26
THE SUNDAY OKEG0NIA2T, PpKTLAND, AUGUST 24, 1902.
FORTY miles south of Grant's Pass,
Southern Oregon, deep down In the
bowels of Old Grayback a tim
bered mountain of the Coast Range are
found the greatest limestone caves of tho
world. The caves are reached from
Grant's Pass from the Kcrby stage road,
or by -way of the beautiful and vordant
"Williams Valley. In either case tho last
few miles to the labyrinths must be made
over a mountainous, wooded trail, through
a primeval district that Is but little
changed from what It was a half-century
ago, when the pioneer goldhunters flocked
into the region from California. Nowhere
can the tourist find anything more won
derful, more remarkable, more beautiful,
than these limestone labyrinths in the
heart of Old Grayback, yet they are com
paratively unknown except to those who
live and dwell near them. When they
were first discovered they were known
as "Josephine -Caves," but in recent years
they have grown to be called the "Great
Oregon Caves."
A few years ago Elijah Davidson, a
hunter, pursued a bear through the South
ern Oregon mountains, and, following It to
its den, was led into the mouth of tho
"Great Oregon Caves." From the email
opening into which he was led Davidson
found a multitude of narrow passages
leading into tho depths of the mountain.
These many passages had the appearance
of Innumerable cells cut Into the snow
white limestone and leading Into unknown'
dungeons of darkness. The accident of
Davidson marked the discovery of the
caves, and while that was several years
ago, they are asf yet unexplored except
to & 6hallow depth.
On the south side of Grayback Mountain
the entrance to the caves is found. There
are two entrances, one above the other
and about 200. feet apart-Out from the
lower entrance a stream "of -water issues
and goes babbling down the canyon. Tho
tinkling music of this brook, the whisper
ing of the wind through the boughs of tho
tall pines that stand sentinel at the mouth
of the caves, and the barking of the squir
rels In the forest trees are the only
sounds that break the primeval silence of
the solitude that surrounds tho labyrinths.
Somo enterprising party has built a small
shed over tho lower entrance, across the
front wall of which is written in huge let
ters the words
Great Oregon Caves.
This, together -with tho ladders that are
found here and there on the inside, are
about the only Improvements about the
caves. They He Just as Nature left them
tho perfection of beauty, the wonder of
tho world.
The two entrances really lead to two
distinct caves, though the explorer, if he
be an adept at such work, can pans from
one to tho other in the interior. After
employing a competent guide and supply
ing himself with an ample number of
torches, or a good lantern, the explorer
enters tho lower cavo and finds himself in
a small hallway from which a countless
number of narrow tunnels ramify Into the
unknown. Following one of these, he is
led through passages hewn out of lime
stone. In many places these are so low
and narrow as to be pasecd through only
on hands and knees, and .again they will
open up wide and high enough to admit
tho passage of several carriages abreast.
These tunnels lead into chambers, colls
and caverns. A strong current of air
passes through these tunnels, making It
difficult to keep a torch lighted at times
and giving assurance of a corresponding
opening on the other side of the moun
tain. This entrance to the caves, if there
Is such, has not been discovered as yet.
The current of air may be explained by
the fact -that there has been found an
opening to an unexplored cave in Del
Norte county, Cal, 50 miles south, which
may possibly be a distant entrance to the
"Great Oregon Caves."
As the explorer penetrates further Into
the depths of the labyrinths, he believes
hlmsolf entering the palace of an under
world monarch. The light of tho torches
reflects the glistening beauty of the wall's,
celling and c61umns of halls, chambers and
caverns, all of limestone of purest -white
and the most beautiful brilliancy. But if
one expects before entering the caves to
find the innumerable halls and .caverns
chiseled and shaped as the hand of men
would have done them, he will be sadly
disappointed, for .there are no square cham
bers or halls in the caves. Irregularity
is manifest everywhere throughout them,
and in this particular they are unsur
passed. There are no parallel walls, and
but few straight ones, but corners are
everywhere. In every chamber are to be
found beautiful views of stalactites pend
ent from the celling, and .standing out In
bold relief against snow-whito walls of
limestone. In the light of the explorer's
torch, tho crystals on the walls and cell
ing sparkle and glitter like so many dia
monds. In the "Great Oregon Caves" there are
a number of interesting halls and cham
bers. These are to be found at distances
of from one-half to one mile from the
entrance, and are reached after much
squeezing, climbing and slipping through
narrow passages, over tall boulders and
down Into gloomy depths that at first
seem bottomless. If the guide accom
panying the explorer has been in the caves
several times before, ho will have a name
and an appropriate qne, too for each and
wi 01 me various cnamoers ana caverns.
