Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 14, 1901, Page 6

ft - soul,” she said, steadily. .— was as much a woman then as I shall sever be. Four years has made no dif- Q00-0-0-00-0-00-0-0000-0000000-000-0 TOS ESE TTT ag & Rickerby’s Folly By TOM GALLON Ce O0-0-0-0-0-0 0-0-0: 0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0 0000-000 CHAPTER IV. (Co ued.) “What! You've seen it, ‘ave you he whispered. “They only comes by aight, don't the: Poor lad it's far ‘im to come back to the old pla @&e that, ain't i Lucky I ain’t efeared of ‘im. Walks there every tlessed night, 'e does, an’—" She stood alone in the garden; Nu- gent Leathwood had broken away from ker and had gone racing through the ganden, stumbling against trees blindly as he ran toward the house where the cheerful lights gleamed from the win- dews. The o!d woman looked up ai the deserted part of Rickerby’s Folly and daughed softly to herself. Presently in the quiet street the rum- ®le of wheels was heard, and a cab etopped at the outer gate. Then Cor- acti, with much servility, assisted a young girl to alight, and gave instruc- | tions in regard to the bringing in of Sexes. It was something, in that grim glace, to hear the quick, ‘ited ch fer of a girlish voice; but it was canny and gruesome, knowing all that they kuew, to hear her frequent ques- @ionms concerning Gilbert Rickerby. Where was he? Why had he not been @@ meet her? How secon was he com- y Nugent Leathwood, who had re- @2ined something of his composure, met her at the door, and smilingly and fran home. “Come fn! come in! as he took her is. ““We hav lot to say to other—and must feel tired tac @ you a@ hungry after your long journey. © in! She stood in a lower room of the fouse and looked about her. The scrap @f fire which had been kindled in wide, old-fashioned grate, was expir- time; Che only light in the room came from two candles, set on the mantel shelf: the only man to welcome her was this smiling creature, who she inward- fy distrasted. The place—the hour—the @ilencc—all struck into her heart with @chill. She hai been kept under grim gestraint for so long, and had looked tarward so joyfully to this home-com- fmg—this meeting with her lover; and @aw 2 horrible Cread seemed to be ereeping over her. “Where is Gilbert?” she asked .“You aid he would be kere to meet me. Where is he?” “Patience—patience; @ des; yours,” hand to you are in such ate hurry to see this lover of replied Leathwood, waving a yards a chair. it down ant have something to eat. Time enough to talk of lovers—say, to-morrow. Ske looked around the room in per- piexity. Cornelius had vanished—prob- ably to see about the preparation of a meal. She wes left there alone with Nugent Leathwood; and the silence «bout them seemed to beat in ur her heart and to stifie her. Then she heard Nugent speaking. “J told you, littlé Olive Mallory, wh & wrote to you,” he began, 5 glowly and very distinctl that you were to come here to Gilbert Mickerby. Before we d Gilkert Rickerby I want to tal ittle to remind you ch have happened wi gast year or two.” “i am listening,” “[ told you meet she said, in a sort r, and without t mg her cyes an instant from his face. “Four years ago, when you we mere girl, some romantic dreams about Ibert Rickerky, you thousht there w nd man in the world like him; you were certain that the two of you were bound together till the end of time. I sunpose, in that, you were lire every Cther girl that was ever barn into the world.” “£ foved him with all my heart and “IT love him My life has been a hard one, and mow. ference in that!” “We shall see—we shall see,” he said, iightly. “Well, you parted from this wver—were forced to part with hin. Gilbert Rickerby went his way into the werld, as other men have done before, end as other men will do again. It had: @l@ Been very amusing, I suppose—those geeret meetings, stolen kisses and whispered protestations of love. But you take it all too seriously, my dear.” “it is everything—it is my life to ome," she said, earnestly. “Mr. Leath- woad, why do you waste time like this? & came here to meet Gilbert, who has eeturned to me after our long separa- tion. Where is he? I want to see him Nogent Leathwood paced about the oor for a few moments, with his hands] elasped behind him. Stopping sudden- fy. he looked up and said: “Suppose I old you that you would never see him again?” She made a