r
SOLLYi
i r A ' ;
oiuiy tunuimiiH
a Doctor, and Sneak Thieves.
;W. R. Rose, In Cleveland Flaln Dealer.)
The boy reached up to the cashier's
window. lie was a short legged boy
.with a freckled face and a shock of
ery black hair. He was older than
bis stature would Indicate, but not as
old as his sharp features and his
'ahrewd look seemed to make him.
The cashier was busy. His eyes
. were on a memorandum slip and his
lips were moving.
Th hoy rustled his paper. The
cashier faintly smiled and nodded,
but he did not turn away from the
ali and its long rows of figures.
Presently he looked up.
"Hello," he said and reached for
the paper.
"Say," the boy remarked, "you're
a wonder, all right. Why didn't you
get mad when I made de break an'
you countln' dem tallies an' only half
way down?"
The yount; man laughed. He was
a good looking young man, tall and
well built.
"That would be a waste of tem
per," he said. "I can't afford to be
wasteful of anything. Here, how
much do I owe you?"
The youngster knitted his grimy
brows and half closed his black eyes.
"It's twelve cents," he announced.
"You don't owe it to me, but to de
kid that owns de customers. I'm
only takln' his place. He's sick."
The cashier pushed the money
across the glass shelf.
"Sick, eh? And you are keeping
the route for him?"
"Yep." The boy drew the money
Into his grimy palm. "He's gettin'
Better. I won't be on de Job much
longer. An' dat suits me, too."
The phone bell rang. The cashier
tamed away.
"Goodby," he called back.
The boy pushed the money Into his
pocket. Then he turned and went
ut.
"That's a fine guy," he said.
The next afternoon he was back
again. This time the good-looking
cashier was at liberty.
"Hello," was his greeting. "How's
your friend?"
"He's on de rapid mend," replied
the boy. "Mebby he'll be out again
)a a couple o' weeks. It's something
wrong In his lnsides an' he's at de
tospltal." '
There was an attractive quality
about the cashler'B smile.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Dey calls me Solly."
"Why?"
The boy chuckled.
"I wuz up by one o dese meetln's
fer de kids dat dey has at de gym
nasium, an' de feller what run it he
got tired o' me askin' questions an'
pretty soon he hands It nut to me like
dls, 'An' what has our wise little
Solomon to say to this?" "
The cashier laughed. The boy's
Imitation of the sarcastic drawl was
Inimitable.
"I understand," the young man
said. "The boys caught on to the
name of Solomon, and then cut it
down to Solly."
"DsU's It," chuckled the boy. "An'
I ain't niakln' any howl about it.
Dey tell me he was de wise old guy,
all right."
The young man laughed.
"That's the reputation he bore,"
lie said. "See here, don't I owe you
something more?"
Solly shot a glance at him.
"You paid me las night, didn't
you?"
"I paid yon something. But
there's that sick boy, you know." .
The freckled face flushed.
"De sick boy's all right. He ain't
need In' nuthin'. When you owe me
you pay me, an' not afore. See?"
The cashier laughed at the boy's
Tehemence.
"All right," he said. "That's a
fair understanding. It's a pity that
all commercial transactions can't be
conducted, on the same honorable
basis."
The boy frowned.
"Get It out o your system," he nd
vlsed. "It ain't good stuff to carry
"round."
He grinned broadly as he passed
out.
Two days later the cashier called
to the boy as he was about to leave.
"Solly." .
The boy turned quickly.
"Wot Is it?" he asked.
"Come here."
The cashier leaned forward.
"What's all this In the morning
paper about a newsboy called Solly
who pulled a girl out of the river at
the foot of E. Fourth street?"
The boy's sharp face flushed and
frowned.- '
"Gee, dey put everything In de pa
per," he growled.
"That was fine," said the cashier
oftly.
"Come off," growled the boy. "It
ain't nothln'. I kin swim like a fish."
The cashier stretched his hand
across the glass shelf.
"Wot's dat fer?" the boy de.
Btanded. The cashier laughed gently.
"I'm a swimmer, myself," he said.
Then the grimy paw was gripped
fast in the big white one.
"Say come down some night an'
TO In wld de gang, will you?" stam
mered the boy. He was a little over
come by this testimonial of apprecia
tion. "Sure," replied the cashier. "You
tell me when."
