Heppner gazette., June 17, 1909, Image 2

The Great
Tontine
by
HAWLEY SMART .
Kwtkm ( "BroWn Bond.." "B..MI to Tin."
Eu.
CHAPTER XXI.
It was in a very somber mood that
Jack Phillimore wended his way to the
Temple. Lord Lakington had accorded
him this much, that his friend Ringwood
migtit go down to Rydland as the Vis
count's representative and see Mr. Krabbe,
whom Mr. Fegrnra candidly avowed to be
his nominee in the "Great Tontine."
"It is a wild chance." thought Jack,
"and I suppose, as such, ought to be
tried; but I am afraid it is little likely
that Ronald will discover anything that
may prevent this marriage. They will
show him Mr. Krabbe, just as they show
ed me Mr. Krabbe, and he will know that
It is not the real man ; but what is the
use of that? We cannot prove it. He
may make any amount of inquiries he.
likes in Rydlnnd, and they will all tell
him the same story that Mr. Krabbe
lives in that cottase, and has done so
ever since he broke down and became past
work. Ringwood will feel sure, as he is
now, that all these people have been bam
boozled by the IVgrams. But there, again,
neither my uncle nor anybody else bar
Hemmingby will believe us. I declare,
If Ringwood declines to go I shall really
not be able to blame him."
"You never called here, and conse
quently never got my note," said Ring
wood, as he welcomed his visitor ; "I left
a line for .you. What did you do in
.Wales?"
"Worse than nothing. L doubt very
much whether, under any circumstances,
It was possible ever to have done any
thing. Hemmingby was quite right ; I
did not impose upon him as the sailor
one bit. And yesterday I followed your
advice, and went and saw my uncle, and
that was not a bit of use either ; that
confounded old Welsh villain had written
Up a most plausible account of our inter
view, owning, with affected candor, that
his nominee was Mr. Krabbe, begging my
uncle to send anybody he liked to see and
inquire into his identity. The marriage
takes place next week, and I see no hope
of exposing the Pegrams before that, un
less you think you, are likely to make
anything out of your interview . with old
Krabbe."
"My interview with old Krabbe! What
do you mean?"
"I forgot to tell you. Clinging to what
seems to be my last chance, I persuaded
my uncle to take Pegram at his ivord, and
end some one down to Rydland to see
this 'nominee' of him. You must try
Ringwood ; you are sharper than me, and
may detect the fraud, cleverly as it has
been contrived."
' "I doubt whether I should make more
of it than you did ; but I will own to
feeling a curiosity to see the impersonator
'of a man whom we firmly believe to be
dead, on insufficient grounds though it
may be. Still, I have a bit of real good
news for you ; you will have to see Lord
Lakington again, and I think I can prom
ise you that you will find him then quite
as keen to break off this marriage as you
tan wish."
' "You speak in riddles."
"Terence Finnigan is found."
"What! Miss Caterham's missing nom
inee! Are you quite sure it is the right
man?"
"Quite. I went down to Portsmouth
yesterday with Miss Chichester to see
blm. She identified him at once."
"Hurrah !" exclaimed Jack, springing
from his chair, and pacing the room with
rapid strides in his excitement. "With
a third person in it, their arrangement be
comes impossible. It insures the wedding
being put off, at all events; and we shall
learn the truth about Pegram's nominee
before long, I have no doubt. By the
way, I suppose you will hardly go down
to see him now."
"I do not know ; you must remember
that I am acting for Miss Caterham's heir
as well as endeavoring to help you. I
should like to consult Hemmingby about
it."
"Come along, then ; let us run across
and tell him the news."
The two young men proceeded at once
to the "Vivacity," and after some little
delay were shown into the manager's sanc
tum. Mr. Ilfmmingby listened with great
Jnterpst to Ringwood's story of the dis
ccvery of Finnigan. He roared with
laughter at Jack's account of his inter
view with old Pegram.
