Bemidji Daily Pioneer Newspaper, January 12, 1909, Page 2

— THE BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER PUBLISHAD NVERY AFTERNOON, BEMIDJI PIONEER PUBLISHING CO. By CLYDE J." PRYOR. "Wntered In'the postofiice at Bemidii. Minn., s second class matter. SUBSCRIPTION---$5.00 PER ANNUM CAUSTIC COMMENT. LA. G. Rutledge.] FOR THE BLUES. ‘When the whole round world is gloomy, Everything hark-from-the-tomby, Every sound seems crack-o'-doomy— Fit your features with a grin. ‘When your heart and soul are pensive And your mind is apprehensive Of calamities extensive, Coax the backward dimples in, ‘When you're downright pessimistic And a laugh makes you feel fistic, And you're anti-altruistic Take a number nineteen grin To connect your wembers aural, Then with fate you'll have no quarrel. And this lesson has this moral: Let the gleetul grin sink in. 7777 Belling “Carlyle” Here is Whistler's story of how he ®old his famous picture of Carlyle to the Glasgow corporation: I recelved them, well, you know, charmingly, of course, and one who spoke for the rest asked me if I did ‘not think I was putting a large price on the picture—1,000 guineas—and I #ald, “Yes, perhaps, if you will have it sol” And he said that it seemed to the council excessive. “Why, the figure ‘was not even life size.” And I agreed. “But, you know,” I sald, “few men are life size.” And that was all. It was an official occasfon, and I respected it. Then they asked me to think over the mat- ter until the next day, and they would tome again. And they came. And they said, “Have you thought of the thou- #and guineas and what we said about it, Mr. Whistler?” And I sald, “Why, gentlemen, why— well, you know, how could I think of anything but the pleasure of seeing you again?’ And naturally, being gentlemen, they understood, and they gave me a check ffor the thousand guineas. iThe Southern Art of Conversation. The north may think it knows some- thing of conversation, but the north, as compared with the south, may be said never to have enjoyed a conversation. About the village courthouse, within the hospitable doors of some central store, in the office of the local daily or ‘weekly paper or, above all, in the lel- surely and genial intercourse around the fireside or on the inviting porch in summer of frlend with friends there will be heard a conversation Wwhich in wit, In the charm and force of its fllustrations and in the direct- ness and freedom of its criticism is ot surpassed in American life today. It 18 the product of lelsure, of a world without haste, without ruthless preoccupations, without those resources of expression and Interest which be- long to the crowded and overweighted existence of the commercial city. It {8, moreover, part of the tradition of the cavaller. It is part of the genius of climate and soil and soclal habit.— B. G. Murphy in “The Present South.” Sour Milk Cow. The woman was new to the country, and her host took great pains to ex- plain to her whatever she didn’t un- @erstand about the farm. He had little regard for the truth, this farmer; he delighted to test her gullibility to the utmost. The cows seemed to interest her more than any other domestic animal. One of the cows had lost her tafl somehow, and this fact led the woman to ask why it was, “That's the sour milk cow,” the farm- er explained, with a straight face. “We always cut the tail off one cow in the herd so as to get sour milk fresh every day.” The woman looked her doubt. “It's perfectly true,” the farmer in- sisted. “You see, when the cow’s tail i» gone the sun shines continually on the cow’s udder, and the constant heat sours the milk.” But the woman still doubted.—New York Bun. Few Burled Alive. “It might be incidentally mentioned for the rellef of anxious souls,” says Dr, Woods Hutchinson in the Amer- ican Magazine, “that the risk of any individual passing into a trance and remaining in it long ¢pough to be burfed alive is cxcaezmx{gy slight. There 18 no authentic instance of this baving ever occurred. I took occasion to investigate this question some years and communicated with a number leading undertakers, and they all unanimously denounced it as one of the myths of the times. One of them, &t the time president of the National Funeral Directors’ assocfation, in- formed me that he had carefully in- westigated every instance of ‘burial allve’ reported in the newspapers for fifteen years past and found every one of them to be, In his own language, ‘a pure fake.” Legs and the Alps. In the visitors’ book of one of the Bwiss hotels an observing traveler has inscribed the following lines: , Bome dashing young tourists, I see, { Wear trousers which