But the next afternoon the face of
the boy wore a troubled look.
Ha lingered at the window.
T ll J r I.
i wo iius, a basr.icr,
"Dat kid I'm workin' fer ain't no
better," he said. "Dere's somefln'
dey don't understan' about de case,
an' de nurse she shook her head when
I says, "Wat's de chances?"
"I'm sorry to hear this," said the
cnshler. "What's your friend's
name?"
"JImmie Bryan. You know him.
De thin kid wld de red hair."
"And at what hospital is he?"
"He's at St. John's in de big
ward."
The cashier nodded.
"Is there anything I can do?" he
began.
"No, dere ain't nuthin'," the boy
Interrupted. "Dey're doln' the best
dey can fer him."
"Let me knpw about him to-morrow,"
said the cashier.
"Yes," muttered the lad. He
choked up a little. "He's a straight
kid, Jlmmle is," he said, "an' he's
got a mother dat needs him."
And the cashier, looking after the
unkempt lad, smiled queerly.
The next afternoon the boy ling
ered at the window. The cashier was
busy, but he looked up and nodded.
The keen eyes regarded him
sharply.
"Didn't you say youse wanted to
hear how de kid was?" he demanded.
The cashier came to the window,
"Why, yes; how is he?"
"He's goln' to get well," the boy
replied.
The keen glance did not waver. .
"I am glad to hear the good news,"
said the cashier.
"Say, It was you dat sent de big
doctor to see him," exclaimed the boy.
His tone was aimost threatening.
"A big doctor," repeated the
cashier. "Tell me about It."
The boy shook his head In a men
acing manner.
"I goes up to de horspital dls morn
in'," he said, "an' I sits In de big
room where de visitors waits. I know
dat the nurse will come In pretty
soon an' tell me how Jlmmle is
'cause she knows I'll be dere waltln'.
An' while I'm slttin' over In de cor
ner In comes a thin guy wld a little
stoop in his shoulders, an' he's kind
o' pale aroun de face, an' his eyes is
deep. An' dere are three of dem
young doctors an' de head nurse
crowdln' 'round him while he's pull
In' on his gloves, an' I says to me
self, who Is dls? An' den de head
nurse she looks aroun' an' ses me,
an' she says 'dere's de boy.' An' de
feller wld de deep set eyes comes
across an' Bticks out his hand. 'Glad
to meet you, Solly,' he says. 'I want
to tell you that we .have found out
what's the matter with your friend,
Jlmmle an' he's goln' to get well.'
An' he smiles at me wld his deep
eyes an' goes out. An' I says to de
head nurse, 'Who Is It?' An' she
says, 'Dat's Dr. Richard Gordon, an'
he's de best in de biz. He's tie doc
tor your friend sent here.' Dat's wot
de head nurse says."
"Fine," said the smiling cashier.
Again the boy's tone grew threat
ening. "Who's goln' to pay him?" he de
manded. The cashier laughed softly.
"Don't let that worry you," he
said. "The doctor is an old school
mate of mine, and one of my closest
friends. He knows all about you and
Jlmmle. He's glad to take Jlmmte's
case. He told me bo when he called
me up this morning. It's all right,
Solly. There'll be nothln' to pay."
The boy hesitated.
Then he slowly put out his hand.
"It's my shake dls time," he said.
The cashier laughed at this.
"That's all right, Solly," he cried.
"I'll get even wid you some time
fer dls," Bald the boy, and his tone
was again threatening. '
"Oh, let's call It quits," laughed
the cashier as he turned back to his
long rows of figures.
But the boy frowned and shook his
uncombed head.
A week later the boy caught the
cashier's eye. The cashier had been
busy, too busy to be Interrupted.
There were strange men In the office
looking at. the books. There was
much adding of figures and rustling
of papers.
But the boy caught the cashler'B
ej'e and nodded to him and the cash
ier came to the window.
"How's Jimmle?"
"Sittin' up. What do you think?
'Doc's goln' to Bend him out in the
country to a place he knows for a
week or two. I wuz out rldin' wid
i A Profession to
A salesman should be very proud of his profession, be
cause his is the only profession whose principles are applied
in the practice of all the other professions; because also the
work Itself Is noble, it viewed In the proper light, and there
fore very much worth a man's while to do.