"I tell you what, Ringwood," said the
icanager at length, "I have an idea about
this. I should like to take advantage of
your going down as Ird Lakington's ac
credited agent to accompany you, and see
Mr. Krabbe myself. You sre, I knew the
old man for many years; and though I
have a strong suspicion that whoever they
have got in that cottage is not the real
man, yt I am curious to see an imitation
which is so good that it has undoubtedly
deceived many people who knew him
quite well. I have another reason, which
I have never mentioned to you as yet.
When I endeavored to see him, I was
very much struck with the nurse who
takes care of him ; with the Idea that I
bad seen her before, and in a very differ-n-t
capacity. You go down to-morrow,
call upon them that afternoon, and ar
range to pay your visit about mid-day;
never trouble about me ; I shall turn up
as you knock at the cottage door. As for
you, Mr. Phillimore, you will, of course.
Inform the Viscoum that the 'Tontine' is
not reduced to a match yet; and, conse
quently, the dividing of the stakes not at
present practicable."
Lord Lakington was not a little dis
turbed by the announcement tne next
morning that Mr. Phillimore wanted to
e him. He felt quite certain that this
Interview with his nephew was not like
ly to be a pleasant one. No sooner did
Jack Phillimore make his appearance
than the Viscount hastened to exclaim:
"Pray sit down, flighted to see yon,
f course; but I trust that you bars
not come to reopen yesterday's conversa
tion. It is Impossible you can bars heard
r..w; Urdland as jet, nor likely
Indeed that you will find these wllj sus
picions of yours substantiated. Now, nsy
dear Jack, if you like to come to Bea
trice's wedding we shall be very pleased
to see you ; If, on the contrary, you think
fit to feel aggrieved, very well, stay away j
but once for all, be good enough to un
derstand that I decline al further discus
sion on the subject."
"As far as discussion goes, certainly
not, unless you like," replied Jack. "I
have only come down this morning to put
you in possession of a fact, not a sus
picion, mind, and to point out the differ
ence that that fact maJtes In the arrange
ment between you and Mr. Pegram. What
I have to tell you is this. The nominee
of the late Miss Caterham, who has been
so long missing, has been found-, Is alive,
tolerably well, and in no Immediate dan
ger of dying. Miss Chichester herself can
tell you that she saw "Finnigan alive forty-eight
hours ago, and either Mr. Ring
wood or Mr. Carbuckle could tell you
that the result of his being alive is as I
say."
"This makes a difference," exclaimed
the Viscount ; "that fellow Pegram always
assured me Miss Caterham's nominee was
dead. It is not likely that Beatrice would
marry Into that sort of family if there
was any doubt about the settlements be
ing all right"
"Then I suppose you will write by to
night's post to Rydland to Inform them
of this discovery, and that, In consequence
the engagement must be regarded as com
pletely at an end."
"Certainly; that Is, if Beatrice con
sents. I must of course consult her, and
be giiided by her wishes."
"Exactly," rejoined Jack, falling Into
the humor of his noble kinsman, and as
sisting him In the belief that he was a
model father, whose first enre was his
wish to talk matters over with Trixie as
daughter's happiness. "You no doubt
wish to talk matters over with Trixie as
soon as possible, so I will get out of the
way."
CHAPTER XXII.
Mr. Tegrnm was slightly disconcerted
at not receiving a letter from Lord Lak
ington by return of post, in answer to the
one which he had written detailing the
account of Jack rhillimore's visit to Ryd
land; but he was made still further un
easy by receiving a visit in the afternoon
from Mr. Ringwood, who explained that
ha came as Lord Lakington's accredited
agent to see Mr. Krabbe, and make a few
inquiries concerning him.
"I am bound to mention, Mr. Pegram,"
said Ringwood, in the course of conver
sation, "that Lord Lakington would never
have dreamt of sending me down here on
such an errand if you had not yourself
proposed it. I will, with your permis
sion, just call upon Mr. Krabbe to-morrow
morning, and that will, I think, be
quite sufficient."
"Pray do not think you want permis
sion from me," rejoined the old lawyer.
"Anybody is welcome to call upon the old
man whenever they please."
