0
.A.
-4
1.
I""'
IT
11-
ft
T-r
T 7
7 ''- I
A
i:
VOL. III.
ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY, OREGON, JANUARY 10, 1883.
NO. 24.
'i-
GO
TTTOT A AT .
W YV M A X '
i !
1 1 .
;!':
U
I'
in--
x .
1 V
.
! - -i
'I
It!
M -
! '
4
i .
if'
iv
it
i! -z,j.
a
if
r WOULD HE BK KILLED.
CHAPTER "I.
"Sweetheart!"
"My love!"
Why do you tremble?"
From fear."
"Pet, fear not! I Lave braved the
lion's rage a thousand times, yet I have
not a scar. The thousand aud first time
will leave me as I am now."'
And Sign or Foscarelli, the great lion
tamer, placed his arm around the girl's
waist. I do not know that it is strange
- a lion-tamer should make love in a man
ner just like any one else. Be that as it
may, Signor Fqscarelli drew the giri that
he loved toward him, and kissed her just
as any other lover might have done.
"And, as I have escaped a thousand
times," he added, "I take it for granted
that I can venture as many more times,
and stilt not be maimed or slain.
The woman that Foscarelli loved spoke
with a tremor in her voice.
I "I cannot view it so," she said. "Your
profession seems to me like drawing at a
.lottery. There are many blanks, but
somewhere in the wheel there is a fatal
number. You have performed a thousand
times. As yet you have not drawn the
fatal number, yet your chances of doing
bo are fearfully increased ; there may be
but one more ticket in the wheel ; there
may be a hundred. Grant that there is
a thousand. A thousand against a thous
and is one against one. Now do you not
see how strong the possibility of that fatal
number being near you is !"
Signor Foscarelli coughed and stam-,
mered. The argument that had been
offered was conclusive. He could not
controvert it. But when the woman he
loved burst " into tears he found his
tongue.
"Darling," he whispered soothingly,
"I have faith to believe that in my case
the fatal number is beyond two thousand.
I shall cease to be a lion-tamer before it
is reached. And , for you and me there
shall be long years of love and happi
ness. "Would that I could believe it," she
murmured.
"You may believe it, my love. And, in
tnat time, I shall remind you that I was
no false prophet."
She dried her tears; she became more
cheerful; she seized Signor Fosoarelli's
Land; she smiled in his face.
"Promise me," she. cried, "that when
this year is ended you will be no more a
lion-tamer. Promise me that, and I shall
live in hope. Refuse, me that promise
and" -
"Let me see," interrupted Signor Fos
carslH. "r think with' what I can save
this year that I will be worth $10,000 at
the end of it. With that we can try love
in a eottage, my pet."
"And whether we are worth it or not
we can," cried the ,woman Signor Fos
carelli loved. "There are a thousand
vocations for you, in none of which you
need peril your life. Refuse me that
promise, I repeat, my darling, and you
' break my heart.'
"I promise," said Signor Foscarelli,
. gravely.
Yes a lion tamer makes love like other
people. .. .
CHAPTER II.
Only on the bills was the lion-tamer's
name Foscarelli It was, in fact, plain
John Foster. He was not ashamed of
his name, but "Signor Foscarelli"
suited the proprietors of the establish
ments that be was' wont to travel with
better than the simple . patronymic. As
for John Foster himself, it was a matter
of indifference to him. He was just as
willing to be known to the great crowd
that clapped its hands and yelled itself
deaf in admiration for him, as Signor
Foscarelli as by another title.
It was on a dark night early in the
traveling season that John Foster .was
walking rapidly along the street of a
town, a hundred of which would not make
Boston, for instance. The streets were
very quiet and unlighted, save by an oc
casional lamp at a corner, the rays of
which would only extend for a short dis
tance. Not long before, however, the
streets had echoed to the tread of a mul
titude of- people for "Lipman's Great
Eastern (upon second thought I beg to
state that 'Oriental' was the word used
instead of Equescuriculum" had given
performance that evening. But all the
multitude .had vanished, and John Fos
ter's tread. waatUs only sound, that v dis
turbed the quiet of thro street. The other
performers had proceeded him to their
botal, but he, for sAme reason, had lin
gered where the pavition, that had fallen
as by the hand of magjc, had stood. John
Foster had remained tor a time by the
ring of saw dust, that on the morrow
-would-be all that was left to remind the
Ijoys thronging around it that Lipman's
G. E. O. had conie and crone, and then
started to walk to his hotel.
