Corvallis gazette., November 14, 1902, Page 4, Image 4

I ,1 TZ ...
WHEN YOU WENT AWAY.
Twm on a day like this, dear Heart,
You went, away; ' -v .. . - ;'
Though spring, a chill was in the air.
The sky was gray.
The earth before that sad, sad time
. Had scattered light
And left the fragrant meadows green
In but a night:
But on the day yon went, dear Heart, .
A breath of snow
Fell from the whitening beard of time;
A sadden woe
Withered the joy within my life
And left it gray,
"And made me old with, sadness, when
You went away.
I cannot now be brave, dear Heart;
The sadness still
Speaks to me in mournful whispers
From wood and hill;
On the sky the autumn shadows
Trail their gray
The son can't shine, until to yon
I go away.
Chicago Inter Ocean.
Two Alternatives
ND now. Jack, what can I do?
He follows me everywhere, and
he stands around and ogles uie
with that detestable 'baby stare' of his,
and and you're laughing. Jack! You
are as mean as you can be to laugh
when I come to you for advice."
Esther stamped ber foot. Jack Orms
by leaned against the veranda railing
and watched her with amused eyes.
"I can't help smiling, Esther, but I
can appreciate the Irritation poor Hal
lowell must cause you."
"Irritation!" A world of emphasis
entered Into the word. "And just be
cause I was foolish enough to let him
propose to me!" she wailed.
"Well, of course," Jack said slowly,
"you must expect to have your scalps
cost you a little something, Essie."
"He doesn't say anything," exclaimed
the girl. If he did, it would give me a
chance to tell him what I think of his
dogging my footsteps everywhere."
"It certainly is a case of 'the villain
still pursued her'," Ormsby said. "What
do you want me to do, Essie call him
out and plug him full of holes?"
M7h! Don't be so vulgar! I don't
want you to do anything but tell me
what to do to get rid of him."
Jack was almost the only mall she
knew well who had not proposed to
her. Men had fallen before her charms.
had said their little piece (and some
said It rather well, she had to admit to
herself), and gone their way, and until
now no man had really been able to
trouble her serenity.
"Do think of something. Jack," she
pleaded. It's been three months now
since he he "
"Since he said the momentous words
which made him not yours, eh?" And
Ormsby laughed, but his hands trem
bled as he shifted the cane a little.
WITU A BWlfcT DIVE ORMSBY SEIZED
THE REINS.
"Don't be absurd! He doesn't want
me any more than other men do."
.y yi'NVhew! Your serene conceit is cer-
tainly charming, Essie."
"Don't be unkind. You know it's
true," she said, calmly. "Any woman
with fluffy hair and blue eyes can bring
men to her feet. Only you don't get
foolish and propose to me. Jack."
"No. I don't propose to you," he
said quite calmly.
"And that's why I like you."
" "Then I'll try not to make you dis
like me. But what can I do to poor
Hallowell? A cat may look at a king"
But Esther interrupted snappish
ly. "That's no reason why a calf should
look at me all the time!"
"Poor girl! You're finding It mighty
hard getting away from the conse
quences of your own sin, eh?"
"What sin have I committed?" she
demanded, with conscious innocence.
"Is It a sin to refuse to marry a man
you don't want?"
"No-o. But how about well, not ex
actly leading him on to proposing
but "
She favored him with a frigid look.
"I beg your pardon. Mr. Ormsby," she
observed.
"Well, you needn't," he said quietly.
"You expect plain talk from people
whose advice you ask, don't you? No
man will ever ask a woman to marry
him if she doesn't give him the oppbr
. tunity."
"That Is different; but such remarks
as you are making now are hardly in
the nature of advice. Jack."
"Well, I don't see that there's much
you can do," he drawled, and his eyes
began to twinkle. "There seems to be
but two courses to pursue, and twe
only"
"Oh, here's your Sultan and the run
about!" suddenly cried Esther, clap
ping her hands and springing up. "Are
you going to take me to ride, Jack?"
"Well, it's what I came around for,
but your tale of woe about knocked it
out of my head."
- The negro from the stable leaped out
and held the big bay's head. Esther
ran down to the gate, forgetting the be
ruffled parasol lying on the veranda.