surprised movement to- wards him, and then checked herself, with her hands. clasped on her breast. “——Z don’t understand,” she said. “You ere trying to frighten me.” “Endecd, I am not,” he replied. “I am felling you the simple truth. Gil- bert Rickerby is dead!” Sbe cried out suddenly, and covered fer face with her hands. He moved mearer to her, and spoke almost in her ear. “You think I have cheated you—lied ‘o you. I have done nothing of the Bind. I brought you here to meet Gil- Bert Rickerby; and, on the very night, fie was to have arrived, he was killed @& the street. An accident—merely an eccident that might happen to any qran.”” “why did you not tell me—why did goa not write to me?” she cried, with- owt uncovering her face. “Why did goa bring me here, with my heart full ef goy, at the prospect of meeting the aan £ love—the man I have waited for @@ patiently?” " His tone changed in a moment: etarding close beside her, he spoke, in @ voice which caused her to drop her fhands from her face and recoil from im. “‘Because I wanted to see you— garrraroroy) 8 | © don’t run away; there can be no more running away, so far as you are concerned. Listen ‘to me: Two years ago, when this same Gilbert Rickerby, whom I have never seen, wrote to me, telling me that he was coming home to meet his promised wife, a desire came upon me to see the girl who could re- main in a man’s memory so strongly. So I went down to the place where you were at school; you remember that, don’t you? I see you do. Well, .l saw you; and I began to think that Gilbert Rickerby was not such a fool as I had imagined him to be; I felt that you were worth waiting for—worth striving after. In a word, I loved you; from that hour I had no peace, for thoughts of you. Day and night I was haunted by the memory of your eyes; day and night I dreamed of you—longed for you. Then, in one mad moment, I did a thing I have never mentioned until now.” She looked up at him, with eyes of fear and avérsion; yet seemed to list- en, too, to what he had to say. “I said to myself:‘ This man is thou- sands of miles away; I am on the spot. What if he heard that the girl he loved and trusted was false to him? What if fh» heard that she had repented of ber sh, girlish promise, and had given i heart to another man? Would he eeme home to her then?’ So I wrote him; I told him that you had con- fessed yaur love for me, that I meant to marry you. I told him that it was right that he should set you free.” “Oh—you coward!’ she whispered, shrinking away from him. “So that was why his letters to me ceased; that was why he never came home two years ago, as he had promised?” “Yes—that was the reason. Then, quite suddenly, he wrote me that he wes coming; and I knew that my plan would be spoiled. But Providence has always been on the side of the bold; at the last moment, when he was rushing to meet me, he was killed. So that now, you see, my sweet girl, you are alone in the world, except for me. Dis- miss from your mind the thoughts of the lover, who could so eas‘ly believe anything against you; reward the man who hes striven so hard to gain you.” So confident was the man of success that he slipped an arm about her; but she flung him off, fiercely, and ran to the other side of the room. “Keep away!” she cried. “If you dare to come near me I will rouse the house. You have brought me here un- der false pretenses. I am going away this very night--this very moment!”’ With a muttered exclamation, he darted after her, but stopped on the in- stant, listening. ‘There had come @ loud ringing at the outer gate. Taking advantage of his hesitation, the girl pulled open a door close beside her and ran along a dark passage which opéned from it. At the same moment Corne- lius came hurrying into the room. “Bre, never mind the gel,” he whis- pered, hoarsely. ‘We've got summink else to think about, besides gels. There's a lot of people at the gate ask- in’ for Gilbert Rickerby!” CHAPTER V. Rogues and Vaxabonds. “My dear, our last chance lies with Gilbert Rickerby.