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By MRS. MARY
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Ko; I didn't want to see the baby
-that baby! I couldn't have looked
t It even. All that was In my con
sciousness regarding the baby kept
love out of my heart. It had cost the
mother's life.
My golden-haired Miriam! My
beautiful darling in her shroud, and
this unheeding infant wailing contin
uously. If the child had only been
taken and the mother lpft. Kindness
did all that could bo done, brought
the crying infant to be loved and
blessed, but I couldn't love and I
couldn't bless it. It was ugly; it was
thin; it was hideous.
"Carry it from me as far as you
can," was my furious cry. "Never
will 1 see it, never acknowledge It."
It was the brutal answer of a man
beside himself, and I was brutal, but
I Was suffering. So they treated me
as n man crazed by grief ought to be
treated.
The pi""' little crying babe was
cared for, but taken out of my sight,
and they left me alone with my
troub'.e.
Alone .with my beautiful dead, her
shining eyes closed forever, her gold
en hair blazing with light even under
the cofiln lid.
After the funeral, while my fran
tic grief made a scene of misery, they
bore the child- away into the green
country. My mother took it to her
loving heart.
"It has neither father nor mother,"
she would say, "but I will be both to
, it. Honey, (hey shan't have you,"
she would whisper to the child, "you
are all mine."
1 was a stupid fool so to mourn, so
to put out of my sight every reminder
of my dead wife, but unreasoning'
man will be stupid and at times a
fool. I loved my wife passionately,
but not wisely. So elated hnd I been
with my conquest that, like a man
who puts a precious coin in hiding.
I tormented myself and I tormented
my poor wife. She would havo seen
how jealous I was from the first, but
she was like an angel and forgave
everything.
Absorbed in my sorrows I still ne
glected the child. I would not see
it. From week to week I sent money
for its care, but let It stay where It
was. let me stay where I was. My
woik absorbed me. I bad lost Mir
iam, henceforth nothing could com
fort me. I would have died firBt.
Nothing could tempt me to go home
and see him. I dreaded the sight of
him, as I would have loathed poison.
"He grows so strong and pretty,"
my mother wrote. "He cries no
longer." That was all very well, but
when she added, "Come and . see
him," I rebelled. He might be beau
tiful; he might be wonderful; but he
had lost me my pearl of pearls. There
would never be another Miriam for
me.
No, I would not even let them send
me the boy's picture. I was Icono
clast enough to jave broken it if
they had. Strange that love seemed
d?ad In my heart. I cherished sen
Ytmentallsm to the extent of feeling
that I should never love again, in
sect, beast nor bird, woman nor child,
and I glorified in my self-exclusion.
The time went on. I neglected my
mother, who was wearing out her
heart for me; would not even go to
see her because I wmted not to see
the boy, who had become an image
of hatred, as I look at it now. Time
Abated not the force of my grief,
rather exaggerated It. Still the let
ters came occasionally.
"The boy had teeth, two, three,
six, seven, he smiled like an angel,
he was beautiful, he was growing
fast. Fourteen months old and you
have not seen him. And he looks
like you."
"Then I'll never see him," I cried,
between my teeth, and I knew that
in my way I was a handsome man,
but for that eternal melancholy.
It she had said he looked like Mir
iam, or he has her eyes, her hair,
her teeth, her smile, 1 don't know
what I might have been tempted to
do, bnt I was stubborn. He had
taken jny Miriam from me. He had
consigned her to the dark grave. No,
let him be anathema maranatha.
I loathed him. 1 believe I all but
began to loathe my mother for
tempting me. What did I want of
the boy? Why did I need to be for
ever reminded of my loss, which was
Irreparable? So my heart in scrip
tural language waxed harder and
harder and less human.
; At last a shock recalled me to my
senses.
I had been on a long Journey. My
mail had accumulated. Among the
letters which I read on my return
home was one announcing my moth
ther's Illness. That was dated only
a few days after my departure. What
might not have, happened In the
- meantime? Then there came a
thought of the boy. What had be
come of him? Suppose my mother
hould die? For the first time a rill
sprang up in my heart, tiny, but of
perhaps fatherly affection. The news
was weeks old and no letter had
come in the Interim. I was actually
forced to a determination to go home
unconscious of what was to meet me.
The car wheels seemed leaden. The
beautiful prospects of my old coun
try homo were almost forbidding.
Plainly the old well came Into sight,
then the rose gardens, then the house
In wbo33 square outlines nothing
A. DENISON.
I
iftaaa
seemed to be missing. How brown
it looked against the clear blue of
the sky, and there seemed to' be
around it a holiday excitement, an
environment of pleasant anticipation.