So it was all settled as Ringwood pro
posed, although Mr. Pegram was secretly
dissatisfied that the Viscount should have
taken him at his word. He had calculated
on a chivalrous reply from Lord Laking
ton, to the effect that he could not in
sult him by thinking of such a thing
as sending down an agent to make the in
quiry he courted. However, he was not a
whit dismayed at any result that was
likely to attend Ringwood's Investigation.
Ringwood's inquiries had, as he expect
ed, led to nothing. That old Mr. Krabbe
lived as a pensioner of the Pegrams in
a little cottage just off the Llanbarlym
Road was evidently firmly believed by the
good people of Rydland. That anybody
should be personating the ex-clerk had
never been hinted at in the town. He had
no difficulty in finding the cottage, and it
was not till he was about to rap at the
door that a quick step upon the gravel
walk behind him made him passe, and he
saw Sam Hemmingby by his side.
"I got into Rydland late last night,
and I do not think a soul I knew saw me
slink in here. I came across country most
of the way, for fear of meeting any one,
and have been skulking behind the hedge
for the last houh. I saw Bob Pegram
go in by the back way about half an hour
ago; he is come, I suppose, to warn this
ofd counterfeit to get ready for you, and
to keep an eye upon him while he plays
his part."
At this moment the door was opened by
Mrs. Clark, who was, at first, most palpa
bly disconcerted by the appearance of
Hemmingby on the scene. Recovering her
composure after a few seconds, she ush
ered them into the little parlor, and ad
dressing herself to Ringwood somewhat
pointedly, explained in a low voice that
Mr. Krabbe would have finished dressing
in a few minutes, and see them if they
would sit down and wait.
"Where have I seen that woman be
fore?" muttered the manager, as Mrs.
Clark left the room. "I am more con
vinced than ever that I have seen her be
fore, and that she knows me. It is just
the way she went on the last time I was
l,ere would not look at me, nor speak to
me more than she was positively com
pelled. You'll see."
"You think she is afraid of jour recog
nizing her?"
"Just so; and it was the hope that I
should do so prompted me chiefly to vol
unteer accompanying you in this visit."
At this juncture the same decrepit
wreck of humanity that Jack rhillimore
had seen tottered into the room, supported
by the nurse on one side and his stick
on the other. Pausing as soon as he had
advanced three or four steps, he pointed
with his stick at his visitors, and turning
to Mrc. Clark, exclaimed, in a piping
treble :
"Tell them to go away."
Forced to reply in some fashion, the
nurse raised her voice and shouted into
the octogenarian's ear :
"These gentlemen have come all the
way from London to ask after you ; won't
you say- 'How do you do' to them?"
But the old gentleman only replied by
incoherent mutterings. In which objurga
tions, such as, "a pack of prying fools,"
seemed mingled with querulous complaints
as to the scarcity of sunlight in these
days as compared with those of his youth.
Hemmingby eyed the old man narrow
ly while the nurse busied herself In adjust
ing his cushions, wraps, etc., and crossing
the room rapidly, held out his hand and
exclaimed :
"How do you do, Mr. Krabbe?"
The old gentleman looked at him for a
few seconds, then muttering sulkily that
Hemmingby had got between him and the
fire, nestled sullenly down amongst his
cushions.
"It Is wonderfully like the real article,"
said Hemmingby In a low voice, as he re
sumed his seat by Ringwood. "In spite
of my doubts, I would not venture as yet
to swear that he is not the real man."
Ringwood's hopes rather fell at this an
nouncement. He had fully expected to
hear the manager pronounce Mr. Krabbe
an Impostor as soon as he had had a
look at him; while Hemmlngby's strong
impression, that he should, after a little,
recognise the nurse, he had taken slight
heed of.
"I am afraid, gentlemen, you will get
little out of him to-day. He is very deaf,
as you may see, at the beet of times; and
when he is out of temper, as is the cast?
just now, he simply won't hear."
(To be continued.)
A Manufactured Cllmat.
The gardeners of Paris get their
products on the market weeks before
the regular season for them. This
forcing of nature Is described by Ernest
Poole In Success Magazine:
The secret Is simply this: Th
French maralchers have manufactured
a climate to suit them. As one observ
er has said, "They have moved the cli
mate of Monte Carlo up to the suburbs
of Paris."
