i
TE
a
oodles A nr as Ari
"waded out into the stream and the
MAGAZINE FARMER.
I used to like the old place
But now it ain't no use;
It's laid out inartistic,
d it's tacky as the deuce;
You see I've been a-reading,
Till envy makes me green,
Of artistic agriculture
In a farming magazine.
It tells you hew your pig pen
Should be on aesthetic lines;
And your Loocy Fourteen henhouse
Should be draped in ivy vines;
I'm goin’ to sell the old place—
Its architecture's bum!
And I'll buy one of them dream joints
In that magazine, by gum!
TM raise ne crops plebeian,
But I'll put in plants and shrubs;
"U do no harvest sweatin'—
Leave that fer old time dubs!
may not last a season
'Fare I meet, the sheriff man,
But I'm goin’ to be a farmer
On the magazinist plan!
Her First Fishing
Trip.
A CASE OF TRUE SPORT
BEING UNAPPRECIATED.
‘When my husband proposed a fishing
trip for vacation, it suited me well
Not that I had ever gone fishing, but
just that morning I had seen in a ma-
gazine a picture of a woman angler—
with long rubber boots, hair beautifully
arranged, shirtwaist spotlessly white—
as she was jerking a wriggling trout
from a rippling brook, whose banks
were lined with great rocks that look-
ed as though they were put there for
picnic parties.
“Exactly what we want,” said IL
In the first place, we decided to omit
the long boots. He said they would be
too heavy. The proper way, he ex-
plained, was to get wet, just wade in, |
and let the sun dry one out afterwards. |
Besides, one was liable to slip and |
break one’s neck in rubber boots. In |
short, boots were only seen in pic-
tures; nobody really used them.
He also said: “Don’t wear a white
shirtwaist. Nobody ever does that, be-
cause the trout can see you.”
The halo which surrounded that pic-
ture was fast disappearing.
‘What we did in the way of prepara-
tion, in addition to learning the name
of a small Ulster County hotel, close
to a trout stream, was to invade a
sporting goods shop. I watched my
husband admiringly as he bought rods
and lines and flies.
“Oh, give me a few of the bright
ones. ‘The Professcr’ is a good one,”
said my preceptor to the clerk. “They
don’t take the quiet ones now.”
“Who's they?’ I asked timidly.
“The trout, of course,” and he added
in a patronizing tone: ‘“You see, you
must know the habits of the fish in or-
der to get proper flies; you must
know what kind to use in each month.
This early in the summer we would
waste our time if we used any but
those of brilliant hues.”
1 afterwards learned that somebody
had told him this. But I was all un-
suspicious at the time.
“Charlie’s a great fisherman,” I said
to myself with pride as he proceeded |
to spend all the $25 we had allotted for |
tackle.
We took a train for Weehawken
early in the morning, and arrived at
our destination late in the afternoon.
An hour or so later Charlie unpacked
his outfit. To the hotel proprietor, a
sociable fellow, he exhibited the rods
and flies.
“But” remarked our host, “but——"
He hesitated, shaking his head. ‘‘But,”
he continued, ‘“you’ve got the wrong
kind of flies. The trout in these parts
take only the little black crickets or
the brown hackles at this season.”
After a weary wait for a fresh supply
from the city, we were ready, but rain
made us idle for a day, which Charlie
spent talking with our host, who told
a story of a trout he caught in the
Nepigon River that had taken him one
hour to land. My husband promptly |
responded with an account of a fishing |
trip he had taken up Pigeon River, and
narrated how he had landed fifty trout
with in an hcar. Each eyes the other
pityingly, and for the life of me I
could not tell which deserved the
medal.
At last the weather cleared and’ we
arose at daybreak. We couldn’t wait,
but adjusted the reels to the rods as
we sat on the hotel porch. The morn-
ing was beautiful. The grass was gray
with the heavy dew and the little clov-
er leaves were just awakening from
their night's sleep. I taxed my hus-
band’s patience rather severely, for
every time I came to a clover patch I
would make a careful search for a four
leaf to bring me good luck.
“Do let that clover alone and come
on and fish,” said Charlie, and I
went.
I was never so sleepy in my life.
As I stumbled along with my rod I
fell over a dead snake. I did not know
it was dead and screamed.
“If you make a noise like tnat, you
will frighten all ue fish away,” 1 was
told. But in stumbling I had let go
the leader I had been holding in my
hand with the rod. In looking for it I
found all three flies had caught in my
skirt. After struggling in vain to ex-
tricate them, I gave up.