end at the knee. : 'Twera better by half Just to cover the calf— At least where the calf ought to be. Only those who have seen the scrawny legs, incased in mountain climbing costume, of some of those tourists who “do” the Alps can fully Ip»mchte the humor of the “limerick.” London's Bridges. Few people are aware of the extent to which the city of London is bridged gver. In all, it seems, there are no r than seventy-five bridges. Of theso nineteen are rallway bridges, fln'u are bridges over roads (such as Holborn viaduct), and fifty-three are bridges which connect private prem- sea—Pgll Mall Gesetta, L e N Absurd Stage Business. Theatrical ‘production is full of ab- surditles in business. A situation is required, a sitvation is tbhrown fn, It makes not the slightest difference if it be a trolley car crew of song and dance brothers manning a yacht in the desert | of Sabara. You have the ‘trolley crew and ‘the yacht, and If the scene hap- pens to be a sectlon of the arid west where typhoons take the place of wa- terspouts—well, so much the worse for the scene. And if the conductors col- lect fares from the sallors to carry out the business of the song, “We Are Jol- 1y, Jolly Street Car Men.” the audlence must be prepared to s¥bmit calmly to a sandstorm immedlately following, which is necessary to bring on the wind machine and stereopticon. When a comic opera (heaven save the mark!) opened at Madison Square roof with Japanese costumes, Broadway dialogue, a Martian setting and Irish comedy there were absurdities emough to de- lght a dozen stage directors.—Henry B. Warner in Bohemian Magazine. He Couldn't See the Joke. “The mother-in-law joke isn't half as funny to me as it was when I was a bachelor,” sald a young New Yorker to his old chum. “I've got a pretty good mother-in-law myself, and she's visiting us now. That's all right too. But here’s my grouch: “Whenever we go out in a bunch, as we generally do, ma grabs the baby every time we sit down—subway, ele- vated, bridge, surface or ferryboat. Just grabs the kid, you know, as if it was her private property; exhibits it in a way to everybody near by, tells the woman next to her all about how to raise children and what she’s doing for this particular one; attracts gen- eral attention, you see, with my baby as a star performer and my wife and T sitting there without a chance to say a word and looking as if we wanted to apologize for being on earth.” “Don’t think that's funny, eh?” sald his friend. “How your sense of humor has shrunk!”—New York Globe. Running For the Car. If you feel like emulating Sherlock Holmes try your luck occasionally when you see some one run for a street car. It's a good, easy way to deter- mine the previous training and the present occupation of the subject. You will see one fellow dash easily toward the car with a long, swinging stride that usually means athletics, but no special training in the sprint. The old time college runner can be picked out by the way he throws his knees in front, like a high bred trotter. Some waddle, and you must relegate them to the general category of “busy business men” whose duty to the desk has robbed them of wind and waist. Others are getting more than thelr share of avoirdupols, but in spite of that manage to show you that they are not out of it by any means. ‘To that type it is a veritable triumph to over- haul a moving car and to swing on without the assistanceof the conduct- or.—Louisville Courier-Journal. The Joys of Life In Africa. You must never walk barefoot on the floor, no matter how clean it is, or an odious worm called a jigger will enter your foot to ralse a numerous family and a painful swelling. On the other hand, be sure when you put on boots or shoes that, however hurried, you turn them upside down and look inside lest a scorplon, a small snake or a perfectly frightful kind of centl- ped may be lying in ambush., Never throw your clothes carelessly upon the ground, but put them away at once in a tin box and shut it tight or a per- fect colony of fierce biting creatures will beset them. And, above all, qui- nine!—Winston Churchill,, M. P, in London Strand. Self Disgraced. In Boston, as every one knows, the symphony concerts are viewed in the light of sacred ceremonials. In this connection the story is told of two lt- tle girls-of a certain family who re- turned from the music hall “In a state of mind.” One of them carried an ex- pression of deep scorn, the other an air of great dejection. “What is the matter, girls?” asked some member of the household. “Was the concert fine?” “The concert was all right,” respond- ed Eleanor. “The trouble was with Mary. BShe disgraced herself.” “Disgraced herself?” “Yes; she sneezed in the middle of the symphony.”