Some new prodigy of modern science,
this? Not at all. Only enormous ex
pense In money and in time. The gar
dens, whenever possible, are placed on
land with a slope to the south, and are
well protected by walls on the north
and east, walls built to reflect light
as well as to give protection from thi
northeast winds. The ground is prac
tically covered with glass, not as in a
greenhouse, but by glass frames in the
open, "three-light" frames of uniform
size, twelve feet by four and a half;
and also by glass bells. These, too,
are of a uniform size, about the shape
of a chapel bell, a little less than sev
enteen inches In diameter, and from
fourteen to fifteen inches high. The
French call them cloches. You may
often see over a thousand frames and
over ten thousand glass bells In one
two-acre plot In the suburbs of Paris.
A more recent Innovation Is the em
ployment of hot-water pipes run under
the soil, making of the earth a veri
table steam-heated hotel, with this es
sential difference, that the hotel keeper
here is desperately eager, not to keep
his guests, but to persuade them to
leave on the earliest possible day.
Why Girls Can Sot Throw. '
Boys from time immemorial hav
made all manner of sport on the sub
ject or the Inability of girls to throw a
stone. They suppose, of course, that It
Is a matter of knack and practice, and
that a girl could really throw a stone
with as much force as a boy If she
"knev bow," and threw as many. The
best medical authorities, however, sug
gest another reason.
The difference between a girl's
Ihrowlng and a boy's Is substantially
this : The boy crooks his elbow and
renehes back with the upper part of his
arm about at right angles with his
body, and the forearm at an agle of n
degrees. The direct act of throwing Is
accomplished by bringing the arm back
with a sort of simp, working every
joint from shoulder to wrist.
The girl throws with her whole arm
rigid ; the boy with his whole arm re
laxed. Why this marked and unmis
takable difl'eience exists may be ex
plained by the fact that the clavicle
or collar bone In the feminine anato
my Is one or two Inches longer and set
ar few degrees lower down than In tho
masculine frame.
The long, crooked, awkward bot:e In
terferes with the full and free use of
the arm. This Is the reason why a
girl can not throw a stone. Philadel
phia Record.
A Helpful Allnnlon.
There were times when the Rev.
Mr. Pom fret felt tlint he failed to
reach the hearts of his parishioners.
Sometimes he even failed to reach their
ears. Therefore he was much cheered
by something he saw in the Elton pew
one Sunday morning.
"I I couldn't help wondering, Mt.
Elton." he said, diffidently, when he
met his parishioner the next afternoon,
"what It was In my sermon that er
particularly caught your attention yes
terday morning. I happened to be
looking your way, and I saw your face
light up, and you slapped your hand
ngninst your knee as If something
pleased you."
"It did," said Mr. Elton,' cordially.
'I felt very grateful to you. When
you spoke of Simeon, It came over me
in a flash that was at Simeon Davis's
I left my umbrella (he last time I
went to town. It's been lost for six
weeks."
The Wronn Spof.
Patrick had recently set up in the
cab driving business, having bought out
Mr. Cooley and his two station hacks.
Before Christmas he had endeavored
to make plain to his family what gifts
he desired.
"It's small use telling them children
things, for they don't pay me no heed,"
he said gloomily.
"What did they give you. Tat?"
asked an interested friend.
"I kept It going to 'em how I was
near perished wid tho cold," said Pat
rick, "an what do they do? Instld
o' giving me gloves for me hands,
they've given me blolnders for me
ears!"
Nothing; Doing;.
"My face Is my fortune, sir," said tha
maid with the quotation habit.
"Oh, well," rejoined the prosalo
youth, "you don't need to worry for
fear some man will marry you for your
wealth."
Giving money will have no ralus ex
cept we first give ourselves. Murray.
Be charitable before wealth makes
thae covetous. Sir Thomas Brown.
The Cheapest Camp.