“Cut ’em out,” came the order.
“And ruin the skirt? Not much.”
I insisted. “This is the skirt to my
winter suit.”
“The idea of wearing a thing like
that fishing. You should have worn—"
And then I got a lecture on the inade-
quateness of my costume. I finally
wriggled the hooks out, and we went
on until we reached a cool shady pool.
Charlie decided to cast his fly. He
click of his reel could be heard where
I was sitting. I had decided to watch
Sieh A
Hn ine mes i A
AR PORNE NB Bae a
SRR ERE
EE
him awhile before starting out to fish
for myself.
1 was the first to get a bite and fit
was a vicious one, but it was not a
trout bite. Insects of every description
were crawling over me. The punkies
were*simply devouring me. They are
very tiny black flies, that bite and bits
until they draw blood. A lizard ram |
up the tree back of me and on the
water nearby I could see a long black |
snake swimming lazily. As I rose,’
in my haste to get away, I forgot my
responsibilities and held my rod up-
ward, and it caught fn a branch over- :
head. I pulled at it, fst quietly,
then viciously. My arms ached and my
head ached. Finally the line came |
down, but the looks again caught in
my skirt. After much twisting and
turning I got them out, leaving broken !
threads and small holes to be darned
when I got home.
Meanwhile, Mr. Fisherman, who had
wa:ned a hundred paces or so up- |
stream shouted to me to ‘‘come on.”
To start in his direction I had to fol- |
low an unbeaten trail through the un-
dergrowth. In uoing this I lost all,
my hairpins. My hair was pulled out |
on the twigs almost by the handfulls. |
Inwardly I was raging. But eventually |
I reached my husband. My hair was |
almost gone. My temper was entirely |
gone. |
“Did you see that?” he cried as 1]
came in sight.
‘What he alluded to was a diminu-'
tive fish that he had dangled for a sec- |
ond on his hook. At least he said it’
had been there. I didn’t see it.
“Never had such luck,” he explained.
1 got plenty of strikes, but somehow |
I can’t land them. Must have the
wrong sort of flies. This stream is
pretty well fished out, anyway. Now, !
in Pigeon River—"
I pretended not to hear, for the Pig-
eon River stories had lost their attrac-
tion.
“I want to go home,” I announced
rather viciously.
“Aren’t you having a good time?”
asked my husband in a most surprised
tone. I tried to force a cheerfulness
I did not feel. |
“Oh, yes, I am having the time of my
life,” I truthfully replied. “Any fish?”
“Three beauties, all speckled trout,”
he replied.
“Let me see,” I said, as I waded out !
to where he was.
In his fishing basket Charlie really
had three fish, but none of them was
over six inches long.
“I caught a lot more,” he explained, ,
“but I threw 'em back. You know it is '
against the law to keep fish under six |
inches.”
“How can you tell when they are six
inches?” I asked.
He pulled up his sleeve and display-
ed with pride a pin scratch on his
wrist.
“] measured six inches on my arm
this morning with your tape line, so
1 would be sure to keep no fish under
size.”
“Those aren't all speckles,” I said,
as I again peered into the basket.
I saw his face fall, but I was bent
on displaying my knowledge.
“One is a German brown, and an-
other is a California rainbow, and that
littlest fellow is a brook,” I announced
proudly.
“We can’t go home to the hotel af-
ter staying away all this time and let
the people find that we caught only
three fish, so let's cook ’em, for I am
hungry anyway.” Charlie said, having
a neat way of turning a subject. We
piled together a few rocks as a foun-
dation; then we collected some leaves
and twigs and made a fire. We en-
deavored to cook the trout by holding
them over the flame with a wooden
stick, but the stick seemed determined
to get on fire, and, of course, down
would go the trout into the flames.
Finally the fish much besmirched with
smoke and cinders were pronounced
done. We proceeded to eat them, and,
strange to say, they were really good,
and certainly took the edge off our
hunger.
“Let’s go home,” said I, rising, and
we trudged along wearily, those mis-
erable hooks catching in my skirts
almost at every step.
“Let's go home—back to New York,
I mean,” I repeated.
Charlie looked at me reproachfully.
“Very well,” he said, “if you are
determined upon it. But we have two
more days of vacation, and I am sure
I could get a lot of fish.”