Clearly nothing detrimental had hap
pened. My mother must still be liv
ing, and my henrt lightened. Its ten
sion was gone. 1 allowed myself to
breathe naturally, to feel the light
and color of the ntmosphere, the fer
tility and beauty of the surround
ings. Of the baby I dared not think.
Suddenly tho thought impressed me
that 1 had been an unnatural father,
and at that moment of light and in
spiration I saw a vision.
Miriam appeared to mo.
Yes, sitting at the window of the
farmhouse where I had first met her
In all the glory of her golden hair.
In the glad light of those eyes 1 had
worshiped, that was Miriam looking
at me, smiling at me. If there Is
such a thing as paresis of the heart
I was attacked with it then and there.
I could not breathe nor swallow, only
gasp, only look, only tremble. She
still smiled as I passed by, the never-to-be-forgotten
gleam of her yellow
hair, her wonderful eyes, her sweet
face pursuing me In her smiles. She
never moved, but sat there with my
boy In her lap, and our boy re
sembled her. What was my condition
as 1 stopped at the next farmhouse?
Clearly 1 was stunned, almost anni
hilated. I could- scarcely find
strength to struggle down from the
carriage, to mount the few steps to
our cottage door. 'Ah, there was my
mother, looking years younger and
brighter than I had seen her for
years, but where wns the boy? My
heart began to beat unnaturally as
I asked myself tho question. He had
I THE STORY OF A RURAL REVOLUTIONIST. I
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It Is hard to "bring home" to the readers of printed pages the
extent and the full meaning of the work that is going on in the
United States to build up rural life to make farming pay; for
this is a kind of work that a man must see to understand
it, to measure its value, and to come to know what it will mean
in the near future to the people. Here, for example, is a little
story from lifer
The best small farmer In his neighborhood sent his' only son
to an agricultural college. When the -boy had finished his studies
he had a plan to go away and to begin life for himself, but bis
father was eager to keep him at homo. He would stay only if his
father would give him complete control of the farm. Since the
old. man was himself the best farmer In his part of the world, he
yielded to the boy's wish with reluctance, but he yielded.
"Now what do you suppose John did?" he asked, as he told
the story. "He hitched all three of the mules to one plow. I had
never done that, but I pretty soon saw that ha was right. Then
he spent a lot of time and care in selecting seeds. I had never
done that so thoroughly, but I soon saw that he was right;" and
so on, item after item.
The result was that, although the farm had for years made
larger yields than any other In the neighborhood, the yield tho
first year of the young man's management was thirty per cent,
larger than It had ever been before; and the second year, fifty per
cent, larger. Within a few years the methods of farming in the
neighborhood had become so much better that the farmers receive
now $50,000 more a year, in cash, than they received before John
took his father's farm in hand.
Similar changes are taking place in many parts of the
country. The difference Is the difference between a life of hard
struggle and a life of independence, between good roads and
bad, between good schools and bad, between a cheerful life and a
Bad existence, between hard lives for women and comfortable and
refined lives, the difference between stolidity and a glad Intel
lectual existence. From The World's Work.
died, perhaps, and was now with his
mother. 1 had seen them together.
Strange to say, the thought gave me
happiness. Miriam and her son!
Miriam and oui boy ours, though
I had forfeited all the rights of a
father! Ours!
My mother was startled, fright
ened, though, by the expression In
her face, relieved and contented. It
was slightly pallid as though-she had
been ill.
"My dear boy," she cried out, then
almost fainted. It was in the old
parlor we met, the dear old room,
where everything reminded me of my
father, who had always been loving
and kind to me. Kvery odd figure
in the carpet was familiar. Genera
lions' of old pictures preserved the
family lineaments. His sword, which
my mother had buckled on when he
went to war, stood among other rel
ics, his chair was in the place where
he had last sat. My mother chlded
me gently for leaving the city with
out informing her, then the conver
sation ran on general topics. I want
ed to ask for my boy, but a cowardly
fear prevented me. He was every
where. I remember I seemed to hear
:-.is voice in tho air. I seemed to see
tils face in every Illusive picture, but
had not the courage to ask for him.
"Would you like to see Edgar?"
my mother asked, and I Btarted at
the sound of my own name. They
bad called him, then, after me.- Her
voice was very gentle, as if she would
fain not startle me, but she smiled
when I said yes, and left the room.
Presently I saw the maid, with
sun-bonnet on, go down the drive.
"But where is he?"
"Oh, with Jessie, a new friend
of his and ours," she said. "She
came up here and borrowed bim.
She is very fond of the little lad.
So am I. So we all are, so you
will be. Yes, and proud of bim, too.
While I was sick Jessie was here
and she cared for him. I could not
bear to think I might die and he
need the care of a mother, but I
could leave him with Jessie. Yes, I
should be well content." Then a mys
terious light came into her face. I
remember It set me to thinking of
Virlam. I know not why.
She bent over, either to whisper
or to tell me something strange when
the maid came back with my boy In
her arms. How he startled me. Fif
teen months old, Just walking, with
the magnificent physique of a bronze
savage, yet lithe and white and lis
some as a wild creature. And with
Miriam's eyes of deep blue, her hair
of yellow gold', could anything live
and be more beautiful? I choked
with tho sensations that clamored
through my being, ile had been
taught well. The little chest swelled
proudly when he looked at me.
"Edgar, darling, here Is your
papa. Your name is not unfamiliar
to him," my mother said, with a cer
tain pride; "he has heard of you
every day of his life. Go to your
father, my boy," she added, softly.
The boy obeyed, like a little ser
aph. But he came slowly. A gust
Jf fatherly pride prompted he to lift
him to my knee, to smother him with
kisses. Never shall I forget his look
as he stood well up, his little thumb
pressing against my waistcoat, his
whole body thrown into an admirable
pese, bis head lifted, his eyes looking
widely Into mine, a subdued dread
in the sad blue orbs, and still he
pressed my chest with his hand, a
strong hand, and regarded me intent
ly. Then he looked backward once
to his grandmother, nnd then, with
a condescension that was proved In
the action, he bent his head and
kissed me.
I lavished embraces upon him. He
was so noble, so beautiful, so brave,
no fear in his manner. I might have
been with him all his life and he the
frolicsome elf he seemed from day to
day. I saw that my mother was sat
isfied, pleased, delighted. The intro
duction was complete. There had
been no failure on cither side. Only
perhaps I had been awkward In try
ing to reproduce the easy graces of
fatherhood. Well, the rogue grew
into my good will rapidly. We
played and romped till exhausted.
At least I was, and he fell asleep in
my arms while I bad hardly spoken
to my mother.
There were so many questions to
ask, so much to say on both sides,
that I could hardly contain myself,
but when the boy, breathing lightly,
fell asleep, why then would come my
opportunity. But, no, he was laid on
cushions in one corner, while I was
relegated to an old-fashioned couch
in another, and then there must be
silence.
"I have so much to talk about,"
said my mother, with a smile of su
preme mystery, "when you wake up."
So I allowed sleep to come. If that
can be called sleep where drowsy in
tuitions are almost dreams, for my
heart was with my boy and I could
see him out a corner of my eye, his
rosy, dimpled limbs, the outline of
his superb figure, the wondrous tint
ing of his cheeks, and he was mine,
all mine. Where had my soul been
sleeping all this time that I had not
sought him out before?
My couch was placed so that I
could see the door. For slight pro
tection from the light my mother had
pulled the expansive curtains across
over my face, and I suppose I slept.
Suddenly there was a rustle like
the flying of wings, and I, startled
and awakened, was looking drowsily
out. There in tho open -doorway
stood Miriam, my angel wife. The
yellow, curling aureole of hair sur
rounded and veiled her face. - The
laughing eyes, blue as the bluest
heaven, her rose-lipped face, her
smile, all real, so real that my heart
for the second time Btood still, and 1
was in the mist of bewilderment,
dying, yet struggling for life, breath
less, yet struggling to breathe. She
seemed to look full at me, seemed to
smile, put her finger to her Up, cried
softly. "There he is," and flew to the
cushions, where the wonderful baby
lay wide awake and wonderfully smll
lng, caught hlin up In her arms,
caught sight of me in that minute.
and with a coy laugh, smothered In
the bosom of the laughltrg baby, fled
from the room und down the walk
where there seemed to be a laughing
colloquy, then kisses, exclamations
and vanishment.
Is it any wonder my brain
throbbed, that I cried out, -that I sat
op, gating as far as the tangling trees
and bushes would let me? Is it any
wonder I wag almost crazy over the
situation? I had seen my wife, Mir
iam, not once as a shadow, bui
twice, thrice, a living, ecstatic, pres
ence. She bad smiled at me, the
same golden hair In a mist over her
eyes, the same laughing, . bright,
breezy face, the same coy, entrancing
manner. What did it mean?
What could It mean? Except that
there was a daze In my brain, a cloud
creeping over my faculties; also, the
curtain of materialism swept aside
and let down heaven. i
1 was hardly prepared for my
mother's entrance. She looked at
me, the same mystery In her eyes,
the same cautious, secretive manner.
She spoke after a minute.
"You saw her, then? You saw, or
thought you saw, Miriam?"
"I Eaw my wife," I exclaimed,
struggling to nn upright position.
"You thought you Baw her. 1 al
ways do. Isn't It wonderful? I've
been going to tell you, but I didn't
know. I thought perhaps I had bet
ter write, but when I tried I found I
didn't know how. Yes, It's Mil lam.
To all intents and purposes. It's Mir
iam. . She's a darling, and we love
her so." .
"For heaven's sake, mother, ex
plain yourself," I cried in an agony.
"Yes, of course. ,1 forgot that you
are not accustomed to her as we are.
Well, that girl is Miriam's sister, her
twin sister."
I was at the same time horrified
and delighted, it the two conditions
can be named together. The vision
of Miriam as I had twice seen her
floated In my vision, only there was a
pink, misty cloud before my eyes.
"Miriam's twin sister?" I asked.
Miriam had no sister."
"Not to your knowledge, nor to
mine. Your father bought this house
some years after Miriam's birth. The
matter was a great secret. Miriam
neven knew it. Dut this is the story:
Miriam's mother had a sister Letty,
who married early and went nbroad.
The two Bisters corresponded, but
never met until Miriam was born.
I.etty's soul was torn with not jeal
ousy, only a terrible, vehement long.
ing for a child, and she made her
first visit to this country, ns I said,
when Miriam was born. She said she
was sent by a foreboding that her sis
ter would have twins, and made the
latter promise that it she did, she
would give one of them to her. Her
sister laughed at the prediction, and
bo sure she was that there was no
foundation for It that she assented to
the desire, promising, even going the
length of recording the promise, that
it she had twins one of them should
be given to Letty, but there was to be
the utmost secrecy about the matter.
Well, It happened. Miriam's mother
was both frightened and indignant.
That two Bhould be sent when only
one was expected and provided for
sorely perplexed and even offended
her. I have heard that she was glad
to part with one of them. I would
have welcomed both. Wild horses
should not have torn me from my
child.
"I don't know how the thing was
managed, but both sisters were satis,
fled, and the little one was trans
ported over the water to an almost
royal home, and there grew up, Ig
norant, of course, of the circum
stances that had surrounded her
birth. When this girl was sixteen
her reputed mother died. Her father
had died some years before, and she
was left with a fair fortune. Some
busybody on this side of the water
made her acquainted with the facts
of the case, and she returned at once
to her real mother.
"For months we hnve been Inti
mate. The boy was the bond between
us, your boy. We have talked many
times about you, and she felt In a
sense acquainted. She Is Miriam's
living image. I think heaven willed
that you two should meet and that
the boy should bring you together.
Now, are you sorry you came home,
that you found little Edgar so lova
ble?, It is in a great measure to this
girl that you are indebted. She has
a wonderful way with children, and
this little fellow, her nephew, Is ex
ceedingly fond of her, fonder titan he
is of his granny."
"Or his father," I put In bitterly.
"Oh, that will all come in time,
lie must ' first get acquainted with
you," my mother said.
Do you wonder that for weeks 1
was in a brown study almost to the
neglect of my boy, the baby, for from
the first Instant I set eyes on Mir
iam's sister I loved her. It was a
love broken off, but continued, for in
Etta, as they had named the girl,
every good quality that had graced
the character of her twin sister was
Inherent her sweetness, grace, in
telligence, her vivacity and her inno
cence, I bad no need to learn to love,
as she did. I often told her she took
the father for the sake of the baby.
And so my bitter loss was made
good and my beautiful wife was
spared, and I pray she may be spared
for years for my sake and that of
The Baby. From Good Literature.
Japan's Knowledge of Iran.
The Japanese were acquainted with
iron from very early times. A sword
that was used by one of the ances
tors of the present Emperor,, about
800 B. C, according to the Engineer
ing Magazine, is still In existence.
Later, when the great civil war broke
out in the sixth century, swordsmlths
and armorsmlths carao to occupy a
prominent place. From this time on
down to about 300 years ago no no
ticeable progress had been made. At
the beginning of the seventeenth cen
tury all branches of Industry began to
prosper. The demand for iron Instru
ments Increased, and the scarcity of
Iron supply began to be felt.