There lives hardly a boy who does
not hanker to build a camp not neces
sarily in the woods, though that Is fine,
but somewhere out of doors, where he
can "keep house" when occasion per
mits. In the case of many, however,
there Is ditHculty both in the matter
of knowledge as to how to build a
camp, and also dltlleulty in arrang
ing for the expense that would be in
curred In the building of most of the
boys' camps that are described.
It may sound like a fairy tale when
I state that the camp I am going to
describe Is covered with paper. But
wait a moment. It is the red, resln
slzed, heavy paper that comes in rolls,
as shown In Fig. 1. Carpenters use
this paper lu their building operations,
and the writer has used it to cover
Just such a little building as is here
with dcscrilK'd. so he knows that it Is
perfectly feasible to make a camp in
Fig. I.
Fig. II.
Pig. III.
3 Jfe
Fig. IV,
this way. The paper is waterproof,
and so stout and strong that it can b
laid over by a light framework and se
cured in place by careful handling.
When in place, It seems to grow tough
er and stronger by exposure to the
weather.
Begin the making of the camp by
driving stakes into the ground In the
way suggested in Fig. II., allowing the
two Inner stakes at each end to extend
high enough to reach and be nailed to
the "rafters," when these are put in
place, as shown in Fig. III. These
stakes may be common round poles
with the bark left on, provided they
are reasonably straight and smooth, or
two-by-three-inch stuff may be used,
as shown In Fig. III. This cut also
shows how the roof Is put on. The
side stakes are sawed off at an ecpjal
height, and a narrow strip of inch
board Is nailed along the tops. Strips
of board also make good "rafters," and
these should be put on so as to bring
a rafter under each edge of the paper,
and one under the middle of each strip
of paper, allowing the paper to lap at
the edges two or three Inches for safety-Each
strip of paper can extend from
the ground on one side up over the
roof and down to the ground on the
other side, thus giving nof chance for
the water to get In. But put on the
end coverings before the roof, so that
the upper edges of the end strips may
lap over onto the roof, and be covered
by the roof paper when this Is put in
place. This will make a tight Joint.
Over all edges of paper nail common
laths, as shown In Fig. IV., which rep
resents the camp finished. Instead
of windows, make a doorway in each
end in the way suggested In the cuts
showing framing. Fit a light frame of
narrow strips of board to each door
way and cover them with paper.
"Strap" hinges can be put on th out
side as shown, and wire hooks. Laths
can be put around the edges of the
doorway and around the edges of the
doors, Select a dry, well-drained spot
for the camp, and build according to
instructions. Make the house of any
size desired, but don't try too large
a house at first. Make It of the right
length and width to be covered by the
paper, without cutting tho latter.
Canvas may also be used In place of
the paper, but this Is more expensive.
The Game of "Celebrities."
Since biography Is "history teaching
by example," and since intelligent peo
ple are supposed to know something
about the men and women who stand
as representatives of the world's prog
ress, it is always worth while to learn
about them.
An easy and amusing way Is to play
"Celebrities," a game which is entire
ly home-made, and requires no equip
ment but a dictionary of biography,
such as is found In any of the larger
dictionaries, and a church year book,
town report, telephone list, city direc
tory, or almost any volume that con
tains a collection of names.
The leader gives a surname, say
"Simpson," and calls on a player to add
a Christian name that will complete
tha name of a man or woman whe an
m
Jfc
SrL .
peart In thti biographical dictionary o
some current record of celebrities.
The response is, "Matthew," and tho
player scores a point, Matthew Simp
son having been one of the most noted
bishops of the Methodist Episcopal
church.
Then the leader asks the next player
to take the Christian name, "Matthew,'''
which has just been given, and couple
with It a different surname to make
the name of another celebrity.
"Matthew Arnold" Is suggested, and
this player also scores a point.
To the third player a new surname
is given. In brief, the old-numbered
players have surnames to which to add
Christian names, and each ' even-numbered
player takes the Christian name
given by his predecessor, and tits it
with a new surname. For each success
a point is scored.
But some persons "have a bad mem
ory for names," as the saying is, and
In this kind of a game fall far behind.