As he was walking hastily along, and,
while he was near a lamp-post, he met a
man, a stranger to him. The man stop
ped square before him.
"Are you Signor ' Foscarelli?" he in
Quired. - . '
"I am sometimes known by that title,"
John Foster said.
"Yes," said the stranger. . "Hum ! I
have been to your hotel inquiring for
you." I was told that you had not yet;
come. I started, in this direction know
ing that I would meet you. I have just
a few words to say to you." ;
He paused for a moment and .then
added: . ..: .
"My name is Peter Gwyn, of the State
of New York, and am of sound mind,''
"I do not doubt it.'Mrl Gwyn;" said
John Foster. ' ' , " . -' "
Again there was . a moment's pause,
broken by the lion-tamer saying:
"If you have anything to say, Mr.
Gwyn, pray proceed." j
"Hum, yes,"8aid the stranger. Sig
nor Foscarelli, you are a brave man.
You see I saw you perform to-night."
"Is that all you wish to say?" said
John Foster, coolly. j
"No, I repeat, Signor Foscarelli, you
are a bravo man, but you will be killed,
and I will see your death. I feel that I
will. I do not feel that I can be deceived
in my sensations. Mark my prophecy.
I have nothing against 'you, Signor Fos
carelli, but if you are to be lulled by
your lions I desire-to see it. j Pray don't
think hard of me. If it ia' to be there
will be no harm in my seeing it."
Toe man vanished in the darkness. To
John Foster there came in! his dreams
that night a face with dark eyes; thin
Ups and wmte teetn, the i face of the
stranger, and a voice rang in his ears,
saying:
"xou win do silled, and il will see
your death."
CHAPTER III.
It was a month later. During the
passing month John Foster had periled
nis life nan a hundred times, coming
out unscathed.
A tremendous audience was gathered
in the pavilion of Lipman's Oriental
auescurricnlum. drawn there trinci
pally by the fame of Signor Foscarelli's
performance. The jests of the clown, the
vaulting of the acrobat, the contortions of
the boneless man, the antics of the trick
horse, all became things of the past for
that occasion. Last of all was to come
the entrance of the lion-tamer into the
cage of monsters. )
Signor Foscarelli appeared Ha bowed
to the audience, smiled, and then entered
the place where no other man of all that
throng could have gone and lived to tell
of his daring. I
The nineteenth century boasts of its
civilization. But some way I or other I
am reminded of the gladatorial days of
Rome as I write of John Foster; The
blood of the sacrifice seems as sweet to
the people now as it was then! O tem
poral O mores! !
The man went through with his per
formance successfully, the audience hang
ing breathlessly upon his actions. His
beasts obeyed him as well as usuaL, Sig
nor Foscarelli, as I have said, went
through his performance successfully; he
was about ready to retire from the cage.
Slowly he stepped baokward. J Suddenly
there was a suppressed roar. In an instant
the man saw his peril. The eyes of his
largest animal were flashing fire, and his
great red tongue had dropped out. There
was a spring, and simultaneously a cry
of fear from the audience. j
But the lion-tamer was not slain .He
had kept his presence of' mind, and his
motions were quicker than those pf the
angry beast. The great iron door of the
cage closed with a crash between him and
the lion, and he was safe. Still he had
left his sleeve inside, and there was an
ugly scratch on his arm an ugly scratch,
no more. j
John Foster bowed and smiled again.
Then in a moment his tall, athletic figure
had disappeared from the sight of the
multitude.
His escape had occurred during the
afternoon performance. That evening,
after he had eateu his si pper, he came
out of the dining room into -the office of
the hotel. Standing by the desk of the
clerk was the man with dark eyes,
closely shaven face, white Jteeth, and
tlii John Foster recognized him
immediately. j
"Good evening, Signor Foscarelli," he
said.
"Good evening," said John Foster,
coldly. '
"I understand that yon have had a
narrow escape," said Peter Gwyn.
