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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Feb. 26, 1905)
THE SUNDAY . OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, FEBRUARY 26, 1905.
I BAN was the bad boy of the village. :
and what seemed the essence of
Incongruity, he had the face of an
Ingel. His large, innocent blue eyes, ;
1 fine nose and perfect mouth, sup
plemented by a 'clear complexion, a dim-
fled chin and a mass of curling yellow
kair, caused the new minister, who was
roung and fresh from the seminary, to
hxclalm. "What an Inspiration for an
irtist to do cherubs!" Luckily for the '
lew minister one of his auditors was
leaf and the other knew nothing about
Inspirations or cherubs. Trentville
ouId have considered the observation
Jean was 14. tall, strong and well j
frown, in marked contrast to his-twin j
srother Frank, who, though quite as i
tall as Jean.' was slight and stooped a
ittle. He had the same regular fca- J
tureS as his brother, out lacked the
;lvid coloring, the animated expres
sion and the dimpled chin. Strangers
"ould pass Frank by unnoticed, but
rere quick to remark on Jean's beauty.
and. it may be added, as quick to bo
told of his Satanic disposition by tha
person to whom the remark was ad
dressed. There was hardly a person
in Trentville who had not been made
personally acquainted with Jean's ex
uberance of animal spirits.
That Jean was bad. every one was
forced to admit, even his poor mother;
I but that "he was hopelessly bad. only
Mrs Whltcombe, his aunt, was ready
I to assert. Mrs. Whltcombe was a tall,
spare woman, with faded yellow hair
land pale blue eyes. Her sharp chin
and sharper nose and the straight thin
lips held no reminiscence of past beau
ty, but were a faithful Index of her
harsh and nagging disposition.
Jean was her especial antipathy, and
whenever his future was mentioned
he would shudder and say she hoped
the dear Lord would spare his mother
the ghastly sight when he met his Just
deserts. It Is true Jean's pranks some
times went beyond mere boyish fun.
but the demon of mischief seemed to
possess the lad. He was a very genius
for thinking up new ncnemes for the
undoing of the good citizens of Trent
ville. A bitter arraignment of Jean by his
aunt in the presence of the young
minister, however, called from the lat
ter an expression of opinion that was
new to that locality. "The boy has a
keen sense of humor," he asserted.
'There is always a point to his pranks.
You will notice they invariably bring
out the "weakness or vanity or folry
of the person on whom they are per
petrated. And, after all," he added
warmly, somewhat to his own sur
prise, "while it is true they sometimes
show disrespect to his elders, you
yourself must admit, Mrs. Whltcombe,
they are really harmless."
"You call it harmless," retorted Ms.
Whltcombe. wrathfully, "to waylay my
Jacob when he was a-startin out to
carry the milk, and a-holdln hjm fast
while his brother Frank emptied out
the cans'? Call that harmless?" she
"Yes, that's right. Mrs. Whltcombe."
put in Mr. Wells, the village Postmas-
A VICTIM OF THE MERIT SYSTEM
TRAGEDY OF A MODEST SCHOOLTEACHER NOT WITHOUT
APPLICATION TO THE PORTLAND PUBLIC SCHOOLS &
iE succeeds who deserves to suc
ceed.' Do you believe that.
Marjorie? Marjorle, T say, Mar
jory, do you believe it?"
"What?" drawled Marjorie. with an ab
stracted, half yawn. "Believe what?
What did you say, child?"
"Do you bolleve it?" persisted the first
speaker. "Action and reaction are equal
and in opposite directions. What we give
out In teaching comes back In salary, and
those Intangibles that are the reward
of good or evil doing. Now, if the ac
tion is fairly correct, the physical law
demands the return stroke the reward,
that is the the "
"Merit rise," finished Marjorie, smiling.