—Philadelphia Ledger. How Needles Aro Made. Needles are all made by machinery. The piece of mechanism by which the needle s manufactured takes the rough steel wire, cuts it into’ proper lengths, fites ‘the point, flattens the head, plerces the eye, then sharpens the tiny instrument and gives it that polish familiar to the purchaser. . There is also a machine by which needles are counted and placed in the papers in which they are sold, these belng after- ward folded by the same contrivance. It Was All Within, A practical joker carried an onion in his pocket to the depot when bid- ding farewell to a young lady and took a bite now and then to induce tears. Before the train departed he had eaten the entire onfon. The young lady, percelving the situation, re- marked, “Ah, you have swallowed your grief!”—Harper’s Weekly. Men of Yesterday and Today. In our great-grandfather's young days a man was usullly not only con- sidered, but really was, elderly at for- ty, old at fifty and a gouty, flannel swathed wreck at sixty. — London Throne and Country. Avarice I the vice of declining years. —Bancroft. You've Met Him. “How do you like your new . neigh- bor?” “Oh, he’s the kind of man that saves his longest story to tell.while we are holding' the front door open for him to go.” Right on the Job. Indignant Citizen (to office ‘boy)— Your confounded paper had an out- rageous attack on me this morning, and— Offics Boy (briskly)—Yessir. Bow many copies will il you 1 hflfl G Humor at Funerals. In “Other Days” Willlam Winter, fhe famous dramatic critic, tells how he and Joseph Jefferson were among the pallbearers at McCullough’s fu- neral. “As our melancholy train was halted in a Philadelphia’street,” says Mr. Winter, “he glanced along the line and gravely remarked, ‘I never knew ‘before that there were so many walk- ing gentlemen in my profession.’” Another quaint anecdote which he tells with' reference to a melancholy occasion is this one on the burial of John Brougham: “Edwin Booth and I assisted to bear his pall. I remember that the two gravediggers after they had lowered his coffin a little way into the grave ‘were constrained, with many muttered exclamations of ‘Aise her!” and ‘Raise er’ to 1ift it up agaln in order to enlarge the cavity. Booth and I, like Hamlet and Horatlo, were stand- ing under a neighboring tree observing these proceedings, and nothing was ever more woefully comic or more im- morously rueful than Hamlet's smile as he looked at me with those deep, melancholy eyes and with that little, furtive grimace, murmuring as he did 80, ‘It’s the last recall” ” Trouble Making. Trouble making is an older industry than the manufacture of steel. Cain, the trouble maker, got into action be- fore Tubal Cain, the ironworker, and Eve got Adam into hot water long be- fore the boilermakers’ union began business. There are three brands of trouble— imaginary, borrowed and real. Imag- inary trouble consists of railroad ac- cidents, earthquakes, fires, suicides, dfs- eases such as the patent medicine man makes, the poorhouse, death and the grave carefully mixed and taken after a late dinner or a drop in the stock market, Borrowed trouble is the kind we get from our relatives. Its principal in- gredients are visits, borrowed money, birthday presents, advice and expec- tatlons. But the real article is pro- duced as follows: Put the sandals of endurance on your feet, take your life in your hands and follow by turns the how to be happy philosopher, the preacher of physical culture and the apostle of diet.—Puck. His Hunt For Home. On one occasion De Pachmann, the famous pianist, with his nervous and irritable temperament, was summoned to appear before Queen Alexandra at Buckingham palace, He immediately adopted anarchism as his political faith and obstinately refused to go. His friends labored with him for hours and at last persuaded him not to com- mit an impertinence which would nev- er be forgiven by the English people. Finally he was dispatched in a cab. The night wore on to morning, and the frantic wife of the planist and his friénds could learn nothing of what had become of him. At last a forlorn looking cab drove up to the house, and De Pachmann dismounted. On leaving the palace he had forgotten where he lived and could only tell the cabman that it was In a square with a church in it. So all night long he had been engaged in making a round of the innumerable squares of London. His Measure. “A few friends,” relates Mr. James Moir in the Draughts World, “were. chatting with Wyllie, the checker champion, in a club after one of his days of exhibition play In Glasgow ‘when a youth, slightly under the influ- ence of John Barleycorn, threatened to monopolize the conversation, blow- Ing his own horn and giving out in no uncertain language that he considered himself the equal of Wyllle. The old man took no notice of him for a time, but, occupying the usual five minutes in considering the move, quietly asked the youth to remove his hat (not more than a six and a half size), then sub- stituted his own—which was a large one and went well down over the young braggart’s nose—and, casting his eye around the company, said scornfully, ‘That’s his measure!’ The company enjoyed the retort so much that the youth was glad to make a hurried exit.” The Servant and the Factory Woman. Much as T loathe the factory system, it scores in some respects above scul- lerles. In factorles, at any rate, wo- men meet with their kind and have in- tercourse with many varieties of hu- man nature. But, chained up in scul- lerles and kitchens, with tether just long enough to reach the stocking to be mended and no longer, their lives are bare and starved as the picked bonés that they put in the pots.—Lon- don Woman Worker. Cost of Big Game Shooting. In the German possessions in Africa a permit to shoot costs $200. Special permission is required to kill more than two giraffes, four rhinoceroses and six zebras. In the case of ele- phant shooting the authorities' must be given one tusk from each animal killed. The hunter recelves a small payment if he shoots a lion, panther, wild boar or hyena. A permit to kill gazelles, antelopes and monkeys costs only $10. A Cruel 3 Dolly—No, dear, I can’t go any place with Molly. I hate her, the cat! Polly —But, darling, you used to be chummy with her. What did she do? Dolly-- She told me a lot of the nasty things you said about me, "dear. .—Cleveland Leader. Higher Power. Hardly any power I8 8o exalted that 1t does not bend the knees to a higher one. Where there’s a czar there’s usu- ually a czarina.—Richmond Times- Dispatch. Moving Pictures. Moving picture cameras ‘are remark- able pleces of mechanism. The films are only three-quarters of an inch wide. These are in rolls, sometimes 800 feet long. When taking pictures the camera man reels off these rolls just a8 rapidly as they are unreeled when thrown upon the canvas for the spec- tator, at a rate of ten or twelve films a second. Moving pictures are stmply & ‘number of views thrown upon a white sheet one after another 8o rapid- !'y.:n the eye cannot detect the inter- 8. OB, no. But he hus- Ilndum. g 2 Price Never Changed. | - Some ot mm‘um. Tewsboys are re-| Fed pATLE agpe % The Rev. Simon Turpie was an elo- | ourceful little mites. A day or two| * .fif 'fiem:}'v?:elf: lc:l;m ::fdml: w guent speaker, but he seemed to have ( 889 & Dusiness man dropped a BlYer| .o ¢ho woman mhe older our mar- by Inde: 8 l1st of sermons which, when he once ( mounted fountain pen through thej ... ' get the more vehement is | pendent M began, he went right through to the | Erating in front of a bullding on West mkpmmce on separate lving. iz fose of srcCting ! tnd and then startedyat the first ser- (Third street. They told him in_ the| "0 “allus a-naj x;n" the octogena: P mon’again, and so on., ;tore that t&gm Was 1o access to the i e . A young man in/the congregation | hole from the inside. He I!M to q ; b was about to Ienve/tor Soutgm Agtuflca. be up against it Two ne sech’ .nofln' :np‘;u;l;?nl;!ntlfi:pwt;:h 1] but the Sunday before he departed he | him peering down into the grating fimd ran ToaRle sttended the church service. 89t interested. FAnd 5o they separate—to all intents | hoFate of ve or cont per I In the course of Iia lecture the min. “T'l B1t it out fer you, mister,” poke | o o C_ v Co SOETI =Rl ic, (RS, Som Al fo b A kster used an lllustration tn which were | UP o1 of them, Hf you'll stand the ex- R ———— 4 the words, “A man can easily purchase | Pense. o’ l";k@ about a mnickel's A Great Financler. a mw‘h he M the main ] £of Yatont Sasee 'y“,:' m,.f,;, oy | gum scheme,’ ‘whiltever it might be. | r00m In a'poor quarter of tho east °“‘: 'A’é'em ot ch mm 1gain on the first opportuntty attended | 7 A Tinute oF two later the boy had | of London was evicted for Dt a vallse | $EEomths” Shch iar o divine service. Strange' to say, ke | 9ashed Into a store and got a yard-| Of rent. Ho had nmmiun o "'""):'“" a5 of |- heard the same narrative by the same | Stlck. Ho was chewing hard on an |8nd a few clothes, and while they wer: oth Sev ot e TOBRANOE 7t minister, the phrase striking him most | entlre 5 cents® worth of gum.' As soon | throwing him and his Heasemot ol | B of lodependent Behool” Distict of ; being about the “two sparrows for as this was properly softened by the | Of the house a bulky manuscript it S i threepence!