Evening Star Newspaper, February 29, 1896, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 99, 1896—-TWENTYPOUR PAGES. THE BABY BOOMER, BY HERBERT D. WARD. pe Copyright, 1396, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) PART I. Tara-tara-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra! rang out the shrill tones of the bugle. As far as eye could reach from west to east, from wood- land, bog and prairie, a ncndescript, fever- ish, impatient mass cf rushing humanity Was seen, fully 20,0) strong. The hundreds of United States marshals and troops who| had for so many days wearily guarded the coveted territory from trespass sighed with Teiief when the first notcs of the pre-emp- tion elgnal were heard. Long before noon the thousends who had started for Arkan- sas City, who had camped at Ponca, at Black Bear creek, who had pushed on cheer- fully in spite of the swollen rivers, bottom- less mud and all the woes incideat to an in- vading army, were ranged along the wire fence that marked the Oklahoma line. Open ‘wagons, prairie schooners, sulkies, buggies, carts pulled by donkeys, mules, oxen and horses of all kinds and every blood were stationed on the line. The great majority of the settlers had staked everything on Okla- homa, and many of these were seated on horses prepared to race for their future homes. On the dead line, next to a wagon which bore the following words on its canvas cover: “Chintz-Bugged in Ilinols, Sicloned in Nebraska, White-capped in Indiana, Bald-knobbed in Missoury, Prohibited in Kansas, Oklahomy or Bust,” was a modest and neatly covered wagon. Though filled with a miscellaneous assortment of house- hold utensils and farm Implements, this wagon presented a curiously feminine ap- pearance. Harnessed on one side of its pole was 2 hopefully feeble nag that seemed in- spired to pull or die. On the seat was a boy of eight winters. He was not humpbacked, though he gave that unfortunate impres- sion, but the snows of lif? had somehow shriveled his little form, and he bent like a bow. He clung to the battered reins, while a@ look of determination was set upon his weazened face. ‘Keep a cool head, bub: after I've staked my claim and dug a spadeful of dirt and put up my shingle, Wee and I will ride back to meet you. No matter what happens, keep straight for the river.”” The voice was strong and pleasant. It from a woman on horseback—B b's mother, who had mounted the nigh horse to make a surer race for land. In front of her Wee was safely tied,her baby girl, just three years old. Bub was too young and feeble to drive and care for his sister at the same time, so Wee went on horseback with the adventurous mother. These three people were among the great army of iinmigrants who had staked all on the President's proclamation opening the new territory of Oklahoma to the public. Tom Korall, the children’s father, had @ied In the saddle booming somewhere in the Indian territory, and Caddy Korall, his wife, was left in Kansas with the two chil- dren. It was in her blood to seramble for mew land. Excitement and the hope of a quarter section were too strong, and, now, weounted on Jerry, she saw land and home maine for her on the banks of Cimarron rive! The rustling now became a rushing and @ shouting. Yells and shrieks quickened the hoofs of even the most decorous mule. ‘The hour had come. Twelve o'clock was at hand. The bugle blew. At noon precisely, en Monday, April 22, began the desperate Yace, that all the world has heard of, for OklaFoma Jand. There was no time for go00d-byes no Caddy wanted to kiss her boy again. She couldn't reach She kissed her hand instead and gallopéd off. Bub urged his horse to the mockery of a trot. The land sharks who but now had made jokes at the boy's expense and tried to chaff the siugle-minded mother were eff and gone on their fleet bronchos—the In- dian ponies. The day was brignt and clear. ‘The race could be seen for miles over the rolling prairie. Bub strained his eyes and kept the two flying figures on horseback in sight as long as he could see for tears and dust. He heard men swearing violently and saw many brandish weapons. The untam- ed emotional natures of the boomers found vent in yelling: “Yahoo! Yahoo!” at the top of their lungs, and in firing shots from revolvers and Winchesters. The mother fied, well in the van, among honest citizens and “prairie toughs,"” who meant to get lard at any cost. I caid that Caddy was well at the head. So she was. Jerry outdid himecif on that day. Yet she was not the first. One, wno had the bold eyes of a ccsmopolitan belle, the assurance of a Tex- an cowbcy, and who kept her saddle like a@ circus rider, was full a quarter of a mile akead. She led the race on a magnificent rean. She turned and challenged them all with a laugh and with gestures of defiance. Though she smiled insolently at the men, she looked sympathetically at the pale, slight mother who, with one arm around the child and with the reins in the other hand, urged Jerry by sharp clucks. Close behind Caddy rode the leader of the noto- rious gang of desperadoes who had done so Tauch to fleece and terrorize the farmer boomers. This man went by the name of “Grizzly Jim." The