"Who it was that first gave these names
is not known, but they aro good ones
and should remain unchanged. There are
tho "Devil's Banquet Hall, the "Queen's
Chamber," "White Boom." "Drapery
Room," "Ghost's Chamber" and "Old
Nick's Bedroom."
The "Dcil'a Banquet Hall" is found
far back, about three-fourths of. a mile
from the lower entrance. It Is a large,
circular hall, U0 feet across, with a domed
celling that stands 60 feet from the floor
at the highest point, and from -which
long nnd brilliant stalactites hang like
extravagant floral decorations. On each
side of the immense room and opponlte
each other are tho two arched entrances
to the great hall. Standing In one of
these entrances and gazing across with
uplifted torch, the explorer witnesses a
sight he will never forget Beautiful, yet
awe-lnsplring and almost grewsorae. Is
tho spectacle presented. Boulders of lime
stone and af all elses and shapes aro
strewn over the floor in reckless confu
sion, as if Hl3 Satanic Majesty had been
forced to abandon and flea from his ban-quetlng-place
in dire haste. The dismal
shadows from the flickering lights leap
hither and yon about the walls and call
ing, and Impart a ghoulish, dance-like as
pect to the scene. Multitudes of little
streams trickle, down tho trails and fUl
the ball -with rippling music, pletsant for
devils, perhaps, but not it all such for
superstitious explorers. As one looks and
listens, he can easily imagine that the
devil Is holding high carnival In his favor
ite banquet hall. Ono can seo tho myriad
little Imps as they caper hither and yon
In and out of the many dark recesses of
tho great hall. The dancing devils, the
tinkling music, the dull, distant roar as of
an underground cataract, soon gives the
explorer enough of tho "Devil's Banquet
Hall," and he makes his retreat, leaving
tho imps to their eternal midnight dance
and frolic
The "'Queen's Chamber" Is another of
the remarkable and beautiful rooms of the
"Great Oregon Caves." This Is a spacious
hall, well worthy of the name given If
From the celling of this room, as In all
the other chambers of the cave, countless
stalactites .depend, and from the needle
like point of each of these a single drop
of water hangs and clings and glitters
like a huge solltalro diamond. The celling
to the "Queen's Chamber," hung with its
countless stalactites and their glittering
points, reminds one of a huge Arctic
grotto, thickly hung -with snow-white
icicles
The walls of the "White Room" are
hung with graceful festoons, arranged In
all sorts of fantastic shapes. These are
pure white, and are In rows one above the
other from the foot of tho wall up to
where the celling forms an Irregular dome
above
From an artistic point of view It would
he bard for ono to choose between the
"White Room" and tho "Drapery Room."
the next chamber of interest -In the lime
stone palace. It Is very much llko the
"White Jtoom," eavo in tha manner of the
arrangement of Its decorations. Here wo
find, instead of the regular rows of fes
toons, massive draperies, curtains, and
portiere,, No artist could have arranged
these- draperies more- tastefully than Na
ture bore has done. So natural do they
appear, one is almost tempted to draw
aside tha folds and see what is behind.
The "Ghost Chamber" derives Its name
from the presence of one especially large
stalactite that looms up white and
ghostly In the center of the room when
tho explorer first enters. Oyer the floor
are strewn a. confusion of bouldors and
stalagmites. In this room the dripping
process from the sUlactltes stems to
have been mora rapid, for the chamber
contains a -number of solid columns reach
ins from tho floor to the celling that havo
been formed by the ceaseless drip, drip,
of tha lime-impregnated water fri$m the
point of the stalactite above. This end
less process has slowly lengthened them
till they have met half way and formed
& solid column from the floor to 'tho
celling.
We next go to "Old Nick's. Bedroom."
It is here, presumably bis satanic
majesty retires after bis hours of revelry
in the banquet ball. One cannot help
but admire "Old Nick's" choice of a bed
chamber, for It Is doubtful. If he could
have found a prettier, more handsome
room in which to pass his hours of re
pose If Indeed he ha-s ny. Graceful,
tastefully arranged curtains hang over
the bed or the place ens imagines tho
be.d ought to bs; the bed is probably there
but it beln a devils bod it is of course
invisible to the human eye.
Just how far these caves havo been
penetrated with the winding passages ex
plored, is not known, but probably no ex
ploring party has ever gone forther than
one mile into their- depths. Distance in
tho "Greit Oregon Caves" is something
that cannot be measured with accuracy.
Tho subterranean passages wind in and
out, and turn and twist -with endless
variations. From a single room 05 hall,
a half-dozen low and narrow passages
may ramify. Some of these openings
lead out into other stone-walled, stone
celled, snow-white apartments; some,
after describing a curve, or after mak
ing many short turns, and acute angles,
return to the same room. Some of the
openings lead down to unknown depths,
while others lead to passages aloft. Be
yond any doubt the mountain Is one vast
honeycomb of limestone, and many years
will pass hsfore the caves are completely
explored, in tbuth they may never ' be.
For any party of explorers to enter the
caves without a competent guide would
be a very risky undertaking. Once fairly
entangled In tho intricate labyrinth 0
rooms, chambers and tunnels, the ex
plorer would become hopelessly bewild
ered and might wander for days and
weeks, or even months' without finding
the way out of his mountain prison.
There are some people who concede that
theso caves were, in prehistoric time,
the abiding place nf human beings, of a
strange people who lived in tho time of
tho Cave Dweller' Age. If this were
true it would secra that there would be
some relic left of such a people, but of
this there Is nothing.
It Is too bad thi) "Great Oregon Caves"
are so little known. They aro as groat,
if not a greater natural wonder than the
far-famed Mammoth Caves, of Kentucky.
THEIR SEPARATE WAYS
BY JOHN FLEMING WILSON
MAYNARD MATTHEWS brushed
the "cigarette ashes from hs waist
coat and held the letter closer to
the light. The angular Bcrlpt depressed
him with Its suggestions of former mes
sages. He did not like to bo reminded too
concretely of the days when he -was
blindly foolish. But he was thankful
that she had not used his name In her
signature. Panchlta had sounded sweet
In the hours of Illusion; Panchlta Mat
thews would have simply been an .echo
of the claim that he hated.
She had scrawled only n few words,
but they conveyed more than he cared to
determine. To abandon his foolish wife
had been easy, so free from legal Imped
iment that he was uncomfortable from a
sense of having missed the self-respect'
which Is fortified by opposition. He re
read the sentences aloud. Tho appeal
provoked him- Why couldn't he drop
that part of his Ufo entirely?
He tossed the letter into- the waste
basket and took up a note that held far
pleasanter suggestions. It ran:
My Dear llr. Matthews Tou were kind
enough to ask' if I would not go with you to
that funny garden some tlmo. Mamma, thinks
Thursday night would suit perfectly.
If you will call for us as early as S o'clock
we shall be ready.
I am curious to seo the. amusements of the
other half. Faithfully, EDITH TRIAKKOK.
Tuesday.
This note he dwelt over contentedly. It
was .Thursday evening, -and be had a
comfortable time in which to reach the
house As he dressed himself tho knowl-1
ego that Edith Trlannon was to visit '
with him a place where the "other hair'
amused itself seemed to gently purify
his own recollections.
The garden reeked with tobacco smoke
undor tho glare of the calcium lights.
