Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, June 28, 1902, Page 9

OMAHA DAILY BEE: SATURDAY, JUNE 28, 1902 On the Straight BY MARY ANGELA Tide,” “Some W DICKENS n's Ways, Author o On (Copyright, 152, by 8. 8. McClure Co.) Gladys Shorter in the far ner of a Walham Green omnibus, was sur veylng the world with a vague little smile born of consciousness of being really well dressed. She had on all her best clothes, and were nearly mew. Her jacket | was last year's certainly, and i it had not been for her mother's stringent representa- tions she would have “managed” without | it, In #pite of the fact that it was a chilly | October ovening. However, worn open to| display her lace tie and pearl necklace, it did not interfere so very much with the | general effect, and her hat, in Gladys’ opin- fon, made amends for everything. It was | quite the most fashionable shape, and It | sulted her remarkably well 8She had succeeded in putting it on at just the right angle, and every woman knows that this is a feat mot aiways to be accomplished. And the arrangement of her vell left nothing to be desired It was a pretty little face behind vell, a little powdery this but that Gladys' eyes was quite “the thing.” The outline was very soft and &irlish. There was not much depth in the big brown eyes, though they were quick and bright as are the eyes of most of ths girls who work for their bread day after day. Her whole expression, indeed, was chfefly remarkable for a certain simple elation. 1t was about 7 seated cor ey the moment, o'clock on a Saturday evening; the omnibus was nearly empty and it proceedcd on its way with an un- hurrylng rumble. Gladys took not the faintest interest in the route—had she mot already traversed it twice that day, and did she not traverse it twice every das of ber life on her way to the city off where she worked as a typewriting clerk? Bhe was gazisg placidly into vacancy, her mind engaged in a serles of mild meander- ings which she would have characterized as “thinking,” when a halt on the part of the omnibus was followed by the en- trance of a stout woman who sat down Beavily beside her. “Lor’, Gladys!" observed the newcomer, “how are you, my dear? Where are you off at this time in the evening?" Two pretty dimples made their appear- ance In Gla cheeks “Why, Mrs. Masters,” she sald, “who'd have thought of seeing you? O, me? I'm going down to Drury Lane theater.” The elder woman nolded knowingly, and Rer eyes took In all the detalls of Gladys' appearance. “My! Aren't you smart, too! moet Mr. Loftie, I suppose?” Gladys nodded and simpered a little girl- tshly and innocently. “He llkes to go to the theater now and then of a Saturday evening,'” she sald. And it was quite obvious that In Gladys' eyes while “he” entertalned such sentiments towards the drama, the drama might safely hold up its head. The elder woman nodded respectfully. dolng very well, I'm told, Is Mr. she sald. “You're a very lucky | girl, Gladys, my dear. Gladys giggled. She did this because the vocabulary at her command 4ii not allow D iny adequate expression of her feelinga. “His firm’'s in the tea trade, same as yours, isn't it inquired Mrs. Masters, genlally. “That seems funny, now, don't nr ““Well, I don’t know about that,” Gladys sald. . “It was through his coming In and out to us that we got acqualnted, don't you see?” 'And when's the wedding likely to be? ¥Mr. Loftte~swell, you see, e says he's got enough’—~Iits touch of tender pride made even the little high-pitched volce pretty to hear—"and he doesn't see why we should walt. And—and I shouldn't wonder if it ‘was to be somewhere about the sprin Mrs. Masters patted the girl's arm ap- provingly. ad I'm sure I'm glad to hear it, my dear,” she sald “Your mother'll miss you, though, Gladye, that she will. The bright brown eyes softened for a moment, but Gladys was an eminently prac- tieal lMttle person. “She's got the lodgers to think of," sald the girl, “and I ehall be In and out a good bit. We don't mean to settle more than five minutes’ walk away. Getting out here, are you, Mrs. Masters? Good evening. Mrs. Masters’ parting benedictions were ruthlessly cut short by the conductor’s in- junction to her to ‘‘come along, mum, please,”” and Gladys relapsed into that state of unemotional eatisfaction from which Mrs. Masters had roused her. She stopped the omnibus with a business-like briskness ‘when she reached her destination and got out, feeling her hat and vell anxlously to make sure that all was still as it should be. Then she turned and went up a side street, hurrying her quick, short steps as she became aware of a man's figure waiting at the farther corner. “0, Alf!" she sald breathlessly, “you're never going to tell me I'm late? Mr. Alfred Loftie lifted his hat with an alr which he considered equal to anything which could be seen at the most fashicnable