Ormsby followed lazily.
"Feeling pretty gay, isn't he, Jack
eon?" he asked, pulling on a glove and
looking at Sultan, who danced charm
ingly to the accompaniment of little
squeals of delight from Esther.
"Yes, sah; he do, sah." v
"Hop In, Essie," Ormsby said, hold
ing out his hand to assist her. Then,
be added, "Speaking of angels, there's
Hallowell now."
.M-4"H"1- 1 i M- I 1 1 1 1
ARMY PRIVATE GETS
4. - . . :
i - -
I 1 II 11 I 1 I-1 1 1 t l t I t ! t l l 1 1 1 I V -I t I t I 1 1
jj
m its rax. awcitw . -
From the position of private to the regular army of the United States at '
alary of $13 a month to that of government contractor in transactions involving
thousands upon thousands of dollars is a broad leap for a man to take in a few
short years. Yet such success has been accomplished by a young man whose
home is now in Chicago. His name la Francis II. Buzzacott.
Mr. Buzzacott rose from the rank of private to the position of an opulent con
tractor through the instrumentality of patents secured by him on a unique concep
tion of cooking range for use by the army in the field. For years he fought and
struggled against reverses and infringements, and is just now beginning to onjoy
the fruits of his unique career. Within the last few days he closed a contract
with the War Department for 800 of the ranges patented by him, and this deal
involves returns amounting to $27,000, a sum sufficient to round out a snug $200,000
which the soldier-contractor has received from the government within the last'
two years. ,
The range which has been responsible for the remarkable rise of Mr. Buzza
cott is an ingenious affair, popular with the War Department because it is com
pact, portable, extremely durable, and simplifies cooking in the field and open air.
It is made of malleable iron, which can be beaten and pounded with sledges,
but which will not break. When in transit the range forms a chest in which are
packed the boilers, pans and other cooking paraphernalia for 100 men. It re
quires no packing, burns any kind of fuel, can be got ready for cooking in five
minutes after being taken from a wagon or train, and as quickly taken down.aud
loaded again if an emergency should arise. The range is made in three sizes.
One for twenty-five men is intended for the medical department, another for six
men is for officers and special detachments, while the third," with a cooking ca
pacity of 100 men, is for troop, battery or company use.
A fresh faced young fellow cantered
by on a fine horse and lifted his hat
seriously. A little way beyond he pull
ed in the animal, and dismounted as
though he would come back to speak to
the couple at the runabout.
"Do hurry up!" exclaimed Esther un
der her breath. "What shall I do to
get rid of him, Jack? You said there
were two ways. What are they?"
"Well, and Ormsby buttoned the
glove slowly and put one foot on the
step of the runabout, "you might marry
him to get rid of him."
"No, thank you!" she exclaimed, pout
ing and tossing her head. Then she
started and. looked toward the house.
"Oh, Jack my parasol! I shall want
it."
Ormsby had already leaned forward
to seize the reins. He glanced at the
colored man. "Miss Dingley's parasol
is on the veranda,.Jackson," he said.
The man dropped Sultan's bridle.
Like a flash the bay threw up his head
and started.
The lines had not been quite within
Orms"by's grasp. His foot slipped from
the step. He made a leap to reach the
carriage, but Sultan swung Into a long
stride on the lustant and fairly snatch
ed the runabout from under his mas
ter's grasp.
"The reins, the reins! Quick, Essie!"
Ormby cried.
Thank God, she knew what he meant
and seized the reins before they slipped
over the dashboard to dangle about Sul
tan's heels and drive him mad with ter
ror. But the horse knew instantly that
an unfamiliar hand held the reins, and
he increased his trot to a gallop.
Esther told herself that she would
not be frightened and she drew the
lines in firmly and said, "Whoa!"
But Sultan saw no reason for "whoa
ing" just then. There was a long stretch
of dusty, sunlit road before him, and
he seized the bit In his strong teeth, and
bolted. He flew by Hallowell's mount
with a rush and set that creature to
dancing. Hallowell hung on to the
leather and stared with round eyes af
ter the runaway.
Ills astonishment was vastly Increas
ed when a second whirlwind reached
him. Ormsby went at him as though
he was playing footbalL
He snatched the bridle from Hallo
well's hand, and that young man was
sent rolling in the dust as Jack leaped
astride and set the now frightened ani
mal after the bolting Sultan.
WOMEN HAUL
Much has been written about the use of women as' beasts of burden in
Europe, and photographs have shown them attached to ropes drawing boats on
Holland canals, and sometimes yoked with the animals pulling farm implements.
It may not be generally known that in some of the foreign colonies of the North
west women have furnished the power for turning over many an acre of sod and
converting it Into fields for raising grain. The accompanying illustration is from
a photograph taken in Manitoba, and shows a Bohemian farmer furrowing the
virgin prairie with a team of fourteen female members of the colony. Several
of them are over 50 years of age.
1 ! V 1 1 1 1 1 1 i I "t
RICH 1 74 5 I
of Govennent Contracts.
- - i
The road for a mile was clear, but
where It joined the boulevard beyond
Ormsby knew the runaway would
burst Into a tangle of carriage of all
descriptions, and the end would be se
rious. He didn't know much about the
soundness of Hallowell's ; mount, but
he would have made an asthmatic old
car horse do stunts just then. . -Like
the wind be rode, ; and his
mount's nose soon came up to Esther's
shoulderv : Foot by! foot he' gained on
Sultan, and then, with a swift dive,
Ormsby seized the reins, which Esther
had continued to cling to -with: all her
little might." A'strong pull 'on both
horses, and Sultan Instantly recognized
the fact that all his fun was over.
He slowed down and In half a block,
and just before the junction with the
boulevard, stopped, as gentle as a lamb.
For a minute they gazed at each other.
"Well," Ormsby said at last, "you
came near escaping the pursuit of the
villain that time, Essie, for good and
all."
Esther's eyes grew luminous. "And
you dared suggest that I marry him!"
she said, catching her breath.
"Well, you know there was an alter
native." "And that is?" still looking at him.
"That you might marry me to get rid
of him. That that would be effectual,
wouldn't it?"
Another breath of silence, and then
Esther murmured, "Well, Jack, dear,
we might try It!" Homefolks.
All Qualified.
Senator Proctor of Vermont Is report
ed by a Western weekly paper to have
said that the finest speech he ever made
consisted of only four words.
Senator Hoar, in a speech in the
course of which he chaffed good-naturedly
the Senator from the Green Moun
tain State, made this little thrust:
"No man in Vermont is allowed to
vote unless he has made five thousand
dollars trading with Massachusetts peo
ple." Senator Proctor retorted, "And we all
vote!"
Power from an Artesian Well.
A wood-working machine at St. Au
gustine, Fla., Is driven by water flow
ing from an artesian welL This is the
only instance known of power being de
rived from a flowing well.
Some men have the misfortune to al
ways have a job and greatly envy the
fellows who cannot find work.
PLOW ROPE.
S I
RANGE OF THE RAMAPOS.
A Wild Region X.yin Close to New
. Xork City.
Who would believe that within thirty-
two miles of New York city there are
mountain dwellings in a district so wild
and .rough that they are Inaccessible
even to the feet of ponies; that no prod
uce can be taken out to nor supplies
brought In from these farms save on the
backs of men; that the people gain their
living by making baskets, wooden
spoons and such, light articles as they
ean transport on their shoulders; that
even the bodies of the dead cannot be
taken out, but must, be buried in the
forest or in the yards of the mountain
cabins? A region where the people are
as nrlmitive in their ways, thougn not
so lawless in their tendencies, as the
Tennessee mountaineers? It is hard to
believe, but It Is true. . .,
When, in the middle of August, a
pitched my tent on the easterly side of
the easterly range of the Ramapos, in
Rockland County, close to a mountain
stream, I did not know that just over
the range of these wild mountains de
scendants of the Tory rangers or xhm
were yet to be found. I did not know
that the higher reaches of the moun
tains were tolerably full of rattlesnakes
of great size and beauty. I did not
know that the wild dogs lived up there.
I only perceived that the mus were
beautiful, the air pure and invigorat
ing, the woods practically unbroken
and the streams clear ana coia. i per
ceived that there were no swells places f
anywhere in tne niiis, ana maitue .
ranger's pasturage was unbroKen. xne
people whom I met were cordial, smil
ing, unsuspicious. I liked Ramapos as
the result of only a glance, and liked
thenr still, better after a camping ac
quaintance of a couple of weeks.
It certainly did not decrease my in
terest to know that, beginning some
twenty or more years ago, sundry do
mestic dogs of large size, finding in the
Ramapo woods no one to say them nay,
had fled from the lowland farms to the
hills, -and had, after going quite wild,
started a breed of creatures which has
now taken on quite a type of its own
New York Mail and Express.
Mrs. Humphrey Ward enjoys the dis
tinction of being paid more for her lit
erary work than any other woman now
living or. who ever lived. " "
Marie Corelli is credited with saying:
"I read m the papers that Kipling has j
gone up into Scotland to find material
for new stories. : The idea of anybody '!
trying to write of Scotch life after Sir
Walter Scott!?
"Rest, in its ordinary acceptation, is a
comparatively unknown - quantity in
Edward Everett Hale's busy life. Few
are the days In the total 365 but what
are . more or less lntershot with work
of some sort or jotherV ; True it is not of
the laborious order, rather it is of the
kindr that makes deeper, more Insidious
inroads mental. Intellectual, spiritual.
Miss Sarah Orne Jewett dearly loves
flowers, spending some of the happiest
of -summer's hours , working among
them in an old-fashioned garden back
of ber "home. This inherent love of ev
erything : wholesome, combined with
her sympathy and devotion to the peo
ple of whom . he writes, are what make
her stories so real so pungent with the
breeziness and odor of the sweet-smelling
pines of the Maine woods.
Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth's first
story, Retribution, published in 1840
In the National Era, And which is said
to have been the first novel published
serially in this country, was not writ
ten for pure financial gain, but simply
to Inflict upon the public the fact that
another author was born unheralded
by the usual story of hunger and the
"garret." It Is a fact that her novels
in the Boston public library are re
bound oftener than any other works of
Action.
Some one quoted Robert Louis Stev
enson In hearing of Marie Corelli hav
ing said that no one with a family to
support ever ought to attempt to write
unless be has an assured income from
some other source. Miss Corelli blazed
with ind:gnation. "It makes me so
angry to hear writers who have promi
nence talk in that manner," she said.
"I have made a success, I have sup
ported my family, but I don't think
you can do it. You'd better not try it.
It is like a man who has climbed to
the top of a tree, saying to those be
low: 'It is true I have reached the top,
but it is very doubtful If you can di it,
and the limb might break If you uid.
Don't attempt it; stay down there
where you are.' I have no patience
with such conceit. If men and women
think they have a talent for writing,
let them try and keep on trying, for
how else can they ever find out the
truth?"
Poorly Equipped.
There are some pleas so moving that
it would take a heart of stone to resist
them. - Squire Patterson Is the only rep
resentative of the law In a New Eng
land town, and is therefore the recipi
ent of constant appeals for the admin
istration of justice not only from his
neighbors, but from many of the dwell
ers on outlying farms.
One day a widow, known to him as a
shiftless and complaining person, way
laid him in the postoffice.
"See here, square," she said, queru
lously, . "I want you should say some
thing to Nathan Boggs that's got th
farm next mine. He's told it round that
I don't keep my hens at home, and that
he'll have the law on me if I don't, on
account of his corn. And I want you to
put It plain to him how that he ought
to have more patience, considering he's
got sons to help him and money laid by
and what's all; and everything I've got
In this eirthly world is one cow and
those hens and six head o gal children
that can't throw a stone straight !"
