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About Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 19, 1904)
GAZETTE. CORVALLIS " ' SEMI-WEEKLY. COBVAX.IiIS, BENTON COXTNTTX, OEEGON, TTTBSDAX, JANTJAEY 19, 1904. VOL. IV. NO. 39. IfO. ISO. I WMIWIHIIIM A "f "" A V Second Cousin 5arah g sr m avtmor or "AltHB JUDGE, SPINSTER." "LITTLE MATE MIRBT." ETC.. ETC. CHAPTER II. (Continued.) Sedge Hill was a staring edifice of con siderable proportions, with an aspect cf newness abont it that fourteen years had not done much to soften. It had been built to the order of the present proprie tor, who had made much money by cot ton stockings, and had risen from twen ty shillings a week at the loom to the splendor of his present life. It was a new house to suit the new man who had been lucky enough to get rich. There were spacious grounds beyond, and there was a big room at the side, that was new to Reuben Culwick since he had last stood in his father's house, and it was this that he pulled up his horse to in spect before turning into the carriage drive. Then he went rapidly along the drive, drew up in front of the house, and step ped lightly and briskly from the trap, giving the reins to a rosy-faced young man in livery, who emerged from come stabling in the rear, to be of service to the newcomer. "Old Jones has gone, then?" he said to the servant. "Yes, sir. He's with Squire Black of Holston." "And you reign in his stead. Well, we cannot all reign." He knocked and rang, looking stead ily through the glass doors the while. Another new face a smart young house maid, whom he had never seen before, to replace Mrs. Perkins, who was stout and sallow, came to the door and admitted him. - "Is Mr. Culwick in?" "Yes, sir, but he's engaged just now." "You will be kind enough to give him my card?" The maid servant took 'the card and departed, and Reuben Culwick, like the merest stranger, and feeling like a stran ger, very doubtf ul of his reception, walk ed up and down the spacious hall with his hands behind him, and his hat in his hands. Presently the servant reappeared. "Will you step this way, if you please, sir?" Reuben followed the servant along a corridor to a door at the extremity the door of the new room, he was certain. "WHO ARE lOUr' from his old remembrance of the house. The door was opened and his name an nounced, and he felt that he was passing into a spacious apartment, the walls of which were bright and rich with many pictures, and the ceiling paneled and massive, with ground glass in the panels, for the proper transfusion of light on Mr. Simon Culwick's "collection. When Simon Culwick had lost his son Reuben, he had taken to the "masters," ancient and modern, and given them all the love that was in his heart. But it was not at the paintings which enriched the walls that Reuben Culwick gazed with so much of curious earnest ness, but at the big broad-faced man sit ting before the fire in a capacious leath ern chair, and who was looking curiously and steadily at him. There was a pret ty, fair-haired young woman, in gray eilk. sitting at the table in the recess of a bay window, reading, and Reuben was con scious of her presence that was all. She rose not at his entrance, only looked to ward him with a certain degree of curi osity as he advanced, and then turned to the pages of her book as he held his hand out to his father. "So you have thought of me at last, have you?" was rolled out in a gruff bass, as a large, white gouty-looking hand was placed in that of his son. "So I have come back at last," answer ed Reuben Culwick. "You can sit down," said the father. "Thank you," said the son. This was the meeting after five years' absence the calm after the great storm which had happened in that house five years ago. This was the home that the on had never liked, and that he felt he did not like now, although he had come to it of his own free will. There was a pause, during which each man took stock of the other without any particu lar reserve. "I got your letter," said the father, "and I might have sent the carriage for you had it not rained so much." "The horses might have caught cold in stead of me," said the son dryly; "but I didn't want the carriage. I was glad that I had not further to go last night than Worcester." He looked toward the lady in the bay window at this juncture, and his father noticed the wandering gaze, and paid no attention to the hint which it conveyed. "Well, what have you been doing? ' What do you propose doing now that you are here? I suppose, after all that has passed, you have no intention of sitting down in the house and waiting compla cently for my death and my money?" the father