v
ry
FRIE
You are my friend, for you have smiled with
My elp and hope In falr and stormy
1 like you for ‘the joys you've whiled with
1 love Jou for the griefs we've wept to-
“Y've held your hand when 'ife was gold to
And shared with you Its every graclous
ffreeting ;
You've brought good cheer when earth was
co to ma, i b
And made me feel your warm heart fond!
beating. y y
NDS. \
A»
Though all the world was deaf and dark to
me,
And long the night, and bleak the winds
and biting,
1 know full well that you would hark to me,
And set my path with lamps of Love's
glad lighting.
You are my friend, for you have smiled with
me,
My help and hope In fair and stormy
weather;
1 like you for the joys you've whiled with
me,
I love you for the griefs we've wept to-
gether,
~-Nixon Waterman.
* * .
LOVE'S VICTORY.
2
»
By BARRY
SHIEL.
2
“Well, there's only one course left
open to me now, my dear fellow, and
that is to ‘marry money.’ I've staved
off the evil day as long as possible, but
I'm cornered at last. So you will prob-
ably hear the engagement of Maurice
Algernon Davenegh to a certain heir-
ees whom we know of announced at an
early date.”
The speaker yawned, leaned back in
bis seat with a complacent air, and
watched the smoke curling fantastical-
ly ceilingward from the business end
of his cigar.
“The dickens it will!” exclaimed the
Honorable Claude, looking up in sur-
prise. “And who, if I may ask, is the
—er—fortunate lady?”
“Miss Violet Hunstan.”
“What! Old Chicago Hunstan’s
daughter? Maurice, my boy, you're in
luck!”
“I'm sure I hope so,” drawled the
pther, languidly. “But there's nothing
really settled yet. As a matter of fact,
we were only introduced three days
ago. She's quite a child, you know,
and probably hasn’t made up her mind.
But I have!”
_ “You seem beastly cocksure about it,”
remarked his friend; laughing. “But
you won't have the field to yourself
remember. A girl with twenty thou-
sand a year gets plenty of offers these
days. Not but what you'd stand as
a chance as most, mind you; es-
pecially if the lady happens to be satis-
fled with a tolerable amount of good
looks and the bearer of an ancient
pame.”
“Thanks awfully for the compli-
ment,” drawled Davenegh. “Claude,
my boy, you shall be best man at my
wedding.”
“Right! But, I say, you mustn't
Jose any time, old man. If I were you,
I'd push the business; pile on the
presents, see her every day and pre-
tend to be in deadly earnest ”
“There won't be any pretense about
that,” interrupted Davenegh, with a
laugh. “The lady has, to be exact,
nineteen thousand, five hundred pounds
g year, and I have—let me see now—
three or four moderate racers waiting
sale, a cantankerous uncle with a pas-
gion for longevity, a bag of debts and
once—it was the occasion of their in-
troduction and now, as he clasped her
small fingers and bent low over them,
she noted afresh his handsome feat-
ures, dark, well-trained mustache and
deep-fringed eyes, and her heart gave
a little throb,
And when he drew a chair close be-
side her and devoted himself to her
amusement, beginning in a witty, im-
personal vein, and then gradually low-
ering his mellow voice and talking on
topics nearer to the heart of each, her
cheeks burned at the thought which
came to her unbidden—the thought
that, if this man loved and wooed, how
terribly irresistible he would be!
' Meanwhile the man beside her was
congratulating himself on the prog-
ress he seemed to be making. She
would be an easy conquest, he told
himself; even now she could hardly
meet his gaze without drooping her
eyes. What an unsophisticated miss
she was, to be sure! It seemed al-
most a shame to deceive her.
He took his leave at last, but that
visit was only the first of many. Lady
Cheyne was wise in her generation.
She never mentioned his name to her
charge, never broached the subject of
marriage; but always kept a seat at
the opera and a place in her carriage
for the young man whenever he might
choose to avail himself of them, which,
to be candid, was not seldom.
Thus the weeks sped on, and Mau-
rice Davenegh’s bill at the florist’s
grew by almost daily items. His
friends, of course, congratulated and
chaffed him, each in accordance with
his particular temperament; but one
and all envied him. He was in for a
good thing, they said; with scarcely
a thought for the fair, young victim
who was dreaming her first love
dream.