MAKING SODA WATER STRAWS.
A Trade Which Keeps Tiro Young
Girls In Pocket Money.
"We make our own allowance rais
ing soda water straws," said a young
girl who came to New York the other
day on a shopping trip. "Five years
ago wo moved to the country , and
father planted a rye patch for the
chickens. Tho next summer, when
the grain began to ripen, my sister
and I, who were small girls, used to
play hide and seek In the rye patch.
Then we began to pick some of the
longest straws and make 'suckers.' I
don't know Just how long this was
going on when mother took us Into
town with her one day and we went
to a drug store and had some soda.
"It was the first soda water my sis
ter and I had ever tasted, and we no
ticed that the straws were Just like
the 'suckers' we had been making for
our own use. One of us called moth
er's attention to thlt fact, and she
very promptly recognized the oppor
tunity for turning our play into a
money making business. She sent
for the head of that department of
the store and learned that there was
a demand for good straws at $1.25 a
thousand, done up In little bundles
containing 100 straws each.
"The next day father cut an armful
of straw and brought it to us on the
back piazza. Then under mother's
direction we cut our first soda water
straws for the trade. That year and
the next mother worked with us, but
for the last three years sister and I
have been doing it all alone and every
cent we make is our own.
"For us there is ho outlay besides
our own work. Father plants the rye
each year for the chickens and oows,
and gives us as many straws as we
can clean and bundle. So far as our
experience goes, that is the only limit
to the market.
"To make the best soda water
straws the rye should be cut a little
under-ripe and left loose, not tied in
bundles. When allowed to dry in the
field the straws will split and are
worthless. The heads of the rye are
cut off so there Is no waste of the
grain. Only about two joints of each
straw can be used, as the first two are
generally spoiled by cutting and the
last one, the one next the grain head,
is much too small. The first step
after getting the straw In the work
room is to clip out the Joints with the
scissors, peel off the outer covering;
then grade them as to size and length
and make Into small bundles of 100
each.
"The longest straws we turn out
are fourteen Inches, while the short
est are seven, The straws should
always be clipped with Bharp scissors
obliquely, because If cut straight
across they are graded as machine
cut, and do not bring such a good
price. Another important matter is
that each bundle should contain
straws as nearly the same size as it Is
possible to get them and they should
be exactly the same length'. "
"When we first began the work
our season was very short, because
the straw ripened so quickly. Now
that we have learned bow to keep the
Btraw in condition by housing it in a
cool and not too damp cellar the sea
son is more than twice as long, and
we make about five times as much
money. Our customers are always
willing to buy more straws than we
have, and I have understood from
them that the wholesale dealers were
eager to buy at any season of the
year. During the season, which now
Includes nearly our entire school va
cation, my sister and I earn $5 a week
apiece working about five hours
day." New York Sun.
Lnndscer's Faithful William.
Sir Edwin Landseer, the famous
animal painter, had an old servant
his butler, valet and faithful slave
named William, who was particu
larly assiduous in guarding the outer
portal; no one could by any possibll
lty gain direct access to Sir Edwin.
The answer would invariably be,
"Sir Hedwln in not at 'ome." The
prince consort himself once received
this answer when he called, amplified
on that occasion by the assurance
that 'he had gone to a wedding," an
entire fiction on William's part, as
the prince found out, for on walking
boldly In and around the garden hd
noticed Sir Edwin looking out of his
Btudio window. ' This was the faith'
ful attendant who, one day, when t
lion had died at the zoo, and his
corpse came in a four-wheel cab to
be painted from, startled his master
with the question, "Please, Sir Ed
win, did you horder a Hon?" Rey.
nolds' Newspaper.
New Story of Beiznc.
This story, said to be new, ot Bel
sac, is related by a French contem
porary. A burglar gained admission
to Bclzac's house and was soon at
work, by the light of the moon, at
the lock of the secretaire in the nov
elist's chamber. Belzac was asleep,
but the Intruder aroused hlra. A
strident laugh arrested the burglar's
operations and he beheld by the
moonlight the novelist sitting up in
bed, bis sides shaking with laughter,
"What is it that makes you so mer
ry?" demanded the burglar. "I
laugh," replied the author of "Pere
Gorlot," "to think that you should
come in the night without a lantern
to search my secretaire for money,
when I can never find any there in
broad daylight."
Tropics Lack Railways.