' Five dollars, maybe ten, as the stamp
Of professionalism. Henceforth to be ac
counted as registered stock, apart from
the common herd. But don't let's count
on it too much, dear. Action and reaction
may be equal, but there's a lot lost In
friction. They count the loss on the re
action side, and you don't get It. Some
body else does," she added, parenthetic
ally. "Yes," pursued the first speaker, gently,
"but allowing for leakage, still there's
enough left. Why, out of thirty thousand
dollars, Marjorie thirty thousand dollars, '
just think of it! there's enough for all
hands and the cook. They've awarded us
only a small five apiece so far, and there's
thousands upon thousands left. Think of
"I have thought of them," said Mar
jorie. "Thought and thought till my
brain whirled, and I concluded non-resistance
was better for my complexion. The
possibilities arc appalling. I presume they
must have simply overwhelmed the two
distinguished heads of the merit commis
sion and the favored special teachers."
"Shall you apply?"
"I? Oh, sure. And ao shall you. I may
get turned down, but somehow, do you
know, dear, people always rate me high
swd think my little much. I don't mean
to be deceptive or play the spread eagle,
but it's my way, and if it wins I'm not
to blame. Come to an examination, or
anything beyond a surface test, and I'd
hide behind you in shame. But I know
how to work the ropes."
"I don't." said the other. "I can't do
those things. I know my work and I do
my best do it as truly and well as I can
but nobody knows it nobody except the
children. Bless the little dears, they do
know, and they know I love them. That
commission the very thought of it sends
a chill over me. Perfect strangers
assuming to judge my work In a few
minutes of time, and that, too, when I'm
scared stiff dissecting me alive! Oh, Mar
jorie. I just can't apply. The whole thing
Is so unfair. They couldn't tell and it
they ask the principal, he's only hu
man; and if his Judgment or his affec
tions should be at fault and I'nunone too
sure he likes me there I" am lost at the
very start. Those two principals on the
ter. with his slow drawl, "but you know
your Jacob tripped Frank up on the
way homo from school a-causln him
to cut his cheek on a piece of class.
Jean called It gettin' even. Jacob
spilt Frank's blood and Frank spilt
Jacob's milk. There you are." Mr.
Wells prided himself on his fine sense
of justice. Mrs. Whltcombe retreated
behind an-adroit chang'e of subject. At
this she was an adept.
That Mrs. Whltcombe passionately
disliked Jean, she made no effort - to
conceal, but the true reason therefor,
which she would hardly admit even to
herself, was because the youth pos
sessed such a superabundance of ;ood
looks, while her own son. who w,as
about the same ago as the twins, was
so ugly that people talked about ? it
openly as a matter so obvious there
need be no reticence about It. And
Jean's beauty only served to bring out )
Jacob's ugly features the more sharply ;
by contrast. Mrs. Whltcombe loved
her ugly duckling with all the pass'Ion 1
of which her warped nature was capa
ble, and hated Jesfn with a passion al
most as great.
In the bitterness of her soul she
took every occasion to taunt hor sis- J
ter-ln-law with her son's wayward- t
ness. always ending with. "You mark
my words, Cynthy. the boy'll come to
a bad end. He'll bring your gray
hairs in sorrow to the dust." And
Jean's poor, harassed little mother
would answer hopefully: "He ain't all
bad, Susan; a boy that never tells no
lies and don't do no hurt to animals.
can't be .all bad. He's Jest got double I
his share of mischief. You know I alius i
says he got Frank's share too. Frank's j
that quiet like he jest sets around a j
dreamln' and a dreamln .
To this Mrs. Whltcombe would only
shake her head In the most aggravating
way, and, as she rose to go. would
Are h"r parting shot. "You'll wish yet
he'd never been born."
When she had gone Joan's mother
would compress her lips firmly and
throw up her head defiantly, but would
have a heart-to-heart 'talk with Jean
One afternoon while Mrs. Whltcombo I
was -sitting at her window, she saw Jean j
and his mother in her faded blue calico ;
wrapper and huge sunbonnet come out 1
ofvlhelr front gate and start down the j
road, both gesturing excitedly. When they j
had walked a short distance and were
almost In front of Mrs. Whltcombe's win
dow they stopped, evidently In the heat I
commission have never even heard of me;
and as to the others, the two heads, as
I call them, of this great double-headed
snake, one barely knows me by sight,
and the other has never seen me In the
schoolroom ninety minutes altogether.