Huddles of men nnd women chattered
and laughed and shrieked with piercing
appreciation of the performance. As
things went on, the groups merged into
one, body of tumultuous satisfaction.
The -three, quite far up on one side,
seemed left a little islet of scdateness and
They should be owned by the state and
set aside as a-public park. Better roads'
should be built to them, and some ac
commodations ond conveniences pre'
pared for tho tourists who visit them.
They are one of the -important features
"that deserve to make Oregon tho greatest
state jn the Union.
DENNIS H. STOVAliL.
Grant's Pass, Oregon.
respectability amid this elemental effu
siveness, And Maynard Matthews felt
wjth satisfactory vividness that Edith
Trlannon and her mother were drawn
closer to him Jn distinct though tacit
congeniality. It was almost the social
convergence of three Europeans among
savages; and his sense of their increas
Ing dependence upon him as the only
member of their own class was very be
guiling.
Act after act came on and passed out
In applause. Matthows looked over his
gaudy programme. He .was undecided
whether to risk further developments In
the Tcnowledge that the spectators were
lapsing Into a freer mood every moment.
But tho feeling that the more obtrustlyo
the vulgarity on the" stage the moro
marked his association with the fair girl
at hi3 side determined him. He perfunc
torily Inquired of Mrs. Trlannon whether
she wished to leave, and her polite eva-
slon he accepted as permission to stay
through,
"Tho other half seems to be enjoying
Itself," he remarked to his companion.
She smiled brilliantly. "It's worth see
ing. Their keen pleasure lessens the
sense one has that It Is all so common.
Anyway, I suppose, it's human."
"A dangerous sentiment," he responded,
"but very kindly."
"Kindly? Why. Mr. Matthews, do you
know I almost feel as though I could' en
Joy this I mean tho acts on the stage
Just as these people do. Am I horribly
primitive?" '
He glanced at her appreciatively.
"Yqur prlmlUveness is seductive." he re
plied with quiet admiration, "and It has
the effectiveness of art," '
She was silent without reproof. Almost
before he had Interpreted hey attitude
she touched his arm gently and I frankly
laughed. "I wonder If that is the art
you .refer to?"
He turned his eyes upon the stage and
.then swiftly bent over hl3 programme.
The band had plunged Into a swift waltz,
and a, tromnn In pink skirts was execut
ing her preparatory steps. She might
have once been graceful, perhaps pretty,
but age an4 hard living were deep In
every line of figure- and face. Paint and
make-up could cover but not conceal.
The mechanical leer, the coy pose, the
delicate sinuosity of her art were a
blatant mockery. But the crowd accept
ed It cheerfully, if not with applause.
As 3he whirled into the full swing of
her dance, Matthews felt an unutterable
repulsion stirring" "within him. He felt a
personal Intent in the ghastly simper,
and the soft padding of her feet on the
boards settled Into a hateful rhythm.
Suddenly he was- aware that Edith Trl
annon was bending toward him; her
breath was. on his cheek as ha heard her
whisper soflly: "Ohl how .Pitiful! she is
an old woman 1"
He looked at Edith with new adora
tion fresh in bis eyes. The compassion
seemed divine, and he was again beyond
the reach of ' the stage, impregnable to
the. mockery .of. the .dancing girl and the
memories of his youth.
Tet the old sensation of Insecurity re
"turned "whe"n"hl3" companion once more
bent toward him, this time to see the
programme. Ho pointed to the place
with his finger, and sho read aloud: "The
Spanish. Sisters. But there Is only one,"
she objected.
His answer was a gesture to the stage.
Advancing Into the glare of the foot
lights came a little girl dressed precise
ly, as tber other, except that her scanty
Clothes were blue. The childish form, the
simple- hands and. innocent eyes met their
fit reception in a hush throughout the
garden. The bedizened woman drew the
little one to her side, and they made
their bow. Then the band dashed Into
a Jig and the Ill-assorted pair started to
dance. The eyes of the woman no longer
rolled upon the spectators, and her Up3
no longer forced a mechanical leer, for
"all her attention was fixed upon the lit
tle one swinging by her side. So they
Btepped; the withered by the dewy, the
hardened by the innocent; and while the
soft brown eyes undr the shaking curl
took: their cue from her, the woman's
painted Hps parted In a tender smile and
an expression of utter affection mantled
her face.