hour in the park. In doing so he displayed & very curly head of light hair and a fair complexioned face. He bad been “‘dolng for Bbimself"—and in the opinion of his friends and relations doing remarkably well for bimself—ever eince he was 15. And now &t two and twenty he had the keen eyes of & man of business {n curious conjunction with cheeks which had not yet lost the roundness and fullness of youth. He was dressed, according to his lights, as care- fully was Gladys. Mr, Alfred Loftie had risen by force of shrewd intelligence and fodomitable energy and Push to be head | elerk in a firm of tea shippers, and he had Bo smell opinion of himself. The interests of the business were his own Interests, since Be meant to be a partner therein be- | fore he was many years older. Having repliced his nat be extended two fingers to Gladys with an air of the highest fashion and & cheerful grin. 'Well, if you say so [ suppose I'm not,” be said with a facetiousness of tone which in the society in which Loftie was & shining lght made up for any lack of verbal humor “It's not for me to contradict a lady, is it?" ‘0, but Alf, dear, I'm not late—not really. 1 can't be! I started ever so punctually Loftie’s boyish couutenance, which had assumed an expression of {njured indigna- tion, relaxed into & broad smile, and he laughed triumphantly e you a turp, thoug! Golog to didn't 1?7 he sald “Come Q!" he added, slipping his hand through her arm and turning in the direc- tion of the theater. I want te get & good place. They say this is a firet-rate show." The play was a melodrama of the most thrilling description and in the short in- | terval between the first and second acts | Gladys. pink-cheeked and bright-eyed with excitement, was voluble on the subject of the herv's wrongs and the herolme's frock snd demanded a full explasation from Loftie—who was more than willlng to lay down the law—as to the possibilities con- ted with the machinations set oa foot by the villain. Perhaps the second act wa Dot quite so deeply interesting; at apy rate Loftie let the discussion of its merits drop before the curtain rose again and sat for & moment meditatively studying the pro- sram. Then he sald, casually “Buey at your place just now, Gladys®" adys nodded. She was eating & choco- late cream, which iuterfered with epuech for the moment, | A | ness. ¢ “Prisoners of Stlence. st n Preciplce,” ete., “Against et the That's a big consignment you've just got from Ceylon, isn't it? Gladys shook the bag of chocolates and peered interestedly into its depths. She was wondering what kind she liked best Is 1t?" she said, indifferently. “I don't know, Alf, I'm sure. Have a choc. Loftie put his hand Into the bag she held out to him snd drew out a chocolate Thea he looked at it as though he were not quite sure what it was meant for. “Making an offer to Clarkson's?" he sald The excessive careleseness of his tone might have appeared a trifle unnatural to any ome whose perceptions were not con- centrated on chocolate creams, but Gladys only thought that it was rather “slow” of him to talk business ““Yes,” she sald. “I typed the letter this | morning. “Ob, you did, did you?™ “What are you offering them?" Gladys tossed her head coquettishly sald Loftie She HE FELT HER START SUDDENLY AS HE too good a playgoer to press the question at the moment. It he could have seen Gladys' face, she looked stralght before her with con tracted br and startled eyes, he would have known that she was hardly aware that the curtain had arisen. But the in- terest of that third act was positive breathless and Loftie was soon so absorbed it that he completely forgot hls com- When little murmurs of horror or ration broke from the never realized that Gladys, usually so ready with gasps and ejaculations of emotion added no quota to the gencral sound. And when the curtain a wholly waex- pected situation amid the applause of t touse he d4id not notice, even when he turned to her, clapping vehemently while, that Gladys was quite uamoved and even distralt in expression “Well, that was as good a thing as 1" seen for a long time!” sald Loftle, en- thusiastically, as soon as speech was pos- sible. “It was splendid,” returned GYadys, vaguely. Then she added hurriedly: “Alf dear, you don't really want me to tell you about that tender, do you?" The bo; enthuslasm ish taded ot 54UFPED SHORT, LETTING HER SENTENCE DIE AWAY ON HER LIPS, was & trifle thrown off her balance with excitement. “How tiresome you are all of a sudden,” she said. “I didn’t come here to falk about that stupid old office. Say something more lvely. ‘1l be lively,” sald Loftle, putting the chocolate into his mouth as earnest of his words, “If you'll just answer my question, Gladys.” “I don't know what your question was,” she sald wiltully. ladye, don't be silly! terms your people are offering Clarkson Perhaps his peremptory