The art of salesmanship Is sanctified by difficulties. It
Is difficulty that makes all art sacred. Any old body can do
the easy things; It takes good men to accomplish, . the
difficult.
Proficiency in the art of salesmanship Is as admirable as
proficiency In law, or medicine, or engineering, Some day,
it it does not now, the world at largewlll recognize this
fact. Even now it tacitly admits It, because it payB Its good,
salesmen Just as well as It pays its good men In other
professions.
The world pays for services rendered, and Its sense of
values Is not warped by any twaddle about the "learned
professions." New York Bulletin;
'Doe' dls morning' In his runabout.
It's a hummer. Me an' 'Doc' Is get
tin' pretty thick." He looked around
the ofllce. Then he leaned a little
forward. "Everythln' all right?" he
whispered.
"Yes," the young an answered.
"Everything's fine."
The next morning Solly met the
doctor at the hospital and they
brought Jlmmle down and put htm In
the runabout and took htm to the
railway station with Solly perched
behind in the rumble seat.
"I'll keep on takln' care of you
papers, Jlmmle," cried Solly, as the
train pulled out "Don't you worry
about It."
' And the pale face at the car win
dow smiled understanding.
The doctor looked at his watch.
"I'm due at my ofllce In fifteen
minutes," he said. "I'll take you
that far."
, When the runabout was on Its way
the boy looked up at his companion.
"Gee, but you're a good fellow,
'Doc'," he said. "Mebby you don't
need It, but Jlmmte's old mother
prays for you every night."
The doctor nodded.
"I need It, Solly," he gravely said,
"and I thank you for telling me."
There was a little silence.
"De cashier Is a good fellow, too,"
said Solly.
"George Is a fine fellow," replied
the doctor quietly. "No doubt you'll
be glad to hear that he Is bettering
his position. The man at the head of
the business Is going West to stay
and George has a chance to buy an
Interest. It's a good chance for your
friend, and he has finally raised the
necessary money, although It has
been a hard pull for him."
"I see dat he was lookln" poorly,"
said Solly. "W'en Is de big stunt
pulled off?"
"To-morrow morning."
The boy laughed.
"Guess I'll drop aroun an' offer
him my congratulations."
The doctor smiled.
"A good idea," he said. "I know
he's going to offer you a Job."
"1 ain't sure dat I want a Job,"
said Solly. "But I'll be dere Just de
same."
Perhaps he had a premonition that
he would be wanted; perhaps It was
natural tenacity that prompted him
to cling to the Idea. Anyway, he was
in the office the next morning.
There was an open space of con
siderable dimensions in which callers
waited, and on one side of this waa a
long settee. A door at the end of
the open space led to the street. At
the other end was the door that
opened Into the room behind the par
tition of heavy woodwork, with Its
plate glass and close drawn curtains.
Solly sat on the settee and looked
about him.
He was sitting there when the door
opened and the cashier came In. He
was carrying a canvas bag.
"Why, hello, Solly," he said.
"Hello."
The cashier paused.
"Anything wrong?"
"No," replied Solly. "Everything
all right." .,.
"Want to see me?"
"It ain't nothln special."
"I'm busy this morning," said the
cashier. "Come in a little later."
"Sure," said Solly.
"Come In this afternoon. I want
to see you."
The cashier hurried through the
door in the partition and Solly arose
and glanced through the window.
There were two men with the cash
ler. One was a thin man with gray
hair who had a thick cane leaning
against his chair. This must be the
man who Is selling out and going
West."
The other man was short and stout
and quick In his actions, and from
the keen way In which he looked at
some papers which the gray haired
man handed him, Solly set him down
as a lawyer.
The cashier was bending over the
papers, too. He placed the canvas
bag on the table.
Solly was quite sure he knew what
was In that canvas bag. It was
money. He had been about banks
and In broker's offices long enough to
recognize the receptacle.
This must be the money that had
cost the cashier so much anxiety.
Solly turned back to the settee.
Then the outer door opened and a
man came In. He was a tall man, de
cently dressed, and of unobtrusive
appearance. Yet at sight of him Solly
gave a little start.
The boy had a wonderful memory
for faces. He remembered that more
than a year back he had heard the
depot detective' call this man "Lanky
Luke," and he had found out that
"Lanky Luke" was one of the clever
est 'of sneak thieves.