I packed my trunk that night ere I
slept, and the next morning we drove
to town (five miles) in the sort of
storm that is unknown anywhere ex-
cept among the mountains. I was go-
ing home—getting farther and farther
away from the land of snakes and in-
sects, I was bussfully happy. At last
we arrived at Weehawken and there
a ferryboat awaited us. To me it seem-
ed like a steam yacht. I exclaimed:
“Isn’t that ferryboat the most beau-
tiful sight you ever saw? It looks as
if it is straight from fairyland—and
what a nice salty smell!”
“This is just the sort of weathe:
trout bite best,” said my husband,
dreamingly.—F. M. G. in the New
York Evening Post.
|
|
|
A Substitute.
Little Helen, aged four, was in a
frightful predicament. The nurse, car-
rying the cherished two-weeks-old ba-
by up and down before the house, had
paused to show the new infant to the
bishop, who had asked to look at it.
And then the tall, grave bishop, of
whom Helen stood greatly in awe,
| the island of the number of
PEARLS OF THOUGHT. |
The roving eye seldom lights on the
gold of life.
The best time to repent is before
vou commit.
The sins we wink at today we drink
of tomorrow.
There is nothing more eloquent than
silent industry.
A calculating piety is not calculated
to be profitable.
Our disappointments come from our
misappointments.
It takes more than aequittal to
make a clean heart.
Wealth is a matter of appreciation
rather than of acquisition.
There's a world of difference be
tween wishing and willing.
The preacher who is anxious for
popularity loses his power.
Education is always deficient so
long as it can see a terminus.
He to whom success is the soul of
all will not find success in his soul.
The blessings that nourish a living
tree work the decay of a dead one.
Sensation may be good as season-
ing, but poor as the main substance.
They who buy what they do not
need, soon need what they cannot buy.
The highest duties are entrusted to
those who have elevated the lower
ones.
The common way is to hate a man
first, and find a reason for it after-
wards.
The politic make many new friends;
they need to, for they have no old
ones.—Ram’s Horn.
THE TACON THEATRE.
Curious History of Havana's Famous
Playhouse.
The history of the Tacon Theatre of
Havana, which was recently pur
{ chased by the Spanish Dramatic Co.
for $550,000, is very interesting. In
the year 1835 Francisco Marty, who
was then the leader of a band of pir-
ates which infested the island of Cuba’
and who had a price of $10,000 on his
head, was captured and ordered to be
put to death. Seeing there was no
hope for him, he asked leave to see
General Tacon, and told him if his
life was spared he would denounce his
entire band and assist him in ridding
pirates
which infested it at that period. Ac-
cordingly, General Tacon gave him
a two weeks parole, and inside of a
week Marty had denounced his fellow
pirates and turned them over to the
Government. For this service he was
pardoned.
In 1836 Marty asked for the con-
cession to build a national theatre on
the site of Parque Central. It was
granted to him. General Tacon went
further and allowed him the privilege
of the use of forty convicts who were
then confined in Morro Castle, to as-
sist him in the work, each convict re-
ceiving the sum of 20 cents a day. In
1838 the theatre was finished, and
Marty, as a proof of the gratitude he
felt toward General Tacon for sparing
his life, named it El Teatro Tacon.
During the insurrection in Cuba many
exciting incidents took place here.
In one instance a regiment of Cuban
insurgents barricaded themselves in
the theatre and held it against the
Spaniards for three days. Finally
they were starved out, and as they
were making their escape all were
shot.
The theatre is built of white stone
with decorations of marble and facing
Central Park, being in the centre of
the fashionable district of Havana.
It is one of the largest theatres in the
world, seating over 3,000 persons.—
Cuban Review.
Somewhat Confused.
The chairman of the committee was
addressing a meeting at a teachers’
institute.
“My friends, the school work is the
bulhouse of civilization. I mean—ah
0
The chairman had stage fright.
“The bull house is the school work
of civ—"
A smile began to make itself felt.
“The workhouse is the bulschool
of—"
He was evidently twisted.
“The bulschool is the workhouse—"
An audible snicker spread over the
audience.
“The bulschool—"
He was getting wild. So were his
hearers. He mopped perspiration,
gritted Lis teeth, and made a fresh ef-
fort.
“The schoolhouse, my friends—"’
A sigh of relief went up. Ah, now
he has got his feet under him again.
He gazed suavely around. The light
of triumphant self-confidence was en-
throned upon his brow.
“Is the wool bark—" .
was all.—
He gasped, and that
Judge’s Magazine of Fun.
