SUNDAY OKEGOMAX, PORTLAND, SEPTE3IBER 18, 1910.
the
THE LEOPARD'S CLAW
PT HAROLD JtlNPLOSS.
Copyrighted. J10. by the Associated
Literary I'ress.)
ONE hot Pctmbr day In the delta
of the Niger River. West Africa.
Lieutenant Stanlland lay on a
pile of palm matting In the bottom of
canoe. He waa In the grip of a ma
larial fever, and four Haussa. or na
tive aoldiers. were taking him Into the
Interior, where the climate la mora
healthful. Burning and shlverrng al
ternately, as the fever came and went,
the Englishman finally fell asleep.
When he woke the canoe waa drawn
np among the mangroves on the bank
and, the Hatissas had lighted a fire
and were fretting their scanty meal.
Ills attack was over for the day. and
he slowly dragged himself Into the
hush to stretch his feeble, ague-racked
limb. The lieutenant had gone only
a short distance before he made a
discovery that gave him great uneasi
ness. Just beyond him waa an open
spare, and across It waa a row of aun
clrled mud huta and In front strolled
two nake1 river men. splendid tall fel
lows, and each man carried the flint
lock gun with which the West African
native lies in wait for. hia enemy and
kills him as he passes.
The white man had seen enough.
Creeping away as quietly as possible,
he retraced his steps to the camp.
When he told Shaillu. the Haussa
sergeant, what he had seen the latter
said: "Yessah. I know this people
know him bad. Chop white man
smuggle gin."
Btantland groaned. He and his men
were worn out and could go no far
ther. The dense foliage would screen
their fire, so that all they could do
would be to trust being unobserved by
the river men. "Shaillu." the lieuten
ant ordered, "you and Karo watch un
til moonrlse. Wake me If you hear
the river men coming." Then he lay
down between the buttress-like roots
of a great cottonwood and waa soon
fast asleep. .
Meanwhile Sergeant Shaillu leaned
on his rifle, a gift from his master for
faithful service. Since the day when
- Lieutenant Stanlland. at the risk of
hia life, saved the half-starved Haussa.
who with a reed spear quivering in his
body, crawled up to him for protection
awamst a bloodthirsty mob of river
men. the latter had followed the white
man with slavish devotion, for such la
the nature of the Mahomedan soldier.
Just then a faint light from the ris
ing moon filtered down through the
branches and lay in shimmering silver
patches across the grass, and the ser
geant pulled himself together as be
heard a faint "chunk-chunk" of pad
dles from somewhere far up the river.
He listened Intently, then turned and
threw a big armful of branches on the
fire, and as the red flame fell upon
the wasted and haggard face of the
sleeper slipped off his most cherished
possession, a leopard'a claw Ju-Ju. or
fetish, and hung It around the white
man's neck. Htooplng down, he wak- I
BOYS WROTE FAMOUS BOOKS
BT O. A. WADS.
THE precocity of 1 terary boys baa
perhaps been hardly as well
marked as that of boy musicians
and boy artists. There is it Is true
hardly a single classic work that was
written by a youth under the age of
twenty-one year. Tet there have been
several famous books, nevertheless,
whose authors were considerably un
der that age when they penned the
works that were to gain such re
nown. The two i.oit noted cases In point
are undoubtedly those of Alexander
I'ope and Thomas Bablngton Macaulay.
rope was only twelve years old when
he wrote the splendid "Ode to Soli
tude," a marvelous eomposltlon for a
boy of that age. even Vhen particu
larly precocious. This fine poem waa
soon followed by the equally splendid
"Ode to Silence." at the age of four
teen; and thus the Juvenile satirist
and poet achieved a fame which many
of his rivals never attained after long
decades of Industrious versifying and
scribbling.
Macanlay. the future brilliant histo
rian and essayist, was only twelve
years old when he published his first
volume, the "Prlmltiae. wh'ch took
the literary world of his day by storm,
as being evidently the product of
one who could go far in literature.
What the critics thought when they
learned that the tithor had not yet
reached his teens can best be Imag
ined. At the age of twelve, too, Abraham
Cowley had written his celebrated
poem of "Pyramus and Th'sbe." a
ntrk of extraordinary ability for a
writer of such youthful experience as
tnls boy of twelve must ha.e had at
that time. There was much of Cow
ley's later work that became famous
w tlch was far from being as excellent
in many ways as was his first work,
"Pyramus and Thlsue."
The noted actor, John O'Keefe.
whose abllltr as actor and dramatist
every Irishman is proud of. proclaimed
himself author of ne very successful
play entitled "Tony Lumpkin" while he
waa yet short of his sixteenth birth
day. Considering how successful this
drama was in its day, and how It
proved the forerunner of many themes
and characters similar to those It dealt
with. It may be dobted whether any
hoy has ever written a play with such
pronounced success as this of the fifteen-year-old
O'Keefe.
Sixteen years of age has proved the
Ime when more then one literary light
burst on the world with phenomenal
blaze. The celebrated "Ulnaldo" of
Tio appeared while Its author waa
t a boy of that age. Ant a young
Frenchman, or rather boy. at the same
age published a work tnat gained
much favorable comment, a volume of
r"(mi among which was "Artamene."
The author's name was unknown to
Frenchmen generally when the work
appeared, but his success was assured.
And for many yec J after that first
rf all French romantic writers came
Victor Hugo, the young man who had
written those poems at sixteen. At
that same age of Its boy author waa
rubllshed a volume of poems by an
Kngllsh youth whose fame waa to be
come Immortal. He died at seventeen
but what student of literature does
not know the name of Thomas Cbat
terton. the "marvelous boy," whose
beautiful "Ode to Librty and 'Min
strel's Song" appeared In that volume
of Ms sixteen-year-old publishing?
The celebrated Spanish writer,
lofm de Vega, was seventeen when he
cave to the wondering Spaniards his
fmoue "Arcadia." with Its ripping mu
sic. Seventeen also was the noted
humorist. Theodore Hook. when his
"Soldier's Return." a drama of great
He saw SeaT&jnt Shallin
ened the officer. "River men come,
sail." he aaid.
Five minutes later the little party
were all awake, and, drawing back out
of the light behind the wide cotton
wood trunks, they listened with beat
ing hearts. The rattle and swish of
paddles drew nearer and nearer, then
they heard the canoes grate against
the mangroves and after that for
20 minutes there was dense silence.
Next moment the busli echoed with
a wild howl. Then a sputter of flame
blew out from among the trees, fol
lowed by a crash, and handfuls of shot
whistled through the forest, cutting
down showers of leaves with a vicious
"sip. sap" as they passed. Through
the smoke a crowd of naked river
men dashed into the firelight.
One man almost touched the lieu
tenant as he glared Into the darkness
with an angry scowl, for the favorite
West African attack had failed, and
power, took London by storm, and
made him a name, while yet a mere
boy. as a writer of far more than aver
age merit.
The most brilliant production of any
youth of IS was certainly Shelley's
"Queen Mab." Kven in our own day this
poem Is considered an extraordinarily
fine piece of literary work, apart alto
gether from the merits) or demerits of
its theme, and of the opinions expressed
tn tt, Percy Bysshe" Shelley wrote many
fine things while yet under age. but
none of them excelled the celebrated
"Queen Mab."
Close upon the heels of this work,
however, as a wonder of IS, may fairly
be put Drlsraelfs well-known novel.
"Vlvlsn Grey." which was in part writ
ten while Its author was in his 39th year,
and was published before he actually at
tained his 20th birthday. "Vivian Grey"
is certainly the most famous novel ever
written by a boy. And for a novel of
Its class, too. It suggests extraordinary
insight, thought and precocity on the
part of Its writer to have been able to
tackle such a subject while yet at an
age of comparative Inexperience In the
world that he portrayed in his story
Three boys, however, at the age of 19.
produced books that were destined to
be reckoned more or less famous,
though all of these productions were
poems. At 19 Voltaire wrote his well
known "OEdlpe;" at the same age
Southey published his fine poem, "Joan
of Arc;" and. while yet ID. Philip James
Bailey wrote that noble work almost a
classic some years hack "Fes'us." It
may be fairly decided, I think, that
"Featus" is the tinest of these. Some
of Its passages are nearly worthy of the
Immortal Shakespeare, and bear a kind
of resemblance to b!s style of thought
and writing. Bailey died not long ago,
having survived to an age that had nearly
forgotten the wonderment and delight of
the literary world of his youth when It
shoot-three efjit assAitofifo
the river tribe were astonished not to
find their foes shattered by the charge.