Be Proud 01. $
What was "Lanky Luke" doing la
the cashier's ofllce?
The boy had the cunning of a fox.
He closed his eyes and let his head
sway forward a little., To all appear
ances he was a street waif who had
drifted Into the ofllce and fallen
asleep.
The newcomer stared at the boy
and frowned. Then he approached
the window.
As he did so the door again opened
and a slender young fellow entered
very quickly. He paused by the
closed door and looked at the first
man.
The first man slightly nodded and
turned his face toward the sleeping
boy.
The second man came forward soft
ly and stooping so that he was hid
den from observation as he passed
the window, moved up to the door in
the partition.
The first man, with another quick
look at the boy, stepped to the win
dow. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said,
"but I want a word with Mr. Marvin
there."
The boy opened his eyes.
He saw the cashier come forward,
he saw the gray haired man with the
can look up, he saw the other man,
the one he called the lawyer, turn
from the high desk.
And he saw the second stranger
fumbling with the lock of the par
tltlon door.
"Wnat Is It you want?" the cashier
asked.
The man at the window raised his
voice. He pointed at the stout man.
"It's Mr. Marvin, there," he said.
"It's a matter of Importance. They
told me at his ofllce I'd find him here.
Let me have a word with you, Mr.
Marvin.'
The stout man came closer.
The boy saw the man at the parti
tlon door push It open and disappear
Inside. '
"But my name Isn't Marvin," said
the stout man.
"It Isn't?" cried the stranger.
"That's very strange. They described
you to me. It's. J. H. Marvin I want."
The boy saw the little man reap
pear through the partition doorway
and softly close the door behind him.
There was sometlng bulging under
his coat.
"That Isn't my name," said the
stout! man.
Stooping low the little man was on
his way to the outer door.
"Sorry to bother you," said the
man at the window. "Good day."
There was a sudden crash and a
wild shriek.
The boy had risen and flung him
self at the legs of the smaller man.
"Robbers!" he screamed, '"Help,
help!"
The little man, surprised by the
sudden shock and hobbled by those
wiry arms, had fallen heavily. The
canvas bag slipped from his grasp
and slid ahead of the fallen man.
The boy sprang up and flung himself
on the treasure.
"Quick, Bob!" gasped the man at
the outer door.
The little man sprang at the bey
fiercely and drew him up and tried to
wrest the bag from him. But the
grimy hand held fast to it. The eel
like body twisted and squirmed, the
sturdy legs kicked savagely.
.With a wild oath the little man
flung the boy against the partition
and ran after his waiting confederate.
When Solly opened his eyes again
he was lying on the lounge In the in
ner ofllce. The cashier was kneeling
beside htm holding a wet towel to his
aching head. The gray haired man
was there, and the stout man, and ot
the door stood a police officer.
And they were all looking at him.
Then he saw the canvas bag on the
floor beside him theyhad Just drawn
It from his firm grasp and a feeble
smile played among the freckles.
His gaze met the cashier's and he
tried to nod, and the effort made him
gasp. But he reached out a grimy
hand, a bruised and bleeding hand.
"Guess It's time to shake again,
ain't It, George?" he faintly asked.
Lady First, Then Sovereign.
With regard to the ancient privi
lege accorded to the Masters of Trin
ity of wearing their hats In the pres
ence ot royalty. It is recorded ot a
former Master that he took this prlv.
liege on an occasion when Queen Vic
toria was visiting Cambridgo. The
Queen remonstrated.
"But, madam," expostulated the
Master, "I am privileged to wear my
bat In the presence of my sovereign.'"
"Yes, sir," rejoined Her Majesty,
with crushing emphasis, "in the pres
ence of your sovereign, but not in
the presence of a lady." London
Chronicle.
Where China Gets Its Reading.
The school books In China are
translations of manuals used In
Japan, while military lore Is taken
from the German, and treatises on
mathematics, physics, chemistry and
mechanics are reproduced from Eng
lish or American works.
Modern Proverb.
He that knoweth overmuch con
cerning the business of the Other Fel
low full oft' knoweth far too little
concerning hlB own affairs, and thus
falleth into grievous woes. Jeremiah
ot Joppa.
Uncle Eben.