Ah! Heaven. How sweet
Oh, that she need ever awake!
* * & % & * *
it was!
“And it is for me?” *
The girl caught her breath as she
looked at the star of brilliantsTying
in its velvet case, and Jef eyes spark-
led. They were ~¥tting out” in the
conservatory, ~Fithin the dancing was
in full Swifie.
. —the clothes I stand in!”
be a speak of fairly decent oim=r
ersational powers, nice eyes and a
well-bred alr—"
+ Davenegh picked up a bulky vol-
ume from the table and poised it
threateningly. The Honorable Claude
ughed and, straightening his - long
, rose to depart.
“Well, anyhow,” he said, “I wish
ou luck, old man. Go in and win.
ou couldn't do better and the girl
might do worse. Well ta-ta! 3ee you
again in a few days.”
As the door closed behind his friend,
Maurice Davenegh pulled himself up
| slowly from the depths of the arm-
ghair. He crossed to the mantle, and,
resting both arms upon it, surveyed
fis own reflection in the mirror.
“The girl surely won't expect me to
Jove her,” he muttered; “that sort of
ponsense is out of fashion nowadays.
Besides, as Claude says, she might go
farther and not do so well. After all,
I'm not the worst sort they make, and
I'll try and be good to her. No doubt
the crudities and the accent will jar a
pit at first, but I mustn't mind that.
Pll have to gloss them over, pile on
the jam and swallow the gilded pill.
It's the only way out. ‘Poverty and
pickles’ wouldn’t suit me. 1 must mar-
ry ‘The Marigold,’ accent and all.
Nineteen thousand a year! By Jove!
it's worth going for. Many a fellow
has sold himself for half that. I'll
take OClaude’s advice and start the
wooing business at once—hang it!—
yes, this very afternoon!”
- * . * *
“Mr. Davenegh!”
"The footman threw wide the door,
and, handsome, debonair, smiling, as
‘though he had recently stepped out of
a bandbox and hadn't a care in the
world, Maurice Davenegh entered the
goom and received Lady Cheyne's
somewhat effusive greeting with a
gourtly bow.
‘ "The fair widow was delighted to see
per visitor—for reasons. This young
man was well borp, well connected,
heir to a title and unattached—and
Lady Cheyne had the chaperoning of a
millionaire’s daughter, at something
substantial per month, with the prom-
fee of a lump sum down in the event
of a satisfactory marriage. .
© jt was this lump sum that she was
fonging to finger. Chaperoning a pret-
ty girl was all very well, but a trip to
Monte Carlo or a flutter in circles
where little debutantes were out of
place and distinctly in the way was
. more to Lady Cheyne's taste.
of these indulgences was possible,
however, as long as the heiress re-
mained on her hands.
As for Violet, the girl rose from her
chair with a feeling of undisguised
Neither
For you,” he said. ‘You think it is
pretty?”
“It is perfectly lovely. But id
She stopped abruptly and averted her
face.
“But not of any great value, eh?”
He laughed. She turned swiftly.
“You say that because I am g mil-
lionaire’s daughter, and can buy what
I choose; but one doesn’t always value
a thing according to its intrinsic
worth.” "
“Thank you for that speech,” he said,
earnestly. “Then you accept my offer-
ing?”
“Willingly,” she answered. “My only
regret is that I can give you nothing
in return; at least, nothing that you
would care for.” .
“Nothing?”
Maurice tock the white fingers in his
own and compelled her to meet his
gaze. Was the time ripe? Should he
try his fate tonight?
¢=- wea oor yon really want,” she
half whispered.
ceally wanted—soume-
thing?”
He tightened his hold on her fingers
and bent lower till his breath fanned
her cheek. What &n emotional little
soul she was! Quite different from
any of those other girls he had made
love to! He touched softly with his
lips the hand he held.
“If I really wanted this, would you
give it to me—some day?”
“Do you really mean it? Do you
really mean that you love me?”
Their eyes met. There seemed to be
a wonderful story, a story that was
written for him alone, on that face.