"Now, if I had been in the pavilion this
afternoon, you would have been killed,
no doubt. I am to be in at the death,
however, so you were spared.! Are you
aware that I have seen you perform sev
eral times during the last month? 'You
see, I am a man of means, and it's my
whim to follow you around in this
way." j
."I don't know anything about your
movements, sir," said John Foster, an
grily. "Neither do I care to.! You are
too cold-blooded to suit me." j
"I shall see you perform again to
night," said Peter Gwyn, displaying no
teat whatever. ;
John Foster turned on his heel and
walked away. His countenance betrayed
nothing, but he felt his heart' sink. He
had expected, at any rate, that the lions
would be harder to manage than usual.
He felt that the presence of this man
would unnerve him. Before his vision
rose the face of the woman he loved, and
she was weeping. Was his doom staring
him in the face? The thought suggested
itself to him that he might refuse to ap
pear. But he shut his teeth' hard and
drove it away.
"I am no coward, Mr. Peter Gwyn,"
he muttered, as though speaking to the
man who seemed to be his foe. "Your
silly twaddle shall not frighten me from
my business." j
But that very thought was proof that
John Foster was affected. And he, brave
man a, ever lived, was strangely so.
However,; for some reason, why, John
Foster never knew, Peter Gwjeu was not
present that night, and the animals were
as docile and obedient as he had ever
known them. " ,
"V CHAPTER IV.
And still the man continued to peril
his life for the amusement of the public.
He did not inform the woman -he loved
Of the destiny that had been tracking him
in th shape of Peter Gwyn. The most
frequent advice, by far, that she sent was
to be very; careful. And he, for her sake,
was so. ; I
. But the end of trouble had not yet
come. One balmy night in June that
largest brute took a notion to once more
diaolav his temper. In the bills ne was
advertised as the "Emperor Nero." but
John Foster called him "Jim-iams,
which shows the difference in the tastes
of a manager and lion-tamer, in the selec
tion of names for animals.
John Foster saw the indications of the
brute's rising anger sooner this time
than before, but he was not so olose to
the door of the cage. He fixed his eyes
on Jim-jams, and, without the tremor of
a nerve, began slowly to retreat, ever
keeping his back to the door. Slowly,
slowly he moved. Still he held the am
mal beneath his will. -A moment more!
But. inexplicably, his will lost its in
fluence on the beast. Again the sup
pressed roar; again the spring. At the
same instant there was a sharp, quick
report. The remaining lions roared in
wild rage, but Jim-jams fell in the
agonies of death. Again, however, the
iron door closed between John Foster
and danger. He had been prepared and
had saved himself.
Yet afterward the fact was realized by
him that had the lion sprung with as lit
tle warning as previously he must have
been slain. Circumstances had favored
him, and he had made two narrow es
capes. As John Foster left the pavilion he en
countered Peter Gwyn.
"Hum, Signor Foscarelli," said that
Eerson, his white teeth glowing between
is thin lips, "I intended to be here
sooner, but I was delayed. You have
had another "
; "Thank heaven that you were," cried
John Foster. "Fiend, devil, you need
not hunt me to the death."
Probably John Foster would not have
said so much, hud he not been excited by
his encounter.
CHAPTER V.
The lion-tamer knew that Peter Gwyn
was in the audience. He had seen the
man enter, as it chanced, and it had
seemed to him then an ominous token.
But there would be no failure to fill out
the programme of the evening on that
account.
Peter Gwyn got a seat as close to the
cage of performing lions as possible.and,
while the clown jested, the acrobat tum
bled, and the knights of the sawdust gal
loped around, he sat still, evidently un
interested. At last, however, the per
formance of the evening was at hand.
There was a flourish of the orchestra,
some lively strains, and then all was
silent as the watch of death. John
Foster was in the lion's cage.
The proprietor of the "Grand Ori
ental Equescurriculum" had considered
himself especially lucky that on the very
day succeeding that on which "Emperor
Nero perished he had received notice
from his agent in New York of the recep
tion of a lion of unusual strength and
size. Jtle ordered tne ammai sent to mm
immediately. John Foster had been
training him for a few weeks, and now
he had been performing for one. He
was known to the gaping crowds as
"Caesar the Conqueror;" to John Foster
as "Jim-jams."
