A SONG.
A sons rolled out o f a heart one day,
v
jM
And It drifted over a distant bay.
It carried a message o f hope and cheer,
'A jm I Its ch^rm was breathed In a Hst’ning ear;/
g>pr It soothed the brows that were lined with ciire,
1
And it stayed the white In the midnight hair;
It whispered the calm of a heart at rest;
.
And It stilled the ache in the troubled breast
A psalm to defy all hopeless fears,
A song that will live for a thousand yeans.
— W averley Magazine.
>*< m
>#<
A CALL IN BUSINESS HOURS
r j p H B young man at the desk was
X
busy, very busy. H e was al-
^
ways busy. H e made a special
ty o f hard work. No doubt he carried
the fad too far. His complexion had
lost Its ruddy glow, his muscles were
relaxing. But he worked on.
The fact is, he was determined to
succeed. He wanted fame and he
wanted money. He wanted fame for
Itself, and he wanted money because It
meant power. It meant something else
to him— at least he hoped It did—
something so far away that It made
him gasp to think that he could ever
stretch out bis arms for i t
John Hammond often said to him
— John Hammond was his partner and
very good friend—
“ Jim Warwick, you’re putting too
much fuel Into your firebox. You’ll
have nothing to fall back upon when’
you need a little reserve force. Slack
up, my boy, and take things easier.
W e are doing well enough. This is a
rising firm. W e are going to climb
all right and there’s no use taking any
short cut to the summit. Put on the
brakes, my lad.*’
So spoke John Hammond, three-and-
thlrty, to .James Warwick, nine-and-
twcnty.- It was the voice o f experi
ence and the voice o f wisdom, but
James Warwick wasn’t ready to heed'
It
Once in a while John Hammond
drew him Into society, pleasant little
card parties, a theater party once, and
once a dance. John Hammond's w ife
liked Jim— everybody liked him, for
that matter— there hadn’t been a more
popular man at college— and she de
voutly wished that he would encounter
some charming girl, who would lure
him away from that Uttered desk for
a reasonable portion o f the time.
There was such a girl, but Anna
Hammond, for all her cleverness,
never dreamed o f her identity. And
Jim Warwick scarcely dared to dream
It either.
Jim was alone In the office this Jan-
'nary afternoon. Hammond’s w ife had
called for him and he had gone away
with her. She had put her bright face
for a moment in the doorway. ,
“ A ll work and no play makes Jim
a dull boy,’’ she cried. “ I want you
to come to dinner Sunday, and you are
going with us to the theater next week.
Oood-by.”
And Jim, looking after her, felt that
Hammond was a very lucky man.
Presently he pushed the papers back
and lifted his head with a little sigh.
H e even leaned back and pushed his
hand through his thick hair. He felt
a sudden impulse to grab his hat aqd
run away. Was the game worth the
candle?
He put his teeth together with a
sharp click and seised his pencil again.
“ Lady wants to see you, sir.”
It was the voice of the office boy
in the doorway.
“ Tell her Mr. Hammond Is o u t”
“ Asked for you, sir.”
/
W arwick frowned.
“ I ’m very busy.” He looked around.
“ Jtre you sure she asked for me?”
“ Sure. She said, ‘I want to see Mr.
Warwick.* ”
Jim leaned over his papers again.
“ Show her in," he said.
H*e did not bear the light footfall as
the visitor entered. He was not aware
of her presence until her pleasant voice
electrified him.
“ Good afternoon, Mr. Warwick."
He turned sharply and arose. A
dull red suddenly surged to his cheeks.
“ Miss Ormsby,” he stammered.
She put out her slim hand, and be
took It timidly.
“ How do you do, Mr. Warwick ?”
“ Thank you," he replied, “ I am
quite well."
She looked at him critically.
“ Are you sure?” she asked. “ I
fancy I have seen you when you looked
less tired.”
“ I am quite well,” he repeated. He
was still dazed by her sudden appear
ance. “ W ill you take a chair?”
“ Yes, thank you,” she answered.
“ Do I Interrupt you at an Inopportune
moment?”
“ Not at all,” he replied, as he pushed
the papers back.
“ I warn you,” she said, “ that my
business will take a little time.”