It fascinated the young man, and for
the first time he discovered that the
girl was really beautiful. Her words,
“You really mean that you love me?”
repeated themselves persistently in
his brain, and the look in her violet
eyes thrilled him with a strange new
feeling. But—love her? Ah, there
was some one coming!
“Yes,” said a voice, which he recog-
nized as that of the Honorable
Claude's. “Davenegh’'s hooked her
right enough. Nice .little thing, but,
of course, it's her money bags he’s
after. Ah, well! we've all got to marry
some day—for love or lucre; but it’s
lucre in his case with a vengeance!”
No more. The voices passed out of
earshot. Stunned and dazed, Dave-
negh dropped the hand he held, and
the twain faced each other speechless.
This, then, was the end. Davenegh
rose, and his face was almost as white
as that of the girl beside him as, with-
out speaking he drew Violet's trembl-
ing fingers through his arm and led her
back to the ballroom.
At the entrance they stopped, as if
by mutual consent, and Davenegh with-
nis deep eyes rest on,the girl's stricken
face, and there was love, remorse and
bitter shame in thelr depths. Then,
having uttered no word, he hurried
away, with ashen Mps and a heart full
of a burning, blinding pain. He had
insulted her beyond all hope of pardon,
grieved her beyond all forgivenness,
and-he loved her!
For the next fortnight Lady Cheyne
was at her wits’ end what to do with
her charge. Day by day the girl grew
whiter and thinner, like some lovely
pale flower whose strength was grad-
ually being sapped at the roots; yet,
in spite of motes, letters and frantic
letters, Maurice Davenegh made no
sign, and finally it was ascertained that
he had left town, destination unknown.
It was in vain that Lady Cheyne
fumed and fretted; there was nothing
for it but to leave town also and try if
the sea breezes would bring the color
back to Violet's cheeks. It was a nui-
sance and fearful upsetting of plans;
but the gir! looked like a ghost, and
people were beginning to talk.
* - * - *® . -
“Come on, now; yer purse—quick!
If ye holler—"
The tramp raised his stick threat-
eningly, and his grip on the girl's
slender wrist tightened to an intensity
that was painful.
Violet Hunstan—for it was she— was
trembling violently. In the middle of
the road lay her bicycle, and she was
covered with dust from head to foot.
She gave a frantic look up and down
the long road, but there was not a soli-
tary being in sight.
“D'ye hear me?
to waste. Wot?
we'll see!”
Gripping her arms the ruffian forced
her back against the bank, thrust one
black hand over her mouth, and with
the other began fumbling with her
dress. The poor girl felt her senses
going. She ceased to struggle, a queer
haze came before her eyes and then—
then something bigand dark loomed up
there was the sound of a heavy blow,
followed immediately by something
between a curse and a groan, and then
—darkness!
* - * * * * *
“What a lucky thing you happened
to be passing! I should never have
forgiven myself otherwise.”
“Thank Heaven I was in time!” an-
swered Davenegh, as he laid the un-
conscious girl on the sofa in Lady
Cheyne’s boudoir at the hotel. “Ah!”
At that moment Violet opened her
eyes, and as Maurice bent over the
couch, Lady Cheyne discreetly with-
drew. The girl looked up at him with
a startled expression; then, with a
shiver, closed her eyes again. Nothing
daunted, however, the man stooped
down and gathered the shrinking form
in his arms.
“My darling,” he cried, “can you ever
forgive me? Dearest, if you only knew
how I have suffered! If yore kiew
how I love Yeah
roger ; :
~~Mie girl looked up wonderingly, wist-
fully, and then she knew! Those dark,
deep eyes above her told their own
story.
Lady Cheyne’'s house in Mayfair was
reopened again, and society only knew
that Sir Maurice Davenegh had been
out of town for a month and that his
rich uncle was dead.
Of that tragic interval—the time be-
tween—they knew nothing. They
never dreamed that he had left London
because he had fallen in love with the
girl he had vowed to marry for her
money, and that but for the plundering
propensities of a certain individual ot
the tramp fraternity, he would proba-
bly never have seen her again.
These secrets are the joint property
of Lady Cheyne, who is discreet, and
the wife of Sir Maurice Davenegh who
is, as she firmly believes, the happiest
woman in the world—New York
Weekly.
I ain't got no time
Yer won’t! Ho!
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
A communication received by a Lon-
don firm read: “I beg to inform you
that Mr. —— passed away yesterday
at the request of his widow.”
“Buttercups and daisies follow rail-
roads the world over,” said an engin-
eer, “In India, in Central Asia, in
Brazil, the parallel rails run contin-
ually between meadows white and yel-
low with home flowers.”
An instructor at Vassar College has
an old and interesting collection of
photographs—the photographs of the
babies of young women who are col-
lege graduates. The babies in this col-
lection are strong and beautiful. They
number 300.
The first verse of the Fifty-first
Psalm is called the “neck verse,” for
the reason that in former times a man
condemned to death sometimes had a
chance to save his life by proving that
he could:read, and this verse was used
as a test.
There are only three national holi-
days in Japan. January 1 is one of
them, and the birthday of the reigning
emperor, November 3 is another. But
February 11 is the greatest of the three
dates, for it is the anniversary of the
coronation of the first Emperor, Jim-
mu.
New Yorkers are in the habit of
thinking of everything west of Buf-
real West. A Philadelphia man who
had been to Salt Lake City made a
falo as Western, but not so out in the
casual acquaintance on a street cor-
ner there. After some talk the Phila-
delphian said he was an Easterner.
The other replied: “I'm from the East,
too. My home is in Oklahoma.”
a
The Nature of Electricity
* Remains One of the Unsolved Problems
of the Century.
By Professor A. E. Dolbear.
ERE on the threshold of the new century we are confronted
with the question “What is electricity?” and the answer
implied by the question seems to demand a something
which could be described by one who knew enough, as one
would describe some new mineral er gas or thing. Some
eminent scientific men are befogged by the question, say it
is some ultimate unknowable thing, and hopeless as an in-
quiry. If it be a something it must be described by its
constant properties as other things are. If it be unlike
everything else then it cannot be described by its constant properties as
other things are. If it be unlike everything else then «it cannot be de-
scribed by terms that apply to anything else. All material things have
some common properties. A glowing coal is an incandescent solid, a flame
fs an incandescent gas, but neither glow nor flame exists apart from the
matter that exhibits the phenomena. Both are conditions of particular kinds
of matter. If electric phenomena are different from gravitative or thermal
or luminous phenomena it dqes not follow that electricity is miraculous or
that it is a substance. We know pretty thoroughly what to expect from it,
for it is as quantitatively related to mechanical and thermal and luminous
phenomena as they are to each other; so if they are conditions of matter,
the presumption would be strongly in favor of electricity’s being a condi:
tion or property of matter, and the question, “What is electricity?” would
then be answered in a way by saying so, but such an answer would not be
the answer apparently expected to the question. To say it was a property
of matter would be not much more intelligible than to say the same of gravi-
tation. At best it would add another property to the list of properties we
already credit it with, as elasticity, attraction and so on. In any case the
nature of electricity remains to be discovered and stated in terms common
to other forms of phenomena, and it is tb be hoped that long before this new
century shall have been completed, mankind will be able to form as adequate
an idea of electricity as it now has of heat.
000000000000 0000000
~R~S The Happy
Married Man’s Face !
3
Crosse) By Walter Beverley Crane. Cpe)
HERE is an expression in the face of a good married man
4
4 p
4 )
< p
4 )
< )
4 p
OOLOLLLLE
POPOV eV
0
Cree
who has a good wife that a bachelor’s cannot have. It is
indescribable. He is a little nearer the angels than the
sweetest cotillon leader living.
How often, or, how often, in looking o'er the happy
features of my dearest friend I have envied that baetific ex-
pression and wished I could change faces with him! Faces,
I say, not places.
For the variations of the intensity of magnetic action,
either from time to time, or as we proceed from place tr ~"age are among
thte most interesting of all the phenomena of terrests®,] magnetism. i,
No one ever mistakes the good married map, It is only the erratic
one who leaves you in doubt. The good one ca protect all the unprotected
females, and make himself generally agreeals to the ladies, and yet never
leave a doubt on any mind that there issd’ precious little woman at home
worth all the world to him. >
For we have seen already that fhm hour to hour, and from day to day,
there are changes in the extent of" the minute oscillations of the suspended
magnet, and that these changed indicate variations in the intnsity of the
magnetic force under diurnal” nd annual solar influences,
_ Regt garden studentS~and astronomers, scientists and waiters, add to
these variations a change which has a period corresponding to the motions
of the moon, and it becomes evident that it is to an influence as subtle and
as pervading in its character as gravitation itself that the terrestrial mag-
net owes its powers.
Yes, there is an expression in the face of a
come off.”
rearrreesreTiersarets |
Elvin ermal]
What Business Men
Demand of Boys
By William Hosea Ballou, Author and
Sociologist.
OYS need, most of all, to be taught how to observe and
study, to study things themselves, rather than the names of
things; to acquire correct habits of thought, to investigate
and discover for themselves what they wish to know. To
thjs end it seems to me our schools are doing excellent
work. But in what, if any, respects do they fail to meet the
demands of business men? In conversation with several
men of large experience in my office, and as I have met
them in bank, counting room, at lunch and elsewhere, I have
put the question, “In your experience as a business man what sort of ‘school
training does a boy need?”
The question applies, of course, only to boys untrammeled by require-
ments for admission to college. All were agreed that boys should leave school
with a more thorough training in the rudiments of education, particularly in
what used to be known as mental arithmetic.
If I may generalize, let me say, to sum up, that business men ask:
That our schools give boys a more practical training; that they guard
against mental indigestion as we would against physical indigestion.
That such training be more thorough, particularly in arithmetic and ac-
counts. :
That more attention be given to English composition, spelling and pen-
manship.
That the school (and perhaps the home) teach the gospel of WORK,
WORK. WORK! This lesson well learned will surely win promotion, give
character, studying quality, persistence, stick-to-a-tiveness and, coupled with
thrift, will enable any bright boy to grapple with the problems of life and to
climb ambition’s ladder.—New England Grocer.
: 0000006060006 60000000000600
Sams Il Poy
Is the Education MM
of Women
OES co-education educate? This is the supreme question. It
it prepares men and women for the higher utilities, if it in-
sures to its graduates a broad culture and a high standard
of character, and gives this to a degree equaled by the col-
lege for men, or the college for women, it must be giver
consideration. It does not, and, from the limitations with
which co-education imposes, it cannot. Co-education is a
hybrid bred from an unnatural union between two systems
that contain irreconcilable differences. It presents no meth.
od of self-adjustment to the needs of women.
| It appears that women have been made to believe, and the notion has
been fostered by the equal suffragist cult, that if she were educated after the
manner of man she could do man’s work in the way that men do it. The sex
problem is actually ignored as non-existent. No woman ever did man’s work
after his ways, or thought his thoughts after his manner of thinking. She is
first unsexed and then treated co-educationally. There is no escaping from
ith Men a Failure?
By Dr. Ely Dan de Warker.
p
) aaa aal
Buenos Ayres has the most complete
and costly newspaper building in the
pleasure.
She had damced with him
drew his arm. For a moment he let
world, costing $3,000,000.
this conclusion; neither do the advocates of the method meet the question.
They simply assert, dogmatically, that it is better for her to be 3 educated.—
QUITE A BLOW FOR
An honest, Industrions Gopher
One day, fo his joy, found a lone 4
Bread. “This in my hole 1 wil :
A rainy day," chuckled the (OBS
Tt chanced that an indolent LORLET]
Was watching, and cried he, now
Thought he, “here's Oo BHO
Gopher
That broad With a hoe I will go fo
The Loafer for sure came to woe, f)
He fled at a pace far from 80W, WY)
The Gopher gave chase tO the Ton
I give you my word this Is so, for
It may seem peculiar. | know, for
A Loafer to hoe for a loaf or
A Gopher to go for & Loafer,
Mrs. Callahan—Motke! Moi’
up; ut’s toime t' take y' insou’
icine.—Puck. ’ ;
Mr. Blinks—OQne of’
fell at Waterloo.
‘Which platform?
“It does seem oC
my man friends w}
ed from me throug
my husband.”—L
“Ma!” “What
in that bottle bs
It’s mucilage.”
can't "get~ my
Leader.
Scribbles—Wright's J
in the Slums” failed
hear. Dribbles—Yes.
of poverty—only pove,
Chicago Daily News.
“Do you deal in s
mobiles? If you do, k
mine.” “Yes, sir, %
have you had your’
this morning.”—Lif]
Landlady—Are ¥
doo, that the less
one lives? Mr.
mouth full)—Su
of living that w§
“What's de (
“Prayin’ for a
“Reckon he’ll gd
’cordin’ ter h
roosts! ”"—Atlant
“So you still
has his price?]
Senator Sorghu
Hi'le_ fellows m|
scandalous ,@N&
Star. .
Citiman—You
itors out here, d
ves; coming a
day. Citiman nager—
pose. Subbubs¥ the boy}
Philadelphia Prépgp org
Mr. A B
gay anything aft
afternoon, Ethel] aren
joined the <{-F Dall
Speak League,” fl 108m
—Chicago Daily
Painter—“¥
Manage
not decided
insurance
“Mr.
“Yes,” an :
“When will 3
Hoplg
A vent'out on N
ge.”—Washington Star,
h, sh
great deal of taste
“Ah, think so?”
bad.”’—Philadelphia
ou think the Pana
a good thing?”
SYS ‘much prejidicd
graft that good things are
scarcer | every year.”—Wag
Star. 1
Publisher—The trouble with
that you don’t spend enou til
er your work. This last / no
yours seems unfinished.’ Aut
But you wanted it in a hurry,
lisher—True. But you mig]
spent a couple of days more
Town and Country.
“I think,” said the man wh
itically ambitious, “that I wil
in convincing our friends
money is not tainted. ”. oe
the point just mow® ans
tor Sorghum. “The first ty
convince them that you've ,f
the money.”—Washington Sta;
Shepherd—What are all yg
doing out today? Volunteer)
all out scouting. Shepherd—
are you doing? Volunteer—p}
ing, too. Shepherd—ARd
scouting, please? Vol
to tell the truth, I din key
we're a| on the scout Hoge
Punch. A
“Why don’t you put a st
mad career of these railways?
the man who is always indignin
dear sir,’ answered Senator S
“I haven’t thought of it. But ti
no sense in a man standing o
track and defying the locomd
when he might just as ‘well be
parlor dar looking at the scenery
Washington Star. ]
“I believe,” sald Mrs. Oldef
“that what a boy is depends lp
upon his environment.” “I km
replied {her hostess as she ca
toyed With her jewel box.
was my cousin Ebenezer’s bo}
never knew what it was to
well yd until the doctors fol
teer-
that it /was his environment,
it out.” —Chicago Record Her
Therg are over fifteen tH
post-office saving banks in Eng}
| Harper's Magazine.
The |
An Americ
ged a ratio
is the s
L American
Telegrap!
to be
have you
registere
down al
11 an
p cal
he
ntler
ou
3
fe
[
to.
ocedure
sable.
courtsh
earmer
capaci
g. Bu
h son
educ:
pnial 1
— D> in ™ a om Br
fl
bt
O Om
heir pretty s
In lighter
‘ocks of fin
ntre-deux
alenciennes,
his is now
ng, although
rs still clin
white is the
RL
y en, on
it can be add
are immensel
understood.
The frocks
made to be wi
neck and sh
igh in the
ven
any of tl
most like coa
originally int
the same moc
ng in cloth 2
mn Fashio
ar.
oma
cag
ar
tabl
nly t
pd. 4
istinc
‘will be
eneral a
on of pom
e Chicago
the proje
Benedict Car
lub, whose a
recommended
as a proper °
most enterpr
West. A m
Chicago men
terested in |
committee Ww
with others ¢
their confere
laid. At an
announced tl
$50,000 had |
rew home oO
Club, one of
organization.
is now unde:
the Chicago \
ers’ Federatic
League, and
ganizations Vv
clubhouse.
American Re
rooms there.