To the lion-tamer, as be entered that
cage of dangerous beasts, all things about
him seemed unreal. The bright bJar-e of
the lamps might be the wierd light of an
enchanted world, so unreal did it appear;
the lions, huge monsters; Mr. Peter
Gwyn, Satan himself.
This part of my story is soon told.
John Foster was in no mood to handle
lions. From the vety first the tide was
against him. The latest addition became
unruly. John Foster's state of apathy
continued. Once more the spring of the
lion was made.
This time John Foster fell through the
door held open for his .leap and rolled
underneath the cage. it was not
closed quickly, enough, and the huge
form of the beast of prey forced itself
through.
Meantime Mr. Peter- lwyn had
moved closer to the cage. At the mo
ment of the catastrophe he was near at
hand, looking in with eager eyes. With
a loud roar the raging beast sprang upon
him. i
John Foster became free from h ts ap
athetic condition. He leaped to hi feet,
and seized a whip from the hand of a
paralyzed attendant close at hand. With
fierce courage he attacked the lion. He
struck terriffic blows on the head of the
beast. C:eaar the Conqueror crouched.
More and more fiercely John Foster
struck.
Well, there are inexplicable things all
around us. In two minutes Ctesar was
conquered and caged. I cannot explain
how, nor why. the indomitable will 01
John Foster tamed a monster whose
tongue was wet with fcblood.
And Peter uwyu was dead. The most
singular part of my story, perhaps, is to
come, lieter liwyn leit a win, and in
that will he bequeathed all his wealth,
he having no known relatives, to
Signor Foscarelli, the great lion-tamer,
provided he shQald survive him.
John F oster went no more into deadly
peril.
I dare Bay he and the woman whom he
loved are as happy as the majority of
such mortals.
Anxious to explain tho meaning of the
hyperbole, a Presbyterian minister said:
'Perhaps you do not understand the
meaning of the word .hyperbole: ThU
word, my friends, increases or diminishes
a thin? beyond the exact truth. Sup
pose Lshould say the whole of this con
gregation is fast asleepY" That would be
half of you sleeping."
A crazy man created a sensation in a
Montreal church by undressing himself
in the pew. When taken out Jie was in
a state of nudity and fought like a de
mon. . "
ni,
The Hair.
Dr. Wilder, in a recent article, says:
Whether the hair should be cut I never
could quite satisfy myself. As a
physiological practice, I seriously doubt
"the propriety. Every cutting is a wound
ing, and there is some sort of bleeding
in consequence, and a waste of vital
force. ' I .think it will be found that
long-lived persons most frequently wear
the hair long.
The cutting pi the hair stimulates to a
new growth, to supply the waste. Thus
the energy required to maintain the
vigor " of; the body is drawn off to make
good the wanton destruction. It is said,
I know, that jvfter the hair haa grown to
a certain "length it loses its vitality at
the extremity, and splits or "brooms
up." Whether this would be the case if
the hair should never be cut I would
like to know. When it is cut a fluid
exudes, and forms a scab or cicatrix at
each wounded extremity, indicating that
there has been injury.
Women and priests have generally
worn long hair. I never could imagire
why this distinction was made. The
ancient priest was very often devoted to
a vow of celibacy, but I cannot surmise
whether that had anything to do with it.
Kings wore their hair long, in imitation
of Sampson and the golden Sun God
Mitbias. I suspect from this that the
first men shorn were slaves and laborers;
that freemen wore their hair unmutilated
as the crown of a perfect manhood and
manliness. It this be correct, the new
era of freedom, when it ever shall dawn,
will be characterized by men unshorn
as well as women unperverted.
I wish that our science and our civili
zation had better devices for preserving
the integrity of the hair. Baldness is a
deformity, and premature whiteness a
defect. If the bead were in health and
the bodv in proper vicror I am confident
W A KJ
it would not be. I am apprehensive that
our dietetic habits occasion the bleach
ing of the hair; the stiff, arsenic pre-
Eared hat is responsible for much of the
aldness. Our hats are unhealthy from
the tricks of the hatters. I suppose
there are other causes, however. He
redity has its influence. Certain dis
eases wither the hair at its roots; others ;
lower the vitality of the skin, and so
debiliate the body.