“ I am quite at your service,” W ar
wick said. He was beginning to feel
more at his sass. He knew that he
hadn’t appeared at his best She had
startled him by so taring in thin unex
t
pected manner. H e never could have
dreamed that such a call was possi
ble. Yet there she was, almost beside
him, her fair presence filling the dingy
room with radiance. There was a lit
tle silence.
“ This is entirely a confidential mat
ter, Mr. W arwick."
He bowed and waited, but she
seemed at a loss for further words.
Yet the glance from her clear gray
eyes did not waver.
“ Mr. W arwick,” she presently said,
‘I fancy I have known you much
longer than you imagine.”
She met his surprised look with a
little smile.
“ I cannot understand,” he said, “ how
you have this advantage— If advan
tage it may be called.”
“ Do you remember Arthur Ridge-
ley?”
“ I remember an Arthur Ridgeley
who was a college man.”
“ Arthur Ridgeley la my half broth
er.”
“ But he never told me.”
“ I have no doubt he told you he had
a sister.”
“ Yes, I remember now. I was a
tutor then. H e did tell me of his sis
ter. He seemed proud o f her.”
She nodded.
“ Arthur and I are quite alone In the
world. W e are very dear to each oth
er.” She' paused for a moment “ You
were kind to the delicate boy, Mr.
Warwick. H e never wrote me with
out telling o f some new favor at your
hands.” W arwick stirred uneasily, but
she gave, him no chance to speak.
"You were his hero as well as bene
factor. I cannot tell you how my own
heart throbbed with gratitude when I
read those letters. I knew what an
effort it was for Arthur to keep up
with his college work. His health was
always In a precarious condition. I
think be would have given up long be
fore he did If It had not been for your
encouragement and your help.”
“ You magnify it so,” said Warwick.
“ Really, It was very little. I liked
Arthur and It was natural that I
should feel a sympathy for him. That
Is all there was o f it. Arthur made
too much o f It.”
She shook her head.
“ I have my own opinion about that,”
she said. “ Any way, you gained his
warmest admiration.” She opened her
shopping bag and drew out tw o let-
il
“ I AM QUITE A T TOUR SERVICE.”
ters. One she let fall in her lap, the
other she opened. “ Here,” she said,
“ Is the last letter he wrote before he
was taken away from the school. I
will read you an extract from I t ” She
spread out the sheet “ ‘I cannot tell
you how kind and thoughtful Jim
Warwick continues to be. I couldn’t
sleep last night, and he sat up with
me. He quite made me forget the
pain. And to think o f such a fine,
husky fellow bothering over a wretch
ed runt like me! H e’s the only man I
have ever met that I thought was
good enough for you, sis— and I can’t
make it any stronger than th a t’ ”
H er voice was clear and steady as
she read this, and her cheeks did not
flush.
W arwick started, but glib o f tongue
as be usually was, be could think o f
nothing to say.
The girl quickly refolded the letter.
“ I have wanted to tell you how
grateful I was.” she said slowly, “ but
this seems to be the first chance I
have had. W e have met a number o f
times at social gatherings, but you
have seemed to avoid me. Pe~hape this
was only fancy on my p art Any way,
yen gave me no chance to speak to
you about Arthur.” Warwick tried to
say something, but ahe stopped him
again. “ I had a letter *from Arthur
yesterday that prompted me to come
here.” She lifted the letter from her
lap and held It lovingly. Then she laid
It do>-n again.
“ Wb^re Is 4^hu r?’l the young man
softly naked.
“ In the Hawaiian Islands with a
trusty man. I t seems to be the only
climate that w ill keep him alive. H e
is on one o f the.smaller Islands, high
up above the seat level. H e can never
leave there.”
W arwick nodded in profound sym
pathy.
>“ May I w rite to him?” he asked.
“ W alt!” she said, “ until I have quite
finished.” 8he drew a long breath.
“ Let me leave this subject tor a mo
ment,” she said, “ I have something
else to tell you. You know,- I think,
that Jotham Garth has managed my
estate for many years—ever since my
father’s death left me an orphan. H e
feels that be Is too old to continue to
bear the growing responsibility. H e
has asked me to find some one else to
take the burden from his hands. W ill
your firm accept It, Mr. W arwick?”
He was fairly^taggered.
“ Why, o f course we w ill,” he blurt
ed ou t “ I beg your pardon. You sur
prised me so.” He laughed suddenly.
“ I beg yOur pardon again,” he said,
“ but can you assure me that I am
quite awake?”