Then be dropped like a stone, as the
lieutenant's revolver butt took him
between the eyes. The word "fire"
rang out: four rifles flashed together,
and a cloud of acrid smoke blew across
the officer's eyes. He saw Sergeant
ShaJlu shoot three of the assailants,
with his Winchester rifle from behind
a cottonwood root. Then the river
men broke away and disappeared Into
the bush.
So sudden was the whole .-.ffa'r. that
Lieutenant Stanlland, light-headed with
fever, could hardly realize that the
foe had gone, and stood swsylng to
and fro, with smoking revolver and
shaking limbs. In the center of the
firelight, his face blackened with pow
der and hia throat parched asd
cracked.
A spear hummed past his head and
struck quivering into a palm-stem; o
learned 'that the author of the splendid
work "Festus" was a boy of 19.
We can Just bring In one more actual
"boy" that Is. a writer who was not
more than 21 when he wrote a famous
book. And. strangely enough, this waa
probably the most famous of all books
we have mentioned as written by boys,
and It has truly become a "classic" In
literature. The boy waa a brilliant youth
Indeed, for his name was George Gordon
Lord Byron. And his famous book was
also brllllat, for It was the well-known
"English Bards and Scotch Reviewers."
That a youth of his aire should have
been able to produce a. plashing piece of
critical, sarcastic writing like this; sucfi
splendid passages and style; such effect
ive thrusts and retorts must ever remain
a marvel, to be ranked with Pope's "Ode
to Solitude" at the age of 12.
When the age of 21 has been passed,
custom and law forbid ua to reckon the
male members of society as "boys" any
longer. Had it not done so. we might
have been able to incorporate in this ac
oount at leasts three more of the world's
famous writers who came out and found
themselves famous at the age of 22, with
books that gained world-wide renown.
Charles Dickens, at that age. published
his first celebrated novel. "Sketches by
Bos;" Goethe, most famous of German
writers, gave us his "Gotz von Berllchln
gen;" and Thomas Campbell was delight
ing the reading world at 12 with his
beautiful "Pleasures of Hope." Today
the world recognizes all these as master
pieces written by master hands. But
the authors were no longer truly boys:
they had "passed the Rubicon" for ever
and aye.
(Copyrighted. 1510. by the Associated
Literary Press.)
Benefit of Fatty Food.
Pittsburg Gazette.
Dr. Allison, of Newcastle, England, says
he staggered back into the shadow
again,' and stood waiting, for what
seemed centuries to see what would
happen next.
The wounded Haussa moaned faintly
from time lo time as hie life flowed
away at every respiration.
"Live for die, sah. one time." said
the sergeant, as he stooped over the
sufferer.
Next moment a further crackling
and rustllng'of bushes to the rear gave
warning that the wily river men were
trying to get behind the lutle band
and cut them off from the water.
"Make for the canoes, said the of
ficer, and, two men picking up their
dying comrade, they started across
the moonlit glade, while from every
side a swarm of negroes broke through
the bush. Th's time there was neith
er firing nor shouting; they came on
In grim silence with the moonlight
sparkling on the spear-blades, "Fire!"
shouted the lieutenant.
The toe closed In and came on with
a rush, and Lieutenant Stanlland could
never clearly remember what followed.
He had a dim idea of being struck at
with spear shaft and flashing matchet.
and of hurrying toward the river, tir
ing his revolver until the barrel burned
his fingers. Next he was splashing
and stumbling knee-deep in water
among the mangroves, with Ms three
men dragging him towards the canoe.