tone acted as an irritant on the girl's excited nerves. She lifted her little pointed chin in the air and turned her shoulder toward him. “I shan’t tell you anything at all, If you speak to me like that,” she sald. “So there! flly, indeed! It's you that's silly, 1 Just tell me the He resented her rebellion now with a promptitude which characterized all his actions. “Why, whatever's come over you, Gladys? Flylng out itke that just because I want to bave a little rational conversation! Catch me bringing you to the theater again, that's Al You can please yourself about that, I'm entence lssued shortly from the averted profile, and a dead silence fell upon the pair. Quite thirty seconds must have passed, during which the young man and the young woman coctemplated opposite sides of the auditorium in silence. Then a flush crept over Gladys' face, and she stole a glance out of the corners of her eyes in Loftie's direc- tion. Perhaps he caught the glance. At any rate he had the sense to malintain and even to intensify the indignation of his ex- pression, and Gladys' color deepemed. An- other thirty seconds passed, and then a small voice, half injured and half appealing, No answer. Mr. ‘Alfred Loftie preserved a countenance of stone. “We were having such a nice evening, that | I'm not aware that it's my fault we're not having a nlce evening mow." “I'm sure I'm very sorry if it's my| fault,” said Gladys, with increasing meek- There was a tremble in her volce which caused Loftie to fofgét his resolu- tions and look hastily around. And as thelr eyes met she murmured “It wasn't kind of you to call me silly, | now, was it?" i | Loftie moved a little nearer to her and | their hands met in reassuring clasp, which | was not in the least hindered by the publicity of thelr position | “I am given to being a bit_nasty now and then, Gladys, and you mustn’t take any | notice of it “Aud we won't have any more words, will we?" she whispered.. “I—I can't bear bav- ing words with you, Alf." | His response was uitered in an even lower key, and some mioutes had passed during which the convegsation was carried on in undertones before he said, jocosely “And pow, just to show it's all biowd over, you might answey my question “About the tender?’ she sald. Ok, yes. of course, Alf. ‘e're offering’'— His nd was drawn through her arm | snd be felt ber start suddenly wus she stopped short, letting her sentence die away o0 ber lps. The curtain rose at the same | moment and he thought it was this which | had distracted her attentipp, “Go on,” he whispered, “But sbe made 8o apewer and Lofile was [low words asd she did ngt Loftie’s face and his expression became un- usually keen and businesslike. “You bet I do,” he sald Gladys.” The trouble in grew deeper ‘I'm afraid 1 ean't tell you,” she faltered “You see, we're—we're not supposed to talk about what goes on in the office.” “Ot course, you're mot” he answered promptly. “But that's got nothing to do with your telling me, Gladys. for wanting to know, don't you see?” “And I want to tell you,” she said, des perately. “Bspecially since we've - had words about it. But it came Into my head all of a sudden that they sald when they engaged me, of course, I wasn't to talk about what went on inside outside, and I sald I wouldn't."” The outline of Loftie’s chin and jaw took a singularly obstinate expression. “Now, look here, Gladys,” he sald, sinking his voice. “I see what you mean, of course. It it should come out that you spoke about this, you think you'd lose your post. But if It should—well, it's worth losing your post for. There was a pathetic expression of per- plexity in the brown eyes that regarded him so fixedly. “Ill tell you fust how it 1s,” he said, lowering bis volce 8o that not a word could reach even their nearest neighbors, “we've got & big consignment from Ceylon, too. We're tendering to Clarkscn's, and if we should get the contract through a tip from me—why, 1'd just about make me. Now, we don’t want to put it too low, because it doesn't look well, and, besides, where are your profits? But If I knew what your people were golng—why, there you are, don't you see?” “You mean you'd just modersell them?" sald Gladys, in a frightened whisper. “That's it,"” he said, trlumphantly. we could get married at Christmas." But Gladys clasped her hands tightly and shook her head ‘I can't, Alf," she said thing seemed to rise in choke her Yoa can't? What's to prevent you?" “Why, you see—it's what I know as their elerk—and you'd—you'd—you'd get the con- tract instead of them. And it 'ud be some- how—oh,"AM, don’t lock like that—Itke me ~—me robbing them! “Well, I'm jiggered!"” The words came from Lottie slowly and “Go ahead, Gladys' eyes “And And some- her throat and | welghtlly as he sat staring at the little figure beside bim as biankly as though it bad suddenly changed its shape before