I acknowledge that the shingled head
disgusts me. It cannot be wholesome.
The most sensible past of the head is at
the back, where the neck joins. That
frface exposed to unusual cold or heat is
iable to receive an injury that will be
permanent, if not fatal, in a short period.
The whole head wants 'protection, and
the hair affords this as no other protec
tion can. Men have beards because they
need them, and it is wiofced to cut them
off. No growth or part of the body is
superfluous, and we ought, as candi
dates for health and long life, to preserve
ourselves from violence or mutilation.
Integrity is the true manly standard.
Not In the Racks,
The old army overcoat that used to be
such a familiar sight on our streets is
one of the rarest now; indeed, it is so
seldom seen that we involuntorily turn
and gaze after it, as something that
brings sad and often cruel memories.
The other day an old man wearing a coat
of this kind, which reached to his heels,
stopped at a cottage a little way out of
town and asked leave to rest awhile on
the porch.
"rm a bit tired," he said to the
woman who opened the door, "an if you
don't cind I'll sit here and rest myself
for a spell.
"You're welcome," said the woman
kindly, with a glance at the martial blue.
Then she left him alone, but after a lit
tle while returned with a bowl of coffee
and a plate of white biscuit.
r- "Eat," she said, gently; "I had a boy
who was a soldier."
"But I'm not a soldier," answered the
old man. "I never was a soldier; my
boy went to war and was killed. He was
all I had, too. : This coat was his; seems
like he's near me when I have it on. I
gave him to his country; the handsomest
and bravest boy he was, too, in the whole
regiment. God bless him. He did his
duty, died on the field, and this coat was
all that came back to his poor old dad.
No; I never wab a soldier."
The woman went in and brought out
some cake and the whitest honey, and
added it to the coffee and biscuit.
"Are you, alone in the world?' she
aske i.
"Oh, no,! answered the old man,
cheerfully; "I've gtt a sister, but she's
old and lame, and she has a daughter
that is sickly and ailing. You see I have
them to work for, and they are a sight
of comfor to m. Many's the time I'd
have broken down sincMary died but
for them poor critters. Mary was my
wife, ma'am; she was a master hand to
nuss sick folks, and she thought after
Tim died as it were her duty to go into
the hospital service and nuss the sol
diers, and she died these sixteen years
ago; but she did a heap of good work
first. Many a soldier has kissed her
shadow on the walll Mary, darlin", God
wanted ye in the ranks up there, I've
often wished that I had been a soldier,
if only to be fit for the little mother and
Tim; but I never was."
He drank tho coffee, ate the food
thankfully, and offered to pay for it
with some carefully hoarded pieces of
old worn, silver; bat the woman shook
her head. i
"Put back your money. My son was
a soldier," she said.
"But I am not a soldier.- Well-rwell"
(as he looked into her face) "I thank
you, and I take it for his sake."
He wished good-night to his kind en
tertainer, and turned away. As he
walked off, slow and limping, bent by
infirmity, the long skirt of bis army over
coat struck bright and blue against the
splendor of the sunset: he shaded his
eyes with one (trembling hand and
looked wistfully up at the rose and ame
thyst door that seemed to open in the
west. What saw he there? A little
round-shouldered woman with a small
homely face; a lank, over-grown boy
with sparse red hair. Aye, and of such
as these are angels are made. So, watch
ing, he passed down into the shadows
and disappeared.
The woman at! the gate looked after
him.
"No soldier!" she said, gently, "but
wonder if the boy who died on his first
battle-field ever fought as he has, or
sacrificed as much to his country? All
the soldiers didnl; o -into the war witli
flying flags and rolling drums. Some of
them stayed at home and fought harder
battles.. I'm glad I gave him a bite and
a sup. he is a soldier, and a brave one.
too, and one day he will know it!
And I think she was right. Detroit
t ree Press.
Barnes on Ingcrsoll and Talmage.