« Should he fail, then —welecme, sweet obiivion!” The speaker raised one hand, with a dramatic. gesture, towards the sky, as’ though he fondly hoped that the obliv- ion he courted would descend upon him without further delay; from the cheer- ful smile upon his face, he evidently anticipated that it would make its ap- pearance in an allurirg shape. His companion, a little, fair, faded woman, with an untidy mov of ycllowish hair, which she had@ a way of skittishly rak- ing into her eyes, shook the mop now and laughed. Evidently, she was used to him, and did not take him quite so seriously as he took himself. “Aye—laugh cn; I need mirth at such an hour as this!” eried the man. He was a tall, florid individual, with what hair he had remaining somewhat longer than is the fashion, and with a great, heavy, clean-shaven face. His clothing was threadbare, and his boots bore signs of much wayfaring on dusty roads; yet he wore his dilapidated hat with an air, and stuck his arras akim- bo, as he sat on a bank by the road- side. The woman who sat beside him was somewhat younger; and her face, despite its careworn expression, was sumething of a merry one, and had a good-humored twinkle in the blue eyes. The only article of baggage appeared to be a small portmanteau, which lay on the ground at the man’s feet. It was late in the afternoon, at a time of th: year when the sun sets early; and it was already growing dark. “Last of my race!” muttered the man, with another tragic gesture. “And so ends the race. In the morn- ing, my love, we will probably be dls- covered, like the innocent children in the woods, side by side—smiling, even in death—and with the little birds, bright songsters of the vale, endeavor- ing to hide the tragedy by covering us with leaves.” “You'll want a bit of covering, An- thony,” said the lady, glancing at the man’s somewhat tulky form. “Peace, giddy heart!” exclaimed the man. “And yet I would not have you b+ still; in such a moment as this, when a numbness already begins to steal upon me, I would hear the jest in mine ears to the last; I would-—” “Oh, do be quiet, Anthony; if you could only have found it in your heart to take to low comely instead of try- ing Hamlet and them other kings, we shouldn’t be reductd to this. There's no mistake about it, Anthony; you're a deai funnier than you think.” “Peace, woman—you rave; you are already unstrung by long privation. ®eeause I wanted to look again into hese eye” whicu ad bewitched me. ia Let us regard the situation with philos- ophy, since you are determined not to | justea her cloak with an air of gentili- Se jet me die with that dignity which be- longs to my craft. I would have liked well to die like this; to have seen the next morning in the papers—I mean for you to have read, with tears—how An- thony Taggett, who once played Ham- let before the mayor of Bristol—’ “only by acerdent, Anthony—only by accident: he had been dining, and wandered into the wrong show—said he thought you were a circu’ “No matter; he had to hear it. Yet, _to what am I reduced? We have come to the end of our resources, Our man~- ager—perfidious _varlet!—has_ bolted with such moneys as were in our cof- fers; we have tramped a great part of the way from Bristol, and are not yet near to London. Yet, cheer up, Medo- ra. others whose names are blazoned on the pages of history have come into London in such fashion. At the pres- ent moment, however’—his voice as- sumed a less-hopeful tone—‘‘we are re- markably hungry, and we are practic- ally penniless. Night fs upon us, and the silvery moon—” “Oh, never min¢ the silvery moon, Anthony!” broke in Mrs. Taggett, im- patiently; “what we want to sce is a silvery coin or two. We can't sleep in tke road, Mr. Taggett. What are we to do about this Mr. Gilbert Rickerby?” “My dear, you surely remember that some five or six years ago a Mr. Gilbert Rickerby joined the company in which I then played heavy parts. Young fel- low, with a bright, clear eye; quite a gentleman.” “Bless the boy; I remember him,” re- plied Mrs. Taggett. ‘Told you he had run awoy from home, didn’t he “Even so. I tearned from him that he was—or should have been—a youth of fortune; that he had quarreled with | his sire and had been thrown upon the world. I rememter, when he parted | from us to go abroad, he said to me: | ‘If ever you should be down on your | luck, old Taggett’—a familiar way he | had with me, my love—‘inquire for me at Rickerby’s Folly, St. John’s Wood, London. Anyone will show you the place.’ And so ¥ thought, Medora, that I would journey thither and see if T could find him. If he is rich, he might | even be disposed to produce the money and put me in a theater. Why not?” “But he’s seen you act, hasn’t he?” asked Mrs. Taggett, slily. “My love, you have an unfortunate habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment—of saying it, too, in am enigmatical fashion, which annoys me. He has seen me act, as you know; what has that to do with the matter?” “Oh, rothing,” replied Mrs. Taggett, innccently. The only thing fs, if we are to get to St. John’s Wood to-night, someone will have to carry u: for my part, I can’t walk another step.” It was at this moment, when blank despair was beginning to fall upon the elastic spirits of Mrs. Taggett, that a diversion was caused by the arrival of: a third wayfarer, who limped along painfully toyards them, and whose face was get in the same direction as that towards which theit own thoughts and hopes were turned—London. The new- comer—a woman—looked at them @ moment as she passed, and half-stop- ped, as though about to speak; but thought better of it, and went on her way. They watched her as she slowly @ragged along; she looked as weary and helpless as themselves. After going some twenty or thirty yards down the road, the, stranger stopped and glanced back, hesitated a moment or two and then slowly re- traced her steps. Mr. Taggett glanced critically at the woman, who was young and unmistakably handsome; Mrs. Taggett drew herself up and ad- ty. “A woman—young—and unprotect- ed,” murmured Mr. Taggett, with a glance at the approaching stranger. “You've already got one woman— young and unprotected—to leok after, Mr. Taggett!” retorted his wife, sharp- ly. “eprue, my love—true; I do not forget my responsibilities,” replied Mr. Tag- gett. “But it is evident that this lady would have speech with us.” “Well—if you're going to have speech with every female tramp we meet on the road, Anthony, I think things have come to a pretty pass,” said Mrs, Tag- gett. “Well, madam—what do you want?” The last remark was addressed to the woman, who ked stopped hesitatingly, before them. Her clothes were worn and shabby, as were their own; t she carried herself with a certain pride, as though she beat down whatever shame she felt in her position fiercely and resolutely. She was tall and fair, with a singularly strong, defiant look about her. “You needn't think I’ve come back to beg of you,” she said, harshly. “I wouldn't beg of anyone. Oniy some dread, unaccountable. fear has come upon me, and I don’t care to face that dark road alone. I swore, when I set out, that I’d walk the whole way, and that nething should turn me back: now’’—she threw out her hands quickly and laughed—“my resolution has brok- en down in a mcment. Are you bound for London?” “Hark—hark—the degs do bark; the beggars have come to town!” chanted Anthony Taggett, waving his hand in time to the words. ‘There is a curious lilt about those lines which has always appealed to me; I never thought they would be so apprepriate as on the pres- ent occasion. Madam’—he turned to the stranger—‘“‘we are in sorry case, but if an arm, which has, ere now, wielded a broadsword in mimic combat, is of service to you, it is here. There is a strange Bohemian strain in me which teaches me to be ready for all chances ‘and changes of fickle Fortune. You are one of the chances and changes. Pray, sit down.” He stood up and bared his head, with an air as though he were in- viting the woman to the most luxurious resting places in the world. She cropped down on the bank by the readside and covered her face with her hands, and -sat motionless. After a long pause she raised her head and glanced round at them wearily. “How are you going to get to Lon- don?” she asked. ‘You look as worn out, the pair of you, as I do.” “That is the very point we were dis- cussing,” responded Anthony Taggett, cheerfully. “In a crisis of this kind, it behooves a man to be resourceful and alert, to realize fully all that is expect- ed of him—to—"” Mrs. Taggett laid her hand quickly on his arm. “Don’t talk, Anthony,” she said; “I hear the sound of wheels. Anything on wheels is good enough for Medora Taggett to-night, and it should pe good enough for you. Understand, | Taggctt, you must be firm; if violence is necessary, you must be violent; but if this vehicle—whatever it is—we are going on it, or in it, I don’t mind which.” Mr. Taggett got up and stood expect- ant; the sound of wheels came nearer. Peering into the gathering darkness, they saw a huge vehicle lumbering along towards them, drawn by three horses; the driver tramped along be- side