After this a crowd of naked forms
swarmed like bees over and under the
Interlacing roots and rose up beside
him out of the river. A matchet
blade gleamed before Lis eyes, and the
following moment he was down, chok
ing and drowning in the foul mud and
slime. He feltta strong arm grasp his
shoulder and drug him to his feet
and fancied he saw Sergeant Shaillu
standing beside him. Then a spear
whizzed past and struck something
close by with a thud, a rush of warm
fluid spurted across his hands, and he
staggered forward, breathless and
gasping, toward the canoe. A gun butt
struck his forehead and he clutched
at the canoe, missed and stretched out
his hand again. Some one. lifted him
and threw him on board and splashed
down Into the water alongside and he
remembered no more.
When the lieutenant opened his eyes
again, gray dawn was breaking across
the forest, and he found himself lying
stiff ana .cut In many places, helpless.
In the bottom of the canoe. Lifting
his aching head, he looked over the
side and saw that they were far away
down the river, their foes evidently
having bad too much of the fight to
care to follow. Two Haussas onjy
were paddling, and they seemed hardly
able to swing the long blades. "Where's
Shaillu and Coffee?" he asked.
"Coffee' die in wood; Shaillu throw
you in canoe, then river man chop him
with matchet; he die too In water.
White man no die for great Ju-Ju.1
said the soldier,-and he pointed to the
charm which hung around the officer's
neck. Taking it off. Lieutenant Stanl
land looked at the trinket which his
faithful followed had given him, and
then, faint with loss of blood and fever,
fell Into a restless sleep. All day the
canoe with the worn-out men drifted
helplessly dewvn the river under the
fierce African sunlight, unt'l at even
ing a little consulate launch slowly
cnurnmg her way up the muddy
stream picked them up.
that the Jewish race has been practically
Immune from tuberculosis because It Is
the best fed race on earth. He re
marks that "Hebrew mothers are mothers
Indeed. Their children are brought up
on fatty foods. A great object lesson
Is to be learned from the Jewish race in
this respect."
Why Girls Excel In Study.
American Medicine.
The superiority of female students,
both children and adults, has been
mentioned and explained hundreds of
times, and yet the full pedagogic sig
nificance of the fact still seems to be
Ignored. The girls in many a coedu
cational college furnish an overwhelm
ing percentage of the best students,
and yet in later years the men take
the lead in every one of the lines In
which as boys they were so backward.
It is all due to the well known fact
that In her weaker physical state, self
protection has demanded an early de
velopment of the perceptive faculties.
Age for age. girls perceive under
standing what boys scarcely noticed.
The differences between the two
sexes are so great that It Is unscien
tific to class them together, and there
is a growing suspicion that each is
injured by current coeducational meth
ods, the boys unduly stimulated and
the girls retarded. In spite of this
self-evident conclusion pedagogues
seem bent on the impossible task of
making the boys keep up with the
girls a plan sure to be followed by
far-reaching bad results. The boys
are liable to become discouraged, while
the girls are led to embark upon ca
reers as wage earners In professions
In which failure Is Inevitable.
A Lesson Esperanto.
Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
"Kiel vl sanas?" Is the fashionable
equivalent in Washington. D. C, Just
now for "Wis geht's bel lhnen?"
"Comme vous portez vous?" "Come
staT' "How d'ye do?" And the prop
er answer is, "Tre bone, ml dankas
vln," which seems to indicate that we
can still toddle along, thank you. Per
sia la to send an official Esperantlst
to the congress, making nine nations
officially represented. Anybody, of
course, can learn Esperanto almost
over night; still It Is a comfort to
know that the reports of this Interest
ing convention are to ba sent out in
English.
British Parcels Post.
Baltimore American.
The parcels post business transacted
through the British postofflce In 19Q8 was
as follows: Parcels forwarded, 2,808,061,
of which 221.639 were Insured; parcels
received, 1.634.042. of which 140,782 were
insured, 4.342,093, an Increase of 89.732
over the preceding year, and an Increase
The Bright Side,
Mrs. H. A. Kidder tn Philadelphia Bulletin.
There Is many a rest In the road of life.
If we only would stop to take it.
And many a tone, from the better land.
If tbs querulous heart would wake it I
To the sunny soul that is full of hope.