pace was terrific. The three had turned more to the eastward, away from the reilroad. Grizzly Jim b gan to gain on Caddy. For fully eight miles they had run nip and tuck. The desperado could not overtake the leading girl. In his anger the blood surged into his eyes and blinded Lim. Caddy was not ten rods akead of him in a direct line. He raised his Winchester, took rapid aim and blazed away. At which of the two had he fired? Alas! which had he hit? Caddy’s right arm fell helpless. Jerry gave a desperate plunge in fright. The woman swa: ‘a faintness seized her and she fell. With an oath the brute passed her where she lay. Jerry, conscious of a lighter weight, raced on- ward with the renewed speed. Now, the bold rider of the yellow hair heard the shot. She looked around and took in the whole scene with her quick eyes. With difficulty she reined her wild horse and tried to intercept the baby’ perilous ride. She set her teeth. The wild- ess of her nature wrestled with the wo- manly. This was her hour of glory—that she, a girl, should beat thousands of men in the struggle for land. What would she not do to stake the first section on the northern banks of the Cimarron river? She could see the sardonic and cruel smile of Grizzly Jim as he gained upon her in mighty bounds. But behind lay one of her own sex, helpless, perhaps dying. “I guess I'll have to give it up.” The girl turned once more to the southward, toward the promised land,and then the adventuress in her yielded to the woman. She rode bravely back to where the heap of mortality Jay close beside a scraggly tuft of sage bushes. “Oh, you ruffian!” She shook her fist in the astonished Jim’s face as she passed him like a flash of yellow light. The land shark turned and saw her tenderly lift the fallen woman's head upon her lap and kiss the tremulous lips. “Well, I'll be stewed! I didn’t think she had it in her; she’s no slouch, you bet; with that semi-colon of admiration he spur- red his hard-breathing pony for the home stretch. Of all the fertile spots in the Cimarron valley, this was the greenest. So at least @ jaded horse thought as he cropped the tender grass and pawed joyfully in the dark loam. He was saddled; from a dis- tance a spade could be easily distinguished secured lengthways along his side. A queer ‘The Land Shark Turned. bundJe seemed to dance in the saddle, and one might almost swear that tiny hands Clutched the mane from time to time. _ And now from behind a large stump ap- @eared a head. It had on it a broad-brim- from the sides. A fierce, scowling’ face down into that quiet valley. The eyes scanned it and then rested on the Peaceful horse. One hand necvousty twirled @ coarse, black mustache, while the other played with the trigger of a gun. Wonder was expressed in every feature from the arch above the eyebrows to the mouth which puckered itself into a silent whistle. The mouth did not look cruel now. It is strange how the lines of tenderness and cruelty cross each other, and how in some — there is implacable feud between the wo. “Umph! If any sojer or gov’nment cuss hez got ahead o’ me, I'll have the drop on him ez sure as he’s a born critter.” Pres- ently the look of wonder increased to a curious astonishment: “If it hain’t the bebby! No use for this,” he tapped a modern repeating rifle, “‘to git the land, you bet.” Grizzly Jim stood face to face with Wee, He Leoked at the Sleeping Child in His Arms. the baby boomer. The child’s big violet eyes looked confidingly upon thay repro- ate. “Di' me dink-o-watah.” The tiny face puckered as if it were going to cry, then controlled itself bravely. ‘Where's mum- mer?” For the first time the thought of that destardly shot crossed Grizzly Jim's mind. He w so used to deeds of violence that they did not easily prick his leather con- science. What could he do before a baby? Bravado was useless. He looked into the trusting face of the three-year-old girl. Then he did the only thing he could. He tcok from his holster a tin canteen, went to the brook and returned. “Tank 00,” coced the baby. Then after a short pause, durirg which a hundred ex- pressions indicating indecision passed and repassed the man’s dark face, the child went on: “Take me down, I'se tired.” The strong hand tenderly unstrapped the baby girl and he took her in his arms to set her on the ground; but she clung to his neck. “You’se a goody man; tiss me.” Why was it that Grizzly Jim unconscious- ly ejected the evd of tobacco from his mouth and wiped his stained lips upon his sleeve and blushed—yes, blushed—before he touched Wee’s peach-like cheek? “I'se so tired—Jerry jiggled me. Where's mummer? I tink I do to sleep.” And there and then Wee laid her curly head upon the rough corduroy shoulder and went to sleep as if upon her mother’s breast. “Wall, Jim, you're euchered this trip, an’ no mistake—I wonder whar the boys be!” muttered the man as he carefully sat down upon a stone. He looked at the sleeping child in his arms. In his belt were two pistols and a bowie knife. At his feet was a rifle. Yet never had he been so disarmed since—since a baby of his own had nestled there—oh, so many years ago. What a wild night that was, when he had kicked his sick wife