THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTIAOT, SEPTEMBER 17, 1905.
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newsboys -wore crying on the strools the P Jt .i 'KPLss J
resignation of Curzon before she had II fk ST V w! -ilPPMiiX iflffiJU.
startpd the wires to make her husband his I V y lfSjijA wii1 ft . 1SMlk"
Mk5 FOR LADY CUKZO
hie vim vm nis me B
CONNECTED -i
"U'OMAN'S interference has put
Lord Kltehonor, of Khartoum, in j
the way of realizing his greatest I
ambition. A woman may keep him out I
of it
Lady Cwrzon's too active participation
in her husband's administration of the
affairs of India, has resulted in the Lord
resigning.
This leaves open the post of Viceroy
of India, the place of alt others Chat
the grim and silent warrior desires as
his reward for the service he has ren
dered Britain on the field of battle.
Mte nronuKiot to the post would be
a virtual certainty had not another
woman set her heart on the same for
her husband.
Lady Xluto. wife of the former Governor-General
of Canada, desires to see her
husband Viceroy of India, and so great
is her Influence that the covetod ot may
go to him.
It is a strange fact, one not without
Its satire, that woman should con
stantly affect the fortune? of Lord Kitch
ener, for of all men he is the last one
whose affairs would seem to be In any
way Hkely of influence from the gentler
pex.
A bachelor of M, he Has for 80 years
been the target of match-makers, but lie
scornfully and openly Jeered at all of.
forts to win him to matrimony.
An avowed woman hater, they have
openly dubbed him in England "The man
without a heart." and from his actions
the ftunoos fighter who pulled England
In safety out of the Boer war, has seemed
to rejoice in the title.
The Queen of England herself did not
think it beneath her dignity to strive to
perjiuade the handsome giant into a wed
ding wKh one of her eligible subjects, but
the result has always been the same.
His Xanie Often Coupled.
Kitchener's name has been coupled with
those of many women, but he has stead
fastly remained single.
And yet more perhaps than any prom
inent man in England woman's hand has
borne its weight on the rudder of his
future.
Lady Curzon, who recently -opened the
door to hie hopes and Lady Minto, who
may close it, are both two of the most
influential of a class of women which Is
constantly increasing in England, the pol
itician of the higher class, who aids her
husband In his battle for preferment
Lady Curzon was Mary Leltor, brother
of the Chicago plunger. She Is esteemed
one of the most beautiful women in the
world, and as wife of the Viceroy, has
played a brilliant part in the many mar
velous pageants by which Curzon. of
Kedleston, elected to impress the natives
of India with the power of the nation
whom representative he
Kitchener, coming to India as supreme
commander of His Majesty's army, found
little patience with the system of pomp.
He believes primarily in fighting ef
ficiency for an army, ahdi objected
'strongly to the Curzon Mors of admin.
1st ration
It Is jsaid that Curzon might have fore-
borne a combat with his distinguished
and powerful rival, had not Lady Curzon
goaded him to the sternest resistance.
Between the General and the Lady of
the Viceroy there existed little friendship.
At one time this condition of affairs was
different, for It was genorally believed
that the conqueror of the Boers would be
come the husband of Daisy Loiter, sLstor
of Lady Curzon, and an heiress in hor,
own right.
This was immediately after the Boor
War.
Kitchener was indefatigable in his at
tentions, and the match was said to have
the sanction of Queen Alexandra, but sud
denly he stopped abruptly, and the Amer
ican girl wedded Henry Molinoux Paget
Howard
shire
Prior to this time thoro had once boon
a well substantiated story that the war
rior, was in love with Mrs. Jamas Brown
Pottor. the actress, and that during the
Boer War he had carried hor picture ovor
his hoarL
But if this were true, he took it away
finally, for nothing ever came of his ru
mored engagement to her.
Maud Gonne, the Irish patriot, was also
mentioned as the woman who might woar
the name -of Lady Kitchener, but this
stor too, failed of realization, and Kitch
ener went to India a bachelor, "married
to the service alone," as he put it.
How the Clash Came.
The clash between himself and Curzon
came over an order issued by Kitchener
that 1000 rounds of ammunition be deliv
ered to each soldier. When the supplies
came, it was found that the order of Cur
zon had cut the allotment to 78 rounds
per man, and Kltchoner promptly sent
word to England that unless he was as
isured Immunity from Interference, h
would resign.