And whose beautiful trust ne'er falleth.
The grass Is green and the flowers are
bright.
Though the wintry storm prevalleth.
Better to hope, though the clonds hang low.
And to keep the ares still lifted;
For the sweet blue sky will soon peep
through,
When the ominous clouds sre rifted.
There was never a night without a day.
Or an evening without a morning.
And the darkest hour, as the proverb goes.
Is the hour oeiore iub uewoing.
There is ever a gera In the path of life.
Which ws pass In our idle pleasure.
That Is richer tar than the Jeweled crown.
Or the miser's hoarded treasure;
It may be the love of a little child.
- mAthm'i nravers to heaven:
Or oaly a bssgafs grateful thanks '
Tor a eup or water given.
Better to weave in the web of life
A bright ana goinen lining.
And to do Qod's will with a ready haart
And hands that are swift and willing.
Than to snap the delicate slender threads
Of our curious lives asunner.
And then blame heaven for the tangled
ends.
And sit and grieve and wonder.
WRONG
WhBt that? Q-o-u
BY LUCIEN SORREL.
COMING down stairs one morning at
7 o'clock. Dr. Wrightson's cook. Mar
tha Sanders, made a startling dis
covery. Burglars had paid them a visit
during the night. Martha did not lose
her presence of mind; instead she mount
ed the stairs as rapidly as her two hun
dred and odd pounds would permit and
threw herself against the door of the
doctor's bedroom like a tornado.
"Fire! Murder! Thieves!" she shrieked.
The doctor was not an easy person to
wake. "All right. Call me again In 20
minutes," he answered, turning over for
another nap.
Thieves! Burglars! Let me in!" per
sisted Martha.
'Nonsense! I can't let you in till I
get something on. I'll be down in five
minutes," said the now wide-awake phy
sician.
Georg Cardwell, his nephew, who was
visiting him. Joined him as he reached
the scene of the looting.
What all have they taken 7" the young
man asked.
'Seventy-live dollars In money and
about 3300 worth of silver and other val
uables." replied his uncle. "I've notified
Jenkins, the Constable, and I suppose
that will be the end of.it. It's no use
worrying over spilled milk. I wish,
ttiough, that they had taken something
not so hard to replace as family heir
looms. Ah, well, it can't be helped!
What are you going to do to amuse your
self today?"
I thought of running down to the shore
on my bike and having a swim."
"'Well, it s a grand day lor a dip. A
trifle chilly arly this morning: but It'll
be hot enough by the time you're ready
to go in. I have to go the other way
Inland, unluckily."
Dr. Wrightson made up his own medi
cines after breakfast, for, lke many other
country doctors of the old school, he did
his own dispensing. At 9 the village lad
who was employed to carry the bottles
of medicine to their destinations arrived
on his bicycle, and departed shortly after
ward with a full basket. ' A quarter of
an hour later Dr. Wrightson's buggy ap
peared at thfc door. The doctor went Into
his office and took up a bottle of medi
cine which lay on the table. He was on
the point of slipping it Into his pocket,
when suddenly the color of the medicine
Whcv-e
Asked
wil
Ann-in
woo W
0eX
ou
you
bdt
caught his eye. He read the label then
went out and called his nephew.
"Those burglars have sent my wits
wool-gathering, George," he said. "I've
made a most stupid mistake over the
medicines. Look at this."
He pointed to the label which ran:
"The sleeping draught. One dose to be
taken at bedtime. Mr. Brlggs."
"But oughtn't Briggs to have a sleeping
draught?" asked George.
"Yes, that s right enough but this
isn't a sleeping draught; it's cough mix-
fVLA
MEDICINE
OK It's coixgh mixture.
ture. I've very stupidly mixed up two
labels. Brlgg's sleeping drat:ght must
hsvve gone off to Mrs. Cannon."
George looked scared.
"Oh, there's no great harm done," said
Dr. Wrightson. "It won't hurt her
much if she does take a dose. Still, I
wish you'd ride over there on your ma
chine and take this bottle. Tou can
bring the other back with you, and John
can go over with it to Brings this after
noon." The doctor removed the label from the
bottle and wrote a fresh one. A few
minutes later George loco off on his er
rand. He covered tha ground at a fair
pace, hoping to overtake the boy before
he could deliver the wrong bottle to Mrs.
Cannon. When he reached the house
he found that John had already left the
medicine; but luckily Mrs. Cannon and
the doctor were old friends, and the
mistake was made a laughing matter.
George rode back again along the
cliffs. About noon be determined to
have his bath In a little sandy bay
reached by a steep winding path from
the top of the cliff. There was no one
about, and, after looking ' around, he
placed his machine against a gate lead
ing into a cornfield, and then commenced
the descent In five minutes he was out
of hia clothes and splashing through the
wavelets. He had a magnificent swim,
though the water was not warm .enough
to stay in very long, and then raced up
and down the sands in the sunshine.
When he had nearly finished dressing he
glanced at his watch and whistled.
"How quickly the time's gone!" he
said to himself. "I'll have to hustle tf I
want to get back to luncheon." He
flung on his waistcoat and coat Just
feeling in the pocket of the latter to
make sure that the medicine bottle from
Mrs. Cannon's had not been damaged,
and then began to ascend the steep path
again, that led to the top of the cliff.
To his surprise a couple of burly-looking
ruffians were examining his bicycle,
feeling the tires and spinning round the
pedals. He checked a remonstrance, and
walked toward them, expecting that they
would leave the machine when they saw
its owner approaching. He was utterly
amazed when one of the men, wheeling
the machine away from the gate, pre
pared to mount.
"Tin there'" C
Ho "there!
George shouted. "That's
mine.'
G'
Some. Se&Vmo' -Yl4x
. i ' o .
nones appcdiin p' -
bet Ti - stupid one
ijf -tfr Ceffiny '
The man who was on the point of
mounting turned a scowling face, un
washed and scrubby with a two-days'
beard, towards him. "Oh, it's yourn.
la It?" he said aneerlngly. "I'm only
a-going to borrow It for a day or two."
"We'll see about that," said George
angrily, running toward him. The sec
ond man glanced hastily up and down
the cliff road. There was no one in
sight. A moment later George found
himself in the gTip of a pair of power
ful arms.
i
BOTTLE
"That's it. Bill." said the first man,
putting the bicycle back against the
gate. "He ain't gut no more bikes in
his pockets. I suppoe?" He laughed, at
his feeble attempt at a Joke, but the
laugh broke off In a wheezy cough which
left hlra helpless for a few seconds.
"Blast that cough of mine," he wheezed
at last. "Here, hang on to him. Bill,
while I. run through his pockets. Silver
w.itcn steel chain here, keep still, my
young friend, unless you want to got
hurt bunch of, keys which he can keep ;
13.75, which we'll take cars of for him;
and a a (darn that couch) a bottle.
You're a scollard. now. Hill; what d'yue
make of the writing on it?"
"Keop still, will you?" prowled Bill to
his victim "or you'll get your neck
broke. Hold the bottlo a littlo more
this way, Jim. What's that? G-o-u
Oh. it's cough mixture, a dose to be
taken every three hours. Better take
a dose for your cough, Jim. It's pretty
bad."
"Mebbe I will." said Jim. "These night
Jobs don't suit me; it was mighty cool
last night, and hanging round that
house made my cold worse. How much
do you take?"
"Oh, have a good swig at It," Bald
Bill. "Your cough's pretty bad, and
cough mixture don't hurt no one. I
guess I'll try a dose myself. I've got
a cold too this morning." He gave a
sample cough, like a hen's attempt at
crowing. Must have caught It from
you, I s'pose. Here, don't swallow, it
all."
Jim. having polished off nearly half
the bottle, put the neck of it Into Bill's
mouth, and ho took a dose. " It's good
stuff," Jim murmured encouragingly,
"I feel kind of soothed already."
"Well, we'll have to be moving," said
Bill. "You give me the money and tako
the rest of the stuff with you on the,
bike. Walt a second. Just give a hand
to 'our young friend here. That's it."