When we hear of a man performing
a brave action we wonder if the. story
is true; we know of so many cowardly
tricks being done every day,
ACTRESS DUSE'S
. fir- : '
Signora Eleanora Duse, the great Italian actress, differs from many of her asso
ciates in at least one respect she does not seek publicity. To be sure, her man
agers, especially when she is on an American tour, use every legitimate effort to
keep her before the public, and D'Annunzio's book, which reflected so little credit
upon its author, brought her name into prominence in a somewhat regretful way,
but this was not the fault of the actress. She belongs, in a sense, to the public
when she is on the stage. Her home life is her own. It is not the "home" life
of hotels that Signora Duse is happy in, bnt rather in the home life of her ancient
palace, on the Grand Canal in Venice. Her palace, which is the center building
of the three buildings shown in the picture, is one of those quaint old structures
which have made Venice an architectural delight. It is not as pretentious as
gome of its neighbors, but, nevertheless, through its great age and its architectural
beauties it is one of the show places of Venice. When it was built no one serins
to know. Certain it is that it goes back a century or more, and that it was
occupied by one of the noble families of Venice is established. Here, surrounded
by all the comforts of a practical age, Signora Duse spends the happiest months
of her life. A quiet life it is. apart from the glare of the footlights and the
tinsel of the stage. She entertains, but on a modest scale. Privileged, indeed,
are the few who have access to her delightful home.
AN IGNOMINIOUS RETREAT.
The Determined Woman Met Her Match
In Her Dressmaker.
Most persons who attempt to emanci
pate themselves from established cus
tom have periods of falling back into
the old way again, baffled reformers.
The real reformers are those who per
sist The New York Tribune tells a
story In which a woman who thought
6he had conquered was, after all, de
feated: She considered herself a strong
minded woman, and had determined
that she would have no more trailing
skirts. She told her dressmaker of her
decision in a tone which seemed to her
not to admit of question or protest;
but she did not know that "the dress
maker, too, was a strong-minded wom
an, though in a different way.
"Oh!" said the dressmaker, in a tone
of mild preplexity. There was so much
behind that "Oh!" that the woman felt
moved to assert herself.
"I will not," she exclaimed,, "bring
home a choice assortment of microbes."
"But you needn't get a long skirt
soiled." said the dressmaker.- "You
bold it up, you know."
"It tires me to hold it up. I want to
step out freely."
"Oh!" said the dressmaker again. It
was her favorite argument, and it was
apt to make her opponent wilt without
knowing why. She had worked for
that particular woman for several
years, and had exercised over her a
mild but invincible depositism.
"They are all made long," ventured
the dressmaker, "except the heavy
stitched walking-skirts."
"I don't care!" said the woman. "I
will defy fashion."
This time the dressmaker's "Oh!" im
plied that to defy fashion was to In
voke death or disgrace. The woman
felt herselt weakening before the inex
orable judgment of the "one who
knows."
"You're very tall," said the dressmak
er, softly. "And slender," she added,
after an effective pause. Her power
lay In the fact that she never became
excited and never gave way. A vision
rose before the woman of her long,
thin, lanky self, clad girlishly in a skirt
that escaped the ground, with a pair
of very substantial feet peeping In and
out, like anything rather than "little
mice." But pride came to her aid.
"Cut it short!" she ordered, sternly.
"I mean," she added, "cut it about half
an inch above the ground."
"The edge will cut out and collect
dirt," said the dressmaker, sadly.
"Let it!" said the desperate woman.
"It's a light material, easily held up."
The tone grew more melancholy, as if
the dressmaker were fighting with ad-
verse fate. -
The woman was at bay. "I'll have It
short!" she snapped, and the dressmak
er relapsed Into silence and depression.
When the skirt was nearly finished she
tried it on with a look of mute despair.
"The circular flounce is only basted on,"
the dressmaker said, finally. "It It
can be let down."
"What's all this length of stuff under
the flounce?" aswed the owner of the
skirt. '
"Well, I didn't cut It off, you know.
The flounce can be let down. I thought
'.you might change your mind."
I "It looks very straight up and down."
"Yea; If you have It long it will flare
' out better. You're so tall and slen
,der." "Let It down!" suddenly exclaimed
'the woman, in the tone of a general
j who orders a retreat
I "Very well," said the dressmaker, as
meekly as if she were assenting to an
act of self -sacrifice.
A Persian Parable.
There was a certain man who thought
the world was growing worse. He was
always harking back to "the good old
times," and was sure that the human
race was degenerating. Men, he said,
were all trying to cheat one another;
the strong were crushing the weak.