inquired. "You told me that I should never have a pennyof your money, if you remember, sir. I have never expected it after that day." said Reuben Culwick. "Why should you?" said Mr. Culwick In a loud tone of voice, and yet without betraying any passion. "Have I been v known in all my life to break my word? Has not sticking to my word, throish thick and thin, in evil report and good report, made me what I am? I would rather break my own heart than' break my word. Yon know it," said the father boastfully. "Fifty hearts as well as your own yes, I know it," answered the other, witn an unflinching gaze at his father, "and hence I come to you not for assistance, I don't want it; not for affection, I don't exDect it but with the simple motive, which I hope that my letter conveyed to you last week, to see you, to express sor row for a long alienation, to ieei giaa that you are well, to tell you that I am not unhappy, and to go away again." The son's tones seemed to impress the father, who subsided into his easy chair, from which he had leaned forward, as if cowed by the cold, clear-ringing tones of the voice which fell upon his ears, a voice which subdued him, and an arro gance that had always been difficult to quell which touched him, though he never owned that which made him even prouder of his son, though the time nev er came for him to own that, either. The young woman in the background leaned forward with clasped hands until he caught her glance again, when she once more turned her eyes upon her book. "Have you made your fortune?" asked the father, in a different voice. "On the contrary, I have been .some what unsuccessful." "How do you live?" "I write a little," he added modestly. "It is a long story, that would scarcely interest you." "It would not interest me in tHe least." There was another long pause, during which the son, still at his ease, still singu larly hard, despite his respectful man ner, glanced round at the pictures on the walls, admired them even, secretly but not enviously, wondered at their cost, and looked once more in thedirection of the lady, whose pensive face and quiet grace he admired also, and at whose presence he wondered in a greater degree, though he repressed all exhibition of surprise. Suddenly the father said, with that sin gular abruptness characteristic of the man: "You can stay here if you like." "For how long?" asked the son, sur prised at last out of bis assumption of D14A1AMDED REUBEN. stoical composure. "Till we disagree again," said the fath er, with a short, forced laugh; "that wijl not be many days, I suppose?" "One moment, sir," said Reuben Cul wick, with grave politeness. "A mis take parted us, and we are laying the foundation of another already, unless I explain the first." "Go on." "I was hardly twenty-one a rash and foolish young fellow when you wanted me to marry your friend's daughter." "You would have been rich you would have been respected it would have been for the best." , "I refused to entertain the proposal, if you remember." "Remember! remember it!" cried the father, turning pale with anger; "do you rake this up again to insult me?" "No, to enlighten you," said the other; "at that period, Mr. Culwick, I had prom ised my mother that I would not marry the lady." CHAPTER III. The effect of Reuben Culwick's an nouncement upon his father was remark able. The big man rose from his chair with his two large hands clenched, and his face of a deep purplish hue, and glared at his son in speechless wrath. Then he sank slowly and heavily into his seat 'again, and panted for awhile. The dark coloring left the face, but the bushy black brows retained their lower curves over the eyes, and the mouth was hard and fixed, until the lips parted slightly to allow a few words to escape. "And this is the first time you tell me that you were in league with your moth er?" "Yes," answered Reuben, politely. "I was a willful lad who had not been brought up well or looked after carefully, and I had been only taught to fear you. My mother, who had been separated from you for some years, I was learning to re spect then. When we quarreled, I went to take care of her as well as I could. I was with her when she died." "You know how I hated your play-acting mother' how she hated me. Why do you tell me that you sided with her, when it would be so much the better policy -to keep this to yourself?" said the father, bitterly. , - "Because I am not afraid of you any longer because I see now where you were wrong." . - "And you expect me to forgive this de ceit, as old men do at the end of a play?" "Or toward the end of their lives," add ed Reuben. '"". "Don't talk to me' of the end of my