well.
X=
It seemed to him like one white wall;
He could not look outside, at all.
But, when once free, he viewed on high
The beauty of the bright blue sky!
‘‘Some day, when I am grown,’’ thought
e,
“TI'h break that blue shell that I see!”
—Boston Budget.
How Long Do Animals Live?
How many of you know how long
the birds and animals live? None of
our common pets, the cats or dogs,
live very long. I once heard of a
cat that lived 29 years, and of a dog
that was 22 when he died. But this
does not often happen.
A horse cannot do much work after
he is 12 or 14 years old; but I heard
of one horse that lived
Birds sometimes have long lives.
There was once a parrot who lived
over 100 years, and ravens often live
much longer.
A cocatoo in a far-off country was
a cheerful old pet when he was 85
years old. He would have lived to be
older if he had not grown so Cross
that he would fight and hurt himself.
A dove once lived 25 years in a
cage.
Fish are such selfish creatures that
they cught to live long. They never
get hot.
Carp are said to live hundreds of
Years, and pike are also hardy old
fellows.
There are some insects that live
but a few hours. Some live but a day,
and all of them are short-lived.
The wild beasts do not live long,
but elephants are sometimes old, and
then they grow helpless, just like
old people, and cannot do anything
for themselves.—Washington Star.
A Tame Quash.
Mr. C. Napier Bell gives, in “Zang-
weera,” a pleasant account of a tame
quash, a little animal of Central
America belonging to the raccoon
family. It is about twice the size of
a cat, is covered with thick brown
fur, and has a long, bushy tail
While in camp, Mr. Bell's party
brought up a young one,
“I never in my life saw such an in-
quisitive, active, pertinacious, fear-
less, impudent, amiable and quarrel-
some little beast as he was,” says Mr.
Bell. “If you treated Quash weil, he
would be most loving, playing with
your hand, poking his long nose up
your sleeve or into your pockets, and
running all over you as if you belonged
to him; but, if you attempted to put
him away before he chose to go, he
would quarrel at once, snarl and bite,
and twist his nose from side to side
with impudent definance.
“If the workmen set their food
down, Quash would take possession
at once, and a fearful row would take
place before he could be disposessed.
“He was everywhere and into every-
thing, singed his little toes by walk-
ing through the wood ashes, when, in-
stead of running away, he shrieked
with rage, and began to dig and scat-
ter the ashes in ungovernable an-
ger. Then he rushed Up a man’s
back to sit on his shoulder and lick
his sore toes. He would» often jump
on your face when you were sound
.asleep, and insist on lying down there.
At night nothing would satisfy him
but to crawl under the men’s cover-
ings and up against their naked skins,
where he was by no means careful
with his sharp little claws; but to get
rid of him meant nothing less than
a stand-up fight.
‘Every one was fond of Quash, and
at the same time every one voted him
an unmitigated nuisance. Finally, I
he became a great pet and grew tamer
than ever.”
Postal Clerk’s Famous Dog.
/ Stuffed and handsomely mounted in
ore enters the Washington postal mu-
seum is Owney, the tramp dog.
als received by Owney from officials
in all parts of the world. In life
Owney was one of the most famous
ington Post. He the
was postal
eye, the result of a hot cinder while
on one of his numerous trips. He was
known from St. Petersburg to Kala-
mazoo. When in Japan Owney is said
to have behaved very badly inthepres-
ation of the rattler. So far as is
known, this bird does not feed upon
the snake, but is actuated solely by
motives of benevolence in ridding the
world of these dangerous reptiles.
Seeing a rattler asleep or sunning him-
energetic little body flies off and re-
turns with bits of very prickly cactus,
which the bird places in a little circle
When the circle is quite
complete the enterprising bird, eager
to see the results of its toil, swoops
down and runs his bill into the sleep-
ing snake, which starts to move away,
only to encounter the cactus, over
which he cannot crawl. He turns
about and strikes the cactus again.