One day when he was airing bis pessim
istic views, the calif said to him: -
"j charge yon hereafter to look care
fully about you, and whenever you see
any man do a worthy deed go to him
VENETIAN PALACE.
and give him praise, or write to him
about It .Whenever you meet a man
whom you regard as worthy to have
lived in the 'good old days' tell him of
your esteem and of the pleasure you
have had in finding one so exalted, and
I desire that you write out an account
of these good deeds for me that I may
share your joy In knowing of it"
So the man was dismissed; but before
many days he returned and prostrated
himself before the calif. When ordered
to explain his presence, he wailed:
"Have pity on thy servant and re
lease him from the necessity of compli
menting men upon their worthy deeds,
O my master. And O Son of Moham
med, I pray thee absolve thy- servant
from the duty of reporting to thee all j
the good that is going on in the world."
"And why, O slave, dost thou come
to me with this prayer?" the calif
asked.
"Since I have been looking for what
is good," the man replied, "I have had
no time to do aught but compliment
men for their splendid works. So
much that Is glorious is all around me
that I may not hope to be able to tell
thee half of it. My tasks lie neglected
because I have no time "
"Go back to thy work," said the calif.
"I perceive that thou hast learned."
Tom Refed "Makes"-a Reporter.
"Who made you?" "Tom Reed."
Such would be the reply of , a
clever newspaper man who got himself
established in Washington by a unique
process. Tom Reed, when at the height
of his czarship, lived at the Shorenam.
where he held nearly as great court as
in the House. Among newspaper men
existed Intense rivalry In. the pursuit
of his favors. One morning he was
huffy. It was "Not a word!" to every
reporter or correspondent and the
group knew he meant it A newcomer,
however, made play for a big stake
and won. While his fellows waited on
the stoop to see the speaker enter his
carriage, this youth nestled under
Tom's big wing, whispering at the
door of the vehicle: "Mr. Speaker, for
God's sake let me get In and ride
around the corner with you! I syear I
won't open my mouth. You haven't
got to notice me at all. If you turn
me down" he became tragic "it
would ruin me forever in the estima
tion of my colleagues and rivals, but
if they see me riding with you my fu
ture is safe." "Get In," said the czar,
appreciating the situation, and the
gasps of. astonishment from the boys
on the stoop as the desperate reporter
took his seat Indicated that a new and
important factor in Washington jour
nalism had arrived. New York Press.
Bird-Mad.
Many persons not ."to the manner
born" are embarking on nature study,
to the weariness of their friends. They
sit in parks and fields with opera
glasses, and see birds that never were
"on sea or land." And sometimes their
bored friends rebel.
In a town where untrained observa
tion rages, says the New York Sun, an
elderly lady met an acquaintance in a
shady avenue, and asked her:
"Do you know anything about birds?"
"No," said the other. "I'm sorry, but
I don't."
"Sorry! Oh, you're such a relief! I
just met Mrs. C, and she grasped myl
hand, gazed upward, and said, 'Oh, did
you hear that perfectly lovely spike
beaked, purple-eyed tickle-bird?'
"I hadn't gone a block before. I met
Mrs. K. 'Hush!' said she, ecstatically,
'Don't move a muscle! Right up there
on that branch is one of those rare, ex
quisite, speckle-winged, ring-tailed
screamers.
."You and I seem to be the only sane
people. Let us rejoice in chorus."
Paradoxical. .
Clara I am thinking seriously of
bleaching my hair. Would you?
Maude WelL if I did, I'd certainly
try to keep It dark.
A man's good Intentions would be
worth more if he. could get 'them
cashed. - -
Don't lessen your chances of success
by brooding over the past. " .-
OLI
FAVORITES.?
t- ! ! !
My Aim Coontree .. '
I am far frae my name, an I'm weary
aft en whiles, ' -
For the langed-for name-bringing, an my ;
Father's welcome smiles
I'll ne'er be fu content until mine een -
do see -The
gowden gates o heaven, an' my ain
countree. '
The earth Is Becked wi' flowers, mony
tinted, fresh, an gay,
The .birdies warble blithely, for my
Father made them sae;
Bat these sichts an, these soun's will be
. naething to me
When I hear the angels singing in my ain
- countree.