Marjorie. I just can't I can't It would
kill me to be refused and yet" and here
her face whitened, and her voice dropped
to a whisper. "I've got to. I'm getting
so nervous lately. I need a Summer trip
away a real rest and a merit rise Is my
only hope. It's so little for them to give
only twenty-five cents a day for the
twenty working days and It means, so
much to us. Besides, I've worked so hard
it isn't begging to ask for It. Haven't I
"It Isn't work or results that count as
much as p'rofcsslonallsm and atmosphere,
as I understand It," said Marjorie, with
a lift of her brows. ".And, Lizzie, dear.
If I were you 1 would work less, worry
less, and bluff It a little more"
"I wish I knew how," said Lizzie,
wearily. But somehow I have a wretch
edly uncomfortable conscience to deal
with. It goada me If I fall short."
"An unpleasant bedfellow." said Mar
jorie, "and, like the algebraic X, it ought
to be eliminated. If I knew of a virus
that would put you Immune. I'd lnnocu
latc you even by force. But you must
get to sleep, dear, or forty-five pairs of
bright eyes will see those dark circles
around your poor, tired eyes; and won
der the cause. Tomorrow- we will put in
our applications tomorrow, Lizzie. Noth
ing venture, nothing have."
"Little boats, should keep near shore,"
retorted Lizzie with a bitterness of per
sonal application. "And yet and yet
what Is it JOhn Burroughs says in that
beautiful little poem of his: "I know my
twn will come to me.' My own; it is my
own; I've earned it; I deserve it. the tax
payers have meant it for me, and the
laborer is worthy of his hire. Yes, to
morrow, I'll apply. 'Tomorrow, and to
morrow, and tomorrow' Macbeth, you
were not in greater torment over your
gory deeds than I over the financial
gymnastics of our School Directors. Di
rectors? Oh, no," and she burled her
face In her hands. "Not directors.
They're mlsdlrcctors. They're dealing -in
human flesh, and doling out our life
blood and, at a fling of their loaded
dice, deciding whether or not there are
still twenty-five cents worth of red cor
puscles unexpended in our veins. Our
life against their money. And a niggard's
sum at that!"
"The rise? Oh, yes, of course. I well,
really, I can't confess to being surprised.
I rather expected It. You see I had that
vulgar appendix to my accomplishments,
a pull. But Lizzie, have you seen her?
Do you know, if she were rejected, I
never could look her in the face again!
I'd feel as If she hated me, or ought to.
Talk of merit, she's the one that de
serves It. Why, she Is full of literature
to the bone, while I oh, well, I'm on the
list, anyway. Born lucky! There she
comes now. I must wait for her."
Impatiently, with the song and. dance
of life, and the .primitive lqye of living
a-tingle in 'her blood and at her finger
tips, the girl waited. Superb, you -would
of argument. Suddenly, to Mrs. Whit-
combe's amazement, she saw her sister-in-law
raise her hand in the act of strik
ing Jean, when the latter, as suddenly,
clenched his fist and. warding off the blow
wlthone hand, struck at his mother with
the other. She sank. to the ground and
lay perfectly still.
Mrs. Whltcombe ran oift of tllcChbuse
at the top of hor' speed. When she
reached the gate the prostrate form was
still lying in the middle of the road, and
Jean was kneeling beside It, every .line
of his quivering framo eloquent of grief.
His evident remorse called forth no pity
ing thought from his aunt. Her triumph
"1 alius told her you'd bring her gray
hair in sorrow to the- grave." Jean's
shoulders shook convulsively, but Mrs.
Whltcombe continued harshly, "Didn't
I alius say you'd come to a had end, and.
now see what you done. You maybe killed
your own mother." and kneeling beside
the form which lay so still In the dust
she hastily untied the bonnet-strings and
have called her, with her fine eyes, re
sounding voice, and artistic poise of her
head. Add to this a body firm and tense,
well-groomed and well-carried, feet cor
rectly shod, and with the spring and
elastic touch born of a living conscious
ness of health, and you recognized the
presence of a perfectly wrought physical
being magnetic, warm, stirring till the
life stirred In you rcsponsively, and you
.knew her as a controlling force and po
tentiality, a splendid animal, but not in
deed a soulful animal. Warm, now, with
a sense of recent conquest, she pulsed
over with sheer momentum of feeling,
curbed and arrested only by the negation
expressed In line and feature of the one
She was, indeed, in utter contrast.
There was a droop and dejection extend
ing even to the clinging garments. The
feet left the 'earth at each step as if
gravity had well-nigh overcome all resist
ing life-forces. She came humbly, wist
fully, pi..ully, like a frail blossom kissed
too warmly by the sun, or burdened too
heavily by the loving, officious rain. As
If drawn by the irresistible sense of pro
tection vouchsafed to the weak by the
strong not often. Indeed, by members
of the self-same sex she walked straight
Into the arms of the waiting one. and
buried her tired head .on a bosom, throb
bing, not now with the exultation of con
quest, but with its alien, pity.
"Tired, dear one?" she said; and the
other only echoed: "Yes, Just tired: that's
Thus they stood a moment, Marjorie
softly stroking the hair and face of her
friend; nor was a question asked nor an
explanation offered, for between them all
Then they walked slowly homeward to
gether, Lizzie trying to talk with a show
of carelessness, but with a tongue which
lamely dragged in the utterance, of little
details of her school work always her
school work never the theater, nor card
party, nor lecture, nor friends while
Marjorie, cut to the heart, dumbly lis
tened, and groped vainly for words to
reply. She realized for the first time that
speech is not always an adequate vehicle
of expression. The matter uppermost In
their minds lay like lead In the conscious
ness of each, but it shrank from and
At the door they paused. Marjorie feel
ing something had been left undone or
unsaid, she scarcely knew which, clung
helplessly to her friend, as If to fill the
void, and Elizabeth lifted her pale face
and her hungry eyes, hungry for recogni
tion, hungry for realization of ideals un
trammeled by the sordid dollarmark. hun
gry for that which Is not found on black-
boards or in llfelees exercises, or. indeed,
within the four walls of a schoolroom,
with its dwarfing ruts and Its deadening
circumscriptions, and Marjorie saw there
a gleam of a strength she knew naught
of. a promise of peace not born of the
flesh nor bred in the bone, and, with a
flash of intuition, ehe recognized the
presence of strength greater than her
"Lizzie, dear." she said, almost quailing
before the. quiet light In the others eyes,
"you won't take it too hard, will you?
You won't quite hate me. will you? I
couldn't help It. The commission did it.
Don't look at me that way, Lizzie: I can't
stand It. I don't want the money. I
hate the very thought of It I'd rather
you had it. " You dc'serve It and I heaven
knows if cither is unworthy, It la I.
pushed back the blue gingham monstros
ity. Frank.s smiling eyes looked up Into
ThP look of startled incredulity on their
aunt's face wrung', peal after peal of
iaughter from' fbe two ' boys. ' Frank
scrambWd to his feet and still laughing,
ran away from, the close vicinity of bis
aunt. Jean, however, stood hfs ground
to sec the full effect of his. latest achieve
ment. Mrs. Whltcombe was. white with- rage.
Words failed her at this supreme Indig
nity. "You see, Aunt .Susan," taunted Jean,
when he could speak for mirth, "you
seemed so sot 'on having niother's gray
hairs a-trallln' in .the -dust, I hated Jest !
awful to see -you disappointed."
Then Mrs. Whltcombe found her
toncue. "You aood-for-nothlng crea
ture." she screamed, "why does thd Lord
seo fit to let you live? '' Thank God. my
Jacob ain't llk .you." You're not fit to
breathe-the same air-with him, you little
viper, you." - , -
"Humph." grunted Jean sarcastically,
"wbere's your good, Jlltle Jacob now,
"Hs In the barn tendln to his chores'
returned Mrs. Whltcombe triumphantly.
Listen, Lizzie; why don't you listen? You
don't seem to hear me. Lizzie, child, you
shall have the money. Each month I'll
draw It and glvo It to you. It isn't mine.
It's all a fraud. Speak, Lizzie; say some
thing Just a word please, please. If only
"You were always kind." eald Elizabeth
slowly, and with no uncertainty of voice
or manner. "Always noble and dear. The
money Is not mine. I have no right. I
feared It before, and the commission has
proved it. I am an incompetent; I belong
to the ranks of the Unfit. And yet I
can't quite understand it my children do
good work and pass high. But I don't
care any longer. They call It an Incen
tive, but with me it chokes every thought
of endeavor. For awhile I felt deadened
to all desire for progress, but that is past.
My old gait shall be my new. I cannot
do more; it is not In mo to do less. I
shall never apply again, Marjorie. I'm
dead to that. too. Nor shall I seek re
ward aside from my children's best wel
fare, and the old salary schedule. I feel
I have risen above tho whole shameful
thing ri3en spiritually and finally."
"And you don't hate me? Don't
"Envy you? No. dear; never.. You
have been too noble, too generous with
Still Marjorie felt unsatisfied. "Some
thing Is wrong," she said daily and
hourly to herself, and painfully she
would review and rewelgh every word
that had passed between thom, won
dering if she had overspoken her heart
or had said too little, or had spoken
amiss. A restraint seemed gradually, to
come between them a cloud no bigger
than a man's hand, yet it grew till it
filled the horizon. Elizabeth was not
happy; so much was clear. Conversa
tion on the mooted question had become
an Impossibility for tho rejected girl,
not in words but by an -aversion of
manner, warded off all approaches to
And Marjorie. realizing more and more
that the entire system was wrong, and
that she herself was a partaker of wrong,
began to fear that her presence there
only served as a reminder of her friend's
humiliation and failure. Herself keenly
sensltlve, she read the, condemnation she
felt for herself Into her friend's heart,
and read erroneously" Just as we are
prone to hate unjustly those we have
wronged, or who know of our wrong
doing, because we imagine they must
despise us. It Is easy to believe what we
elect to believe; and Marjorie - withdrew
farther snd farther, and no longer sought
friendly counsel or roado show of sympa
thy or regret. "She hates me," she
thought; "why should I give her a. chance
to rebuff me? Am I to. blame for my
success or answerable for another's fail
ure?" And common consent and usage
spake In a loud voice and said: "No, It
Is the survival of the Fit. It Is the fiat
of physical law. Adaptation, only, means
survival." .But her heart hourly regis
tered Its protest and said: "Withhold
not from her one grain of human pity.
How can you know her need or measure
Day after day Elizabeth would plod
home from school more and more dis
pirited. The little uplift at the first, the
sense of rising above -discord and hu
miliation, had somehow, been overborne.
Stress of toll, was it?' Or rather, bur
dens unknown and unshared?" None j
seemed to know and few to care.
Marjorie dared not ask.
A day came at lastwhen the vital forces
In the girl's life had burned low, and
came fitfully a night when she had lost
senso of time and space and galling condi
tions, and moaned and babbled of things
to which her lips in saner moments had
Marjorie. leaning over her bedside, half
distracted, gleaned bits of a life history
which sent the chill blood in a wave of
horror and indignation back upon her
She went to Lizz!e'3 schoolroom, now
In a seething ferment, and Interviewed
the children she had loved andjabored
for. Then, her fcara confirmed, she
sought the principal. Yes. she had been
falling for some time, he said; not doing
work up to her usual standard; a victim
to the merit system, he should say. She
had seemed somewhat crushed at the first
perfectly natural, of course must have
been so humiliating to one so sensitive
but she had rallied and seemed to rise
above It. Then the children had heard of
it. and children get but a half-truth at
best. They learn these things get them
In the air and, of course, they did not
understand thought It meant she was not
a good teacher and It weakened her dis
cipline. They seemed to lose respect for
her, and she. proportionately, to lose mas
tery of them. Yea, he had tried to control
these things, but the spirit was at home
and abroad. Even the parents felt she
had been marked for discredit. A dread
ful thing, such a failure' becoming public
property; and such will become public,
pgaln and always, and It will mean the
ruin of hard - working, conscientious
teachers, and the ultimate ruin of our
Why, that last day, an old German wo
man, unable to read or write a word of
English, scarcely able to speak In Intelli
gible gutturals, came In with her tousled
son. No, she vould not pud her son mlt
an un-merit teacher. She vas pud him
mlt an goot teacher, or she vas pud him
not at all. This she had said to Eliza
beth In the presence of the children, and
that night Elizabeth had gone home and
come back no more. And the children,
once so kind and tractable, filled now with
the spirit of unrest reflected upon them
from teacher and home and community,
had turned spiteful and Impish, gone ram
pant with loosened restraint, and had
been turned over to a pupil-teacher, under
whom they chafed and broke away re
peatedly. And the principal said, with tears In
his eyes: "It Is a cursed system, and
will yet curse this city through Its broken,
spiritless teachers and its demoralized
boys and girls."
Marjorie went home with an enlight
ened understanding but a sore and heavy
heart. Elizabeth knew no one. AH that
day and the next Marjorie refused to
leave her. The third morning, when near
school time, the cloud seemed to lift, and
her time sense, educated through long
continued habits, reasserted itself. She
opened her eyes, and turned them upon
the little alarm clock on the table.
"Why, Marjorie," she exclaimed, "It's
after 8 o'clock. I can't possibly dress and
get to school by twenty minutes Of nine,
and Til be fined. I must get up- at once,"
and she tried to raise herself, but fell
back weak and faint. "What is the mat
ter? What has happened?" she asked,
plteously. "I'll be fined and I spent
nay last dollar yesterday."
"Never mind, dear: I'll pay your fines,"
whispered Marjorie. tenderly, and the sick
girl closed her eyes and babbled again
of the orgies of the schoolroom and of
herself, an outcast.
Later in the day she regained conscious-
I saw him a-goin there half an hour T
"You didn't see what he had in his
hand, did you?" asked Jean. "He had Jim
Field's old pipe and he went up In the
havloft to learn to smoke. Doln chores!"
and Jean laughed derisively.
Just then a cry from Frank attracted
them, and following the direction of his
gaze, they saw flames bursting from the
upper part of the barn back of Mrs. Whlt
combe's house, and smoke pouring out
of the window in the lofti
"My God! Jacob's in there." shrieked
the horror-stricken mother, rushing wild
ly to the barn. "Jacob! Jacob!" she
screamed. "He'll be burned to death be
fore my very eyes."
Like a flash Jean darted past his aunt
and seizing a ladder which stood at the
side of the house, ran with it" to the barn.
The anTy tongues of flame darted greed
ily toward it. but Jean paid no heed to
them. In an instant h was on the top
rung and through thick, stifling smoke,
climbed over the window sill and disap
peared within the loft. He was gone but
ness again, but there was a strange, new.
fevered light In her yes which boded no
good. "They torment me," she cried.
"They taunt me. Whenever I close my
eyes I seo them. My little lambs are
turned to wolves. Oh. I can't stand it!
I can never teach again. I will die first.
I want to die," she whispered. "Do you
think I will?"
"No, dear; no, no, precious child. You
are too good, too true, too bright to give
up this .way. Your talents will be recog
nized. You why child, you are a genius.
You're simply unusual, while I'm nothing
but a flash In the pan. Die? I should
say not. You're going to live. Do you
hear me you're going to live." ,
A cloud passed over Elizabeth's face.
"Lately I've planned to drown myself,"
sho said slowly, and with; coolness born
of calculation. "Once I should have
planned Just where and how to drop be
neath the waters, and where I should bo
found, and how I should He with the cur
rentbut now I don't care. I don't care
how I He. Only I want to die. Perhaps
God means mo to die this way. instead."
Then, after a moment, "I don't sup
pose they meant it that way. They
didn't mean murder. But It comes to
that. Nine out of ten of us they dis
grace and humiliate we can't teach
after that. All we can do is die. Still."
she went on. slowly and weakly, "God
Himself closes the door against the
multitude. 'Straight is the gate and
narrcfw the way' the directors "are
only copying the Bible plan. I guess
it's all right. Thoy know best."
She closed her eyes. and Marjorie,
thinking her asleep, stole away for a
few minutes' rest.