Of the 600,000 miles ot railway in
the' world., only about ten per cent.
are found in strictly tropical territory,
and no more than fifteen per cent.
within what would be termed tropical
and subBtroplcal areas. Tracks abound
In the temnerate tone.
f$ SCIENCE- m
Pure Iron in the presence ot pure
oxygen does not rust.
The nectar of flowers from which
bees make honey contains seventy to
eighty per cent, of water, but honey
contains only about twenty per cent.
The problem of producing ice in
small quantities quickly and cheaply
has, apparently, been solved by a
French Inventor, who has perfected a
machine which Is cheap, simple of op
eration, practically everlasting, and
thoroughly practical. It may be op
erated by a belt connected with a
steam engine, by a small electric mo
tor, or by hand cranks.
To render wall paper ndaptable for
washing with soap and water without
destroying the colors, make a solu
tion of two parts of borax and two
parts of stick lac, shellac or other Ine
In twenty-four parts of hot water.
Strain the solution through a fine
cloth filter, rubbing the latter with a
soft brush after every application till
a brilliant polish is obtained. It is
immaterial whether the paper Is al
ready pasted on the walls or still in
rolls.
Electricity excels all other methods
of transmission for convenience, says
the Scientific American. An electrics
cable may be strung where required,
and machinery may be arranged
n any position without reference
to line shafting. There are in
stances, however, where rope drive
will save both in first cost and in cost
of operation, particularly when the
process of manufacturing calls for a
number of parallel Bhafts with ma
chines iu one plane.
The connection, long suspected,
between atmospheric conditions on
earth and conditions on the sun ap
pears to be reasonably well estab
lished by the Investigations of Profes
sor Bigelow. The fact that sun-spot
areas wax and wane In an eleven
year cycle was noted years ago, as
was the coincidence that the most ex
tensive was frequently marked by un
usual magnetic and electrical phe
nomena on earth.
ROCKET TORPEDOES.
Germany Snid to Fancy a Swedish
Military Invention.
Several years ago a Swedish army
officer devised a novel weapon. In
consisted ot a case in the head ot
which was a charge of dynamite or
guncotton. The contents were so
placed that an explosion would follow
when the head of the missile hit any
thing hard. Provision for projecting
It was made not by firing it from a
gun or forcing it under water by au
tomatic mechanism. It was equipped
with a charge ot powder in the lower
end, which behaved like the charge
In an ordinary skyrocket. It would
force its way upward in the air by the
violence of a stream of fire emitted
behind, or, more accurately, below.
To assist in steering it the torpedo
Was supplied with a stick. When It
was to be dispatched it was mounted
on a light metal frame, which could
be so Inclined as to give It the neces
sary angle.
Nothing has been heard of the In
vention for a long time, but a recent
report indicates that the German War
Department has secured the right to
use it. The British authorities also
studied the device, but did not think
enough of it to invest. From that
fact it may be inferred that there is
much exaggeration in the statement
that the torpedo "is the deadliest
weapon known."
Colonel Unge, its author, was for a
time employed by the firm started by
Nobel, the inventor of dynamite. The
German cannon and armor plate con
structors, the Krupps, are said to
have secured the right to use it in
countries outside ot Sweden. New
York Tribune.
Licking the Editor:
In some portions of the United
States It has always been a favorite
pastime when a man was not satis
fled with what appeared. In the local
paper to go and lick the editor. Some
unwise guy Imported the scheme Into
the Southwest recently. It was tried
in El Paso, and the editor is still
doing business, while the man who
wanted to lick him is burled in Okla
homa. Last, week an Albuquerque
policeman tried it. He was six inches
taller and weighed fifty pounds more
than the editor. The policeman was
taken to the hospital in an ambu
lance, and when he recovered con
sciousness the nurse gave bim a
message from the Mayor announcing
that he was fired from the police
force. It is probable that the editor
of the Liberal and Colonel Max Frost,
ot the New Mexican, are about the
only editors in the Territory whom
it would be safe for an ordinary man
to try to lick. Lordsburg Liberal.
Grace cf Gypsies.
The Gypsies are nearer to the ani
mals than any race known to us in
Europe. They bare the lawlessness,
the abandonment, the natural physi
cal grace In form and gesture ot ani
mals; only a Btealthy and wary some
thing in their eyes makes them hu
man. Arthur Symons.
Perhaps a Gentle Hint at Hari-kari.
It was a ludicrous mistake to offer
a sword to the head ot the Standard
Oil Company. Its favorite weapon is
the rebate. New York Ev suing PoU