life," he cried; "I dare say you have thought enough of it have considered that it would be as well to 'sink your cursed pride and your curseder temper, and come here in prodigal-son fashion. But it won't do; I'm not a man to be hoodwinked in that way." J X- j "I am not sorry to have seen you, fath er," said Reuben, rising; "I came out of ms way a long way out of it to reach Worcester. I am glad to find yon wefl. Good day. . He extended his hand again, but this time his father refused to take it. "You have come out of your way to give me a fresh wound, that's all," said the father, sullenly, "and you have done It effectually. I don't want you to trou ble me again. You will not come here again at my invitation. I can't forgive you why should I? I never forgave anybody. I never forgave your mother. Your two aunts offended me years ago, you know. Have I ever forgiven them? One died last summer, and .1 wouldn't go to see her wouldn't go near her and the other one is in St. Oswald's alms houses, blind as a bat, and livings on eight shillings a week. Eight shillings a week, and those pictures there cost me eighty thousand pounds." "A good investment," said Reuben Cul wick, coolly, and critically looking round the walls; "they will increase in value year by year, sir." ; As he looked round he became aware, for the first time, that the lady in the bay window had disappeared. i She had pass ed from the room silently, through a sec ond door at the extremity of the picture gallery. "And I never gave her a penny in my life," added Mr. Culwick, senior. "Poor old Sarah blind is she? and in the almshouse, too! I am sorry. I liked old Sarah," said Reuben; "she was one of the few friends I had when I was a boy, and when you were not rich. Btit I am detaining you, and I am pledged to reach London to-night. . Good by again." When he had reached the door, Simon Culwick called out his name, and Reu ben paused and turned. "I am not deceitful," said the father, "and I may as well tell you that I have made my will, and that you will never be a penny the better for it. It is all left all," he added, "away from an unduti f ul son." There was a moment's pause, and then Reuben Culwick quitted his father's pres ence and closed the door after him. He went from the room into the corridor, and thence along, its entire length to the din ing room, where he threw himself into a chair with so thoughtful a mien that he was not for the moment aware that the young lady in gray silk whom he had seen in the bay window was stepping back from the big fleecy mat at the door, to allow of his egress. When he saw her, she put her finger to her lips, and he repressed an exclamation of surprise. "Go back," she said, with an excite ment that astonished him; "don't give up don't leave him like that it'sVour last chance." "You have been listening," said Reu ben, coldly. "To every word," was the honest con fession; "and you have not said a word to please him, and much to offend. Why did you come, if in no better spirit than this? Go back to him. Tell him how sorry you are for everything do some thing before you go that will leave be hind a better, impression," she urged again. "No, I can't go back." . "You are as hard as he is," she cried; "as if it mattered what you said to him as if it were not worth a struggle to regain your position here!" Grasping her wrists, while her hands covered her face to hide it from his fierce gaze, Reuben exclaimed in a wondering tone, "Who are you?" "Only the housekeeper, sir," she said, quaintly; "keeping bouse for Simon Cul wick and in your . place. You should hate me as a usurper already," she add ed, mockingly, "if you had any spirit in you." "The housekeeper yes but " he said wonderingly, and without regarding her strange taunts. "I was not aware tt - "Why should you be aware of anything about me, you who are as quarrelsome and strange as your father, and have kept away so long? There, go home and think of the best way to bring that old man to his senses." "And interfere with your chance," said Reuben, lightly. He was in better spir its already, and the odd manner of this young lady interested him. - "I have no chance," she answered, "or I should not be very anxious for you to get back. I should be too selfish I should try and keep you away, being as fond of money as your father is." "I hardly believe this." "Mr. Reuben Culwick can believe ex actly what he pleases," said the young lady, spreading out her skirts and mak ing him a very low obeisance, which he felt bound to return, after which he would have continued the conversation had she not darted out of the door and disappeared. (To be continued.) What They Said. " Penelope Charley called last night. Justine That's twice in a week, Isn't it? Penelope Yes. Justine I suppose he'll come three times in the next week? Penelope That's what my brother says. Justine And six times the next? Penelope That's what aunty says. Justine And seven times the next? Penelope That's what papa says. Justine And then what? Penelope Then we'll get married; that's what everybody says. Justine And then what? , Penelope Then I sha'n't see him any more of an evening; that's what mam ma says.