Bill stepped back, and suddenly
whipped out a revolver. "Hands up,
now," he said to George, "and don't
move till you're told to. Ready, Jim .'"
The first man, who had already tied a
clumsy bundle on to the bicycle, pre
pared to mount. "So long, then; see you
later."
Jim started. George Cardwell stood
in the middle of the cliff road with hia
arms up; rendered accommodating not
only by the revolver but by certain
possibilities that had crossed his mind.
BUI walked backward toward the gate
of the field, blinking solemnly, like an
owl. "This sunshine makes you sort of
sleepy," he muttered reflectively. "Now
don't move till I'm out of sight."
Still walking backward with the re
volver Joggling to and fro, as he tacked
eratically across the path through the
corn. Bill took his departure. As soon
as he had vanished, George ran as fast
as his legs could carry him to the vil- .
lage. A few words explained the sit
uation. Dr. Wrightson, his coachman,
the Constable and a few villagers
formed search parties. "They've taken
enough of that sleeping draught to
send a pair of oxen to sleep," said the
doctor, "and the sun'll do Its share.
Your man on the bike won't get two
miles."
He was wrong. Jim reached the very
outskirts of the next town before ha
succumbed. They found him and tha
prostrate bicycle surrounded by a gap
ing crowd. Bill reposed more comfort"
ably in a corn field. Through the sleep
ing draught, Jim's little plan of cycling
to the city with the plate and Bill's of
rejoining him later had both gone
wrong. The two burglars, still snoring,
were united at the police station, and
finished their sleep together in a cell.
Martha Sanders begged for the medi
cine bottle as a souvenir, and keeps it
in a place of honor la her kitchen. When
she tells the story of the burglars she
always winds up with the regret that a
medicine bottlo Is not exactly the sort
of thing one can have framed.
(Copyrighted. 1910, by the Associated
Literary Press.
Savings Banks of Venice.
Kansas Olty Journal.
The Venetians are prosperous, if on
can Judge from the statistics of tho
banks. Consul John Q. Wood says that
the Savings Bank of Venice Increased
Its deposits from $3,500,000 In 1900 tn ,
$5,600,000 in 1909; Venetian Bank from
$2,100,000 to $3,600,000; Bank of San
Marco from $1,600,000 to $4,000,000, and
other smaller Italian banks there sho-w!
large Increases in deposits and a largo
development in the different depart
ments of the banking business.
Forecasting: Mexican Weather.
Baltimore American.
In Mexico, the daily forecasts of th
central meterologlcal bureau are sent at
an early hour to every postoffice, and
these are inserted in the postmarks of
Inland letters, In addition to the dat
and placo of issue. These forecasts an
made 24 hours in advance, so anyon
receiving a letter the morning after- if
Is "posted knows what weather the meter
ologist expects him to get during thai
day.
The Foxy Bug.
Our hero's name is B. B. Bugs;.
A foxy bug la be;
He manufactures roach salt
In any quantity.
He ships enormous quantities
To every state, you see.
And, while it's guranteed to kill
It's harmless as can be.
He sells to human people
To sprinkle on the rugs;
The buglets really like It.
For It never kills the bugs.
And B. B. Bugg Is growing .rich.
And humans don't suspect
That all the powder that they buy
Is made by an insect.
Longing.
Elsye Kaufman, in Philadelphia Lcdcer.
Can this be Summer? Though tho gentle
heat
Has swept the roses on a wind of tune
And spread their fragrance where my aim
leu feet
ro stray unheeding 'neath a ghostly
moout
And all the poplars vague and motionless
And all the liKlits soft in a silvery gray;
My heart w bowed with Winter's barren
ness. Can this be Summer, dear, with jou
away ?
Can It be at a moment's thought of you
Within some place I seem again to pass.
In the old lane that we so oft went
through
While life lay dreaming in the tangled
grass?
So hushed, so quiet, where tho shadows lie
Across the pool amidst the starlight's
ruign.
Watching in silence all the still night lonir.
Watching and waiting Just for you in
vain.
Summer and starlight and an hour grown
hue.
And you who will not come, and I who;
wait;
And go the rose has withered In recret.
For I remember, dear, and you forget i 1