™ process of mastication he placed it on | 0ut of his pocket. Nobody moticed | at the time, but after he had gathered 7 | his clothes and taken his departure m_gl-dufin “"“% = one of the by:ef;n‘dem aav‘vi the’ big nrl.?:“ s y 5 of paper, picl It up and on opening it was 'surprised and amused to find 0'1 Drug Smre. it contained an elaborate scheme for refunding the national debi of the 1 British empire. 4 At the close of the service the min- | the end of the yardstick, stuck the Ister, in his“courtesy, camé and shook hands with the ‘youth and, welcoming him back to his home, asked him if he noticed any changes about the |, place. The young man, evidently quite un- concerned, replied, “Aye, man, there’s two or ‘three changes, but there's yin thing I can see—the price o’ sparrows 1s aye at the same auld figger.”—Glas- gow News. met the pen and brought the pen' up with the utmost dl.putch.—clovelmd 8and Fish. At low tide in midsummer on cer- tain parts of the Breton coast men and boys’ with baskets and hoes descend the white beach -to' the sea’s edge: They are anglers, but the fish they seek live on dry land.” With his hoe each ‘fisherman makes swiftly in the packed sand shallow parallel trenches, very close together and about & yard long. If the luck be good every scratch of ‘the hoe uncovers three or four sil- very fish, the size of sardines, that leap up glittering into the air. They. must be selzed quickly or at once they bury themielvel in ‘the sand 'sgain. They are called lancons. The smaller ones are used for mackerel baft; the larger, with their heads cut off, make, fried, an exceilent dish a good deal like fried smelts. With daylight tides the lancons are seldom bigger than a man's middle finger, but with the night tides, when" promenaders have not disturbed the sand, they run very large indeed. Then, their lanterns flash- ing on the beach, the Breton fishermen often capture lancons a foot long. Knew His Rights. “I fine you,” sald the police justice, e “$30,and costs.” “Y’r honor,” protested Taffold Knutt, New Use For Wheelbarrows. who had been hauled up for vagrancy, ¥ ,‘ T Mrs. Zelia Nuttall, the archaeologist; was making some excavations in Mex~ ico. The Indians were removing the earth some distance from the point of excavationin the customary manner— that is, on a plece of coarse cloth tied between two poles, stretcher fashion, carried by two Indians. This method seemed rather laborious to Mrs. Nut- tall, so she ordered several iron wheel- barrows from the city. When they arrived she turned them over to the foreman after explaining to him what they were for and how to use them. Next day when she visited the work the Indians had discarded their primi- tive parlhuelas and were using the bright new ‘wheelbarrows. 'As each barrow was filled with earth it was picked up by two Indians, one using the handles and' the other the wheel, and carried to the place where the earth was to be deposited. All efforts to get the Indians to use the wheel- barrows properly failed, and they kept on carrying them until the work was finished, “all the prop’ty I've got in the world S is a plugged, nickel an’ me cloes, an’ : 8 they hain’t' wuth more'n about two § bits. That fine’s onreasonable. It's con- SEng fistication, an’ it won’t never stand the > 58] test o’ the fed'ral courts. I shall take ! an appeal, y'r honorl"—chlcngo Trib- 3 ~ i Ghe PIONEER | The Negro and the Watermelon. A negro bought a watermelon for 50 cents and scld it a few minutes later for the same price. The purchaser changed his mind and sold it back to the negro for 40 cents. Later the negro sold it for 60 cents. How much profit aid he make?—New York World. Delivered to your 8aves Him. “How did Snigasley ever get his rep- door eyery. evenng 7. o utation for the possession of great wis- g dom?” & "Hll wife talks 8o much that he nev- 3 er gets & chance to expose his ig- 1 nm-ance."—chlcnm Record-Herald. ' Life without liberty 18 joyless, but Uife without joy may be great. The greatness of life is sacrifice.