senseless for throwing the whisky out of the window; had given his baby girl one last hasty kiss and had ridden away never to return. Afterward he read in a paper that the baby died in a week. It was twenty years since he had held a baby, and all that time he had never re- ceived from any creature a touch of con- fidence or love. “I cculdn’t hev killed this critter’s mam- “I shall stay here with the baby, so help me.” my; I never aimed on her. He consoled himself with that thought. At this mo- ment hoofs were heard in the distance. “The bebby shall hev her claim if I hev to stake it with my life,” whispered Griz- zly Jim. He laid the child down cautious- ly upon the grass. He ran for the spade and dug into the rich soil with quick energy. Shouts were now heard: ‘‘Yahoo! Yahoo!" They came nearer. PART IL “If it ain't Grizzly Jim! Beat by Grizzly Jim again, boys! Pony up, Jim! We'll let you off cheap.’ . There were three of these desperadoes who looked with pride upon the man hold- ing the spade. Was he not their leader in the marauding expedition? Had he not out- done them in lawlessness, and proved his superiority? Had he not violently staked his claim in the richest soil in Oklahoma? “Hush! Keep quiet, you galoots. You'll wake the baby!” said Jim, sternly, pointing at the sleeping child. U “I thought you killed him,” said one of the three, indicating, in a disappointed tone, Jerry's empty saddle. “This is the bebby’s claim, an’ don't you forgit it, and the first feller that tries to jump it, I'll jump on him like a catamount. You know me—an’ this boy, too.’” So said Grizzly Jim, patting his belt with the security of one who could split a bullet with a knife blade fifty yards. The <hree retired to corsult. Presently one returned and said in a whisper, after a warning gesture from Jim: “Be’an you a-going to stay here?” ‘ou bet.” “How long?” “Till the bebby hez her claim fer sure— Pp'raps aluz.” “D'ye mean it, Grizzly Jim? An’ yer pock- ets could bulge in three days wid the tin them fools are bringin’ in?” “You fellers kin go on—an’ go to bust—I shall stay here with the bebby, so help me —" Jim's face turned toward the baby, and then, for the first time since he could remember, he pronounced with reverence the awful name of God. ‘The three watched him as he stood firmly beside the child. His rifle was in his hand. His word was as good as his alm. Every- bedy knew that. The baffled men murmur- ed and made a scanty show of disrespect. ‘Their old leader’s strange freak and stern face disconcerted them, and soon enough they grumblingly rode out of the valley to seme other plundering ground. Then Jim heaved a mighty sigh; his mouth twitched; he leaned low over his charge. “Fur yer mammy’s sake—an’ my own bebby’s sake— so help me God.” Then he reverently k-ssed the child. ? . . True to his mother’s directions, Bub kept He pointed at the lad, who, with streaming eyes, was throwing wild flowers on the cov- ered body. The feéble child looked up. He walked Jey to,his, mother’s murderer. “I dunno,’ id the » Slowly, “I'll try. I hain’t got anybody’el 2,"" he sobbed. * . sb . s oe Strange to say, Grizzly Jim kept his word. A claim was duly filediat the land office in the name of Jim Coster, In trust for Weo and Bub Korall. Nop better claim has been entered. Oklahoma sects the baby boom- er’s rights. Now it befell that Jim's three companions were shot for theft next day in Oklahoma by a vigilance committee, and Jim ponder- ed much upon this faet when he heard it. “Pa hev been foutj’:he muttered; “thé bebby saved me.” 1 The dark deed he dig and the shame of it. proved his angels. In wild lives like his this sometimes happens, and in justice to our border life be it said that such trans- formations always ¢ommand the reverence they deserve. It was not past midsummer, yet a rude cabin, plastered with mud, had risen in “Wee Valley.” A baby girl plays at the door. A sad-eyed, sickly boy watches her as he cuts seed potatoes for Jim, their guardian, to plant. Both children look well fed and are well dressed. Wee is scru- pulously clean and Bub is conscientiously mended. When the new school house opened in the fall Bub and Wee formed the primary class, and it is rumored that Grizzly Jim has partially consented to be superintend- ent of the Sunday school where the yellow- haired girl plays the melodeon. (The end.) —_—_——-+ee-____ < THE KNITTED WAISTCOATS. straight for the river. The child had not gone four miles before which was not territory, where over 80,000 boomers were Sane Ao less than 11,000 homesteads. Among is throng were those who were some of the old original boomers, who knew Oklahoma as well as you do your garden. When these find any “tenderfoot” or newcomer ahead of them, they treat him as a trespasser upon their own prop- erty. One of this class, who considered any part of the opened territory as his own original inheritance, had come across @ young fellow of preety, occ ying a fine bit of prairie, which he had rightfully pre- empted. He had dug his dirt, and now, with the satisfaction of a hard duty ac- complished, was firing his pistol frantically in the air in true boomer style. The border ruffian had ridden up, and, with oaths that