As these two rose and fell to the strains
of clashing music, Edith Trlannon's hand
rested gently on Matthew's arm. Her
swift intuition was unraveling the
tangled knot of two lives. When she was
sure, it broke from her Impetuous lips.
Her companion heard the words as in a
dream: "They are mother and daugh
terl" He gave no sign that he had caught her
meaning, and sat dully watching the
scene before him. Edith Trlannon Im
perceptibly withdrew her hand from his
arm nnd, though apparently unconscious
Of her act. he accepted the omen of fate.
They sat apart, and they both felt that
between them Irresistibly rolled the tide
PHILOSOPHER DOOLEY'S LETTER
WORK BY THE POOR AND SPORTS OF THE RICH
AMOUNT TO -THE SAME Tf&NG
ti a HARD time th' rich have In-
Jyln' life," said Mr. Dooley.
"I'd thrade with thlm." said
Mr. Hcnnessy.
'"I -mid not." said Mr. Dooley. " 'TIs too
much like hard wurruk. If I lver got hold
lv a little mound iv th money, dlwle th'
bit lr hardship wud I Inflict on. megllf.
I'd set on a large Turkish sofa an' have
dancln girls, dancin an' a mandolin or
chestree playln to me. I wudden't move
a step without beln' carrld. I'd go to bed
with th' lark an' get up with th night
watchman. If anny wan suggested phys
ical exercise to me, I'd give him $40 to
go away. I'd hire a prizefighter to do
me fightln' fr me, a pedesthreen to do
me walkln', a Jockey to do me rldln'. an'
a colledge pro-flssor to do me thlnkln.
Here I'd set with a naygur fannln me
with osterlch feathers, lookln ca'mly out
through me stained glofa wlndles on th
rollln' mlll3, sraokln' me good 5-clnt see
gar an rejlcln' to know how bad ye mu?'
be feelln Ivry tlmo yo think lv me
hoordd wealth.
"But that ain't th' way It comes out,
Hlnnlasy. Hlgglns, th' mil'.ylonalre. had
th' same Idee as mo whin he" waa begin
nln to breed money with a dollar ha
ownded an a dollar he took frm some
wan that' wasn't there aj th' time. Whil
he was hammerln' hoops on a barl or
dhrlvln pegs Into a shoe, he'd stOR wanst
In a while to wipe th sweat off his brow
whin th boss wasn't lookln an he'd say
to hlmsllt: 'if I lver get it, IU have a
man wheel me around on a chair.' But
as his stable grows an he herds large
dhroves down to th bank ivry week, be
changes his mind, an whin he's got
enough to lnjyo life, as they say. he
finds he's up against It. His throubles
has Just begun. I know In his heart
Hlgglns' ideel iv luxury Is enough buck
wheat cakes an' a cozy corner In a Turk
ish bath, but he can't lnjyo It. He mus"
be up an' doln'. An th' on'y things anny
wan around him Is up and doin Is th'
things he used to got paid fr fr doln'
whin he was a young man.
"Arly In th' mornln' Hlgglns has got
to bo out exerclsln a horoo to keep th'
horse In good health, Hlgglns has no
huBlncta on a horse an' he knows it. He
was built an Idycated f'r a cooper an'
th' horso don't fit him. Th' nachral way
Tr Hlgglns to ride a horse Is to set well
aft an hang onto th' ears. But he's tor
that'a wrong an he's made to set up
straight Ian' bo a good fellow an' mee
th horse half way. An' If th' horse don't
run awaywjth Hlgglns an kill hlra. he's
tol' It's pot a good horse an' he ought
to sell It. An, mind yo, he pays fr that
though he can't help raymhnberln' th
man nex' dure fr'm him -used to get tin
dollars a week f'r th' same. job.