She gently smiled.
“ I can,” she said. “ And now I must
ask you to forgive me for bringing the
sordid element into what was Intended
to be purely a sentimental call. I have
done It to show you that I have con
fidence In your Integrity and your abil
ity. I have done it to show that I am
truly grateful for your kindness to my
sick brother.”
“ Whatever your motive," murmured
Warwick, “ I accept the trust and
thank you.”
“ The tranefe^ tof the papers w ill be
made at any time you prefer,” said the
girl. “ The business may necessitate
several calls at my home. W ill you
attend to this, or would you prefer to
have Mr. Hammond take it In charge?”
“ I w ill come,” he quickly said.
She smiled at his sudden vehemence.
“ Merely business calls," he mur
mured.
She looked at him quizzically.
“ Perhaps you will call th is a good
afternoon’s work?” Bhe said.
“ A great afternoon’s work, Miss
Ormsby.”
“ Then It might appear to follow that
you might reward yourself with a two
weeks’ vacation.”
H e shook hlf head.
“ The vacatlbn w ill have to wait,*’
he said.
“ That’s bad. But really. It seems to
me as If I might have something to
say about it. I f my business man
shows signs of overwork it Is to my
interest to Immediately order him to
take a rest I want blight and healthy
as well as honest men to serve me.
Do you understand, Mr. Warwick?”
“ I understand that you are very
kind and thoughtful, Miss Ormsby,
and that I am under great obligations
to you.” He drew a long breath.
“ Do you know,” he said, “ that I felt
just a little discouraged before you
came in? The way upward suddenly
seemed long, and the road so rough.
And— and I wanted to climb so fast.”
“ And why have you wished to climb
so fast, Mr. W arwick?"
H e looked away, and his face was
troubled.
“ I can’t tell you that, Miss Ormsby,”
he said, “ at least not now. Some day
perhaps----- ” He suddenly paused as
if amazed at his own temerity.
She watched him with a steady
gaze.
\ .
“ Regard me as your friend, Mr.
Warwick,” she said In her earnest
way. “ Any confidence you may repose
In me will be held sacred, as you
know.” She hesitated. “ I have not
quite done,” she added, and her voice
sank a little. “ 1 had a letter from A r
thur yesterday. Here it Is.”
She
lifted the letter from her lap and drew
out the enclosure Then she shifted
her chair a little, so the light was at
her back and her face in shadow.
Slowly she spread out the sheet, and
very slowly she read the written
words.
“ Sis, I am going to talk to you Again
about Jim Warwick. I suppose being
alone out here— for Gresham doesn’t
count— with so much sea and sky to
look at, and the harsh cries of the sea
birds at your ears, and the surf for
ever breaking on the sands, a fellow
can’t help getting if|eas in his head,
and nursing them and turning them
over, and holding them dear, and
keeping a tight grip on them when he
begins to think he’s going mad. And
the Idea I ’ve got in my head now—
though it Isn’t a dew one— is that you
and Jim Warwick should marry. I
know the end is near, sis. It’s only
a matter of a few months—may be
weeks. Bnt I ’m .going to keep alive
until I hear from you and Jim. When
I stop my pen— and you don’t know
how the writing tires me—and look up
at those eternal mountains against the
eternal blue sky, It seems to me that
there are wavering shapes that hover
about the trembling peaks, and they
beckon, beckon, and it’s a fancy o f
mine that they are waiting there tor
me. For you get queer ideas here,
with the surf forever throbbing In
your ears and the cries o f the birds
jarring on your brain. I want to be at
peace. But, somehow, I don’t feel that
I can go until I know just bow It
stands with you and Jim. You wrote
me that you bad met him and that
you liked him— and that’s all. I can’t
see how be could help liking you. Did
you try to make him like you, sis? I
know what it is. i t ’s your money that
frightens him. Jim would rather die
than have it thought that he was a
fortune hunter. Honest old Jim! Do
you know what I ’ve done? I ’ ve gone
down on the beach and turned my face
to the east and I ’ ve tried to Influence
Jim across the trembling waters and
make him fond o f you— and I f there’s
anything In telepathy, I ’ve succeeded.
O f course, this is a sick man’ s fancy.
It’ s that and nothing more. I can’t
bear to think o f leaving you all alone.