The evangelist then took up the sub
ject of atheism. He said that Colonel
Ingersoll has a closer grip on the thought
of the people than! any fifty men in the
nation. "I respect his talent. the
speaker said, "his beautiful private life,
his control over his own temper. He has
certainly kept his temper better than any
one who has been in controversy with
him. J wish I could convert him, and I
think I could if I had a chance. He owes
his influence over the people to the fact
that he is attacking a false God. There
is no man in the world who can answer
him from the standpoint from which the
replies to him have been made. Increr
soil is making infidels faster than Moody
is making Christians, and Moody is mak
ing Christians faster than any other man
m the world. The best men in the coun
try are running to atheism. Don't be
afraid of Romanism; the danger lies in
the direction of atheism. But Ingersoll
has never attacked my God. The
devil himself j hasn't brass and
cheek enough to attack the God
who is love and nothing but love. I be
lieve Increr soil is an honest infidel. I
could not defend the God be attacks. If
I had no other God to believe in than a
God who kills half the human race in
infancy, brings misery to the other half
and sits clipping off the lives of human
beings, as with shears, with every tick of
the clock, I tell you, my friends, I d bev
an atheist too. I am glad our instincts
override our theories, so that we may
make a bop, skid and a jump over all such
theories and land in the bosom of the
God of love." -!
Mr. Barnes spoke of Mr. Talmage as
the "great Dr. Talmage, who has pro
fessed to tear Ingersoll all to pieces, but
The stately preachers in stately pulpits,
he said, are asking what is to become of
the masses.
"The masses," shouted the evangelist,
leaning forward with outstretched fin
gers, "are going I to hell! What the
masses want is somebody who will preach
a Gospel that will idraw sinners as mo
lasses draws flies, i The preachers say.
'we preach the Gospel; but I say 'you
don't, and the proof is that you don't
draw sinners. It has come to this that
an annoucement that the Gospel is to be
preached is enough to drive sinners
away." fN. Y. Tribune.
Gaelic Proverbs.
We naturally expect to find a strong
flavor of the sea derived from the Hebri
des and the adjacent shores of the main
land, and the proverbs which come to us
from this source are among the most racy
and original of all. "No wind ever blew
that did not fill some sail in an im
proved form of "It's an ill wind that
blows nobody good." Making needless
difficulties is happily described as "Mak
ing a great ocean ! of a narrow strait."
For a man who prides himself on being
always wiser than his neighbors, it is
said: "He knows where the whales
breed." For one who seems fated never
to be ia luck: "When the herring is in
the north, Red Malcolm is in the south."
Here is a brave and cheery utterance,
peculiarly suggestive of the narrow seas,
where the tide is a power not to be
lightly set at nought: "None ever got
tied with him that did not get it against
him." Nor is the wind forgotten: "I
shall go to-morrow, said the king. You
shall wait for me, said the wind." What
a world of suggestive tenderness and
Eathos lies in the following: "There is
ope of the man at sea, but none of the
man in the church! yard!"; To these may
be added the following graphic little
story: The small Hebridian islands of
Ulva and Gometra are divided by a nar
row channel, which is passable at low
water. On one occasion, when the min
ister, who had gone over to Gometra to
preach intending afterwards to return
to Mull was in the midst of his sermon,
he was summarily interrupted by the
Beadle with the warning: "Get on, Mas
ter John the channel is filling!"
The Duke of Newcastle was at Wash
ington last Sunday, and attended a
fashionable church1. When he asked for
a seat the sexton told him to wait in the
vestibule and he would attend to him
soon. The Duke waited as long as he
thought was proper, and then returned
to his hotel, disgusted with the way
churches were run j in this blasted coun
try. He related the inoident to some ac
quaintances, and jit got into the news
papers. The trustees of the church
were very much excited about it and
sent him an apology. This raises the
question whether he would have received
an apology if he had not been a duke.
Probably not, and jit is quite as probable
that if the sexton had known who he was
he wouldn't have! been invited to wait
awhile ia tho vestibule.
Claiming Her Rights. . '
A girl walked into an elevated railroad
train last night at about 6 o'clock, while
I was going up town (says a writer in
the Brooklyn Eagle) , and went f rdm one
end .of the car to the other glancing
harply at the faces of the men who
monopolized all the seats. She was evi
dently a factory or shop girl, and looked
weary. She had a clear-cut and resolute
face, and was dressed prettily. The men
stared at her as she walked down the car,
and watched her covertly when she
turned around and started back. She
stopped in front of an elderly man with
rather a good-natured face, and said to
him clearly and with quiet firmness:
"That aeat was intended for a woman.