he considered suitable to the occasion, had ordered the young man off in two minutes. The youthful boomer hurried to load, but a bullet in his brain ended his career. Now, this was observed by many, and Bub saw it with horror, and with greater terror no-* ticed that the deed excited no remark. It seemed quite natural in this dreadful place to kill any one who tried to protect his property. The child thought of his mother. She must be safe upon her claim by this time. Besides, she was a woman, and who would touch a woman? He drove on slowly two or three miles, when the man in the wagon that bore the inscription “Oklahomy or bust’’ rode up be- side him and said: “They say a woman has been shot up there,” pointing to the left. “Some cuss headed her off with his gun when she was goin’ to stake her claim. There is plenty of fire-eaters about this day. They hed quite as lief plug one ez not. You had bet- ter take keer.” With this friendly advice, the man rode rapidly away. Where does the news of dis- aster obtain its winged feet? Bub never stopped to wonder at the accuracy of the statement, but turned to the left, and, with fluttering heart, urged his jaded horse to a trot. Soon he got out and led it, running at its head. He thought he saw a wo- man’s dress in a clump of sage bushes about half a mile ahead. Then he saw be- yond a man heading for the same spot, leading a riderless horse. Yes, it was Jer The boy uttered a low moan, cry- ing: “Mamma, mamma!” He let go the bridle and flew as fast as his thin legs would allow him, over brake and stone, until he sank exhausted on the sod beside a pale, slight woman, wounded unto death. Bub’s heroic little soul took in the situa- tion as far as it was able, with a manly self-restraint beyond his years. The sick child had suffered so much himself, that he knew by instinct how not to add to the suffering of another. He did not cry out or make a fuss, nor startle the mangled woman with his grief. He only put his thin cheek down close to hers and patted her two or three times. Revival of a Smart Fashion First In- troduced in Italy. From the Queen. The new silks lately introduced for cro- cheting and knitting fashionable waist- coats forcibly recall the shimmering ones donned by our great-grandmothers, and most likely worked by themselves in faint imitation of the gorgeous articles worn by men during several centuries, The modern knitter will probably shrink from vying with the patient skill of the women of a former age, but we may depend on the hand-knitting machines and manufacturers’ frames to revive the idea and produce marvelous adaptations of the once gaudy craze. Here is an example of a showy waistcoat lost in 1712 by a Mrs. Beale, and described by ‘‘Malcolm” as knitted with green silk and gold and silver flowers all over it, further enharced with about fourteen rds of gold and silver thick lace. This smart fashion was probably first introduced from Italy, the country of gold and silver weaving. In fact, there is at the South Kensington Museum a coat of Italian origin belonging to the seven- teenth century, and similar to a cardigan without pock: It is knitted in pale blue stocking web, set off in front and at the back with wide bands of flowers and scrolls wrought ertirely in gold and silver, but whether knitted with the silk or grafted on the webbing is not easy to ascertain through the bad light and glass door. These designs extend about two inches from the shoulder seams down to three inches from the edge, which is knitted with three sets of dice pattern. The somewhat full sleeves are headed with several rows of garter stitch, and finished off with gauntlet cuffs displaying the fancy device. Blue silk binds the neck and the fronts, over which are either worked close buttonholes or sewn blue and tinsel buttons, surrounded with the Greek pattern in chain stitch. 00 TS IN LONDON. Low RE In the English Metropolis Living is Cheaper Than in New York. From the Critic. The London Daily Graphic, in comment- ing upon a parazraph which appeared in this column some time ago concerning the pay of literary workers, smiles at the idea of $5,000 a year being regarded as a small income. I never said that it was a small in- come. What I did say was that it was small in proportion to the demands upon It. It would be good pay for a bachelor, but not for a gentleman of family. The Graphic closes its remarks by saying: “We know of scores of literary workers in London, who, in the historic phrase of the cabman, ‘wish that they had half the complaint’ of the new paupers of New York.” From the Graphic’s point of view, $5,000 a year is a s00d deal of money, for the Graphic is a London paper, and $2,500 a year in London is equal to $5,000 in New York. A family man with $5,000 a year in this city cannot afford to live in a house, as I have sald be- fore; in London he could afford a very good house. I know of one man of letters in London, for example, who has a house that I would be proud to live in, and all he pays is £50 a year. This may not include rates and taxes—I hope for the sake of the land- lord that it does not—but even with those expenses added the rent would be pretty low. Where in New York could