Finding himself unable to escape, he
court ladies sought to caress him,
to have bristled up in an unfriendly
and un-American fashion, decidedly
unfavorable to the propagation of good
relations between Japan and this
country.
ish and Scotch terrier, and of the dull
gray in color secured by the combi-
nation of the seven prismatic rays
of the sun.
into the Albany postoffice for warmth,
and from that time forth was a fa-
vorite with the postoffice officials in |
the cities from one end of the land
to the other.
Following the mail wagon to the
train one day Owney jumped aboard,
No one saw or missed him, He and !
the mail bags were old friends. Be- |
bites himself and dies by his own
deadly weapon. — Sit. Louis Globe-
Democrat.
A Queer Born.
The Italian peasantry have a horn
ing found by the postal clerks he was
taken care of, and having learned
the secrets of the bag: and liking |
the rattle of the train, he became a |
globe-trotter. In Mexico ga Mexican
ing Washington, Postmaster General
holes.
|
|
doliar was hung to his collar. Reach- |
|
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|
Wanamaker supplied a harness for
Owney and badges were fastened to |
64 years. |
gave him to an Indian girl, with whom |
a square glass case to the right as |
Strung arcund his neck and around |
him in the case are hundreds of med- |
dogs that ever lived, says the Wash- |
clerks’ dog, without pedigree or beau- !
ty, and in his latter days minus one |
ence of the Mikado, and when the |
Owney was a cross between an Ir |
When a pup he crept |!
it. Returning from Japan, where the
Mikado presented him with a pass-
pert bearing the seal of the emperor,
and where, at Tokyo, he is said to
have whipped every dog he ran across,
just to shcw what an American dog
could do, Owney reached this coun-
try, and in 1857 found himself in To-
ledo, Ohio.
While there one of the clerks, desir-
ing to have him photographed, chained
him. This was too much for Owney’s
American spirit, and he bit the clerk.
It was reported to the postmaster, and
he had a policeman shoot him. An in-
glorious end for a dog of his distine-
tion.
A Little and a Big Fellow.
There were 36 plump muskmelon
seeds, and Bobbie planted them very
carefully, tucking nine in each one
of the four mounds of earth his fat
hands had heaped, smoothed, and
patted down.
My garden’s to be all melons this
year. I'll have enough to ear, and
lots to sell,” he called out proudly to
Harry Wood.
Now Bobbie and Hairy were great
friends, though the former was only
five years old and recently out of
kilts, while the latter wore a stand-up
collar, a butterfly necktie, and was
even thinking about “putting on long
trousers.”
Harry’s tone, though patronizing,
was kind, as he inquired, “So you
really think, sonny, that you'll have a
big crop of melons?”
“Of course!” And Bobbie's voice
was full of pride. “I mean to take
awfully good care of the plants.”
And, indeed, as the weeks went by
Bobbie did tend his melons faith-
tully, and in spite of many discourage-
ments. For in two of the brown
mounds the seeds failed to appear;
whether they had been planted too
deep, or whether they had been nib-
bled by some wandering worm, nobody
could tell.
However, the other two mounds soon
bristled with luxuriant green plants.
These, under Uncle Jed’s advice, Bob-
bie thinned out carefully, weeded, and
watered. Then, alas! one night when
the little boy was sound asleep
(dreaming of luscicus melons), an
| evil-minded cutworm sawed away in
| the moonlight, and, when morning
came, half the plants lay wilting and
|
dying.
Bobbie would have cried over them,
| but then, salt water wasn’t good for
| plants (only asparagus, Uncle Jed
| said); and so, instead, he did his best
| to save the rest of his plants. Soot
| from the kitchen stovepipe, tobacco
| from another pipe (the hired man’s),
| routed the wicked cutworms. Then a
warm rain, followed by sunshiny days,
made the melons grow as fast as “Mr.
Finney’s turnip behind the barn.”
They got ahead of weeds, bugs, and
worms, and began to put forth pert
little runners dotted with yellow blos-
soms.
Then, one woful day, Mrs. O’Brien’s
cow got out of the pasture, and wan-
dered about until she reached the
| Barker garden; and, on her way to
| reach the dozen rows of young corn,
what must she do but place her feet
| right on his last hill of melons, smash-
ing every trailing vine but one!
And this time Bobbie cried. And
Harry Wood, who came over to see
the extent of the damage, tried to
whistle cheerily, as he said, “Well, the
old bossie didn’t tread on your very
| best vine. See, you have one left,
| and—my stars, if there isn’t a inelon
j= it as large as my bjzgest agate
marble!”
| Now Bobbie hadn’t noticed this, and
| he was so delighted that he quite for-
| got his tears.
| The one lonely melon grew rapidly
| until it began to lcok very well. Then
| one day—it was when Bobbie and the
| rest of the Barkers went to the county
| fair—the young Plymouth Rock roos-
| ter squeezed himself thrcugh the
| chickea-yard palings; and what else
must he do but stalk beldly up to that
melon, and begin to peck at it! Tap,
| tap, tap! went his yellow beak, until
he broke right into the juicy, salmon-
| pink heart.
| It was Harry Wood who saw him,
and drove him back into the hen-yard.
| But most of the melon rode away
| in the stomach of the Plymouth Rock.
Harry looked down mournfully at
| the bits of rind, scattered seeds, and
| pulp remaining on the melon hill.
| Then he gathered up the mess, and
| threw it among the burdocks on the
other side of the garden fence. After
| which his long legs carried him down
{ec the Italian’s fruit sore; and, when
he came out again, he hore a bulging
| paper bag. Hurrying up street, he
| reached the Barker vard,—reached
| Bobbie’s ill-fated melon patch,
| then—and then
| The Barkers came home from the
county fair, and Bobbie went out to
his ‘garden.’ There had been mel-
ons at the fair, and the sight of them
had filled him with fresh affection for
| his own solitary treasure. He bent
{ over the brown mound, parted the
green leaves, and—oh, wonder of won-
ders!
“Ma! ma!” Bobbie shouted. “Do
{ come here. Why, my melon has grown
| lots just while I've been gone! And
and
{ it’s so ripe that it’s loosened itself
from the stem.
lovely!”
The Plymouth Rock stuck his red
comb through the chicken-yard fence,
and crowed derisively; but Bobbie
didn’t notice him.
And Harry Wood was chuckling to
himself across the street, ag he said:
“That quarter I was saving toward
Oh-ee! it’s perfectly
| my new air-gun is gone, but I don’t
care. The joke was worth 25 cents.
| And, anyhow, a big fellow kind of
| ought to look out for a little fellow.”
—Sunday School Times.
Most spiders have eight eyes, al-
THE MAN WITH A $1,000 BILL.
He Secured Smaller Money by an Ingen--
ious Scheme.
Of a man with a $1600 bill in his
rocket and no smaller amount of mon-
ey, a story has been written that
traced him through many experiences
and took him to the verge of starva-
tion, But, as a matter of fact, one
man who had nething smaller than a
$1000 bill got through his diffienlty
very” easily in this city a few nights:
ago.
Ten of these coveted promissory
notes of the United States had been
paid to him in the afternoon. In the:
pursuit of business and a modicum
of pleasure he had, after the receipt
of his $10,000, spent the last dime he
possessed other than the big bills.
He was with some friends, any one of
whom could and would have accommo-
dated him with sufficient money for
his needs, but a discussion arose about
what he would do if he were a stranger
in the city and had no money other
than that which was in his pocket.
“I wouldn’t care if I were dressed
as a beggar,” he said. “I can get all
I want so long as I have a $1000 bill
in my pocket.”
“You would be arrested or turned
down if you tried to use it,” said one.
“There are not many places where-
$1000 in change is kept handy. Be-
sides, most people would be shy of tak-
ing such a bill from any of us. We-
don’t look as though we carried $1000
bills around in our pockets.”
“Well,” said the man with the $10,-
000, “I'll bet a basket of champagne
with the bunch that I can spend my
money as freely as though these were
$5 bills instead of what they are, and
I won’t have any trouble ahout «it,
either. I'll get change she first time
I try, too, or lose the bet. And I
won't go to any man who knows me.”
he wager was accepted, and the
man with $10,000, taking one friend
with him, walked out to ga pawn shop.
He said to the clerk only this:
“I have received $10,000 in 10 bills.
They are mine and were come by hon-
estly, It is difficult for me, a strang-
er, to get a $1000 bill changed. Here
are the 10 bills. Look at them. I
need some money, and I want to pawn
one of these bills for $25. If you are-
efraid of me. call up police headquar-
ters and I will satisfy the people there
by papers that I can show that I am
honest. Or, if you like, cal up Mr.——,
who paid the money to me, and ne
will tell you if I am all right.” :
The pawnbroker looked at him keen-
ly for a second and then said:
“I never took money as a pledge,
but you are sober and seem all right,
and you can have the $25. Give me-
the $1000 bill.”
The pawnbroker examined the bill
carefully and then, to the astonishment
of the others, took another $1000 biil
out of his safe and compared them.
Then, just as he would make out a
ticket for a ring or a watch, he issued
a ticket for a “$1000 bill,” turned over
the $25 and ‘closed the transaction.—
New York Tribune,
a
Athletic Training for Soldiers.
The advantage of athletic exercise:
as a means of fitting a soldier for
the better discharge of his duties was
signally demonstrated on the occasion
of recent trials of certain heavy ord-
nance. When the officers in charge:
reached the point where they wanted
the speediest possible handling of the-
big pieces they called for the men
who had achieved a reputation as base-
ball and fcothall playeys, and the
rapidity with which they used their
muscles contributed not a little to the
success of the test. This, it is true,
was merely a special case, but it war-
rants its application for the purpose:
of a general deduction, which is that
just in proportion to the athletic train-
ing of a soldier will be his value in
any field of active duty to which he
may be assigned.
In this particular, as in others relat-
ing to the training of soldiers, the
German army, tne best military es-
tablishment in the world, may be
pointed to as setting a good example.
From the moment when the recruit
makes his appearance and to the very
end of his service he is drilled in ev-
ery kind of gymnastics. »
In some degree, it is true, the Ger-
man soldier is prepared while at
school, for here, too, gymnastic exer-
cises are compulsory. It is evident,
then, that in our own army, even
though it may not be thought advis-
able to compel the soldiers to under-
80 gymnastic training regularly, ath-
letics ought to be encouraged in every
way consistent with discipline.
ea SE
Widower Was Consoled.
A lawyer who has won some distine-
tion through his success in comprom-
ising suits for damages by accident
says his most interesting client was a
Swedish farmer from Delaware county,
whose wife had been killed here in
Philadelphia by a train crossing the
street at grade.
The widower was simply inconsol-
able, and, having been told that he
could get $10,000 if he insisted on push-
ing the case, refused for months to
talk compromise. The lawyer, of
course, did all possible to keep the
hearing back, in the hope of discour-
aging the Swede; and at last he was
rewarded by an offer .to settle at a
reasonable figure,
The Swede called, the lawyer said
$500, and the bereaved one quickly ac-
cepted. As he folded the check and
pocketed it he observed:
“Vell, I deed not do so padlee! I'fe
got fif’ hoondred tollar and a goot teal
better vife than I‘ had beefore. She
and me was married yesterday.”—
Philadelphia Times,
The average woman writes a large
hand just for the pleasure of turning
though some species have only six.
over a new leaf.
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