Give it to me."
He looked into her clear, if some
what tired eyes, and said as he moved
slightly:
"I don't see er how you "
"Give me that seat," she said quietly,
and he rose and gave it to her with some
embarassment. She sat down and began
to read a book she carried with her lunch
basket, and paid not the least attention to
anyone in the car. The little inoident
created the greatest sensation imaginable,
and men talked of it to each other so
long that a woman with a baby stood
awkwardly holding on by the strap for
some time and no one offered her a seat.
Then the girl with the clear-cut and
resolute face called her, and compelled
the woman to take her seat. The men in
the car gazed steadfastly out of the
windows, and tried to look unconcerned.
I've do donbt whatever that they were
willing to give up their seats to her. ' I
know that I was, but somehow I felt
that I would look rather foolish if I did,
so I sat still in selfish stolidity. The
girl glanced about once more, crossed
the car, touched a small man on the
shoulder, and .said in the same low tone
of voioe:
"I'll trouble you for that seat.
please.'
"Ob, certainly, madam, cried the
little man, nervously, and sprang away.
All of which strikes me as being decid
edly droll now, though it was quite seri
ous then. It suggests an idea. Why
don't women form themselven into a
seat-seeking protective union and carry
the war into every car?
Siren and hacker.
"But papa "
"Not another word," said the person
thus addressed, a tall; handsome man,
in whose deep brown hair " a tinge of
gray was just beginning to show. "You
know, my child," he continued, "that .
nothing oonld give me more pain than
refusing any wish of yours, and that I
am never so happy and free from care as
when some act of mine has made your
life brighter. But this request I cannot
grant. A sealskin saoque with fur trim
mings! By my halidom, you jest
bravely!' and turning hastily away.Dun
stan Perkins stepped hastily to the side
board and took a drink.
For an instant Lilian stood in the
conservatory looking steadily down at '
the heavy velvet carpet in which her
shapely feet sank deeply, but presently
the spirit of desolate loneliness seemed
to leave her, and going quietly into an
adjoining room she began eating some
Pie.
In a few moments her father came
into the apartment. "Perhaps I was
rather harsh with you Lilian," he be
gan.
But the girl interrupted him. "Don t
speak of it again, dear papa," she said,
"because I know that you really have no
money to spare. While I was mend
ing your overcoat last evening, I saw -that
note from "Daisy," and I would
not"
"You saw the note?" asked Mr.Perkins
in hoarse, agonized tones.
"Yes, papa, but you know I never
"How much will a sealskin sacque
cost?"
"Three hundred dollars,' and as the
girl spoke these words a baleful light
shot from her eyes.
"Xou can have the money to-morrow.
he said and went slowly out of the
room.
"I thought my darling papa would
weaken." said the erirl. and liftincr tba
fork slowly to her lips, the last . of the
pie was gone.
"IHank the lord She's Lit "
A passenger over theRiohmond.Frede-
ricksburg and Potomac Railroad relates,
the following:
The cars were passing over a trestle.
and just in front of me sat an old colored
woman who showed great alarm, and, as
it afterwards turned out, imagined that
the whole train of cars was flying
through the air. It was not many
minutes, however, before the cars passed ,
safely over the trestle and as soon as '
they struck terra firms, the old womau
drew a sigh of relief and exclaimed in a
Te Deum tone of voice:
"Thank the Lord she's lit."
That reminds us of a very neat pun by
a country gentleman on a similar occa
sion as above. When the trestle had
been crossed some lady remarked:
"Weil, we've struck terra nrnia."
"Yes, madam," said the old cren tie-
man in his brusque way, "less terror and
The intrinsic value of a Kansas City
bar-tender has been made known. One
of them kicked a dog belonjrinsr to an
other, and was killed for his temerity.
And the dog was a small .poodle, too.
The only way burglars could corapel a
Minnesotta woman to tell where her hus
band's money lay hidden was by placing
i pistol aerainst the tenmle of her
sleeping babe and threatening to blow
its brains out." '