the leading horse sturdily, proba- bly to warm himself, for the night was chilly. Seeing the surprising form of Anthony Taggett in the very center of the road, standing, with arms out- stretched, as though he would have val- iantly stopped the whole ponderous thing, (the man checked his horses, in sheer amazement. The vehicle was a huge pantechnicon, evidently fully loaded. Mr. Taggett saw his advantage, ana embraced it; advancing quickly, he dropped a hand upon the shoulder of the driver and shook him to and fro, heartily, in that faszion so much fa- vered of melodramatic actors when they greet a friend unexpectedly; in fact, Mr. Taggett carried the thing out so well, that he even held the man away at arm’s length and smiled upon him; and then drew him nearer to whisper in his ear “My friend—we have tarried long for thee. Properly, it should have been a wagoner, with loaded wain, who would have halted his smoking team before us; but this will serve. In these mod- ern days a man should not be too par- ticular about his choice, of vehicle.” Then, dropping his flamboyant specch, hurriedly, he whispered, in a more nat- ural tone: “My good man, you see be- fore yeu an unfortunate creature, down on his luck. Moreover, there are two ladies here who are utterly worn out. If you could, by any chance, manage to give us a lift—” “Why didn’t yer say so afore?’ asked the good-natured fellow. ‘You goes on a-talkin’ all sorts of stuff I don’t unnerstan’—leavin’ me to guess ’arf of it. Tf you don’t mind sittin’ up on the tail-board be’ind, you're wel- come enough to that.” He indicated, as he spoke, a broad shelf which stood out behind the closed dors of the van, and which were within a couple of feet of the ground. More than that, he as- sisted the two women to climb up to it, disposirg some sacks for their greater comfort; and, having seen Mr. Taggett comfortably seated, also, started his team again. The spirits of Anthony Taggett rose corsiderably as the vehicle jogged steadily on towards London. Mrs. Taggett, too, had regained something of her usual cheerfulness; only *he strange woman sat quite still, with her elbows on her knees and her chin proppéd up in her hands. Perhaps An- thony Taggett, after a time, imagined her to be asleep; perhaps he felt that any subject he might chance to discuss with his wife could have no possible in- terest for a stranger. At-all events, he began, in his usual rather loud tones. to talk about the place to which they were journeying and the man they hoped to gee. “My dear,’ he said, grandiloquenily, “T already foresee the day when I shall tell this in a capital joke, while the ruby wine goes round; shall enlarge upon it—” “7 wouldn't enlarge upon it any more than you can help, just now, Anthony,” broke in Mrs. Taggett, shivering. “it aia’t a subject anyone can quite see the humor ef, at the moment.” “My dear, I ean see not only the hu- mor of if; I ean see a great situation, in that drama which is already formed in my mind. I shail cut out the lift accident (you will recollect, my love, that the. hero comes down from the flies, in a lift, and confronts the villain in the nick of time, aided by the low- com, disguised as the lift-boy)—I shall bring nim on in a pantechnicon. with real horses. Yes, my love—this is, most decidedly, a situation we can use.” “T suppose you didn’t ask the man what part of London he was going to, did you?” asked Mrs. Taggett, after a pause. “It might be awkward to find St. Jolin’s Wood at thrs time of night.” “No, my dear; I did not ask the man. You see it is quite impossible for us to reimburse the man in any way for his trouble, save with thanks. I was loth to suggest that he should actually drive up to the door of Rickerby’s Fol- ly and ring the bell.” “Don’t be sarcastic, Anthony; it don’t become you,” retorted Mrs, Taggett. “All I wanted to say was—” “Did I hear you say you were going te—to Rickerby’s Folly?” It was the strange woman who had spoken; and Mr. Taggett, turning quickly, found | that he was looking straight into her eager eyes, which were bent fiercely up- echt “J—I—certainly did mention, in con- versation with this lady—that I was going, to a house of that name,” began Anthony Taggett, hesitatingly. “Do you know a man called Gilbert Rickerby?” She asked. She seemed to breathe more freely as she spoke. ‘The guiletess Mr. Taggett threw bac!: his bead, spread out his hands, and ap- pealed, with a smile, to his wife. “My. dear, this lady actually asks me if I know Gilbert Rickerby?) My dear ma- dam,” he turned to the stranger, “1 may say that you might as well ask me if I know Mys. Taggett. Gilbert Rick- erby had the good fortune to come un- der my training some years ago; what- ever distinction he may achieve. in the world hereafter, he will always be able to lay his hand upon his heart and say: ‘You observe that I walk better than my fellows; that I talk in a manner not commonly heard among men; if you. would know the reason why, turp to Anthony Taggett.’ Know him, in- deed; know that bright youth, whoro / to see was to admire—to talk with, a liberal education, cheap at any price! In the hour of adversity, my first words to Mrs. Taggett were, ‘Let us seek our friend, Gilbert Rickerby—the man of the open hand—the honest heart—’” “The open hand—the honest heart! That for his open hand and honest: heart!” The stranger snapped her fin- gers before the astonished Mr. Tageett, and laughed bitterly. ‘Do you want a name for everything low, and mean, and lying, under heaven? Do you want a word that shall express how low a thing a man may be? Do you want a name for liar, and coward, and brute? I'll give it to you, in two words—Gilbert Rickerby!” “You've made a mistake, my dear,” said Mrs. Taggett, shaking her untidy head of hair vigorously, and leaning around Mr. Taggett to look at the stranger. “I don’t know who you may be; but you've certainly got the wrong cue, as we say in our business. Gilbert Rickerby ain't the man to do any. woman # wrong; I'll wager he’ always been ready for his call, wher- ever he might be, and has spoken his | lines straight. So don’t you say any- thing against him, young woman—at Teast, not in present company.” “Mrs. Taggett puts the matter in professional phraseology, I admit,” saic Mr, Taggett; “but she is right. How- ever, all we hive te concern ourselves with, at the moment, is the faet—that we, who have met so strangely, are all journeying to the same place. Another situation, my love, for the drama; it will not be believed—but in my speech to the house, I will relate this, and so cor.found them. My love—this drama is getting on!” “And so are we!” exclaimed Mrs. Taggett, giving herself a shake and sitting upright. “Here are the streets of London, and I think it would be well if you wowld jump dewn, Anthony, and ruw round and ask the driver how near he goes’ to St, John’s Wood. I wouldn’t ask him to go out of his way, if I were you.” “My dear; I won’t,” replied Mr. Tag- gett, as he scrambled down form the seat into the road. “The time will come when I shall reward this young man—when his name will be in the pa- pers. “Don’t lead him to hope too much, Anthony,” Mrs. Taggett called after her husband, as he disappeared around the side of the vehicle: In a few mo- ments he came back and announ¢ed that the nearest point the man would pass weul€ be the Marble Arch; then he would stop there and set them down. “From there I fear that we shall have to walk,” said Mr. Taggett, as he imbed back into his seat. “However, we have very much to be grateful for; my only hope now is to find Githert Rickerby established in his father's house and willing to afford us that tem porary assistance, which we so greatly need.” “hat is my hope, stranger, in a low voice. “I have come many miles to find him; I shall have something interesting to tell him—this beautiful friend of, yours—whcn we meet.” too,” said’ the (To Be Continued.) THE AMERICAN FARMER. Politician, Edwin A Reader, an Observer, Power, Notwithstanding Markham to the Contrary. ‘When farming was conducted on 2 small seale, limited to the mere efficien- cy of the farmer and ‘is sons, its inter ests were narrow and its circumstances mean. Its rewards were so meage? that the ‘hired man’ was often better off at the year’s end than the man wh: owned the land, took the chances an¢ worried away his digestion over th mortgage. The generous moods of na ture were examples too expensive to be imitated, and close-fisted parsimony was exalted as the chief of the virtues “To-day this is changed over a larg: area of the country. On the great bon- anza farms of the West a man with 10,- 000 acres under nis care and hundreds of men in his employ is a figure of im portance. His intimate concern with the world’s affairs makes him a reader an observer, often a politician and a power. Even 10,000 acres is too smal’ for him to confine himself to. His great business demands that he travel. He must go to Duluta, to Minneapolis, to Chicago, to Buffalo and to New York A small mistake, a failure to sell at the risht time, orto discard an old ma- chine and adont a new one, may cost him thousands. He is working his brain as hard as he ean, and calling upon his faculties for all they will do He is bringing himself and his business more into touch with the modern spir- it, and through combination with his neighbors is making agriculture more and more a power in the land.”