A committee investigated the matter,
and rendered a vordlct In Kitchener's
favor.
Lord Curzon at once resigned, loaving
the post vacant.
The battle betweon the diplomat, trained
from his long experience in the ways of
politicians, and the rugged soldier, most
of whose life has been spont in the trop
ics, battling for England, ended In favot
of the warrior.
His promotion to the post of Viceroy
looked to be a virtual cortalnty. but a
woman was once again to piay her fated-
part.
Lady Minto had scarcely waited till the
successor.
The latter occupies a commanding posi
tion in the regard of the foremost men in
the British government. It Is true that'
he quitted the post of Canada under cir
cumstances somewhat similar to thoso
that drove Curzon from India he had a
Quarrel on a point of authority with the
Premier, Sir Wilfred Laurler but there
was no stain on his administration. In
fact. It was gon orally admitted that At
had been marked by a high dogree of
efficiency.
The Interfering Women.
Lord and Lady, .Minto became well
known and popular in this country during
the early part . of their reign as Vice
King and Vlce-Queon of Canada. At the
time of the International yacht races In
1SW they were the guests of "the then
Governor of New York. Thoodoro Roose
velt, and were entertained oxtcrislvoly in
New York and Newport--
The rolgn of Lord Minto as.Govomor
General of Canada, starting auspiciously,
soon became troublous, and ondod finally
In his resignation and roturn to England.
He was appointed in 153, and the term
of office was for four years. Friction be
tween the Governor-General and the Do
minion Cabinet developed into an open
breach in 101, when the Duke and Duch
ess of Cornwall visited Canada on their
77S2Z
Britain's
famous world
colonies.
Lord Minto made the mistake of taking
all the arrangemnts into his own
hands, forgetting that where the Cana
dian people had to pay the bills the Cana
dian people would want to have a voice
in the planning. There came a clash with
Sir Wilfred Laurier, Premier, when Lord
Minto refused to confer knighthood upon
all the Lord Mayors and other distin
guished officeholders included in a list
submitted by the Premier. Thon, too, the
Governor-General attempted to designate
the order of militia In the royal review,
only to be compelled to surrender the
honor to the Minister of Militia. His out
lay for the royal tour In Canada was
J&jO.COO. and in expending this amount the
Cabinet decided it must have a say.
The Duke of Cornwall, finding this
strained condition upon his arrival, took
the popular side and placed his, royal par
ty In the hands of Sir Wilfred Lnurler.
This was the beginning of the end. In
1004. Lord and Lady Minto and family
sailed from New York for the home coun
try. Meanwhile, this charming Vice-Queen
herself had offended the women of Can
ada's high society by organizing a cottago
hospital in 'opposition to the Victorian
Order of Nurses, founded by Lady Aber
deen, hor predecessor, who was very pop
ular. The Countess if Minto Is the daughter
of the Hon. Charles Grey, who was pri
vate secretary to the then Queen.
It will bo the grim irony of fate if Lady
Mlnto's campaign Is crowned with suc
cess, and a woman once more crosses th
fortunes of the man whose boast is that
he is adamant to them all.
"THE LATE MRS. DIRKS" & BY WILL LEVING10N COMFORT
THE VIEW from my window com
mands a country lane, a garden
patch from which the sumptuous
yellow of the motioning pumpkins has
lately vanished, and a Httle, lonely house
in the distance. When I first came to
Pleasant Valley ray neighbors told me
of the solitary woman who lived In this
houce, Urid me of the coflln which she
kept In her parlor and of the shrouds
which jdte sewed upon far into the night.
All this and more was described ho awful.
y and vividly that I pictured tlie crea
ture stttlttg by the candle-light, behind
the curtatoed window which' made a blood
red square In the darkaos a gaunt, trom
Wlag. uncanny figure, whose needle
gleamed like an evil eye as it traveled
swiftly over lengths of chilling white.
That gossip of the country-town which
percoiaiee through key-holes and window-
chinks trembled often with the horror
wMeh environed this weird old woman.
One of her sons preached for a living, it
was saM. and there were others some
where, but they neither wrote nor visited.
The cottage of Mrs. Dirks was a castle
of reciuslow, and the taut cable of the
draw-bridge estranged her from human
sympathies.
One late afternoon, as I was staring
thoughtleeJly out of my winddw, I saw
Mrs. Dirks omergc from Iter back door,
start down the rickety stops to the yard
and fait forward, suddenly. I found her
huddled helplessly upon the turf at the
base. She wa6 miraculously undamaged.