In fairness to them, the leader, after
each name has been completed, calls
the roll for Interesting facts about the
celebrity, and the player who supplies
a fact scores a polut.
The principal of a public school de
vised the game of "Celebrities" after
hearing one of his teachers speak of
"James G. Whittier," aud another
dilate upon the oratory of "Darius
Webster." He has taught the game to
scholars who are not well-informed, as
well as to the teachers who were some
times careless, and has found that it
Interested all and did them good.
"Knowledge that is not accurate is
not very useful," the principal says.
But his game does more than promote
accuracy; It Introduces players to men
and women who, heretofore, had in'en
"less than a name," leads to the study
of their lives, and thus provides the
students with new examples, ideals and
Inspirations. Youth's Companion.
Shadowgraphs.
At an evening party shadowgraphs
are great fun. They are something like
the effect produced by those curious
mirrors of which you have all heard,
which, at any one's merely moving
backward or forward in front of them
will make him or her short and stout
or tall and thin, according to where the
person Is sanding.
All you need to make shadow pic
tures is a sheet or any large piece of
rather thin white cloth, and a strong
light. Suspend the cloth from the ceil
ing and place behind it the light. Now
try receding from the screen and you
will seem to be turning into a giant.
If you move up nearer so that you
are the same distance from the screen
that the light is your outline will be
come distinct, and if you move up still
nearer you will seem to have entirely
disappeared. All sorts of funny po
tlons can be shown which all will en
Joy, and a whole play may be acted Id
pantomime by the moving shadows.
Quite Too Too.
"Where shall I meet you to-morrow?
asked Tom of Jack.
"Whv,'' answered Jack, "I am going
at 222222221ey street. Why don't you
come, too?"
Where did they meet?
When Jack told Tom he was going
to-morrow at 222222221ey street, Tom
understood him to mean that at two
minutes to 2 o'clock he was going to
No. 222 Tooley 6treet. Accordingly be
had no difflculy In finding him at that
address at the time skeined.
White Women at Kabnl.
A singular romance is related in con
nection with the announcement in the
Irish newspapers of the death "at
Kabul, Afghanistan, of Emily, widow
of Henry Simpson Lincoln."
Some twelve years ago a young In
dian Mohammedan studying at the
Royal College of Surgeons at Dublin
resided with Mrs. Lincoln, who was
about 70 years of age, the London Daily
Mail says. When the young Indian
finished his studies she determined to
accompany him back to India and left
the Unitarian church for Moham
medanism. In the course of time the
Indian obtained a position in Kabul as
secretary to the amir of Afghanistan,
and there Mrs. Lincoln followed him,
braving the formidable Journey from
Lahore to Kabul by horse and palan
quin, although about 80 years of age.
Arriving at Kabul, she was obliged
to live in the retirement observed by
Mohamedan women and saw the young
Indian no more, though she was al
lowed to talk with him unseen.
Her last letters to her Dublin
friends told of loneliness beyond ex
pression and of her belief of approach
ing death. Almost Immediately after
ward came a telegram stating that she
had passed away.
Knterprltlno; Editor.
A stroke of journalistic enterprise
that exceeds even Yankee Inventive
ness is reported by a traveler recently
returned from France. He visited a
small French village, and reports that
when almost everybody was at work
In the fields the local newspaper an
nounced that In the busy season all the
Important news would be condensed in
a single short paragraph, and thnt the
rest of the sheet would lie smeared
with a fly-killing compound. Instead of
printer's Ink.
In a brief article the editor explain
ed his plan.
"In this way," he said, "we shall be
able to give our readers appreciable
advantages, which are: First, the pos
sibility of learning all the news of tha
day in a few minutes; second, tha
means of reducing the plague of noi
some insects which poison the country
side and disseminate many diseases.'
A be hasn't much to say, but ha us
ually carriea his point
Old Favorites
'
The Miller of the Dee.
There dwelt a miller, hale and bold,
Beside the River Dee;
He wrought and saug from morn till
night,
No lark more blithe than he ;
And this the burden of his song
Forever used to be,
"I envy no man, no, not I,
And no one envies mel"
"Thou'rt wrong, my friend," said old
King Hal,
"As wrong .as wrong can be;
For could my heart be light as thins,
I'd gladly change with thee.