"Whin be was a young man, Hlgglns
knowed a fellow that dhruv four horses
f'r a brewery. They paid him well, but
he hated his Job. He used to come in at
night an' wish his parents had made him
a cooper an' Hlgglns pitied him, knowln
he cudden't get out a life Insurance pol
icy an his wife was scared to death all
th' time. Now that Hlgglns has got th'
money, he'3 took th brewery man's Job
with worse horses an him barred fr'm
dhrlvln with more thin wan hand. An"
does he get annythlng f'r it? On th con
th'ry, HInnlssy, it sets him back a large
forchune. An' he says he's havln a good
time, an if th' brewery man come along
an felt sorry f'r him, Hlgglns wudden't
exactly know why. t
"Hlgglns has to sail a yacht, raymlm
berln' how he despised th' Swede sailors
that used to loaf In th' oa'oon near his
house durln th Winter; he has to run
an autymoblll which Is th' same thing
as dhrlvln a throllcy car on a windy day
wlthqut pay; he has to play golf which
is th' name thing as beln a postman with,
out a dnclnt uniform; he has to play ten
nis which Is another wurrud fr batln' a'
carpet; he has to race horses which Is
th same thlpg as beln' a bookmaker with
th phances agajn' ye: he has to go
abroad which la th' eame thing as beln'
5
of the man's past life, a tide Impassable
forever. ' "
With a hasty excuse, Matthews rose
and Icjtt them. When he returned
the dance neared its close, and the eager
crowd waited to applaud. An usher
pushed his way up the aisle bearing a
huge bouquet Reaching over the foot
lights, he held out the flowers to the lit,
tie girL The music died away, and with
a glance at her mother she stepped glee
fully forward and received them. In- the
hand-clapping that followed Edith Trl
annon watched the baby dancer, as she
held, out the bouquet to her mother. The
latter smilingly shook her head, then,
with a swift outstretching of the hand.
iplucked out of the heart of the flowers
a slip of paper.
And as the mother In her tawdy finery,
forgetful of the applauding crowd, read
the message, her brown-eyed daughter
buried her hot little face in the sweet
smelling flowers and watched her won
deringly. The band repeated the opening strains
of their dance, and mother and daughter
swung through the figures again. Tha
smile was gone from the woman's face,
and- under the paint Edith Trlannon de
tected the weariness of one who has
reached the goal. She turned to her com
panion with words on her Hps. Ho was
gazing with a new light in his eyes upon
the child. Edith did not speak, but with
quiet insistence she laid her hand on his,
arm.
When he turned around and met her
eyes she smiled softly through her tears.
"It Is very near to us the other half
Isn't it? sometimes?"
He threw back his head as a swimmer
who glve3 up the struggle. He looked at
her with purified adoration, then with an
Indication that only she could follow,
and yielding her the final homage of
simplicity, he turned his eyes to the
stage and said: "I am going back to
the other half where I belong."
Not ignorant that he had Interpreted,
her own attitude, but curious to know
the moving impulse, she bent a little
closer to him and asked lightly, though,
her eyes belled her voice: "Where do
you go on your return ... to tho
... to the . . . other half?"
His gaze rested quietly on the painted
dancer and the tiny form by her side.
He hesitated as for the possible express
slon. She was very near him in troubled
sympathy. He was passing from her
world, and she wanted almost with Jeal
ousy to know where his path led. He felt
her nearness, and under the purification
of It he saw quite clearly the truth. "I
am going to my little daughter."
They rose together, and Edith Trlannon
looked from the baby girl on the stago
to the man by her side. With a woman's
impulse, she bared her heart to him for
one Instant: "Tou mnst go. Good-bye.
But ... I can't be . . . Jealous of
your daughter."
They looked Into each other's eyes for
a triumphant moment, a mute fareweU
before they went their separate ways.
JOHN FLEMING WILSON.
an Immigrant; he has to set up late which
Is th'same thing as beln a dhrug clerk;
an' he has to play cards with a man that
knows how, which Is th same thing as
beln a sucker.