- Baltimore Sun. Mildly Rebuked. "Didn't you say that it was going to rain to-day?" "I did," answered the weather prophet. "But there hasn't been a . sign of moisture." "I am perfectly aware of the fact. All I could do was to offer the best opinion on the subject that I could arrive at. If I could accurately foretell events, I should quit working for a salary and make a fortune In the stock market." Washington Star. So Thoughtful. She There, dear, haven't I been thoughtful of yon and unselfish?. He How? "Why, I kept all these bills of mine away from you oatil the middle of the month!" To see what Is rteht; and not to do It, is rant of courage,-or of principle. CocfucJus. - "' -i-v. i A II M III I MtfM'IHtttttHH"Hll I 1 (MM Ml ......... t Said by Children. "Is your new nurse French or Ger man?" asked the visitor. "I flnk heir's bwoken English," replied 3-year-old Margie. "Come, Harry," said his mother, "If s time all good little boys were In bed." "But, mamma," rejoined the little fel low, "you said I was naughty to-day, so that lets me'.out" " "Mamma," queried little 4-year-old Mabel, "was papa related to us before he married into our family?" "Cer tainly not, dear," was the reply. "Oh, then we just adopted him, didn't we, mamma?" continued the small miss. Little Dorothy was visiting In the country last summer and, seeing a black, red and white calf in the barn, she ran to her mother and said: "Oh, mamma, come out to the barn and see the cute little cow with a calico skin." Mamma Johnny, do you know what day to-morrow will be? Johnnys-Yes, mamma; my birthday. Mamma And what would you like for the occasion? Johnny (after a pause) I'd like to see our schoolhouse burn down. To Hake Miniature Toys. With scissors for tools and paper and toothpicks to take the place of lumber and beams, boys and girls can MADE. OF PAPER get lots of fun by making little ob jects. To make a chair, cut the figure (a) twice out of a cardboard or a playing card. Where the design is marked by dots, bore small holes and stick the ends of toothpicks through them, allowing only the extreme ends to stick out, and the chair is ready (b). The same way you can make a cradle (c). A double Jadder (d), a rocking-chair (e), a stretcher (f), a push-cart (g), a sleigh (h), a wagon (1), a house (k), a bench (m), can be made by the same simple means. - ' A table (n) is made by bending a square piece of cardboard, as shown in the picture, and Inserting four tooth picks into the two places where the paper Is bent under. A basket is made out of a round ring or a square (r and s) and a smaller round or square piece of cardboard, as shown in the illustrations. Children's Games. Children are instinctive conserva tives. They play the old games and re- POETS IN THE POORHOU8E. A Sather Pathetic Discussion of the Worth of Rival Vera Makers. In no country is there among the poorest and least educated a greater love of poetry than in Ireland; no where are the poets of the people held longer or more fervently in remem brance. Lady Gregory tells a charac teristic anecdote of a discussion which she heard between two of the aged, toil-worn, poverty-stricken inmates of Gort Workhouse concerning the rival merits of two peasant bards of sixty years ago Raftery and Callinan. The partizan of Callinan declared that he had been a more respectable kind of man, owning a little farm of his own and his own cattle v moreover, that he had more settled and respecta ble ways; also, that he was more good natured, and did not lash his neighbors with satire; finally, that he was a bet ter poet, anyway, and that Raftery, the blind, wandering rimester, admit ted it by avoiding any encounter with him, and once wept with chagrin when some satiric verses on his rival were answered to overwhelming effect by the rival's brother, also a poet. The aged champion of Raftery (real ly the more gifted poet of the two) reluctantly admitted that he "would run people down, and was someways bitter"; but he, too, was kind at heart; and she instanced the pretty incident of the marriage of a poor servant lad and lass "that was only a marriage and not a wedding till Raftery chanc ed to. come in; and