And tell me now what makes thee sing
With voice so loud and free,
While I am sad, though I'm the King, '
Beside the River Dee?"
The miller smiled and doffed his cap j
"I earn my bread," quote he;
"I love my wife, I love my friend,
I love my children three.
I owe no one I can not pay,
I thank the River Dee,
That turns tho mill that grinds the corn
To feed my babes and me !"
"Good friend," said Hal, and sighed tha
while,
"Farewell ! and happy be!
But say no more, if thou'dst be true,
That no one envies thee.
Thy mealy cap Is worth my crown;
Thy mill my kingdom's fee !
Such men as thou are England's boast,
Oh, miller of. the Dec!"
Charles Mackay.
The Spanlnh Cavalier.
A Spanish cavalier stood in his retreat.
And on his guitar played a tune dear;
The music so sweet they'd ofttimes re
peat, The blessings of my country and you,
dear.
Chorus
Say, darling, say, when I'm far away,
Sometimes you may think of me, dear;
Bright, sunny days will soon fade away.
Remember what I say to be true, dear.
I'm off to the 'war, to the war I must go,
To fight for my country and you, dear:
But if I should fall, in vain I would call
The blessings of my country and you,
dear.
Chorus
And when the war is o'er, to you I'll re
turn ;
Back to my country and you, dear.
But should I be slain, you may seek in
vain
Upon the battle-field you will find me,
dear.
Prens AKnt to a Hires'.
The editorial staff of one of the pop
ular magazines of New York were
gathered in the publisher's office one
day in December, discussing plans for
the new year.
"One thing we must have," said the
publisher, emphatically. "We must
have a lot of stuff about water-pow
er, navigation everything about wa
ter." "Well," said the editor, cautiously,
'of course a timely article on the sub
ject not too technical"
"Timely article nothing" Interrupted
the publisher. "If I had my way we'd
have a long article every number. We
must have at least six In the year.
It's the greatest subject going."
"Bill," said one of the staff, "who or
what set you crazy on water?"
The publisher looked at him and
laughed.
"I'll tell you what It was," he said.
"It was a long, lank Arkansas traveler
named John Fox. He came in here
one day, so quietly I hardly heard him
enter. Said he wanted to talk about
water, and especially about rivers. I
told him to run away, as I was busy.
He sat down by my desk and began to
talk. Well he's one of those South
erners you read about, courteous, soft
voiced, the kind you can't shut up and
send away. In a few minutes I was
listening In spite of myself. He sat
there three hours, telling me things I
had never dreamed of before about the
rivers and harbors of America. Then
he picked up his hat, and said he must
be going.
" 'For goodness sake don't go yet,'
I begged. 'I'm Just getting interested.
Tell me the rest.' But he wouldn't
say another word. Out he went. I
tell you he's a smooth one! He knows
just when he has said enough. Ever
since then I have been plumb crazy
over waterways." Success Magazine.
Old Missouri State Iload.
One of t he oldest landmarks In this
part of Missouri Is the old Blooming
ton road, also known as the old State
road. This road began In the eastern
part of North Missouri, running west
through Bloomlngton. It didn't run on
section lines as the roads now run, but
ran as the crow flies. The highway
was the main thoroughfare through
North Missouri long before and after
the Hannibal & St. Joseph railroad
was built and has a history not well
known to the younger generation. Over
this old time highway the early gold
seekers traveled In ox wagons with
their little earthly belongings, going to
California and Oregon. Brooklyn Ga
zette. Something New.
Mrs. Nurich was In the Jewelry
store. "Here are some new souvenir
spoons we have Just got In," said the
clerk, placing a tray for her Inspection.
"Oh, ain't those lovely!" she ex
claimed. "I must have some of those!
Our cook makes such lovely souvenir!"
Argonaut.
Agree with people more. It is a good'
way to get rid of an argument. Be
sides, the people you agree with v 1
always like you better.