I f you had Jim it would be all righ t
I tell you, sis. I f you had any nerve
you’d take this letter down to him and
read It aloud. I t would not be your
vo;ce, you know. I t would be a voice
from afar—it would be the pleading
cry o f a passing soul.”
8he stopped suddenly with a low
sob, and the letter slipped from her
fingers.
»
W arwick’s eyes were on the papers
that strewed his desk, but he suddenly
looked up. Then he softly arose and
closed the door tightly ; and slowly
came back. And the girl, with her
hands before her face, sobbed above
the letter.
“ Miss Ormsby,” said Warwick, “ I
cannot begin to tell you how I appre
ciate the beautiful devotion that has
prompted this a c t Let us believe that
you were influenced by the prayer that
has gone out to you from that frail
body pacing the lonely beach. I t may
be this Influence that emboldens me
to say what I might never have
dreamed of saying.
For Arthur Is
right, Miss Ormsby. It Is your wealth
that has kept me from you. I t is for
you that I have tolled here, and hoped
and struggled. From th-> first time
I saw you I knew you w e i* the one
woman In the world. I am glad to tell
you this, -Miss Ormsby. May I — may I
write it to Arthur?”
He waited until she slowly raised
her tear-stained face.
“ I— thank you for your confession,”
she softly said, “ and I know you to be
an honorable man. Otherwise I could
not have come.” She paused, and her
voice trembled when she resumed.
“ And why may not that gentle spirit
have Influenced me, too?” she softly
said.
H e stared at her, and his face sud
denly flushed.
“ Mary Ormsby,” he abruptly said,
“ w ill you be my w ife?”
She put both her hands In his.
“ W e w ill write that letter together,”
she said.— Cleveland Plain Dealer.
F ish H ad False Teeth.
H. S. Noble, a well-known traveler,
was at the American House, Denver,
and with him he brought one of his
stories with which be has thrilled the
nation— at least that Is what be says
about them. Mr. Noble, It seems, had
occasion, a few years ago to visit near
Akron, Ohio, where is located a lake
famous for Its fishing.
“ It was about this way,” said Mr.
Noble, “ and there is no question about
the absolute truth of the statements I
am about to make. I was fishing in
the lake, for fishing Is one o f my fall
ings. I had not had very good luck
so far that summer, and that was two
years ago and I was getting just about
tired enough to cut It all out and go
home.
“ On the day In question I received
a mighty tug at my line, and after
four hours’ hard work I landed some
thing in the shape of the largest fish
I ever saw In fresh water. I have
never been able to learn the'name of
I t It certainly was an awful fish for
size. The Jaw of the animal measur
ed some five feet, and in the Jaw is
the Interesting part of thè story. On
examination the fish had for teeth
In its lower Jaw a cross-cut saw.
When the saw was more closely exam
ined the name o f the man who had
lost it was found. The saw had been
lost In the lake some two winters be
fore by a man who was cutting Ice.
*The fish, which was an old one, and
had lost its lower teeth, simply used
the saw for a set of false tfeth. The
saw served its purpose remarkably
well. The fish is now on exhlbltión In
the store of a prominent hardware
man In Akron.” —Chicago Inter Ocean.
Assistance.
“ Which of these books or periodi
cals would you recommend?” asked
the woman with a pleasant smile.
“ Well, lady,” answered the boy who
was attending to the depot news stand,
“ it depends. I f you want genuine first-
class information ijd sell you dls copy
o f de Sportin’ News, but If you Jls*
wants somethin’ to t’row at de Pull
man porter I ’d recommend dls sub
stantial-bound book— by Herbert Spen
cer.” — Washington Star.
4 ? .
’Did you ever get into an argument
urnent
with him?"
"Yes, indeed.”
T I e ’a
quite dogmatic, Isn’t he?" “ Oh, posi
tively
bull-dogmatic.” — Philadelphia
Ledger.
Boyle— The Horners live very fru
gally indeed. They have cast-iron rules
tor the spending o f their money. H oyle
— That la what I should call rigid econ
omy.— Kansas City Journal.
W illy — Say, auntie, what did Uncle
Bob marry ydu for? Aunt— Why, for
love, o f course. W illy (meditatively)
— H ’ ml Love w ill make a man do al-
moat anything, won’t it, auntie?
Rev. Dr. Thirdly— Don’t you know,
little boy, that you shouldn’t fish on
the Sabbath day \ Tommy Toddles— I
ain’ t a-flahin’, boas, I ’m jus’ teachla*
worms how ter swim.— Chicago Chron
icle.