he made it one," composing a grand song descriptive of a noble feast, calling in the neighbors to hear It, turning the occasion into a ifestivaL and finally taking up a con tribution from each guest, and bestow ing the generous result on the happy and astonished pair. But the -partizan of Callinan was not silenced- "I tell you," said she, em phatically. "Callinan was a nice man jand a nice neighbor. Raftery wasn't fit to put beside him. Callinan was a 6 : . . . . ! - A . y3 1 n Little Stories and Incidents that Will Interest and Enter- tain Young Readers i peat the old rhymes century after .cen tury, with little if any variation. Blind man's buff, for example a survival of the rites peculiar to the worship of Odin, the sightless deity is played to-day exactly as it was played 2,000 years ago. So, too, is "tag," which was original ly a fragment of a sacred pantomime, or miracle play, portraying the old, old story of Diana and her nymphs. In "'London Bridge is broken down" we are . treated to the entire ritual of the foundation sacrifice, that wide spread, hideous custom, which decreed that a living child must be sacrificed to the god of the structure ere it could be expected to stand firm. First, it. will be remembered, the children urge alternative measures. "London Bridge is broken down," cry the two leaders, standing from an arch, hands clasped, so as to form an arch, beneath which the other little players race, as if in dread. . "Build it up with, bricks and mor tar," is the reply. "Bricks and mortar will mold away." "Build it up with penny loaves with gold and silver set a man to watch all day set a dog to bark all night," and the rest of it. AND TOOTHPICKS. Then, lastly, the hands are unclasp ed, the "arch" falls, catching one of the players preferably a little girl in its mock descent, after which all the children shout In unison. "Hurrah! Hurrah! Now 'twill last for aye and a day, with a fair lady." Pearson's Weekly. Little Sleepy-Head. Oh, please, will some wise person say Which is the really proper way For mother's little sleepy-head, To get each morning out of bed? For often when I cry and pout, As sister combs my tangles out. She says "Ohy Rose," and shakes her head, "You've got the wrong way out of bed!" I've tried both right and left foot first, I'm not quite sure which is. the. worst But was it not unkind of Ned To bid me "fall out on my head?" So. please, if some on really knows, Just send a line my name is Rose, At mother's house I always stay, And our old postman knows the way. man that would go out his own back door and make a poem about the four quarters of the earth. I tell you, you would stand in the snow to listen to Callinan!" But just then, Lady Gregory records, a bed-ridden old woman, who had not joined in the discussion at all, "sud denly sat up in bed and began to sing Raftery's love song, 'Bridget Yesach' (Courteous Bridget). This she contin ued as long as her breath lasted; so the last word was for him, after all." Big Task: to Sweep Floor. It Is enough to blister one's hands just to contemplate the job that con fronted the men who swept the floor of the mammoth palace of agriculture at the St Louis world's fair. When the contractors finished their work all that remained to be done was to sweep the floor. It never dawned on anyone how great the task was. ' Cald well & Drake, the contractors, ordered a dozen brooms and set twelve men to work. When night came their Inroads on the twenty-three acres of floor space were scarcely noticeable. They Increased the force next day to forty men and ordered 100 brooms. These forty men worked ten days before the big floor was thoroughly swept. Sometimes. Sunday School Teacher Bobby, where do good people go when they die? . Bobby (glibly) To heaven. Sunday School Teacher Yes, that is right. And if a person who is wicked all the way through dies, where does he go? Bobby To the police station. Woman's Home Companion. A man who boasts of being able to accomplish more in one day than any other man can in a week never has occasion to do it. If some men knew as much as they talk the encyclopedia would hays to retire from business. j Mm-' - - ""sr at "Osw oOo Women aa Farm Owners. The number of women in the United States who are studying agriculture grows larger every year. Nearly all agricultural departments of Western universities and colleges admit wom en on equal terms with men, and there are a number of Eastern Institutions where they are welcomed. Secretary Wilson so far approves of women as farmers that he frequently addresses classes in the Columbia Normal School, Washington, where there are forty woman pupils, and elsewhere. It is