he get a house or even a flat for such a price? o—__— “Dear mamma, you got hurt, haven't yout? “Poor mamma,” he said, ‘dear mamma; you got hurt, haven’t you? Never mind; Bub's here. I'll take care of you. Shall I get the quinine?” said Bub, gulping down the tears. Receiving no answer but the groans of the dying woman, the child sald: “Perhaps you'd rather have the mustard plaster? I think I know where the blue pills are,” added Bub, “they’re under the seat in the wagon somewheres.” But a power greater than quinine and blue mass (the main constituents of the boomer’s ma- teria medica) defied the little nurse. His mother’s gaunt, blue eyes regarded him solemnly. Death looked out of them. A woman's protest against the fate of her motherless babes gathered like an army in her nature and fought for life. “Poor Bub,” she moaned, “my little, lit- tle Bub! My sick boy! And oh, my baby! Where's my baby? Where is Wee?” “Here she is, marm!” A big, bass voice, shaken with emotion as new to the desperado as the baby’s delicate kiss upon his coarse cheeks, interrupted the piteous scene. Grizzly Jim stood there, Jerry panting behind him; Wee, the baby, cuddled trustfully against his blood-stained heart. “You!” cried a sharp, young voice sudden- ly. It was the girl with the yellow hair— the adventuress, who had abandoned the choicest claim in Oklahoma for another woman's sake. She glanced at Grizzly Jim with scorn. “I only went to get water for her,” said the girl in a matter-of-fact tone, restraining herself powerfully: only left her for a minute. Here, you poor thing! Drink, if you can. I'll hold you. Come, my little lad,” gently to the crippled boy; “let me help; I’m stronger than you. I won’t hurt her. She needs a woman—a woman does, when it comes to dying.” At this juncture the baby girl began to laugh and pat her pink hands, opening and shutting her little fingers rapidly with de- light. cried Wee, —s Very Trae. From the Fliezende Blaetter. Professor—‘‘It pains me, William, when- ever I am obliged to punish you.” William—“I know that, sir; but it doesn’t pain you on th? same spot.” ———_ -+e+ Beats the Roundheads, From the Philadelphia Post. In one of the smaller towns of Kentucky lives a negro familiarly known as “Tim” White. On one occasion it was necessary to record his full name. The not unnatural supposition that ‘Tim’ stood for “Tim- othy” was met with a flat denial. “ sah! My right name is ‘What-timorous. souls-we-poor-mortals-be White.’ Dey jes’ calls me ‘fim’ fo’ sho't, sah.’’ ——_--+e<—____ An Ungrateful Patient. From Life. “Mummer! Dee “Lord have mercy on me!’ wailed the dying woman, “two of ‘em bables—ieft in this awful place. Why, I can’t die. I won't die Grizzly Jim advanced suddenly; he re- moved the soiled sombrero from his shaggy head; he sank upon one muddy knee before poor Caddy. . “Marm,” he said, bluntly, “I shot at ye; I own to’t. I meant to hit another woman. I missed my dog-goned aim for the fust time in twenty year.” A slight smile crossed the lips of the yel- low-haired girl, who held the dying wo- man’s head upon her broad, strong breast; but she didn’t look up, nor answer Grizzly Jim. After an instant’s silence she said in a low voice: “You've got the floor, you, sir. Drive ahead. minutes.”” “All I've got to say, marm, is this here,” pursued Jim_unsteadily. “I've done the mischief and I'll bide the consequence. Yer horse an’ yer bebby got yer claim, an’ I staked it fur ‘em, an’ by heaven above us, marm, I'll keep it—an’ the young ones, too."” The anguish of the dying woman’s face wrenched this great resolve from the depth of that new tumult in Jim’s soul, which we call repentance. “Gcody man!’ gurgled Wee, going over to him with a lolling, curving motion like a kitten at play with a light string. “Goody man, diy Wee drink-o’'-watah. Mummer! Dee, dee, mummer! The woman's stiffening selves into one word only: “Pray—pray!" Grizzly Jim looked at the strong girl. The gicl looked at Grizzly Jim. “I can’t,” she faltered; “I’ve forgotten how.” “I darsn’t,” he muttered. how.” “I do,” said Bub, ‘mamma taught me."” The boy folded his thin hands, grimy with tears, and in a shrilly quavering voice began: “Now I lay me down to sleep—"” At this moment the baby laughed out- right, lurching over. In the ringing of that little laugh, poor Caddy’s soul passed on. She smiled as she died—and so died most quietly. The adventuress covered the dead ma- tron’s face; she did not speak. The baby girl curled against Jim's breast, and put up her fingers and began to play “Danbury Cross” on his cheek. Jim bowed his bared head over Wee, so low that it was impossi- ble to see his eyes. Only Bub cried, and he made no noise about it, but wailed in a low monotone, enough to break one’s heart. “I forgive you for drawing a bead on me if you'll be a daddy to the young ones. You took it so powerful hard, I won’t tell the soldiers on you. I meant to,” said the yel- low-haired girl, Softly, after a few minutes’ pause. “My claim is staked here. You keep your distance, and if you want the baby tended and the boy mended up, I'll do it for you.” Jim tried to smile ot the rough, generous woman, who, after all, was so like himself in better impulses. “Do