'Is she a new woman?” "B etter
than new, even. You see, she secured
one hundred thousand dollalrs alimony
from her last husband, and that makes
her Improved property.” — New York
Times.
‘H ow many lodges did you say your
husband belonged to?” she suddenly
asked. “ Fifteen.” ’’Mercy on me! But
think o f a man being out fifteen nights
a week! I am really glad that I ’ m a
widow.”
'Now, this fair,” said the man who
had been chasing around S t Louis,
with his nose In the air, “ is plenty big
enough, but— ” “ Ah!” Interrupted the
wise observer. “ Are you from Chi
cago or Buffalo?”
'In India barbers rank high. So
cially they are the equals o f the
priests.” “ Say. where do poets come
In over there?” “ Same place they do
here.” “ Where’s that?” “ Among the
Illustrious dead.” — Chicago Record-
Herald.
'Is the boss going to give you the
raise you asked for?” “ Weill— er— I ’m
afraid to say. I told him I thought
my pay should be commensurate with
-the amount o f work I do, and he
promptly agreed with me.” — Philadel
phia Press.
’Ydu must not expect me to give up
by girlhood’s ways all at.once,” said
the happy bride. “ Oh, I won’t," he re
plied. ” 1 hope ‘ you’ ll keep right on
taking an allowance from your father
Just as If nothing had happened.” —»
Superior Telegram.
. Employment Agent— W hat was the
matter with your last place? Domes
tic— The missus was too particular.
Employment Agent— In what way? Do
mestic—She wouldn’t let me lock the
baby In the foldin’ bed w ’en I had com
pany.— New York Weekly.
“ So yon are learning to spell, Are you,
Johnny?” asked grandmamma. “ Yes,
grandma,” was the reply. “ Well, let
me hear you spell ‘bread.’ ” “ I don’t
believe I can, grandma.” replied the
little felllow. “ But I think If I had a
small piece of cake I could spell th a t”
Great Editor— I think It would be a
good idea to print our circulation at the
head of our editorial page. What’s the
population o f this country? Business
Manager— About forty million. Great
Editor— W ell, we’ll not claim a circu
lation o f over thirty-five million. No
use exaggerating.
Teacher— Where Is Russia? Inter
val of dead silence.
"Come, now!
come, come; you ought to be ashamed
o f yourselves not to know where Rus
sia is, especially Just now. Where Is
It?" Tommy— I knows, teacher. Teach
er— Well, where?
Tommy— Up
a
bloomin’ tree, teacher!
Yeast— They say babies are never
seasick. Crlmsonbeak— Well, that ac
counts for something. Yeast— What’s
that? Crlmsonbeak— When I was
crossing, last summer, I saw a man.
as sick as he could be, singing, “ Back
ward, turn backward, O Time, In your
flight; make me a child again, Just for
to-night” — Yonkers Statesman.
“ I want half a pound o f water crack
ers,” said Mrs. Newcome. “ All-fired
sorrry, ma’am,” replied the • country
storekeeper, “ but I ain’t got but two
dozen of ’em In the place.” “ Well, I’ ll
take them.”
“ Jest wait ten, twenty
mlnutea H I Peters an’ Josh Slocum
has been usin’ them fur checkers, an’
they’ re playin’ the decidin’ game now."
Mrs. Morton (angrily)— Tommy H or
ton, what made you hit my little John
ny? Tommy Horton— He struck me
with a brick. Mrs. Morton (more an
grily)— Well, never let me hear of your
hitting him again. I f he hits you, you
come and tell me.
Tommy Horton
(sneeringly)— Yes; and what would you
do? Mrs. Morton— Why, I ’d whip him.
Tomdiy Horton (In disgust)— What! he
hits me w'lth^a brick, and you have the t
fun o f licking him for it? ^ Not much!
In d u b ita b le .
"H o w did you prove that the ac
cused
was not from Boston, as he
Hem e O ccu p a tion . . .j
claimed
T'
Man o f the House— You’re a bird)
"G ot him to swear' that he never
aren’ t you?
Tramp— Well, I ’ m picking up a liv heard o f Emerson and that Boston
ing wherever I can.— Detroit Free beans were not cooked with salt peril.”
— Detroit Free Frees.
I