Secretary Wilson's nope that agricul ture, or the first principles of the sci ence, will soon be a part of the cur riculum In every rural school, and this will mean that thousands of women will have to take normal courses in ag ricultural science In order to fit them selves for teachers. In Western schools and colleges of agriculture are many girls who have in herited, or expect to inherit, large farms, which they will manage them selves. Others study special branches of farming, such as dairying, small fruit growing, market gardening,- etc. Women are well fitted for these branches, and have made them profit able in so many parts of the country that all doubt of the wisdom of this choice of a profession seems to be dis pelled. ' A new kind of special farming has recently engaged the attention of wom en In the Eastern States. At the fruit and flower shows given each autumn In New York much Interest has at tached to experiments In growing cul tivated varieties of chestnuts, pecans, walnuts, etc. Larger tracts of lands In Southern New Jersey have been plant ed with choice nut trees, the Italian and Japanese giant chestnut chief among them. One young woman went Into partnership with her brother in planting twenty acres of land owned by them, and a few years later re signed a well-paying position in a New York law office to attend to the growing business of their nut farm. She looks after every detail of the work the gathering and shipping of the crop, and the correspondence, and will probably one day become the sole owner of the property New York Evening Post. The Dressing-Sack Woman. There is a popular delusion to the effect that household tasks require slip shod garments and unkempt hair. Let the frowsy ones contemplate the trained nurse in her spotless uniform, with her snowy cap and apron and her shining hair. Let the doubting ones go to a cooking school and see a neat young woman in a blue gingham gown and a white apron prepare an eight course dinner, and emerge spotless from the ordeaL The woman who puts on an apron over her dressing sack by that act openly proclaims that the thing would be better if It was belted in. Then why not a shirt waist? Does one ever a trained nurse In a dressing sack, even when she does heavier work than any other woman is ever called upon to do? If a woman in the uniform of a trained nurse can do the manifold things assigned to her calling, surely the laundress and the cook do not need a dressing sack. There is a cynical adage that runs thus: "Strangers for help, friends for advice and relatives for nothing." Few of us will be bold enough to say there Is no truth In it, and the reason Is not far to seek. Who should help us If not those who always see our best side? Strangers think us charming, friends admit but pardon our faults, and relatives fight with us. We make our houses spotless for a stranger, but friends can take us as we are. For a new acquaintance there Is purple and fine linen, while we offer our friends cold potatoes and remnants of nle. The solid silver and dainty em broideries are put away for the stran-f ger, while one's husband, who, In a way, is a relative by marriage, eats left-overs out of nicked dishes, and con templates a dressing sack between mouthf uls. The Pilgrim. Social Success. Young girls who belong to the same social set are much on an equal plane between the ages of 12 and 18; wheth er they are rich or poor, plain or pret ty, does not then particulary count as they have similar pursuits and in terests, and are practically on an equality. It is after their social de but that the great differences becomes apparent and that friends are more or less separated through Inevitable circumstances. The social success of some young women Is a foregone con clusion. The prominence and wealth of their families, combined with a cer tain amount of attraction, render any exertion quite unnecessary. They have only to take graciously and sweetly the goods that the gods pro vide, to be very popular. With the rank and file of maidens, however, it is quite different, and depends upon themselves whether they become per sona grata in society or gradually drop out of the running with former associates. Unluckily for the major ity, it is only experience that sharp ens their wits and perceptions, and that can only be acquired by failures and knowledge of the world. If young people could only get experience with out experiencing, ; or if they would only be content to take what their elders have acquired -at considerable cost how many years they might gain and how much more assured won! be their success! If in mental progress one Is willing to take for granted what others have discovered, and begin where they leave off, why is It in mat ters that are personally more Import ant that human nature always refuses to be guided and Invariably begins anew? . "I know exactly what would make my girls have a good time In society," said a woman of experience, "but they will not take my advice. They will see some day that I am right, and they are wrong, but, then, unfor tunately. It will be tod late," New York Tribune. . The Blessing- of Educated Wifes. So long as women were absolutely Ignorant, men could pass as wise on small capital; but the growing mind of woman lifts the mind of man with two great forces heredity and sex-at--traction. Large-brained mothers make better men, and the sweetheart who is wise as well as kind can do wonders with her lover. Lord Chesterfield's advice to his son Is clear on this point He strongly uigco uiiu ui uuurji tt wuluhjj - wuo -a v. A Mn 11 .1.1. 1 3 1 moo aa wtsu as riuu, imiHiwiag anu r well-born; "for," says he, "thou wilt find there Is nothing more fulsome than a she-fooL" The Greeks would not have educated wives, owing to prejudice, tradition and general error; but, as they grew ca pable of more pleasure than the prim itive sex-relation allows, they sought it outside of marriage. It is wonderful how long a piece of, idiocy will stick In the human brain. Never was a more splendid develop ment of some mental qualities than In Athens, yet there this antique lgno- . ranee remained bedded in the fertile Intellectual soli like a bowlder in a gar den. They would have slavery, and they would have ignorant wives, and they felL To-day, with our new knowledge of the laws of nature, with our great ad vance In freedom of thought and ac tion, there is still less excuse for us. We know now that a nation Is best measured by the position of its women. Charlotte Perkins Gilman, In Success. Her Reasons. She bought a' hat plain, prim nd flat With feathers trained on wiitinglyj . It hid her eyes like a disguise And touched one ear tiptiltingly; 'i A homely thing of straw and string, And yet she proudly flaunted it, Twas all made clear by her "Oh, dearl Another woman wanted it!," ' ' She wears a dress it cost no leBS" !" Than ninety-five simoleons; It's faded tan, and looser than That great coat of Napoleon's; It puckers so, and flares as though Some dismal spirit haunted it; It has no style but she will smile; Another woman wanted it!" Of bric-a-brac she has no lack. And still she's always buying morer ' ' . '' Weird wail designs and ugly steins; Strange foods she's always tryinjr more. Once to her flat she brought a cat 'A fake Maltese. We taunted her. She sighed: "I know I'm beat but, oh, Another woman wanted her!" Her married life is naught but strife But what's the use to moralize? "He" has an awe inspiring jaw And "I-delight-to-quarrel" eyes, Threats of divorce or shows of force Have never even daunted him. And she'll confess: "Well, I said 'Yes . Another woman wanted him!" W. D. Nesbit in Life. Do Not TJrare Tonr Child. If your child cannot concentrate Its mind or commit to memory without great difficulty, or if it seems back ward, do not urge' it to study. No de velopment which is forced is natural or normal. The mind may be develop ing unevenly. When the brain cells are more fully developed and the nerve cells more mature, the faculties will balance and the child will become nor mal, evenly developed. But he ' must be encouraged instead of being dis couraged, for otherwise the result may be disastrous. It is druel to keep tell ing a child that he Is dull or stupid, or that he is not like other children. The discouraging pictures thus im pressed upon his plastic mind will cling to It and become Indelible In the brain of the man and handicap him for life. - Success. Safe Way to Clean Carpets. An experienced chemist says the following recipe is warranted to re move soil and spots from the most delicate carpets without Injuring them. Make a suds with a good white soap and hot water, and add fullers' earth to this until the consistency of thin cream is secured. Have plenty of clean drying cloth, a small scrubbing brush, a large sponge and a pall of fresh water. Put some of the clean ing mixture in a bowl and dip a brush In it; brush a small piece of the cars pet with this; then Wash with the sponge and cold water. Dry as much as possible with the sponge, and fin ally rub with dry cloths. Continue this till you are sure that all the car pet is clean; then let It dry. Chicago Journal. ' Misunderstood. Grace Miss Olde says she Is after a man with money. ' Barbara Well, that may be a suc cessful way, bu I'd hate to think I had bribed a man to be my husband, Hi