yer think the boy ‘ud trust me, too?” Keep it. She won't hold out many ips set them- “I dun know THAVG Finds in Paine’s Celery Compound the 2 Rematies, President Charles Dole is not the uss pie lege president or great educator who lias been out- spoken In praise of Paine’s cclery compound. ‘The detailed and convincing testimonial of Pros- ident Cook of the National Teachers’ Association is fresh in the public mind. One of the foremost educators in America, Prin- cipal L. L. Camp of the Dwight School, New Haven, has called Paine’s celery compound the greatest Invigorator in existence. Such men 28 State Treasurer Colvin of New York, Mr. Carlisle's private secretary, Mayor McShane of Mentreal, Rev. Fr. Ouellet, ominedore Howell, ex--Minister to Austria John M. Francis, Edmund Kussell and a host of others whose character aud learning sre recognized by the world, have public stated that when they were sick it was Paine’s celery compound that mide them well. ‘Thousands of equally responsible, though perhaps less widely known, men and women, whose word in their own cities and towns is as good as the best in the land, have testified to the merits of this, the greatest of all remedies, sorsieteus highest chara, petsession to convince any doubt of the remarkable power of Paine’ pound to make the sick well again. President Dole was torn in 1843. He gradu from Norwich University in the class of 1863 became professor of political science in the unly sity. In 1895 he was unanimously el dent, to succeed Nichols. He has held, as the public good required, nearly all the public offices in the gift of his towns- s celery compound 18, and fied it an excellent reme clally that caused jong-coutinued ‘The use of Paine’s celery compound is soon fol- lowed by on increase in the quantity of active, ruddy blood, quick in its rounds, Dyspepsia, neuralgia and rheumatism are routed from the body. Diseases due to deranged, t- fed nervous tissues are rapid , and Zood Spirits, hopefulness and an eagerness to get well take the place of melancholy, low spirits, morose 15 ANOTHER COLLEGE PRESIDENT Greatest of All © fear of approaching calamity, that ws of a run-down nervous system. |, despondent, enfeebled persons again ¥ living after their feeble, shrunken nerves e been fed by a grand restorative like Palne’s ery compound. ness, usually due to an abnormally exe overworked, but under-fed, brain, vanishes ing blood, Sleeple cited, ng replacing of worn-out, discased parts by thy, active tissues. ¥ city has men and women who praise wine's celery compound In thelr homes, talk about it to their neighbors, and rely on ft in all cases of threatened or actual sickness. All persons who keep abreast with the act ments of the 4 b ening effects “8 compound 3 t where the brain or the nerves need refresuing, toring and regulating. ‘Thousands of persons hare been couvinced of the rower of Paine's celery compound te make them Strong and well. “ HORSES ARE LUCKY. Theatrical People Believe the Equine a Mascot. From the Boston Traveller. There is an old theatrical superstition that horses are very lucky to have in a play, and theatrical superstitioas, like ail others, die hard. There are one or two leading London managers who, if they were to reveal their inmost thoughts, believe in this superstition, and to this very day. “Cut the cackle and come to the ‘osses,” was the favorite maxim of the celebrated Ducrow, and he had good cause to believe in “‘osses,” for they made him one of the most prominent men of his time. ir Augustus Harris is a firm believer in the horse theory, for there has ot been a recent successful Drury Lane drama in which a horse has not appeared, while a great many of them have owed their suc- cess. in a great measure, to the introduction of the equine. In the present drama running at Drury Lane is represerted, for the first time in the history of the Stage a polo match with trained ponies, that have often played in matches on the actual ground at Hurling- ham, in the mimic representation of which, on the stage, they appear every night. Sir Augustus Harris tells a good story of one of these ponies, a beautiful little sray, fcrmerly the property of Sir George Scott. During one of the rehearsals the ponies were brought down near the footlights, that they might get accustomed to the glare and so not get frightened during the performance at night. It so happened that one of the dummy horses that are used in the battle ecene— “The Last Stand’”—was lying on the stage. The little gray pony caught sight of it, and struggled until he got over to where it lay. He sniffed and sniffed at it for some min- utes and seemed to be very much puzzled; finally, to the great amusement of every- body on the stage, he made a vicious bite at the dummy’s ear, which, not being very firmly attached, came off. ‘The pony stood still for a moment with a strange, frightened look in iis eyes, and then took to his heels up the stage. For weeks afterward it was impossible to get the pony to come down anywhere near the fcotlights. ‘The largest theatrical stables in the world are those kept by a horseman near Drury Lane Theater. Here one often sees more than 100 horses that are being used for