—Ains- lee’s Magazine. ‘ NOT SO BAD TO TAKE. New Cure for All Disenses Given-Out Sticks of Peppermint Candy. New and startling remedies for the ills that flesh is heir to are constantly being placed before the public; but the most unique and original theory as to doses was recently put forward by a handsome, gray-haired gentleman after what is generally called “‘a quiet little game of whist.” Rheumatism, and one cure and another, were under dis- cussion by the little cluster of’ four men, when the gray-haired man spoke: “You'll all laugh at me, of course,” he said, “but 1 can cure myself of any- thing with just plain peppermint stick candy. A shout arose; everybody laughed. “I said you'd laugh,” he continued, “but it’s true—as true as gospel. Ev- ery time I feel a little under the weath- er—aches in my bones or a cold coming on, I just eat, before going: to bed, four or five sticks of good, pure peppermint candy. I buy it at an old-fashioned confectioner’s—one I've known for years, and in the morning: I get up feel- ing all right.” Everybody laughed again. “Go on laughing,” the stick-candy prescriber exclaimed. “I'm talking about something T've proved. The pep- nermint stick-candy cure is all right. Tf you don’t believe me, try it. It costs little and is pleasant to take.”"—Detroit Free Press. pes SiN Reon ake A Royal Beef Enter. Being very fat, the king of Portugal is forbidden by Lis physician to eat much meat. He calmly disobeys the orders, however, and is especiaily fond of beef, of which h2 eats great quanti- ties. Z When he visited England, 2 few years age, he was stopping at Lord Salis- bury’s country seat, where, also, King Edward was a guest. One day at din- ner King Carlos was asked what im- pressed him most during his stay in England. He replied, thoughtfully: “Well, } think English roast beef ts very de- lightful.” “Oh,” laughed King Edward, “surely something else has impréssed you as well, “Ah,” was the reply, “of course, the English boiled boiled beef, also, is de lightful."—M. A. P. And an American Woman, Too. “This thing of Bulgarian brigands holding a woman for ransom is pre- posterous!” exclaimed Mr. Meekton’s wife. \ “That's my idea, precisely,” an- swered Mr. Meekton. “The idea of a young woman allowing herself to be frightened py a lot of common brig, andci” -Washington Star. ; Dashington Chat. Special Correspondence. A movement is on foot to secure spe- cial legislation at this session relating to the protection of dairy products from the allegation of impurity. This lesis- lation is sought by those who have long fought for legislation of a general char- acter directed against false branding and adulterations of food products, but who have become weary of waiting ac- tion by congress. Representative Sher- man of New York has taken hold of the matter, and has introdueced a bill especially directed against false brand- ing of dairy products and all food products that become the subject of foreign or interstate commeree. Many ecmplaints have been made against the practice, in some states, of using false } brands to convey wrong information as to the character of the products so stamped. It has become*the custom to brand inferior products with names of well known brands which have a high standard and reputation in the market. Brands of high-class butter and cheese, fot example, known even by a distinet- iv. state name or name of a locality, 19 often placed upon spurious products when sold in states other than those of manufacture. It is to guard against this system, so far as it can be done im the case ef products which enter into interstate commerce, that the measure is presented in congress. A Wisconsin member of congress hae received an amusin gletter from a con- stitnent, who desired to be postmaster in one