I've His gude word of promise, that some
gladsome day the King
To his ain royal palace his banished hame
will bring
Wi' 'een an wi' hearts runnin' o'er, we
shall see -The
King in his beauty, an' our ain
countree. '
My sins ha' been mony, an my sorrows
ha been sair, ,
But there they'll ne'er mair vex me, ne'er
remembered mair.
Mis bluid hath made me white. His hand
, shall dry mine ee,
When He brings me home at last to my
ain countree. - : " .
' . .r -
Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie
to its nest;
I wad fain be ganging noo to my Sa-
- viour's breast;
For he gathers in His bosom witless,
worthless lambs like me,
And He carries them himsel' to his sin.
, countree.
He's faithful, that hath promised; He'll
surely come again;
He'll keep his tryst wi' me, at what hour
I dinna ken;
But He bids me still to watch, an' ready
aye to be
To gang at any moment to my ain coun
tree. So I'm watching aye, an' sin gin' o' my
hame as I wait,
For the soun'in' o' His footfa' this side
the gowden gate.
God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens'
noo to me,
That we a', may gang in gladness to our
ain countree.
'Mary Lee Demarest
Long, Long Ago.
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear.
Long long ago, long long ago;
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear.
Long long ago, long long ago.
Now you are come all my grief is re
mov'd, Let me forget that so long you have rov'd,
Let me believe that you love as you lov'd,
Long long ago, long ago.
Do you remember the path where we met,
Long long ago, long long ago
Ah, yes, you told me you ne'er would
forget
Long long ago, long long ago.
Then to all others my amile you preferred.
Love when you spoke gave a charm to
each word,
Still my heart treasures the praises I
heard,
Long long ago, long ago.
Though by kindness my fond hopes were
rais d.
Long long ago, long long ago,
You by more eloquent lips have been
prais'd,
Long long ago, long long ago;
But by long absence your truth has been
tried,
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blest as I was when I sat by your side.
Long long ago, long ago.
The "Lounge Game."
The "lounge game" has been played
at least once in. Brooklyn and twice In .
New York; perhaps oftener, but these
are the only cases the police have
heard of. The mode of operation 1
like this: A wagon drives up to a'
house, and one of the two men In
charge rings the door bell and says:
"We have a sofa here bought by Mr.
A., who ordered it sent up." .
"But Mr. A has ordered no sofa,"
the lady of the house responds. "There
is some mistake."
"Not a bit of It; he bought it and
paid for it, and all we can do Is to
leave it." . '
The lady is not convinced, but she is
asked to pay nothing, can make no
reasonable demur, so In comes the
lounge, that is usually taken to a sec
ond floor. In a couple of hours, back
come the men. All a mistake; was
meant for another man of the same
name, at the other end of the town.
The furniture Is placed again In the
wagon, and carried away. Some time
later the lady of the house misses her
jewelry and other small valuables. She
cannot imagine where they have gone
to. The men with the wagon know.
There was a hollow place in the
lounge, large enough to hold a small
man, and store away a lot of clothing;
knick-knacks and jewelry. The goods
had gone away with the lounge.
Overreached.
"Yes, Merchant's scheme was to dis
play his goods in his window with a lot
of mirrors back of them, so that all
the women passing would be sure to
stop and look in."
"Pretty foxy Idea, eh?"
"Yes, but it failed. None of the
women looked at anything but the
mirrors." London (Ont.) Advertiser.
Fruit Trees In Germany.
A census. has recently, been taken of
Germany's fruit trees. There are 80tt
fruit trees to every square mile of terri- .
tory in the German Empire, in the fol
lowing proportions: Plum, 332; apple,
251; pear, 119; and cherry, 104. There
are about three trees to every inhab
itant "
Grass Houses in Oklahoma. : ,
Among the most interesting features
of Southern Oklahoma are the remains
of the grass houses formerly built by
the Wichita Indians, who, to a certain
extent keep up their novel mode of ar
chitecture to the present day. .
GossIpJ never dies; , people are still
gossiping about Lord Byron and bis.
wife, although they never lived In this
country, and hate been dead a gre.it
many years. . ' . '' -