various theatrical purp2ses. From these stables horses are sent all over England with touring companies. Often there will be as many as two hundred horses travel- ing in various parts of the country from this estabiishment alone. ———_——_+e+. NEW DEVICE OF STREET FAKIRS. A Crowd Was Soon Collected and a Lively Business Followed. From the New Haven Register. Street fakirs always have a novelty to catch the eye of the public. A number of these wandering merchants have recently visited New Haven. One of the schemes used to draw a crowd is worthy of men- tion. Here it is: An aged man was leading a child, clad in rags, down Chapel street, one cold night recently. Every few min- utes the child would stop and utter a feeble cry as if to resist. The strong arm of the man hurried the poor little one on. Then a few tears could be seen finding their way down the small face. When Orange street was reached the little creature made an outcry. A tall, slender, and smooth-faced young man, evidently touched by the pa- thetic sight, grabbed the old man by the arm ard exclaimed: “What do you mean by having that poor little child out on the street on a cold night like this? It’s almost freezing.” “It’s cold,” the little one interposed. “None of your business,” was the harsh reply of the old man. He then started to go. The young man prevented this. He sald: “Stop. Out with your story. I think you stole the child.” “I want mamma,” the little thing cried in_a burst of tears. By this time a large crowd had collected. “I’m taking the child home,” explained the old man to the ever swelling crowd of spectators. “Here, then, take this,” said the young man, taking a small pocket stove from his satchel and giving it to the child. “That will keep you warm,’ ’he continued. The spectators had row become inter- ested. “What is it?” asked a bystander. “That is the S. S. S.—Smith’s Safety Stove that can be carried in your pocket without danger of setting fire to your clothes. I have a few of them here to dispose of,” said the young man, address- ing the very large group of surprised lis- teners. The old man and chiid disappeared down the street, while the young man did a good business in pocket stoves. + e-+—____ The Bicycle Hump. From the Wichita Engle. 5 People who ride bicycles say the ac- quired hump comes mighty handy in shoy- eling snow. READING FOR CHILDREN. Suggestions to Parents in Regard to Books for Little Ones. From the New York Herald. At the Workingmen’s School in West 54th street, which is conducted by the Society for Ethical Culture, a very inter- esting lecture was recently given by one of the teachers, Miss Annie Gillespie Dunn, on the subject of reading for school chil- dren. “We are Ictting the children here in the school take a very tiny taste of literature, which we hope they will find good and ask for more. In the eighth grade we are reading Fishe and Bryce; iu the seventh we have Hallam and Carlyle. In the sixth grade we go back to the transla- tions of the old Greek inistories; there we have also Gibbon and Macauley’s ‘Lays of Ancient Rome,’ but we can’t do more than give the child something that we hope he will want to follow up. In the eighth grade they read Hawthorne and Cooper, but merely on the principle of the hay before the donkey’s nose—to lead them on. “Some people are afraid of giving chil- dren too many story books. But some- times ‘the best thing you can do for a child is to give it a story bock. But choose it well, for children have not the capacity for judging of a story, whether it is good or bad. To satisfy a child's imagination, when it is still a little pixy, with a strong trace of the other worid leit, we give him myths and fairy tales, and then gradually lead him through Robinson Crusoe, and its like, which are a mixture of imagina- tion and practical life, to something more human. We next try to impress upon his mind that he is not living with fairies, but is a little man and must take respon- sibility. We do not want to make life seem dreary, so we give iim a little gen- uine nonsense mixed in, like ‘Alice in Won- derland.’ Books about animals, ‘Black Beauty,’ the ‘Jungle Books’ and anything | of that kind, teach him to think and ~-are for others. ‘To emphasize family relation- ship we give them family stories, such as Hawthorne's ‘Grandfather's Chair’ MacDonald's short stories. the child is old enough to be a he: shiper, and ‘Hiawatha,’ the ‘Lays of An- cient Rome’ or Cooper's tales fill she hero longing, the more spiritual herces being provided by the German Miad, “The N belungenlied.” Lowell's ‘Sir Launfal’ and Tennyson's Round Tabie ‘Idyls’ teach the spiritual side with a wise mixture of ad- venture and give the idea of tryinz to con- quer themselves as well as outside cne- mies.” BRIDES AND FLOWERS. Objection is Made to Blooms With Strong Odors. From the New York Tribune. in the matter of perfume,” said a florist, “I have learned the importance of what seems a trivial thing by catering to the tastes of brides. When a woman is going to be married she ‘s strung up to a high pitch of nervous excitement, and an extra whiff of perfume will sometimes cause her to faint. ‘Don’t put in any flower with an odor,’ is