—Oulda. Cut Heads. The Liverpool Post has been making observations” with regard to the ‘“cut heads” which are treated at the hos- pitals between 12 and 2 a. m. The Post says that the house surgeons have noticed 'a carlous difference In' the sexes on different nights. On Sat- urday nights the subjects are mostly men who have received thelr wages, redeemed their clothes'from pawn and drunk enough to lead to a brawl. Mon- day night, however, 1s “ladies’ night.” The men have gone to work, and the ‘wives have taken their husbands’ best and ‘only suit to the pawnshop, and then it is their turn to drink the pro- relative positions of the letters of the | ceeds and’ cut one another’s heads, alphabet in my mind all the time. I |fThe usual answer to the question have to work for a living and have | “Who ai1d it?’ 1s, “Another lady wot other things to think of. But it struck | Jives n the same ’ouse.” me that O must be farther down the line than thirteen, and so I just count- ed up the letters on my finger tips, and I made O come fifteenth, and I said so to the ticket man, but that didn’t wor- ry him any. “‘There’s no A in this theater, he said, ‘and there’s no I in any orches- tra in town.’ “And, having my finger tip figuring thus handily knocked out, I bought the ticket.”—Washington Post. _— The Surprise of Slivnitsa. “I have never' quite made out,” says a writer in “Near East” “why the plain of Slivnitsa has come to be re- garded as the scene of one of the great decisive battles of the world’s his- tory. It did not even decide the Servo- Bulgarian war in 1885. That was de- cided by Austria intervention. The battle of.Slivnitsa 15 really only re- markable for ‘the comical fact that both sides thought they were defeated; and while Milan of Servia was hurry- ing home in confusion Alexander of Bulgaria galloped all the way back to his capital before he learned that the tide had turned. Nowadays the vil- lage looks sleepy enough, poor and dirty, like most Bulgarian villages, but almost gay when the sun shines upon its red roofs.” Alphabet of the Playhouse. Only 40¢ per..Month “We keep learning things all the time,” said an infrequent theater goer. “1 stopped fn front of a theater the other day to buy a ticket of a- specu- lator, and I asked him if he had a good single near the front. “‘Here’s one in O, he said, ‘thir- teenth row, third seat from the afsle.” “Now, you know, I don’t carry the His Line of Study. = “My boy is undecided about what { eollegiate course to take.” “Um{” “What would you advise?’ “That depends.” Does he want to bulld up his back muscles or his wind?”—Kansas City Independent. Beware of omuenu for. ccun-h thatContain as mercury will s\fls? desm the sense of smell and completely. sl'lnle the ‘whole sys- tem when enterin surfaces, Such ai giept on prescriptions, from reputable phy- slnhns 2s the damage they do is ten fold to U can possibly derive from them. rrh Cure, manufnctured by F.J. Oheney& Co., Toledo, O., contains no mer- cury; and {s taken internally. acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system. In buying Hall's. Catarrh sure you get the genuine. Itis taken intern- &?fl made in 'l’olado. 0., by F. J. Cheney & Tesblmonhls free. by per bottle. e T5c pes Take nm'a'fiunny Pills for constipation., Married Paupers and Divoree. “An 0dd thing about married paupers is that they like to live separate,” said a single pauper. “You know how almshouses are ar- ranged. There’s o men’s ward, & wom- en’s ward and a mixed or married ‘ward. Well, the mixed ward is always nearly empty. Not that we lack mar- Harsh Musle. The politician caught with the goods was counseled by his friends to stay and face the music. For an' instant he listened to the clamor of denunciation. “Great Bcott,” he exclaimed impa. tiently, “do you call that music?” A moment later he wes out ‘of hear- ing.—Philadelphia Ledger. Typewriter Ribbons How Rows Begin. “Hubby, I dreamed last night that you didn’t love me:” “How foolish you arel” ¥ “Foolish, am I? As if T could help what T dream about!” And the fracas was on.—Louisville Courler-Journal. Thengoneer keeps on ha.nd a.ll the stamiard ma.kes of Typewriter Ribbons, at the - What Kept Him. “Why couldn’t you have come home at a reasonable hour?’ remarked an angry wife to her spouse. “Could, m’dear, jes easy as not, but I—hic—was waitin’ fer you £ go t shleep!” replied the delinquent. uniform pricé of '75’cents for. all ribbons. except the two- Soon Gets Over It. “What is the honeymoon, pa?” “Well, the honeymoon is' the.only period in a man’s life during which he considers it funny to come home and find that his dear little wife hasn’t dinner ready in time.” a.nd three-color nbbons a.nd specm.l ma.kes. The Means to the End. Mrs. Benham—Why does a man hate his ‘mother-in-law? Benham—Oh, he doesn’t hate her; he simply hates to think of the way she got into his fam- {ly.—Harper's Weekly. Ungallant. | *My face is my fortune, sir” she sald. “Well,” he replied, “poverty is no dis- grace, but it's awfully inconvenient at times,” 2 3 The Wicked Husband. “Why does a man lie to his wife?” asks & woman writer. Dear me, does hfl—Dfllufll Herald. - i ‘A moral, sensible, well bred man will W