"He takes his good times hard, Hln
nlasy. A rich man at spoort Is a kind
iv nonunion laborer. He don't get wages
f'r It an' he don't dhrive as well as a
milkman, ride as weU as a stableboy, shoot
as well as a pollsm3n. or autymoblll as
well as th' man that runs th' steam rol
ler. It's a tough life. They'se no rc3t
f r th' rich an' weary. We'll be rcadln
In th paapers wan lv these days: 'Alonzo
Hlgglns. th runner up In las' year's charo-
I peenshlp, showed gr-reat Improvement In
this year's brick-layln tournymlnt at
Newport an' won handily with about tin
square feet to spare. He was nobly as
sisted be Regynald Van Stinyvant. who
acted as his hod carryer an' displayed all
th agility which won him so much ap
plause arller in th' year.
" The' Plckawaya carred off all th' hon
ors In th' sewer-dlggln contest yester
dah, defeatln' th Spadewells be five wiles
to wan. Th' shovel wurruk lv Cassldy, th
banker, was splcially noticeable. Th col
ors iv th' Plckaways was red flannel un
dhershlrts an dark brown trousers.
" 'Raycreatlons Iv rich men: Jawn W.
Gates an' J. Plerpont Morgan arre to hava
a five days' shlnglln contest at Narragan
sett Pier. George Gold Is thralnln f'r
th' Autumn plumbln' Jlmkanny. Michi
gan avnoo Is tore up fr'm Van Burea
othreet to th' belt line In piiparatlon fr
th' contest in sthreet layln' between mim
bers Iv th'-Asaocyation lv More-Thln-Rlch
Spoorts. Th' sledge teams Is completed,
but a few gqod tampers an wather men
is needed."
"An why not, HInnlssy? If 'tis fun to
wurruk why npt do 'some rale wurruk?
If 'tis spoort to run an autymoblll, why
not run a locymotlve? If dhrlvln' a horse
In a cart la a game, why not dhrive a de
livery wagon an' carry things around?
Sure, I s'pose th ralson a rich man can't
understand why wages shud go higher is
because th rich can't see why annybody
shud be paid f'r annythlng so amusln as
wurruk. I bet ye Hlgglns is wondherln
at this moment why he was paid so much
fr puttin rings around a bar'l.
"No, sir, what's a rich man's raycre
atlon Is a poor man's wurruk. Th poor
ar-reyth' on'y people that know how to
lnjye wealth. Me Idee lv settln things
othralght Is to have th rich who wurruk
because they like It do th wurruk f'r th
poor who wud rather rest. I'll bfe happy
th day I see wan lv th Hankerbllts push
in' ye'er little go-cart up th platform
while ye set In th shade iv a three an
cheer him on his way. I'm sure he'd do
it If you called it a spoort an tol him
th' first man' to th dump wud be entitled
to do it over again against sthronger
men nex' week. Wud ye give him a tin
cup that he cud put his name on? Wud
ye. HInnlssy? I'm sure ye wud."
"Why do they do It?" asked Mr. Hen
nessy. "I dlnnaw." said , Mr. Dooley. "onless
Jt Is that th' wan great object lv Ivry
man's life is to get tired enough to sleep.
1 Ivrythlng seems to be some kind lv wur
ruk. Wurruk Is wurruk If ye're paid to
do rfc an' It's pleasure If ye pay to ba
allowed to do It."
(Copyright, 1902.)
From "A Legend of Provence.'
Havo we not all. amid life's petty strife.
Some pure Ideal ot a. noble life
That once seemed possible? Did we not hear
The flutter of It5 wings, and feel It near.
And Just within our reach? It was. And yet
We lost It in this daily Jar and fret.
And pow live Idle In a vague regret
But Rtlll our p'lace is kept, and It will wait.
Beady for us to fill it, soon or late;
No star Is ever lost we once have seen.
We always may be what we might have been.
Since Good, though only thought, has life and
breath.
Cod's life can always be rede?md from death
And evil. In Us nature, is decay.
And any hour can blot It all away;
The hopes that lost In some far distance seem.
May be the truer life, and this the dream.
Adelaide A. Proctor.