"Sometimes," said Uncle Eben, "de
man dat insists on bein' de whole
show ain't got much respeck fob. de
feelln's ot de audience."
iThe world's oceans contain 7,000,
000 cubic miles of salt.
Hardy Sheep.
Cheviot sheep are noted for their
hardy constitutions and ability to
thrive under certain conditions which
are detrimental to other breeds. 'Pro
fessor C. S. Plumb says the hardiness
of the Cheviot Is unsurpassed among
the medium wools. The rigor ot
winter, sparseness of fuel and intes
tinal parasites, cause less suffering
among Cheviots than most other
breeds. Farmers' Home Journal.
Fertilizing Value of Straw.
In this great wheat belt It Is often
the practice to burn straw; In other
sections straw Is largely wasted.
Straw has both a considerable feeding
and a fertilizing value. In order to
determine its fertilizing value experi
ments have been made by the Mary
land Station. Fresh wheat straw was
broadcasted at the rate of two tons
per acre in the early fall and plowed
down the following spring, and the
following results were obtained:
The untreated land produced thirty-four
bushels ot corn per acre and
sixteen bushels ot wheat. The straw
land produced fifty-eight and nine
teen bushels, respectively, and the
same land manured produced eighty
six bushels of corn and twenty-two
bushels of wheat. The result shows
that while straw Is not as valuable a
fertilizer as manure, It will produce a
considerable Increase In yield, and
should be used fresh where available
rather than allowed to go te waste.
Weekly Witness.
Skim-Milk Paint.
iThe following formula for making
skim-milk paint will be of Interest to
all who desire a cheap paint that will
wear well.
Stir into a gallon of skim-milk
three pounds of Portland cement,
adding, at the same time, any paint,
In dry form, that will give the color
you desire. The milk will hold the
paint In suspension, but the cement,
being heavy, will sink; therefore. It
will be necessary to keep the mix
ture well stirred with a paddle. Mix
only enough at a time for one day's
use. If the mixture is not thoroughly
stirred, as you use It, it. will get
thicker and thicker, and it will be
necessary to thin It by adding more
milk. Six hours after applying this
paint it will be dry. It Is not affected
by weather.
Carbolic acid or any other disin
fectant can be added, thus making It
very effective for use In poultry
houses and the stable. It makes an
excellent paint for fences when col
ored drab, by the addition of a little
lampblack, or a dull green, by adding
ochre and a small quantity of Prus
sian blue. Outing Magazine.
The Itust Problem.
How to prevent or lessen the losses
due to rusting of Iron and steel is an
Important problem and one which is
receiving more and more attention.
This problem has become of far great
er Importance in recent years for two
reasons: (1) The greatly increased
use of these materials; (2) the fact
that the Iron and steel made to-day
are much more seriously Injured by
rust than those made by earlier and
Blower processes.
The great interest which farmers
and road builders have in this prob
lem has led the United States Depart
ment of Agriculture to take It up.
Several publications of more or less
technical character have already been
Issued. The latest of these, a bulletin
on "The Preservation of Iron and
Steel," by Allerton S. Cushman, de
scribes some very Interesting experi
ments. The protection of Iron and steel
from destruction by rust Is one of the
great conservation problems to which
the age Is Just awakening. If It can
be solved, a great waste of our min
eral resources can be stopped. The
production and use of ru3t-reslstant
steel and iron will pay in the long
run, even if It Involves an increase in
cost of manufacture.
Planning the Dairy Work.
Some men spend a great deal ot
time trying to figure what it costs to
feed their dairy herds under their
methods of handling rather than try
ing to reduce the cost of feeding.
I know a man who Is feeding
12 pounds mixed hay and five pounds
corn stover per day with five pounds
ground oats to his fresh cows. Two
tons per acre of mixed hay is a good
yield for his farm, which, figured at
$10 per ton, would make $20 per
acre. This same ground would raise
twenty tons of silage, which, figured
at one-third the value of hay, would
make a production of $66 per acre.
Or he could raise at least four
times the feeding value ot his hay by
putting in part of his land to millet.
There is no better time to plan for
increasing the season's profits than
now. We must figure closely on the
cost of production, as well as the In
crease of yield.