/ A Conscientious Patient.
“Medicine won’t help you any,” the
doctor told his patient. “What you
need is a complete change of living.
Get away to some quiet country place
for a month. Go to bed early, eat more
roast beef, drink plenty of good, rich
milk, and smoke just one cigar a day.”
A month later the patient walked
into the doctor's office. He looked like
a new man, and the doctor told him
bad unexpectedly asked the little girl !
to give him the baby.
How in the world to refuse a re-
quest made by such an awe-inspiring
person as the bishop the child did
not know.
her small countenance
said, ingratiatingly, “I'll let you have
the next”—Harper’s Weekly
But presently she wrinkled !
shrewdly, !
moved closer to the - petitioner, and |
SO.
“Yes, doctor, your advice certainly
did the business. I went to bed early
|
}
and did all the other things you told
~ Farming
As the Ideal Life
9 By Senator Robert M. Follette. 9
T is plain that agriculture in this country has a future here-
tofore anknown in the world. Farming is now the most dis-
tinctive American occupation. It is the source of our safest,
most conservative citizenship and highest average of intelli-
gence.
Put the farm in direct communication with the world by
rural delivery, the telephone, the electric railway, the travel
ling library, the township school, the improved highway, and
you have given it the essential advantages of the city with-
out depriving it of the essential advantages of the country.
There will be left the sweet and vitalizing country air, the isolation ot
broad acres, the beauty of hill and vallley woodland and meadow and living,
running water, The charm of the ripening grain coming to its
transmitted to us and we preserved it because of its ancient and hallowed as-
the honest pride in the grazing flocks and the effection-
ate interest in their growing young, will always be an inherent and uplifting
element of life upon the farm. The rich blessing of unconscious health, the
joy of wholesome work, that brings wholesome rest and wholesome apppetite,
are the natural rewards of this outdoor occupation. Nearness to nature, near-
ness to God, a truer philosophy, a keener human sympathy, higher
greater individuality, will ever be stamped upon the life and character of the
country home.
The new agriculture, the new education, new inventions, will give added
interest, larger profits, greater certainty of success. They will lighten its bur-
dens, widen its sphere, and ultimately make agriculture the most desirable of
all avocations.
Hy
VETTE TTTETY
® | «
aK «a
This Spelling Problem
By Mark Twain.
Afi prenin pee hivy
HERE ar 82,000,000 of us people that have to.spell, and or-
thography ought to be simplified in our behalf, but it is kept
in its present condition to satisfy 1,000,000 people who like
to have their literature in the old form. That looks to me
to be rather selfish, and we keep the forms as they are while
we have got 1,000,000 people coming in here from foreign
countries every year, and they have got to struggle with this
orthography of ours, and it keeps them back and damages
their citizenship for years until they learn to spell the lan-
guage, if they ever do learn. This is merely sentimental argument.
People say it is the spelling of Chaucer and Spenser and Shakespeare and
a lot of other people who did not know how to spell anyway, and it has been
transmitted to us and we preserved it because of its ancient and hallowed as-
sociations.
If that argument is good, then it would be a good argument not to banish
the flies and the cockroaches from hospitals because they have been there so
long that the patients have got used to them and they feel a tenderness for
them on account of the associations. Why, it is like preserving a cancer ina
family because it is a family cancer and we are bound to it by the test of af-
fection anl reverence and old mouldy antiquity.
1 think that this declaration to improve this orthography of ours is our
family cancer, and I wish we could reconcile ourselves to have it cut out and
let the family cancer go.
3900 399991
DELS RB
VII Yee
»
p
b
p
p
p
LALLAL
OOH LDAL &
VOY
ve
OOOO LL
TOTO oe
® a =
a a a
.
maritotn%) £2 pmptrparmndon,
“True Americanism’’
By Henry Dan Dyke.
Corman
Poirfegededaptetnr 3. OR what is true Americanism, and where does it reside? Not
Are ms on the tongue, nor in the clothes, nor among the transient
» + social forms, refined or rude, which mottle the surface of
x «+ human life. True Americanism is this:
* 5 To believe that the inalienable rights of man to life, lib-
ge ¥ erty, and the pursuit of happiness are given by God.
——— To helieve that any form of power that tramples on
FB Gesgoerze tote teted bn these rights is unjust.
To believe that taxation without representation is tyran-
ny, that government must rest upon the consent of the governed, and that the
people should choose their own rulers.
To believe that freedom must be safeguarded by law and order, and that
the end of freedom is fair play for all.
To believe not in a forced equality of conditions and estates, but in a true
equalization of burdens, privileges, and opportunities.
To believe that the selfish interests of persons, classes, and sections must
be subordinated to the welfare of the commonwealth.
To believe that union is as much a human necessity as liberty is a divine
gift. :
To believe, not that all people are good, but that the way to make them
better is to trust the whole people.
To believe that a free state shonld offer an asylum to the oppressed, and
an example of virtue, sobriety and fair dealing to ail nations.
To believe that for the existence and perpetuity of such a state a man
should be willing to give his whole service, in property, in labor, and in life.—
Harper's Magazine.
8
NN
v
{
ied IES
& The Gospel of Getting On §
EIB By Lillian James Crockett. 20 UU EI
HOUGH I speak with the tongues of men and angels, and give
not flattery, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and perceive all
chicaneries and wire-pullings; and though I have all faith, so
that I could remove deadheads and give not flattery, I am
nothing.
And though I bestow all my work to pamper the idle,
and though I give my brain to be turned and givenot flattery,
it profiteth me nothing.
Flattery schemeth long, and is complaisant; flattery envieth not—because
she is sure to keep ahead. Flattery vaunteth not itself—but its superiors in
office; is not puffed up—but knows whom to puff.
Does not behave with unseemly self-respect, but stoopeth with becoming
humility; seeketh not her own dignity; is not easily provoked at being patron-
ized, thinketh no evil—of the rich and powerful.
Beareth all things, fawneth in all things, cringeth in all things, endureth
all things—essential for aggrandizement.
Flattery never faileth; whether there be enthusiasm it shall fail; whether
there be advisers they shall cease; whether there be knowledge it shall van-
ish away—clear out of sight.
Flattery never faileth; whether there be enthusiasm it shall fail; whether
there be advisers they shall cease; whether there be knowledge it shall vanish
away—clear out of sight.
When I was a child I spake as a child and said I was going to work faith-
fully and pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, and tell the truth and
hitch my wagon to the stars and finally drive it through Elysian fields of mid-
dle-aged affluence. I understood as a child, 1 thought as a child that success is
1
me. But, say doctor, that one cigar
! Chestnut Tree’—Everybody’s Maga
zine. :
a day almost killed me at first. It's]
no joke starting in to smoke at my |
time of life.”—“Under the Spreading |
the reward of dilizence. When I became a woman I put away childish things
and learned that if you indulge the luxury of honor you've got to pay for it by
living on a back street.
And now abideth vanity, ignorance, and flattery, but the greatest of these
! is flattery.—Life.
i
1
1
ideals,
ee,
KHIVA THE FORGOTTEN.
A Great Citv Wasting Away Among
the Sands Which Surround it.
Bokhara is fallen. Samarkand is
the seat of a Russian provincial Gov-
_ernor, and Merv is a manufacturing
{ town with a castiron drinking foun-
' tain. Khiva, too, was swallowed in ite
turn, but disgorged again; though the
kingdom fell, it was handed back to
. its owners, and no Russian may now
{| enter except by invitation.
The Khivan nobles still ride a-
hawking, and caravans in the Kara
Kum sands still fear the armed horse-
. men who dash down from the north.
| Though compassed about on every
side by Russian territory, and in sight
of the breaches made by the Russian
guns in 1873, the Khivan still screws
his revenue from a trembling people,
joyously cuts throats in the open mar-
ket, and dispenses the high, the mid-
dle and the low justice from a raised
dais in his courtyard. -
| Burnaby rode to the city from the
north, and underwent dreadful priva-
tions to spend three days there.
| Arminius Vambery, nearly the most
| courageous traveler of modern times,
reached there disguised as a holy
man. The American McGahn entered
with Gen. Kauffmann in 873, Dr.
Landsell and Capt. Abbott made the:
journey, and, lastly, Mr. Robert L.
Jefferson, as recorded in his book
called “A Second Ride to Khiva,”
made a long bicycle ride across the
Russian steppes, and a camel ride
down to Khiva from Orenburg, in the
north. But other than these, I know
only of Russian officers who have been:
within the gates.
Since the Russians themselves have:
agreed to keep out, they have done alt
in their power to prevent others from
going into the city or even crossing
the boundaries of the little kingdom.
What they fear from visitors it is not
easy to imagine. Four antiquated,
muzzle-loading, smooth-bore cannon,
and a corrupt and unintelligent court
circle revolving about a stupid ruler
would not repay a second thought
even from the spies of the Viceroy of
India. But the fact is that foreigners
are not allowed access to the state,
and the eighteenth regiment of chas-
seurs is quartered at Petro Alexan-
drovsk in such a way as to control the
canal from the Oxus.
In the old days, caravans from Merv
and Bokhara were frequent.
and stuffs were sent both wegt and
east from the city in exchange for
drugs and tea. Today some cotton is
sent up the river to the railroad, and
occasionally a small party of mer-
chants comes from the south; but
more and more Khiva is becoming
forgotten and isolated. Modern im-
provements, instead of carrying her
into the current with the world, have
left her in slack water; the deserts
are a more effective barrier today
than they were two centuries ago, and
a great city is left to feed upon itself,
till it shall waste away and become
part of the sands that compass it.—
From TI.angdon Warner's “Getting:
into Khiva” in the Century.
The Vanished Wild Pigeons.
Less than fifty years ago the wild
pigeons passed in springtime over the
western reserve of Ohio in ranks.
many deep and varying from a few
rods to a mile or more in length. The
forests were fairly alive with them in
May and June. ‘The din of their cries
and calls and ‘the thundering roar
when they were startled from the
ground in the morning when feeding
in the beech and oak woods once
heard could never be fergotten.
These wonderful manifestations of
bird life dwindled rapidly from 185%
until the last remnants disappeared
from Ohio in 1871. The fate of these
beautiful and interesting birds, though
they were ruthlessly and wantonly
slaughtered, was determined over-
whelmingly by the clearing of forests
and destruction of the pigeons’ feed-
ing and breeding places. This being
true, and as the forests are now gone
and, under the present American foi-
estry policy, never to return, we can-
not reasonably hope in the future to
see very many returning wanderers.
However, every state and the gen-
eral government should do everything
possible to encourage their return and
to cherish their presence. Two years
ago, in the woods near Halifax, N. S.,
I heard the familiar cry of long ago,
investigated, and found to my aston-
ishment a little flock of ten of the old
genuine wild pigeons. It has becn a
mystery to me ever since whence they
came.—New York Sun.
Invitation from Mexico.
Mexico needs men of wealth, the
great capitalists, but it does not
want to see them come here to absorb
everything in sight, to twist the ten-
tacles of the Octopus around all pro-
ductive activities. There is no more
of the usual amount of the “envy of
wealth” here than is to be found in
other lands. Human nature, this side
the Rio Grande, is the common sort.
But there is in this country a strong
feeling against grasping monopolies.
This is a healthy indication. Capi-
talists who invest here, and do not en-
deavor to close all the gates of op-
portunity, will always be welcome.
Fair play for all men of brains and
money is Mexico's motto. But they
must play fair.—Mexican Herald.
All In The. Family.
Suitor—I cannot boast of wealth
but I have brains. The members of
my literary club will tell you that
you'd have the smartest debater in
town for a son-in-law.
Father—And I can assure you, my
jear fellow, that you’d have the great-
ast lecturer in the town for a mother-
in-law.—Tit-Bits.
Carpets
4
Subj
Bi
Irviz
on |
man
son,
15:
in ti
T]
and
thou
pera
this
cial
to-dz:
T]
wha
men!
steal
open
whic
in be
pose
age
Treeo;
lidit,
laps
exter
is tl
spen
safes
misa
ver,
a me
lihoc
ways
who
hong
who!
But
«lare
adhe
Owes
steal
DOCK
savir
of t
trust
the 1
ond
unde
finar
take
prisc
save
grim
Wall
he k
dese
man
anth
weal
Ti
the
bery
enou
to w
is in
grace
ever,
St
puni
it m
of Ci
robs
dese
The
pora
SECT
toge!
pany
vests
is ch
busi
labo;
the
cern
Poss]
thief
price
right
poor
live,
cory
com
there
mill
the
tne
the
ther
ter
child
birds
shou
old
spiri
lessc
door
slave
ents
And
mills
glass
of F
shop
wise
rosta
in ©
woul
is oO
bette
scier
ister
not
stral
Ars
for
steal
To 1
then
Whe
the
upor
fion:
thos
ini
ron
and
quic
inst:
by n
er Sf
expr
Zens
mad
gan
POW.
any
the
stea
in ce
W
sciel
and
lic t
to t
win]
trea
priv
ticia
rele
mus
of ©
who
sites