By the time I had bundled hor to the
Are and poured a drop of brandy from
the pathetic little cupboard, she was quite
restored and speechless at my Impudence
in presuming to help her at all. Before
leaving I repaired a break in the steps
which had caused the accidont, brought a
couple of pails of water from my own
spring and split several armfuls of wood.
I was ashamed that I had not done
these things before she was past 70, a
consumptive of the old-fashioned kind,
partly paralyzed, and heavon knows all
that was pitiable beside.
She protested when I appeared the next
day at sundown, but I protested, and
once used to me, she accepted my ser
vices quite as a matter of course, even
to the extent of advising roe in a manner
without adornment that I should not
bring palls of water so full that they
flopped over on her kitchen floor, that 1
should net split hor stovowood so fine,
since the sticks burned faster, and that I
didn't move as if I had used an ax a
groat deal. Often, as I was leaving, she
would remind me that I had not fetched
oil for the lamp or that I must beat the
hall carpet tomorrow.
I became very fond of her. She was so
imperious In her wants that there was
much satisfaction in pleasing her. Her
cool. Qulok, "There, that'll do nowV' was
bettor than the prayers of countless poor.
And she had such a knightly nerve!
What hor thoughts were regarding the
manner of her life I would not hazard,
hut her demeanor was pristine In its In
dependence. She talked of death as one
would remark upon the passing of a fa- I
miliar carriage. She was living death
itself, white, fragile, sepulchral beyond
conception, but the gaunt frame was
bound by sinews of fine steel.
"It won't be long now," she would say.
"Never thought I'd see last Spring. Last
Winter was tur'ble. an' 'nother one's
comln on. I'll do wejl of I see Janaery
with this here cough. Ef the curtain
ain't up some mornln by 7 you'll know,
or ef you don't see no light In the cvenln
up to 16. Ef the doors are locked you
kin break one of 'em In, but they won't
be ef I hov any warnin'. I'll get to the
bedroom yonder ef there's time. You'll
find directions in the top buroau draw or,
and money enough. These poople won't
put me in no potter's field. I ain't askin
no odds of 'cm. The coffin's la the -sparo
bedroom upstairs."
She was tragically poor. I had a haunt
ing dread that she was Improperly nour
ished. As I did her buying, I knew to the
penny's worth the provisions that went
into her house, and these were scarcely
tflifliclent to prosper a mother cat and kit
tens. One morning she ordered me to get
her 4 cents worth of round steak. I
found a nice little cut of sirloin and
brought it instead, returning her six pen
nies from the dime she had given me.
That action almost crushed our intimacy.
She improvised a declaration of Inde
pendence in my presence the next day,
many parts of which I shall remember
al ways
There is nothing so utterly melancholy
as the strains from a melodeon issuing
from a lonely cottage at night. Mrs.
Dirks did not play hymns, but anclont
love tunes that should have been locked
in the wilderness of 50 years age. Some
times while I was at work about the
house I would hear hor coughing, but the
sounds, harrowing as they were, did not
oppress me so deeply as those from the
melodeon. One evening I was chopping
furiously to drown the groanlngs of the
instrument, when the sounds ceasc1 sud
denly and Mrs. Dirks appeared upon the
porch.
"Say, son, hev you got any readln'
matter?" she questioned.
"Why. yes. I've got a lot of books,
Mrs. Dirks," I answered, thinking of
some volumes that used to brighten the
waning eyes of my grandparonts-'Pre-pared
Mansions," Tho Glory That
Waits," "The Shining City," and others.
"What kind of ' books do you like to
road beskt?"
"Hev you got any books by the author
of 'Mj'ra. the Murderess! That was real
interostln'," she said.
I was too overcome to reply coherently
at once. Mrs. Dirks continued:
"I like detective stories best, hut a
good love story doos real welL That
'Sundered at the Altar was real fine."
Half tho uncannlness of the woman
and her environment was destroyed that
instant I chuckled aloud.
"What's a-eatln of you?" she asked,
quickly.
"That story was fine, wasn't It?" I said
hastily; "that 'Sundered story?"
On my next walk to the village I pur
chased a half dozen novels whose titles
were of rare promise, and thereby added
considerably to my own prestige at the
store. Mrs. Dirks gloated over them like
a debutante over -a new ball gown. How
it came about, I forget exactly, but I was
prevailed upon to sit down and read
aloud to her two or three evenings later.
"Just 83 I can finish my sewing." she
coaxed. I rose at the end of a chapter
or two.
"I'm sorry you're going," she said,
" 'cauee now I'll want to go on with the
story and that'll put my sewin out."
"What are you making, Mrs. Dirks?" I
questioned, eyeing the rumpled field of
unbleached cotton in her lap.
"Shrouds. Folks says I'm crazy," she
chuckled. "Folks 'round here ain't noth.
In to go by.'be they? You see, my man
was In the undertakln' business, an' I got
real handy at shrouds years ago. helpln'
him out. That's how I got the colli n.
'Bout all he left! Thought I might as
well hev it fer myself. Say, did you
ever see thom poor-houses lay dead folks
out?"
I replied that this point had hung out
side my field of observation.
"Woll, I hev, an' it's shameful. Some,
of them shrouds don't come to the
oorppfts' knees, an most generally they
don't hev no back at all. I ain't got no
money to leave to hospitals or put stained
wlndors Into churches an me an Pleas
ant Valley churches don't hitch a good
deal, anyway m I hit on shroads. I'vo
got a pile of 'em. They'll be sent to
town an' distributed 'cordin to directions,
aftor I'm dead all but mine. That's got
embroidery 'round the neck. I think It's
roal pretty."
I perceived more and more that the vil
lagers of Pleasant Valley regarded Mrs.
Dirks with Jaundiced eyes. Her coffin
did not occupy the parlor; she did not
sleep In It during certain phases of the
moon; It had been acquired by accident,
and here shrouds were to be a heritage.
I returned In the twilight after a two
days' visit to the city, having expected
to be absent only one night. I was afraid
that Mrs. Dirks had boon forced to per
form her chores for a day, at least. It
was quite dark by the time I reached the
cottage, and there was no light shining
behind the curtain of the dining-room
window. I set my lantern down on the
porch and rapped upon tho door with a
quaking heart rapped again. There was
no answer. Growing uneasiness ripened
Into dread, abject dread. I called. My
voice sounded 111 and startllngly loud. It
did not avail. .
I sat down upon tho 'stops to think.
Among the terrors of the thing a sin
core sorrow' moved in my mind. Weoks
ago sho had told me to try the doors in
such a case. It took several moments to
steady my embattled faculties so that I
could do this. I thought of hor relaxed
in the dark of the dlnjng-room In the
old worn rocker with an unfinished
shroud on her lap. The old worn rocker
had creaked as I read to her. such a lit
tle while ago, from "Claribcl's Divorce."
My lantern flamed unsteadily, smok
ing the globe, for the night winds woro
at cross-purposes. I shook it to be sure
that there was oil enough, so that it
would not desert me when I had passed
tho door. With my faculties clamoring
unique and thrilling objections to tho
sane purpose of my will, I arose and
The door opened, and I thrust "the lantern
ahead of me. The old rocker was empty.
There were three doors leading from
this dining-room, besides the entrance in
whlcn I stood. With a supreme effort I
held the lantern in the kitchen door
way, which was the nearest. One can
not understand the thoughts. Inspired by
the riot of agitation, which possessed mc,
while that glance endured. The sink, the
table, the little stove, a low bench sup
porting a wash tub and a pan of vege
tables, a cracked cheap mirror that was
all.
I could go no. further then. The effort
was not in me. ' The end had come in the
night last night. She had reached the
door, unlocked It, this indomitable crea
ture and made her way back to the
bed-room
There was a house across the street, a
hundred yards to the left. I knocked there
Inquiring of the' woman if she had seen
Mrs. Dirks that day. I was greeted with
a suspicious and unceremonious "No,"
and nothing more. The last doubt was
eliminated. It had happened the night
before.
As I left tho house of the neighbor it
was clear to me that this revolting tu
mult In my brain must be quelled. I
would command myself to enter that bed
room and perform the final duties. I
reached the gate, passed it, and strode up
the steps. Then and there, even before
touching the knob, Incapacity controlled
me once' more.
"This Is not my work." I said, halting
In the way. "This Is Terfanner's. I will
take the matter to Terfanner."
The old village undertaker was in his
office when I reached town, a half mile
away. He filled a sombre satchel with
certain peroqaisites. and we returned to
the cottage together. I found the lantern
where I had left it. at the gate. We as
cended the steps. At the door I paused to
light a cigar, and Terfanner took the
lead."
"The bed-room is over yonder," I said,
puffing laboriously. Ho entered with the
lantern.
"The late Mrs. Dirks hain't thar," he
said briefly, cbming out. "Les hev a
look in the parlor."
He looked. I was cemented to the din
ing room like a fly In ambr. "No," said
he returning. "Not thar. uther."
"The coffin is in the jjare room up
stairs," I suggested, feel4.'.
"Ye don't suppose she 4imb into thet,
to save bother, do ye?" "firfanner asked,
making for the stairway
I followed to the foot odhc stairs, and
my destress Increased asterfanner, the
lantern, and the whltene( thereof were
lifted from me like a cbajot of fire."
The undertaker entereda door above.
That instant I became as funning water.
There was a step on tiheporch outside,
and then a voice, raucqus a loosened
tin sign clapping In thai rod.
"What in thunderatloa $ you doln'-in
there?" 1
"It's me," I stammer "I we w.ere
looking for you" ' L
"Huh!"
I heard her feeling djon tho wall for
a match. She found one; presently, lit
tho lamp and appeared! li the hallway,
fearfully tall and attenited. Terfan
ner was clambering downftalrs.
"An who's that you've St with you?"
, she asked, angrily. ' r
"That's Mr. Terfanner. He's an he's
a particular friend of mine"
"Huh. So you was Iookln fer me, was
you? Well, I was down street gcttin'
some cotton and some cornmeal. havln'
nobody to send. Why didn't you git back
yesterday, as ycu said?" '
I explained at length, making for the
door. Terfanner was already outside,
and thumping down the steps. She beck
oned me to her.
"I was a little upset fer a minute, but
I understand now," she said In a low
tone. "It's all right, an I don't blame
ye. Only don't get Terfanner when It
doos come. I ain't got no use fer Ter
fanner, There's a young fellow across
the river In the business. He'll do. Now
you go out and get your chores done,
and here's five cents to get me a half
dozen cracked eggs at the creamery to
morrow. Their half price, an' jus as
good fer cookin Listen to that old fool
Terfanner stampln' off all in a huff
'cause I ain't passed away that partlck
Ier friond 'o your'n. Never mind, son,
your a good boy."
WILL LEVINGTON COMFORT.
BIRDS OF THE OREGON. WOODS
CONTINUED FROM
PAGE FORTY
there are always - other birds nesting
about, and these are sure to destroy their
quota of harmful Insects. Think of the
time when a whole flock of seven young
chickadees arc turned loose to seareh
among the trees, day after day during
the cntlro year.
In addition to the chickadees and the
warblers, tho bush-tit -Is the most -useful
Oregon bird that one con have about his
orchard. Anybody would fall in love
with a bush-tit. even If he were not the
chickadee's cousin. The fluffy lit
tle midget does not xtossess the aerial
grace of a swallow or the nlmblonoss of
a warbler. But he bustles along in a
jerky way, till he often looks as If he'd
topplo heels over head and go whirling
to the ground like a tailless kite. He is
askilled hunter, however. He skirmishes
every tree and bush. Ho Is not as skill
ful a wing shot as a flycatcher but he has
an eye that few can heat in stalking. He
Is no mean assistant of the gardener. He
Is not the kind that hoes a whole garden
In a day, cutting off half the tender
shoots, but hes at work early and late,
and he's constantly-at it. .
A Real Blra Mansion.
It is not a small matter to get a site
suited for a-bush-tit's home, for he builds
a real bird mansion. There should be
one or two firm upright twigs about
which to weave the walls, a cross branch
or two for rafters, and, if the house is
to he modem, a little support for a porch
or promenade. Contrary to our first
'maxim of architectural success, the little
builders begin at tho top and build down,
first a round entrance, then a ha J 1 way to
the living room.
I've watched the .young birds of many
species where the parents care for them
-2
for a week or so till they are able to
hunt a living for themselves, then the
family scatters and loses identity in the
great world, df feathers. Not so with tho
hush-tits, they hunt, feed and sloep to
gether Summer and Winter alike. Several
times I saw them about tho orchard.
Each youngster had learned to keep up
a constant "tscre-e! tscrc-c! talc!
tscro-e-e!" as If always talking, but I do
not think this gossip Is as much for the
sake of conversation as merely to keep
the whole flock constantly together. While
I wak watching one day, three or four of
the little fellow3 wore within a few feet
of me. One of the parents In tho next
tree began a shrill, quavering whistle, and
instantly it was taken up by" every ..one
In the bond. The two tiny "birds near me,
as well as eiery one of the other?, Irrzc
to their perches as still as death. Had
I not known. I could hardly have told
whore the sound was comln.j from, it
scimcd so scattering, liko the elusive,
grating call of the cicada. Then I saw a
hawk swooping slowly ovarhead, and the
contusing chorus lasted as long as tho
hawk was In sight, nor did one of the lit
tle bush-tits seem to move a feather, but
Just sit motionless and trill in perfect
unison. It served as a unique method of
protection, the whole flock had learned to
act as a unit, and It woatl have leen
hard for an enemy to tell where a tingle
bird was. the aliirm note was so ccat-to-ing,
and their clothing harmonired so
perfectly with the rhadows of tho folic ge.
One day I found the nest of a black
throated gray warbler 12 feet from the
ground In the top of a sapling. I parted
the branches and found a cup of grasses,
feather-lined, nestled In the fork of the
fir. There lay four eggs 3f a pinkish
tinge, touched with dots of brown. '
Of course, it showed a pure lack of dis
cretion to try to pictur the home of
such a shy warbler duitg tho days of
incubation, and I half lebvc the feath
ered owners would hav orerlooked this,
had it not beon for thepr of blue jays
that buccaneered the yith of fir near
tho orchard. While wo lere getting a
picture, I saw thom eyln; us curiously,
but they slunk away anosr the dark firs
squawking jay talk atoit something I
didn't understand. Two iays later, we
skirted the clump to s& t the sonso of
warbler propriety had ten too severely
shocked by the camera.' IT an Instant, I
translated every syllabjftf what that
pair of blue pirates had jquawked. The
scattered remnants of 'th' nest and the
broken bits of shell told 11.
These gray warblers,, bwever much
they- were upset by the o icra fiend, blue
Jay depredations, were jc to bo thwart
ed. They actually wen housekeeping
within 40 yards of the o J home site. The
new nest was placed Ini ir sapling very
like the first, but botteiadden from tho
mauradlng blue jays. 4 was supremely
better located from th 'photographer's
point of view. t
The moment tho mote; returned and
found me so dangerous!, tear her brood,
she was scared almost oi of her senses.
Sho fell from tho top f tho tree in a
fluttering fit. She cauni quivering on
the limb a foot from m;aand. Involun
tarily I reached to help t r1. Poor thing!
She couldn't hold on, bul lipped through
the branches and clutchj my shoe. I
never saw such an exa'ie rated case of
chills, or heard such n pitiful, high
pitched tone of pain. Ijtooped to see
what ailed her. What! Jcth wings brok
en and unable to hold wher claws I She
wavered like an autuiri leaf to the
ground. I leaped down, but sho had
limped under a hush at suddenly got
well. Of course, I knew she was tricking
me.
In the days I spent about the nest, 1
never saw tho time when both the warb
ler bairns were not In- a starving mood,
regardless of tho amount of dinner they
had Just swallowed. The flutter of wings
touched the button that seemed automati
cally to open their mouths. At the slight
est sound, I've often seen disputes arise
while the mother was away. 'Til take
the next," said one. "I guess you'll not,"
screamed the other. The mother paid no
more attention to their quarrel3 and en
treaties than to the ceaseless gurgle of
the water. How could she? I don't be
lieve she ever caught sight of her chil
dren when their mouths were not open.
The fact that the mother fed them im
partially appealed in no way to their
sense of justice. The one that got the
meal quivered his wings in ecstacy. while
the other always protested at the top of
his voice. WILLIAM L. FINLEY.
Expurgated.
Chicago Tribune.
The handle of the umbrella in question
was the head and neck of a dog, carved
in wood, and the baby belonging to the
woman in the next seat was trying to bite
the dog's head off.
"Pardon me, madam," said the profes
sor, leaning forward, "but do you know
why tho dog takes that treatment so
quietly?"
"No, sir, I da not."
"Because, madam, when that dog was
made the-bark was taken off."
She stared at him in indignant surprise,,
but the professor, serene in the knowl
edge that he had shed some more useful
information, continued to beam genially
on-the baby and to puff at his unUghted
cigar.
ft.