Intensive farming is the order of
the day. We can easily double the
yield of our crops by giving more at
tention to the selection of seeds, bet
ter preparation ot the seed bed, more
thorough cultivation and harvesting
at the proper time.
You dairymen will be surprised to
find how easy it is to Increase profits
It you will simply take a little time
to plan for your crops, and the feed
ing of your stock. Don't be afraid
that silage will cause the cows' teeth
to decay or give them hollow horn
or wolf In the tall. Fit a small piece
ot ground for alfalfa, and. stay with
It till you get a stand. C. I. Hunt, In
Farm and Home
The Fanner's none.
That Eastern farmers are begin
ning to realize the folly of raising
light-weight horses ot trotting blood
and are taking an Interest In draught
breeds, Is shown by the many car
loads of horses brought from the
West and sold for good prices. Thefre
are, doubtless, cases where the pur
chase ot these Western horses is the
best policy, but what the Eastern
farmer does not always realize Is the
fact that we can produce a much bet
ter quality of horse than the West
sends us, and that It Is possible to
breed and realize a profit from good
farm mares. Farmers who have good
sound mares ot draught type are for
tunate, for they make the best farm
teams, and may produce colts at the
same time if given right care. For
increasing Interest being taken by
Eastern farmers In draught breeds of
horses thanks are due the manufac
turers of heavy modern farm imple
ments. On these tools the farmer
finds the light trotting-bred horse sim
ply out ot place, and he Sees the value
of the horse that does a good share
of Its drawing by Its weight In the col
lar. While good foundation stock of
draught breeds is not plentiful In the
East, It is increasing, and the farmer
who has a good mare to breed (and
he should not breed any other),
should not begrudge the time taken
to go a considerable distance for the
use of a superior stallion.
New Jersey has set a good example
for other Eastern States in expending
$20,000 for the purchase and main
tenance of draught and coach stai
llons, which are to be distributed in
the State through farmers' organiza
tions. Another good New Jersey law
is the disqualifying of mongrel stal
lions. Of course, speed Is very at
tractive, and many farmers have fol
lowed the lure who would have been
better off If they had left the breed
ing of trotters to the millionaire
farmer, who could afford the time,
patience and ability required for their
development. For every trotting
bred horse that sells for a big price
there are nine others that will not
sell for a good price, neither are they
good farm horses. The farmer
should raise the type of horse with
which ho will run the least risk a
horse of docile disposition, adapted to
farm work and always in demand at a
good price, with little time spent in
handling. What horse fills these re
quirements so well as the draught?
Rural New Yorker,
Street Potato Plants.v
Prepare a hot-bed by using fresh
manure from the horse barns. Add
about one-third to one-half straw ot.
bedding material and mix thorough
ly. This Mixture should be packed
in the bed to a depth of twelve to
eighteen inches. A convenient width
for a hotbed is six feet; they can
then be made as long as desired.
The mixture should then be thor
oughly moistened but not made wet;j
too much water wlir retard the heat
ing process caused by the fermenta
tion of the manure. Let this mix
ture stand In the bed for three or
four days, by which time it will have
reached Its highest degree of heat.
At this time the bed should be care
fully examined to see that there are
no dry spots. The mixture should be
kept well ' moistened. The frames
that are to support the covering of
the bed should then be placed on top
of the bed of manure with the slope
of the earth to the south. Two or
three inches of soil should be spread
over the mixture and the sweet pota
toes carefully placed on the surface
and covered with an additional layer
of soil to a depth ot two or three
Inches.' Sandy soil 'Is best for this
purpose. Keep this soil moist
throughout the entire period of plant
growth.
The potatoes should be' carefully
distributed over the bed and no two
potatoes should lie against each,
other, but they need not be more
than one-half inch apart. The po
tatoes that are more than two and
one-halt or three Inches in diameter
should be split lengthwise, and the
cut surface placed down in the bed;
smaller potatoes may be placed in
the bed whole. The potatoes should
be placed In the bed about sir weeks
before the first plants are to be trans
planted to the open field. If care Is
exercised in pulling the plants, a sec
ond crop ot plants will be produced
in about two weeks and a third and
much lighter crop will be produced
about two weeks later during which
time a good bed will produce from
100 to 150 plants per square foot.
The plants should not be placed In
the open field until the soil is quits
warm and all danger of frost Is
passed. Oklahoma Experiment Station.