his very eyes “If any one had told me that you could talk such rubbish as that, Gladys, I shouldn't have belleved them,” he sald His words were none the less emphatie for the undertone in which they were spoken “That's what comes of girls getting taken on as clerks. They get talking of things | they don’'t know anything about, and pretty nopsenge they make of it. indeed! Why an’t you gee it's & matter of business? They tender and we tender. and that's all about it “It tsu't & matter of business if I've sald what they think I shan't say" said Gladys Her Itps were quiverfog as 'she uttered the look up. *1I can't put it right, I—I'm no good at ex- pluining things—but 1 know somebow that it wouldn't be fair.” Upon my blessed wurd ejaculated Lofue. The novelty of her opposition, and stlll more the wholly unexpected nature of Robbing them, . her views, absolutely took his breath aw Then, \ 45 resentment al being thWarted { rowded pit he | the | I've a reason | grappled with amazement, the color mounted to his face. You don't seem to notice paying me a poor compliment, If you can't put trust in I tell you a thing's right that you ever sald you'd you understand that I these things than you ‘Yes, of ehe sald, catching eagerly and piteously at a chance of pro- pitiating him. “Of course you know better about everything, Alf, dear.” “Well, then, do as I tell angrily. Gladys lifted a finitely perplexed tace. “Oh don said. “If a person thin why then it's wrong fo But opposition that you're he said my word whea | why it's & pity have me. Can't { know more about | 107" course he sald you | of beseeching. but resolu in eyes to his | pair Al, dear, n't ask me,” she | s a thing's wrong to do 1t." Loftie's was not a femper that bore | The band was playing a selec- tion from a comic opera—a selection which Gladys recalled with detestation Jong aft its brief career on the hand organs was over, and during the instant in which a roll of drums made epeech Impossible she saw his face harden and whiten with anger. | As soon as he could make himselt heard he spoke Now, uee look here talking like you and I do ask you me it's ail off between us—so now! A flood of crimson ¢ r Glady's poor little face and leaving it very pale. But piteously “Oh, Alf. don't say that!" “It's your own doing," grimly They had neither of the curtain had gone and thelr whispered hushed into silence by their neighbors. They brilliantly lighted stage tell agaln, and then Loftie ically. He led the way tollowed by Gladys, the street, he said “Are you going to tell me?" But Gladys only shook her head Gladys never knew very well how she | got home that night. She was only quite | sure that Loftle did not go with her. She told her mother that she had “the head- ache awfully bad” and burying her face in the pillow as soon as might be she pre- tended to go to sleep. It was not till the the high tide of her updn Gladys “I couldn't help It,”* she said to herself, as full realization came ‘upon her. “I couldn’t help it. But, oh, T do wish I was dead!” Gladye,” he said, “it's that. 1 have asked and If you won't tell no ed over away sald | eb she only he ret 'rnol: 'hfiv‘ e, | them on the last words were suddenly complaints of | looking at the | | the curtain rose mechan- | through the crowd, | and as they got into next morning that unhappiness broke | sharp Mrs. Shorter's keen perceptions early told her that Gladys' headache was only to be | accounted for by “something wrong with her and Alf." Being a woman of much | discretion, she did not press her daughter for her confidence, but left her in bed, a luxury which Sunday morning alone per- | mitted her, and brought her the only balm | she could offer, in the shape of a eup of | tea. And in bed Gladys lay and ery il | she could cry mo more. | She got up eventually and wandered down’ | to the little sitting room in the basement —a disconsolate and disheveled little figure And when the time came for ‘“evening! church”—Mrs. Shorter's one weekly dissi- | pation—that worthy woman was in twenty | minds at once as to whether or no her | 1aughter would “‘take it kind" if she stayed at home with her. Finally she decided that | Gladys “didn’t want any notice took,” and proceeded to array herself in her Sunday clothes. “She doesn’t expect youdg Loftle, that's sertain,” Mrs. Shorter said to herself as she proceeded along the 'passage to the street door; “she'd have ¢lirfed her hair if she had, whatever there's been between them. Now, I do hope and, trust—" She opened the street door at this point and her ruminations were cut suddenly short. For there on the doorstep stood “young Lottie” himsel. “Oh, good evening, Mrs sald, nervously. “I—I w ring at the bell. “Good evening, Alfred’ returned Mrs. Shorter, graciously, though ehe felt a pang for her daughter as she thought of the un- | curled halr. “You'll excuse me being on | my way to church, won't you? Gladys is | downstairs in the sitting room, but she's | not well.” “May I go down,” sald Loftle. | “You know your way,” said Mre. Shorter. | Gladys, downstairs, heard the front door shut and she rested her face on a hard sofa | cushion and began to cry again. Then sud- | denly she heard a step on the kitchen | | stairs—a step that ehe knew. She lifted her head and looked round at the door, a ple- | ture of blank, frightened amazement. The | steps came slowly on and at last the door was pushed open and Loftie stood there. But it was quite a different Loftle from the angry, aggressive, determined young man from whom she had parted on the previous night. This Loftle was deprecat- | ing in expression and shame-faced in man- | He swore softly under his breath, as w her face “I—I suppose you won't care for me to come in," be said. But Gladys ~ould not speak. “I just wanted to say,” continued Loftle, coming & few steps into the room in spite | of his first words, “that Fm quite aware | that I've acted like a brute. I didn't see it no more than the blind when you put it to me last night. You, being so steady, it set me thinking, and by and by I saw it as plain as—as anything. You were right about its not being op the straight— what I asked you. And | humbly beg your pardon. Gladys, I suppose it's no good ask- ing you to—to leok over it? You couldn't —take me on agaln, could you?" They were married in the spring, after all, and long before that time the episode bad nearly faded from Gladys' mind save as e vague and terrible dream. Even to Lottle it gradually became only a dim memory. In all unconsclousness she had stood between him and the first steps from the paths of uprightness. And her fnflu- ence, though neither of them ever again realized that such a factor existed in their lives, kept him “on the straight”. to the end Shorter,” he Just golng to Insure your nealth in Prickly Ash Bit- ters. It regulates the system, promotes | good appetite, sound sleep and cheerful spirits. GAVE ROOSEVELT A WHIRL. Experience with n Longshoreman While Governor of New York. President Roosevelt, it 1s sald, is much interested in the demonstrations of the scl ence of Japanese wrestling which have been glven at the capital for some months by a American athlete recently returned from the Orient. This recalls the fact, relates the Saturday Evening Post, while serving as governor of the state of New York, the zews came out of Albany that he was ha ing a daily bout at the executive mansion with an athletic Instructor. These bouts came to & sudden end, but why has mever been told, because the interesting story is known to & very few The man who gave Governor Roosevelt his dally wrestle was called away to New Orleans. The governor was not inelined to give up his wrestling, which bad dope him | a great deal of good, and so he asked the “‘professor” If he could mot And a substi tute. The instructor seat vo & brawny Irish longshoreman, to whem he had taught the “selence,” and recommended him to the governor's consideratton. At the usual hour the next day the mat Was spread om the top foor of the gov- | thetr | which soldiers are made. T ernor's mansion, and Mr. Roosevelt and the | longshoreman went it. Unfortunately, | the longshoreman had not been trained in of seif-control, and, Inatead of the 1 scientific resistance which the professor’ had offered; he went at the governor flercely. In an lnstant Mr. Roosevelt's blood was up, and for about twenty min. utes there was a fine exhibition of wres- tling | Finally, however, the big longshoreman's brawn, coupled with the acience imparted to him by “professor.” told, and told disastrously. The governor was flung ylo- ly. The crash almost shook the rafters In an fustant Mr. Roosevelt was on his | again, ready to go ahead. Suddenly he twinge pain ia his right side With much reluctance he conc d that perhaps he had enough for one day The pain in his side grew after he had e more donned his ordinary attire, and toward nightfall a doctor was sent for. An examination disclosed the fact that three ribs had been broken, and further wrestiing | was strictly forbldden. fighting worse AN UNRECOGNIZED HEROINE. Girl Who Carried Her Father. Story of a Wee Luncheon to Tucked in among the secondary press di patches the other day and thrown nto shadow by the marratives of the worl great happenings for twenty-four hours, re- ports the Washington Post, was a modeat | et tory wlich may not obtain the notice t deserves. We are very apt to prate, in our age of many interests, about the ex- | cell of doing one's duty even though | no fame attaches to the performance, but the illustratite cases come and go before our eyes every day without our notiding their peculiar character and drawing our lessor. from them This story was of a wee bit of a girl in an out-of-the-way village, who was sent one morning to carry his luncheop to her | { er, at work at a stone quarry at some ance from his home. Not findiag him | there, it occurred to her that he was prob- ably working somewhere farther along the road, so she pushed on. The road was rough and she barefooted and the | gravel cut her feet. Still, she had to find her father and she did not wish him to go hungry a minute longer than | necessary, so she trudged along, looking to the right and left, but seeing nothing of | him. The noon sun beat down upon her, | but she rested not. The afternoon ad- vanced, the sun sank, the dusk crept over everything and her poor little feet, weary and blistered, almost refused to carry her farther, but she was not discouraged Night came. She had entcred a town she Qid not know, miles and miles away from Fome. The few persons the met in the highway were strangers to her and most of ttem gave no more than a passing glance | to the barefoot, dust-stained child with her father’s dinner pall on her arm. If they considered her at all they doubtless assumed that she was a member of one of the poor families in the nelghborhood and doing some errand for her parents. | Poesibly there was added to this a virtuous comment or two on the willingness of peo- nee was set out | ple”of thelr class to let so small a midget | prowl about the streets after nightfall when she ought to be getting ready for bed under the eyes of her mother. But one stranger gave her more of his thought than this. Perhaps he was one of those kind-hearted adults to whom all chilaren are as their own. At all events, he stopped and questioned her and drew | forth her story. Then, doubtless through bis agency, the long-sought father turned up and carried his little one home. She was ready to drop down with weariness when she was found and had had no food eince early morning, but when asked why she did not take something to eat from the pail on her arm she opened wide her baby eyes and exclaimed with surprise, “Why, that was papa’s dinner!” We do ot know how the child was re- | ceived when she crossed the parental thres- hold on her return. Was she caught to | mother's heart and kissed and hugged and her wounded feet bathed and bound u Was she put to bed with tender endear- ments and told as well as the imoerfect | | words of father and mother could tell her how glad was her welcome home? Or w she treated to the fate which well-mean- ing, but short-sighted, parents décree for | children who, however unwittingly, have given them a fright? Rowan carried a message to Garcla under conditions which will make him an his- toric figure, yet it was only under another form the same indomitable purpose which moved this little girl to continue her search for her father In spite of hunger and fatigue and paln. In romance Dum: has given us the picture of the old servant who guarded through poverty and danger the treasure he was bound to preserve in- tact for the absent heir. Is the picture of this chubby-cheeked mite any less ro- mantie, foregoing food herself because the contents of her pail was sacred to her father? In ber own diminutive way this little girl was a hero. Many an older per- son might well sit at her feet and le the lesson of duty homestly done for f own sake. She has in her the stuff of It she were a boy some enterprising congressman would watch for a chance to send her to West Point and pride himself on having dis- covered a future general. Had she lived in Sparta she would have been marked by the state as a future mother of whose sons | great things were to be expected As it Is, she is only a poor little girl, who tried to do right without giving a thought to the incidents or consequences. We may pever hear of her again. But she deserves well. Good luck to her! Pure and Delicious Nocereal, no meat, no vege- table, can alone and of-it- self equal the health giving qualities of combined fruits and grains. What one lacks the other supplies. California figs and prunes combined with selected grain by our special process makes a delicious Cereal Coffee, ‘rich in nutriment and pleasing to the taste. Ask Your Grocer for a Sample of ENGLISH e e o L . L T S 4 7 VA World verges from the animals that walk the earth to the animals that fly in the air, The last section [XII] of the first volume, prepares the way by tells ing of and picturing flying mice, flying squirrels, etc, The early sections of volume II, take up the following very interesting subjects: Section XIII. Ostriches Game Birds Pigeons Grouse Etc Every Bird Photographed Every Page Ilustrated. Section XIV Gulls Auks Plovers Cranes Penguins Herons Storks Section XV Swans Ducks Geese Birds of Prey Owls Etc. Every Animal Photographed Every Page IMustrated. Each Section 10 Cents. By Mail 15 Cents. 24 Sections in all. At the counting room of The Omaha Daily Bee, Omaha, Neb | e i