frequently the instruction I get for a bridal bouquet. This is the cause of the great demand for orchids, expensive as they are, for brides’ flowers. Even the sub- tle, hardly noticeable perfume of the lilies of the valley, which are charming for a shower boquet, is objected to by some. In Paris orchids, and orchids alone, are used for a bride’s bouquet but such a bouquet as they make there, duplicated here, would cost over $100. We gencrally manage to put in a little spray of orange blossoms in every bride's bouquet, unless expressly de- sired not to do so, but the chief place in which orange blossoms are used now is in the newspaper accounts of weddings. The reporters conclude that brides ought to wear orange flowers, if they don’t. Bride roses, white and scentiess, are popular for bridal flowers, but lilies of the valley,-un- obtrusive and delicate, slipping out oi their little green sheaths, with a few orchids grouped with them, to give the whole form and character,“are in exquisite taste.” -s0e- Case of Remarkable Growth. From the Chicago Tribune. A case of remarkable growth is reported from near Muncie, Ind. Last Wednesday Ira McNett died He lacked twelve days of being fifteen vears old, yet he was six feet and three inches tall, and required a casket six and one-half feet in length. He was healthy, and was never sick a day in his life until about two weeks ago, when he was seized with fever which caused his death. McNett’s unusual rapid growth com- menced when he was ten years old. jie grew two feet in four years. FOR ALCOHOLISM Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphat- Va., says: “The alent in chronic HUBBY KNEW IT ALL. Told Wifey So, but Easily Proved That He Didi From the New York Herald. A man who lives in Harlem, and who is one of those who fondly imagine they know it all, took his wife the other day and bearded the Empire State express, bound for Schenectady on a long-deferred visit to their married daughter. He frowned on his wife because ske showed some timidity, mixed with anticipated pleasure. “This train doesr’t stop at Schenectady?" she said, in the form of an inquiry “I guess I know that,” he growied. “We charge cars at Albany, don’t we?" she asked. “Certainly we do,” he replied. “Don't yeu bother yourself. Just leave things to me.” Vill you know when we get to Aibany ?"* she inquired, in a hesitating way “Do you take me for an idiot?” he an- swered. “I wish you would let me run this thing, and I will land you safely at Mary's house without you bothering your head atout it.” The woman said nothing more until the train was rear Albany. Then she s Wi change wher we cross the river, we? know that just as well as you do, and better, too,” he snapped. “Don’t make @ fool of yourself by showing your ignor- ance.” Soon the bridge, on which stood some freight cars that blocked a view of thi river, was crossed, und the train came to a stop in the Albany station. “Don't we get out here’ she asked. No, we don’t,” he answered. “We have to cross the river first.” “I thought we kad crossed it.” “I wish you would let me-do the think- ing and not make a silly fool of yourself, as yeu have been doing all da: “But all the people are getting out,” she continued. “Don't stop them. I tell you we cross the river before we are in There.” “Now we are going again,” she the train siarted. “Of course we are, and we will the river in a minute. Iam doing.” Several minutes passed, and the train in- creased its speed. The woman looked more anxious, and then the conductor entered to collect the tickets. “You should have changed at Alb he said to the man who knew it all. will have to pay your fare to Uti then take a train back to Schenect. The fares were paid without question, an@ hubby dropped behind his paper without a word. His wife was equally silent, but the expression that settled on her face was an ominous one. have to Albany, said, as be over I guess I know what —— ——_--e. A NICE SORT OF A PA. lezed Humorist, but the Police Were on to His Jokes. From the Atlanta Constitution, There ix a saloonkeeper in Tennessee who is something of a humorist. His entire family was in court the other day, and one of his daughters was a witness against her father. She told this mildly intcresting story: “Pa was sitting ir his saloon, feeling lIcnely. He went to the barn, and, putting a halter on his horse, brought him into the heuse, saying he wanted the animal to eat supper with him. Pa made me set a plate for the herse. Then he took hold of the horse's front legs and lifted them up on the table. We all sat down to supper, and the horse began to eat. Pa picked up @ n-vg of beer ard began to laugh and throw beth hands in the air. The mug hit the berse on the nose. The beast pulicd his feet down, dragging the tablecloth and up. setting the table. The horse backed up and sat squarely on a red-hot stove. This burn- ed its tail so the animal kicked the sto’ over and raa out of the door. I screamed, and pa threw a lamp at me. The house came near catching fire, and a policeman came in. Pa has been arrested 108 times.* a Thought "Twas Considerable, From Truth. he sleighing isn’t much, is it?” He—“Isn't much! It's a dollar and a hall “an hour.”