When she returned she gave a loud
outcry. The bed was empty. Frag
ments of the girl's clothing were also
gone. Frantically they searched the
house and the premises'. There was no
sign of the missing one. Neighbors
Joined in the search. School children,
tossed the news one to anoth'er and
ran, half-frightened, to Join In the
search. The Chief of Police was 'phoned
up and his brigade set 'to work. Word
came at last, and gathered in volume
as It came, of a strange-appearing girl,
wahderlng, half-clad and alone, down
to the banks of the river. She had
evaded all questions, had gained tha
footpath of the newly-remodeled Morrison-street
bridge, and. in full view
of a half-dozen spectators, had leaped
to her death. In the chill waters of the
placid Willamette, and they had closed
over her, kindly, lovingly, sealing in
death the lips which long had uttered
no complaint; closing the eyes whose
vista had embraced little of Joy and
much of woe: stilling a heart whose
every beat had become a pain.
And so she died, tortured, tormented,
hunted, haunted; the victim of a sys
tem. She had not died in vain had the
system perished with her; but it lives
on. fed by the blood of Its victims,
gloating over broken hearts and broken
hopes apdj broken lives: eating Ha
sordid way into the integrity of a;
a moment, which to the agonized mother
i seemed an eternity, when he reappeared
at the window bearing Jacob, white ana
dazed. In his arms. With desperate effort
he pulled himself and his burden ovpr
the ldge and began his perilous descent.
Half-way down, overcome by smoke and
exertion, Jean slipped, and together be
and . his burden crashed to the ground be
low. Jacob, was unhurt, suffering only from
the temporary effects of the tobacco. Jean
sustained a broken leg.
Mrs. Whltcombe had him carried into
her house and nursed him as tenderly as
though he "had been her own son. and
during the long watches th rare beauty
of the face lying on the pillow, so sera
phic and appealing, touched her heart and
she uttered a prayer of thankfulness that
his face had not been harmed.
After. Jean was well again, whenever
Mrs. Whltcombe discoursed on his way
wardness, she always ended with and her
voice was. a shade less harsh, "but he has
his redeemin points, mind you he has
his redeemin points."
municipality's school life, disaffectlns.
Its old, corrupting Its young.
Still it lives, this destroyer, and
stalks Its grim way through God's fair
est city, red-eyed, open-mouthed, seek
ing yet other victims among tho ranks
of tho faithful, the pure and the true
Song of tho Cavalry.
Tup and to horse, oa the kiss of the mam
Reddens the cheek of the sky.
And her sweet breath blows through the atJl.
of the corn.
And the pulse of youth beats bight
Up and away in the cool moist air.
Life worth living, and all things fair
And if s O for tho cavalry!
The ring- of hoofs on a shady road;
The charge down a village street;
The halt to parley to Are and load
The rush of retreating feet!
On and on in the wlney atr.
"Welcoming danger anywhere
And It's O for the cavalry!
The gleam of banners to victory borne;
Clashing of steel 'gainst steel;
A thought for the dead but no time to mourn-"
Then hurrah! the fcemen reel;
Forward forward to do and dare.
With Sheridan spurring everywhere!.
And It's O for the cavalry!
A stirrup cup at some wayside rill:
A bed on the warm, bare ground:
The plaint of a lowly whlp-poor-wlH
From the cypress trees around.
Off to sleep without fear or care,'
The sleep of youth in the open air
And It's O for the cavalry"!
The years have come and the years have gone.
And many a dream proved true;
But I sometimes long for youth's cool o the
And the faces that it knew
The ideals under the clustering hair. .
When for. all life's plans was time and t
And It's O for the cavalry!
For time has deadened the cries of pain
That tortured oar years of ydre;
The heat, the dust, and the blinding rain.
Hallowed the hardships we had" to bear.
The toll, the suffering, the meager fare
And It's O for the cavalryl
Ah. me for the ioy of the bugle call!
And fain would I see once more
The flames of the bivouacs rise and fall
On the Rappahannock's jsh&re.
Hear the whinny of my roan mare.
And ride and ride through, the sunrise a!r-
i Ah, me for tho Cavalry!
Mrs. Conny-suer What a flne collection
you have of old Roman war knives! .Mrs.
Upstart Yes. aren't they great? T Inherit
ed them from my grandfather, he used to
be a butcher. Detroit Free Press.