of the towns of the state. The: writer disdains the use of political pres- sure: “L have uo one to plug for me,” he says; “and I hav> no use for these political pluggers, anyhow.” He states that the “great men of our town, some time ago, organized a fire trust. They required that peeple in our city should: buiid of brick or get out. I ornamented my property with a lot of mortgages, as aresult. If IL get the office I will be able to remove these ornaments.” Recentiy a member im one of ths: Northwestern states was confronted: with a vigorous posioflice contest in one of the small towns of his district. The salary. was insignificant, but two rival storekeepers: were anxious to have the office. The partisans: of the candidates ex- pressed themselves in. a very deter- mined manner, and predicted a dismal political future for the member if he did not select their particular man. The member was a master mind, how- ever, and settled the contest by ap- pointing the village blacksmith. tt Representative MvCleary will have charge of one of: the mest important appropriation bills et this session. He is so placed on the committee on appro- priations that he will be designated as chairman of the subcommittee having ir charge the District of Columbia bill, which carries with it provision for the care and maintenance of local and mu- nicipal institutions in Washington. Mr. McCleary will ‘hus come in contact with the leading men of Washington and all of her city officials. The Second d'strict member said 1e- cently. that he would o) pose the ratif cation by congress of: the treaty with the Pipestone Indians, whereby $100,000 is named as compensation for the Pipe- stone reservation, in Southwestera Min- nesota. “T hold,” said Mr. MeCleary, "that this reservation already. belongs to the United States, and the title is good. It would be unwise to pay this sum, or any other; fer the tract. A few years ago the Indians-wanted a zeund $250,000 for it.” ee Joseph. W. Bailey, Jr., the eleven- year-old son of the junior senator from Texas, former leader of the house and defender of the constitution, some time ago developed a strong partisan opposi- tion to. his schoolmate, Archibald Roosevelt, son of’ the president. From partisanship, based on. divergent politi- cal views, personal antagonism sprang up. Both boys attended the Force ‘School, a. public institution on Massa- chusetts:avenue: Young Joe came home from school one day, and denounced Archibald as:‘‘a bad) boy.” “Do you: know what that Archibald Roaseveit does?” he said. “He fights. He wants: to fight every boy in school. I. thought I heard him swear, too. I ran against. him, going through the door to-day. I didn’t mean to do it; but do youiknow what he did? He doubled up his fist and’ knocked me down. I never did see such a fighter.” sae Senatens Kittridge and Gamble de- sire increased facilities for the indus~ trial bnanches of the Indian schoois: at Hope-and Rapid City, S. D. They were assured by Commissioner Jones that he | would, recommend that adequate funds be made available for the purpose. An- other matter diseussed with the com- missioner was the equipment of the Canton Indian asylum. It is regarded as desirable that this institution should be enjarged, but no action will be taken by Commissioner Jones until he has re- ceived a report from Supt. Gifford as to what is necessary in the way of equip- ment, additional buildings and the sum that will be necessary to maintain the institution. An estimate of $12,000 for |maintenance hes been submitted to corgress, but it is believed this amount | will not be sufficient it the imstitution is enlarged. ~++ Representative Burke is preparing two bills affecting Indian lands in South Dakota, which he will offer next week. One of them provides, in case. commutation of lands formerly includ- ed in the Sioux reservation, that the price shell be the same as is now fixed by law opening these lands for settle- ment. This means that settlers on the Sioux reservation will not be required to pay more than 50 cents an acre for their lands. Under the present rule of the land office settlers are required to pay $1.25 per acre. Under existing reg- ulations, the fees and commissions are based upon the price of the lands, This hes resulted in diminished receipts at several land offices in the various states, notably in South Dakota. This biN will apply to lands in: