Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, January 2, 1903, Page 7

e RURAL DELIVERY GREAT HELP Makes Life oa the Farm Much More Desirable Than Formerly. BENEFITS ARE COMMERCIAL AS WELL Departm of Agricultare Collects Some Statements of Farmers on the Value of Rural Mail Delivery. 1 do not think that any development of fecent years, not excluding irrigation, the opening of vast tracts of country by trans- | sontinental raliroads, nor the extraordinary expansion of our foreign commerce, has done one-half so much for the farmer as rural freo delivery. The benefits of this service have been two-fold—first, soclal second, commercial 1 place the social advantages first because of thelr great importance. Just think of a farm house five miles or more away from the postoffice, with nothing to relleve the monotony of the daily life, with no news- papers, no magazines and no correspond- ence except when the ‘‘old man” finds It convenlent to ride to town. Think also of the necessary delay in his work that this ride to town involves, and the possible temptations of the village grocery store in which the postoffice is prcwatiy situated Bear aiso in mind the educating influence | upon him and his family of dafly newspa- pers received on the day of thelr lssue, and all the wholesome magazines which to- gether bring the country people Into active communication with the: affairs of the world. All these can reach him at an ex- pense of a dollar or two at the outset, and without any further assessment. His boya ean grow up with the knowledge of all that is going on in athietic sports and other matters in which boys take interest. His girls can obtain the latest fashions and &9 to church equipped in modest costumes | the Privilege of opening himself, devote a of city make. His wife heare the news of the world from which she has been hitherto shut out, and begins to fecl that she is not & lone “Mary Jane” out in the country, but that she knows something that she can talk about to her neighbors of the doings of peo- ple outside their own little community. Then the boys, instead of each of them growiug up as “own brother to tho ox,” with a hoe In his hand, begin to find that they can make themselves factors in the world. They learn from the newspapers that this great country is becoming prac- tically the granary of Europe, that the crops they help to till will be transported to other countries, where the soil is in. wufficlent to support the population, and that they are moving a great world center of clivilization, and are not mercly clod- hoppers upon thelr native farm lands. I belleve that in no movement of modern Hmes are there so great elements of prog- ress and fmprovement as in rural free de- ltvery. By bringing the city into close com- munication with the country you destroy the tendency of the farm boys to gravitate to the cities; you give them all the infor- mation they could obtain in the cities ex- cept such as it s not desirable for them to acquire; you enlist in them an active econcurrence in political life, and whether they grow up as democrats or republicans they are likely to do so upon a sound thinking basls born of information. That s what rural tree delivery !s doing In the educational sense. The Commercial Benefits, In the commercial sense it is achieving results even more apparent. Some time #go a distinguished democratic congress- m from Missouri stated to the depart- ment that one of his constituents was about to ship 100 head of fat stock to mar- ket when, by the rural carrier. he was in- tormed that the markets were glutted with fat stock at that time and that prices had dropped 1 cent or more a pound upon the hoof. He withheld his shipment for three days, and then prices recovered, and he cleared at least $10 on every head of cattle that he shipped. This, as he after- ward sald, would cnable him to pay the cost of rural free dellvery out of his own pocket it the government chose to with- draw it from him. In the value of farm lands there has been an increase of from 50 to 100 per cent in all districts where the rural free delivery serv- ice has been ‘established. Every kind of farming Industry is benefited by the rural free delivery service. Truck farmers know exactly what the prices are in the markets to which they ship their products. They are no longer at the mercy of their com- mission merchants; they know what the price of every commodity they ship was in the city to which they shipped it on the date of the shipment. In some of the west- ern states the valuc of farm lands has been nearly doubled by the introduction of the rural free delivery service. In polnt of fact the conditions in those states where rural free delivery has been most fully developed are such that the farmers scarcely know what to do with their surplus funds. They Bave paid off their mortgages, the banks do nmot want their money and they are simply investing in surplus lands, hoping for a continuance of the service and of the pros- perity it bas brought. Opinions of Farmers. Statements as to the beneficent effects of rural free delivery on the agricultural interest do not come to the Postoffice de- partment alone. The Department of Agri- culture some time ago sent out circulars king farmers for thelr dispassionate opinion, In all the hundreds of replies re- celved only two were adverse, and they were almost as ludicrous as which this office received from an old In- diana farmer, who wrote: “We wani to go to town once in & while, Mr. Postmaster General. I've got a good horse, but when I hitch up and say 1 am going to the postoffice to see if there is any mail, Maria says, ‘You needn’t go, John, the postman has brought the let- ters. Among the answers that have been re- celved by the Agricultural department a farmer {n Delavan, lil., writes: In November I sold 3,000 bushels of corn; there was a difference of 3 cents a bushel between the highest and lowest bld of six elevators that are located within five miles of me. I consider a farm on a rural mail route worth 50 per cent more than a fafm that is not.” Another In Kansas says: “Perhaps the greatest advantage is In knowing the market prices each day. The buyers e use Kansas City markets a: a basis for buying, and the farmers can be, and some of them are, just as well & formed as sayome. I lkaow of two that made the price of their daily paper on one load of hogs each.” A farmer in Oregon states “Before free delivery was started there Ask your jeweler for GORHAM SILVER POLISH It cleans as well as polishes et ""'.:‘."‘ a5 cents & package the reply | were thirteen dally papers taken at Tur- THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: FRIDAY, JANUARY 2, 1903. own chance did not serve. Her deolsion came & thought too late. So that in falling the horse struck her and t hier down They picked Mary up and took her home | and for weeks ehe lay at death's door, Day and night Jessie stood against the door, | striving to keep it shut; while Hannah and James and George watched constant, they asking God to be merciful. God was merci ful. Slowly Mary came back to some shadow of her old self: then kissed Jessio and smiled upon George, and all was we again And (he rest? Well, Jessia is ma happily. Hannah is dead. James is & ing feeble. Mary can never be quite st eorge. chastened now and repes fves in hobe that wome day she may be the old Mary, strong. glad, trustful=‘th one woman in the world.' | What boltews ot often, but never when Dr. Discovery for Consumption la colds and grips. 506, $1. uhn & Co. MET A FAIR UNKNOWN Paeumonia King's New 1sed. It cures | For sale by Adventure Had n Most |Young Lawyer Startling Finale, The other night," said a young Tawyer, quoted by the Washington Post, 1 had the most strenfously exciting cxperience 1 have ever encountered, and even now I feel as exhausted as though 1 had lost & hard fought case. 1t was shortly after & o'clock, and 1 had just reached the club, when right out here at the curd od, ap- varently waiting for some one, the swellest sort of a team. At my appearance down sprang the footman ynd explained to mo that a lady inside the carriage wished to speak to me, and procecded o open the door. Then my eyes beheld the most beau- tiful vision 1 have ever seen. She was a girl of not more than 20, with clear, rosy complexion, dark oyes that you could fm- agine teasing you, first leading you on, vhen throwing you over, but at all times beau- [ titul. Her hair was coal black and dressod In a foreign way, with tortolse shell combs. Her countenance had a Florentine mold, and when I met those beautitul dark eyes in response to my Low I thought her charming and her manner perfect. She had get used to it—never, never in this lfe." (he chase doubt in the old hearty way? ner postoffice. Today there are 113. This I he sisters And she wept at the change | “Msey, Genn, Mive Wit ONFL, Yeu're (Be shows that the farmers are getting in In a while, however, her tears dried: | one woman in the world. Ab, don't be wor touch with the world and are quick to and presently, the wonders of the box be- | rying your solemn head. I'm just the same | avail themselves of all educational facili- By SHAN F. BULLOCK, ing exhausted, it came to her that Mary | —only better. There now, kiss me an ties. With the geceral extension of rural Author of “The Barrys,” “By Thrasna River,” otc, etc was also changed. Her volce was eofter, | away to your bed an' be expectin’ me soon mail delivery there will be less talk about | (Copyright, 192, by Sban F. Bullock.) her laugh happler; she looked younger, and | Aad Mary would kiss him; then stand lxn» monotony of farm life. The only wb- :r t eyes ~’n< ne strang What had hap- | happy at the gate, looking at the stars Jectors are small retallers of merchandise . pened? Of a sudden she sat back on her | listening to his whistle, thinking of the |and dealers in liquors and tobaceo. It . ,oreuss. But now Again George paused; | ), folded hands, and looked Mary in |days that were comMmg, | may injure the business of the latter since | The name of one was Mary, of the other | agaln rushed his words But now I'm | po face | many farmers do not drink or smoke only | Jessle, and they were sisters. Mary was | come, Mr. Greig, to ask your leave t0 Pay | Mary'* she sald, “what's come ovet| ; when they go to the village, and their | the elder by nearly five years; Jessie, -hrn"""‘ o g e 1y W has happened? One would v families get the bemefit in more reading | first we see her, was aged 19; between| It was out at last; and, belng out,|ipix ¢ you some one had died an’ left| On & day in October—a laggard day of matter." | them were two brothers, of whom one had | George eat upright, his eyes hard on James' | yo\ 4 Jogacy. What is it? Irish summer, calm and beautiful—Mary From a cattle ralser in Nebraska (his | 80De to America, the other to serve his|face. James nodded. sat back In his chair | " \ary laughed; her Il and a flush | and Jessie and George went off for a drive 1eply was received | apprenticeship In a shop In Clogheen, and lo:akod at the ‘rvflllnx I know,” he | roq her face Not Jossle,” she | together. Down the Burn road they went Liviog nine wiles from the postoffice, | James, their father, a florid, bearded man | fald. “Aye, I know." He looked at George. | ypgwered. “Oh, nothin past Armoy and Gorteen, turned at L |only getting our mail once or twice a{Of 50 or thereabouis, slow-moving, indus- | “It's my girl Mary ye mean, I suppose?™ | .pyt there s somethin’. Tell me quick. [ more crossways, and skirting the wilds of week, then to have a mail route so you | trlous, of Scotch descent, owned a farm on | he askeg . - | Lock at you blushin' there like a | Ardhill came at last to the mountain and can take a daily, is a blessing that a few | the outskirts of Armoy, within sight of Tt 48, answered George. “I'm hearin’ | with 4 rush J ose, stooped over Mary | began its ascent. Half way up the rugged | years ago was not dreamed of. Other cat- | Emo; Hannah, thelr mother, was a tall, | that's her name 2 with a hand on shoulder. “I know,” | path left horsc and car at a tarm- | tle feeders as well as myselt have driven | S8llow woman, Irish born and bred, weak | “To be sure” eald James. “Why, to be | gho cried. “You're in love. Look at me, | house olled on foot to the summit bundreds of miles for reports of stock | I health, keen of face and mind, worn, old | sure now. Am I right in sayin' that so far ' mies; Jook up an' tell me | Jessie flowed with good spirits, mischie markets that we now get dally.” and weary in constant household services. | You've no more than seen her | Mary looked up: she amswered nothing, | ve as a Kitten, lithe and beautiful as a | The influence of the rural free delivery | All day long James tramped the fields, tofl- We passed a word at the door & while | by her eyes told. Slowly Jessie swayed | fawn—fascinating in her sweet youth and service in the promotion of the movement | INE, contriving, his heart buried in them; 480" answere George. ‘“Yes, wo dld. I|per (o fro; gravely stood ehaking her | desirable. Geo too, wae on the helehts for the establishment of good roads is one | 48¥ and night Hannah padded through the : had half a mind to—but I didn't. No, I|own wise head from side to side. *You|of glory—perhaps higher than the helghts | of the most beneficent features in its ad- | bouse from room to room, cleaning, dust- | Just waited for a word with yourself | cruel, eruel girl” she said; “never to tell | gay, manful, he Even Mary felt car | ministration. The files of the department | INE. ordering, and their lives were hard. T know. Aye. Aw, to be sure.” James|pmo gng word! To think of it; (o think of | ri t of herself, bright and glaa, her full contain hundreds of cases where roads| But they did not complain, indeed had ; sat considering, a hljnrl tapping the crown | oomin' home to this! 1 could shake you, | heart overflowing its happiness upon her have been improved, bridges built ana |Small cause of complaint. They had "“"“‘h";' Lo .'.""f'l]"?," ';:‘"; smile playing on his for a sly, designin’ minx. I could—"" | face. But the way was long, her strength | streams, hitherto impassable, made ford- |Of the world's goods and to spare. James | face. ool oo oo g b .y sprang away and cut a fllng across the | failed at last: o on the mountain top she | able as a condition of the establishment | Was reputed & “warm” man, with money in | 87, Mr. Hand, it's curlous, an’ it's sudden: | oo, clappiug hands and capering. “Hur- | sat down among (he heather to rest 1 of rural free delivery service. This road | the bank, and his reputation through the Dut—" It was his turn to hesitate. “Oh, | rant A weddin' in the famfly! An' I'll be | the others wandered away improvement will go on until every habit- | cOuntryside was sound. Hannah held a lit- | It't your own businees; I'm of opinion. It lesmald, an’ I'll wear white muslin After awhile, she having recovered abla, portion of the United States will be | t1e money in her own right and her stock wufgv you're sure o' yourself, an ¥ ck in a whirl she came and dropped on ngth, and taken deep of the day's | covered by a daily mail service. of housshold gear—of china, glass, ma- | “I'm certain sure™ sald George. “Her|pop knees before Mary. ““But who is he? | bounty, Mary rose and idly went through R. J. WYNNE. hogany chairs and tables, feather beds and | face s burnt in me. I've seen it day an'|g.p, cpien Where does he.come from?|the heather, elowly, haprily, just eeeing | bleached linen—was matchless in Armoy. | BIght ever since. First sight of it under|yy, | know him? What is he like? Tell |and admiring. The alr was wonderful; a THE BUSINESS MAN'S DAY It was good to go with James across his | that blg hat, an’ it so pale and’ tired Itke | p\, o)) quick or I'll just dle,” crled | great peace brooded beneath the sun. No bountiful fields; pleasant to come back to | t00k the heart In me. Am, I'm cer Jessie, in her old impetuous way, Dublin |one was In sight. The world scemed Present Conditioms Compared with | the cosy homestead, standing cosily on the | Sure | and its wonders now flung aside; “tell me, | empty. Full of gladn, Mary sauntered These of Twenty Years Age. | high river bank, warm with good thatch.! “I know." James nodded his full under- | tell me," she cried; nor drew calm breath along; all suddenly stopped quick at sight 7 You found there that Ulster hospitality | standing. “An’ you'd be wighful to try|(ill Mary, as best she might, had told her | of Jessie and George seated in a hollow Twenty years ago, says the St. Louls | was worth while; knew then, once for all, | your arts upon her? |all. Then sinking back on the focor, she | that lay within a clump of firs Republic, the St. Louls business man would | why James and Hannah were respected | ‘‘With your good leave, sir.” | clasped her knees with her hauds and sat| They were close together; Jessie leaning rise very early, ride down town in a bob- | through half a county and their daughters| *An’ you'd mean well, an' you'd do well | jooking at Mary, head on one side and { against a stump. hands smoothing a ribbon tall car, consuming nearly an hour to |discussed round many a hearth. by her, if so be—"" critical. |in her hat and eyes bent upon them “come | from Grand avenue, enter his They were as unlike in every way as sis- “Mr. Grelg," sald George, “I'm a man “Mrs. George Hand," she said. “Well, | George lying beside , resting on nn el office, take up his mail, which he enjoyed | ters could be. Mary was tall and strong, | ye can trust. I mean well an’ I'll do well. | the name will become you, Mary; an' mar- | bow, feet crossed and his eyes on her face pale, with a broad brow and deep hazel |Just as I am your daughter'll sce me.|ryin' will suit you; an'—an' I'm glad as|They were not speaking. A score of timos large part of the day to answering it with | eyes; Jessie was slim and fair, with rosy | She can judge for herself. I'll come open- | glad." o kissed Mary: then ‘sighed and | had Mary scen them side by side and given hiz own pen, walk about the store, inter- | chesks, s pointed chin and dancing blue | handed, leavin' all I've got at her two|jooked at the window But think of losin’ | no Leed; but now she heeded much A viewing everybody from the engineer up, | eyes. Mary you thought good-looking; | feet; an’ her wish'll be mine. All I want |you; think of bein’ left here all by myself. | sudden pain struck her heart. Her breath 80 to dioner—not lunch—with a “big’’ coun- | Jessie you called handsome without re- |is a chance,” sald George; then he, being | Ah. me, the changes that will come: An’|faltered. In an instant she was changed try customer, walk around to his banker's, | serve. Mary you found somewhat reserved, | an Ulster man, and having therefore an | (o think, too, that it's you who goes first— | and her life was changed, and she stoud “drop in" at the hotels and generally look | thoughtful, lacking in spirits; Jessie you | €¥e to business even in love affairs, went |you—you looked round. “When | black with suspicion, racked, stricken, the after every end of the business himsell. |saw in one glance a charming figure of | in to refer, handsomely cnough, to his ex- |will I sce him?" che asked, cagerly. “What! | house of her trust crumbled miserably True, he had men working for him. but their functions were largelp mechanical; they were working for him; they had their orders from him; the whole burden really rested on his shoulders. A very glutton for work, he was salesman, drummer, office man, general superintendent and financler. He was beset with a harrassing horde of detalls on every side, and he rode back home on a late bobtail, bewildered, wearied and unstrung. Suppose the busy man to have remained in a Rip Van Winkle sleep for twenty years; suppose that he just awakes this morning in his old residence near Grand avenue. As he rubs his eyes the breath ot chimneys rather than of flelds comos to him; his ears are fllled with strange nolses of songs, the rattle of granite pavements: quiet Is broken by a thousand sounds. He is in the heart of modern rapidity and its appliances. In a space of ten minutes the dazed mer- chant is whizzed down town in a queer horseless car; demon-like vehicles whirr past. It he survives the shock of odd sights and sounds, he will reach his office to find a complete revolution in business methods. Concentration of energy has bees the order. Seated in a plush chair by a mahogany table, within reach of a finger-board of push buttons, he will have his trifiingly #mall mail, already rifled by assistants. lald before hi n & moment a stenographer or & phonograph has recorded his verbal answers. A desk telephone is ringing at his elbow; through it he receives calls, and is enabled to visit his bankers, here or in New York, a Pittaburg or an East St. Louls factory, his warehouse, his friend at the hotel, agents anywhere, and to interview a dozen people under his own vast roof— all within one little hour. In short, with- out turning in his seat, he may control everything; his office is a keyboard to which every part of the machinery re- #ponds. He sees little of men. Detalis—if he cares particularly about some point—Ilet him press a button and Mr. X. appears at once in respectful mien, with a head primed with information. A customer? Oh, refer him to the credit man. A private secretary looks after miscellaneous callcrs. He must be a financler who penetrates the inner sanctum. The head of the corporation—it was a one-man business or a partnership when he began the Rip Van Winkle nap—finds that his day's business is pretty well “‘cleaned up"” after two or three hour He has time for a clgar and the news. Strange names appear in the paper—con- centration, combination, consolidation, merger, community of interests, pools. Someone will have to tell him what theme mean. And who s this “Plerpont Mor gan” occurring so frequently in big type What are “captains of industry?' Money is expressed in “millions” and “billions” now; twenty years ago “thousands” waw the word. Concentration of energy and brains will tell the whole story. Walking through the store the dazed merchant will find every- where conserved energy and system. The office boy is no longer untying the bundle string—he is slashing the knots at the rate cf 100 a mipute. Time and labor are worth more than wasted string. Through the establishment old ideas bave given way to knew, loose methods to perfect work- ing machiner The establishment that twenty years ago depended upon one head now has a hundred thinkers with its concerns, Improving its system. The president will find a board of di- rectors sting him with the manage- ment, while he is a member of many other beards. He will find that his own and his fellows' wealth, Indeed the whole coun- try's wealth, has tripled within the twenty years and will learn that the | wealthy and most successful men of today are those who kept abreast of enterprise and have taken reasonable chances of trade conditions, as opposed to the ultraconserv- atives and mere “human savings banks, and that the fellows who kept In the o'd ruts are far behind the procession. He will discover a higher degree of intelli- gence In the average business man of the present. These are but a few of the Rip Van life and galety. She laughed, chattered, Joked, flashed her eyes, was coy and de- mure in turn, now daring in volce and look, now arching her neck in a mockery of haughtiness, now sitting like a nun, eyes downcast and hands folded by her plate. Her voice wi rippled like harp strings. She carried you out of yourself, took captive your manly heart; made you neglect the silent Mary with the deep brown eyes sitting placid beyond the table. It was common opinion in Armoy and beyond, it was the opinion of Hannah her- self, indeed—of James also, when the flelds gave him chance to think of such things— that when the time came Jessie Grelg would marry quick and well, whereas, Mary's time, if not already past, would be slow in coming. Who could resist Jessie; who not be attracted to her? She seemed to be born to love, fated to play the candle to every moth that flew. Mary of a surety seemed not the marrying sort. You never saw her decked for conquest. Of Sundays she went soberly to church and prayed there; of market days sold her butter and eggs and hastened home. Men, for all Mary cared, might have been posts on the way- side or stones in the pavement; while Jes- sie drew every eye. All the day found Mary helping In the house, or toiling in the dairy or the flelds, and at eventime she sat knit- ting by the hearth, perhaps spent an hour | in the garden or a lonely while by the riverside. Her life seemed dull - and tame, shut in there among the hills or Armoy away from the world; but surely she was content. Perhaps at times she had her own longings, dreams, hopes; but she never volced them. Silent, sober, placid, she made her daily rounds, wrapped close in herself; and the days went empty, and the years passed barren by her. And then, one day, sudden and unexpected, her hour struck. o It was In hot July. Jessie was away In Dublin, making holiday there. A dry spell of weather had helped James with the hay making. Mary looked pale, he said, Han- nah was ailing. So, one day, as it chanced, | he persuaded them to take diversicn witn | him at a race meeting in Glann. It was the ' usual hillside gathering; nois: Iite and color, rows of jaunting cars around the course, booths, stall: lerles, crowds of gaudy townfolk, bevies of fun; and Mary, sitting stiff on the gig, | in muslin frock and straw hat, soon grew weary of it. Would it never end? thought Mary, sitting there so patiently, mnever guessing what for her those weary hours held. How, indeed, could she guess. how know that fate was lurking In that seeth- ing crowd? Had Jessle been there doubt. less she would have seen—have seen him watching, seen him pass and repass, his eyes ever on Mary's facs een him speak to James and turn and stare, seen him stand at last, as the gig went off, still | watching silently—but how was poor Mai to see or know? She expected nothing, looked for nothing; wanted only to be done and away. “Ah, the long, cruel day,” sighed Mary, her eyes eager on the homing road; nor guessed that the day, so long and cruel now lay like a shadow across her life. Two days went unmarked; on the third came he—a tall man, ruddy and well favored, with blue eyes and wavy hair. Leaving his horse at the gate, he strode up the box-edged path, past the laurels and flower beds, knocked at the green door and stood waiting on the step. Mary answered him. For a moment he looked at her, re- calling her face and studying it; then, with his ready smile and easy wav, asked for and dropped her eyes before the quick in- sistence of his gaze, and turned away flush- ing. It was with her just as though a man had looked In her eyes for the first time. Having stabled his horse, George Hand (to give him his name), went to the mea- dows; there found James, held him in talk tor awhile, then came back with nim across the hill, and sat down In the musk-scented parlor. He seemed pre-occupled, his tongue Winkle discoveries. Especially would he remart: that competition bas multiplied and heightened in all branches of trade, except where monopolies have throttled it, and to strong competition he would no doubt trace much of the concentration in businese methods and the gradual perfec- tion of system in busine: FALLING HAIR STOPPED. Baldness Cured by Destroyl Parasite Germ that Causes It. Baldness follows falling hair, falling hair tollows dandruff, and dandruff is the result of a germ digging Its way into the scalp 1o the root of the hair where it saps the vitality of the hair. To destroy that germ 18 to prevent as well as cure dandruff, fall- ing hair, and, lastly, baldness. There is ouly one preparation kmown to do that, Newbro's Herpicide, an entirely new, sclen- tific discovery. Wherever it has been tried it" has proven wonderfully successful. It can't be otherwise, because it utterly de- stroys the dandruffl germ. “‘You destroy the cause, you remove the effect.” wandered; soon he pulled his chair nearer James, spread his knees and leaned across them. “Mr. Grelg,” sald he, “ye know who I am an' what I am. In our time we've had dealin’s with each other; we' iways been friends, an' I hope we'll never be else. Well, I'm come to ye now on a curious arrand. Maybe you'll not thank me; maybe ye will; but—" George paused, loath, you might think, to say his word. Indeed, he was Dot at ease; was flushed and hesitant. In his shirt- sleeves, arms folded, knees crossed and straw hat poised upon them, James eat eyelng him, & smile on his rugged face. “Well, I'm listenin’, Mr. Hand,” sald he, with a nod; and at that George plunged. “It's just this," he said. “A day or so ago 1 met ye at the races beyond In Glann I was—was glad to see ye; but gladder I'm of opinion, to see sommone else. 1 watched her all day. A hundred times I was wishful to speak; twenty times I went searchin’ for yourself, meanin' to ask ye to ~to present me, an' twenty times stopped ot sight of ye. I was loath. I was tim- sweet, her laughter | her vivid with | hind that calm brow was power of will, and shooting gal- | propose; before her the path might be laid | James. He was in the meadows, answered Mary. Might he go to the meadows?| Surely, sald Mary. Might he leave the horse? Why, to be sure, answered Mary, pectations in the matter of dowry James would not hear him “Leave that till afterward,” he said, and rose frowning. “Time enough to buy the But George, even as James had counseled, that he should go warily. Mary was strange in her nature, said Hannah; was shy, was selt-willed, was little used to men and their ways, wanted leading, wanted humoring. “You'll find her a good girl, Mr. Hand— | though dear knows I'm not the one should God knows I say it from me heart—she's as good a girl as ever hreathed, an’ 1 wish her the best in life. Ah, I'll be sorry to lose her,” sighed Hannah. “I will, T will. For all that— “Ma'am,” sald George, “it's the way of the world. Trust me, Mre. Greig; trust | me. An' may God prosper the mateh." “Amen,”” was Hannah's word; and the thing was settled. . There 1emained omly Mary to be con- sidered; and with hemcall did cunningly, went softly, warily, ip, strict accord with rules laid down, James kept to the fleld and meddled nothing. Hanpah dropped wise hints, precepts, hopes; gave George good welcome, shok a_ warning finger at the door and lett Mary to his care. . Every op- portunity he had, every good wish, and he | took them bravely, Never was more thoughttul .lover or discreeter. Mary had but to sit demure, in parlor or kitchen, at | table or window; just sit and be wooed. | Nothing to do but listen and watch, smile; laugh, be agreeable as she might, George | Qld everything. His ways were mighty pleasant. Before a week he had Hannah | at his feet, had James In chalns, had Mary— It took longer than a week to charm Mary's heart. Meek though she was and doclle, unsophisticated, backward; yet be- ber eyes were very deep. Others might was | smooth; but, after all, the dispoaing { of roaring rustics, a little sport, a power | hers, and no leading might persuade her to | path, and Jessie came tripping to her side, walk that path blindfolded. She read be. neath her mother's hinting and her father" silence; sat wide-eyed before the man | George, seelng him plainer, maybe, than he knew. Now and agaln it happened that | Mary sat watching him, wondering in her- | self whether some day change might come. | Suppose Jessle were there beside him? | Suppose a year gone by? Suppose them | always together, face to face at the same table, living always under the same roof | from morning to night? Was his admira- tion genulne and his soft speech—and him- f? DId he really care for herself, her own dull self, or was it just a fancy that might pass, or worse, a liking that owed | something to what she might bring—money, help, youth? These things Mary asked of herself sometimes, as she lay thinking be- neath the thatch, went soberly her dafly round in house and dairy, stood leaning across the gate below the solemn stars when George had gone. But , he was { kind and pleasant; doubts and all, she liked him very well. No one was perfect. Her doubts were foolish, unjust. She longed for him to come; missed bim when he went Slowly but surely her fondness for him grew, day by day, night by night; and at | last one evening early in September, by the | river bank, and under the stars, he asked | and she gave herself to him. “Mary,” he said, “I'm little to have and nothing to boast about; but such as I am will ye take me for your man? Will ye, Mary? Ah, will ye, Mary She stood quite a minute, looking out through the twilignt, flushed, tremulous, not doubting now, but halting ere she gave “Will ye, Mary? A, girl, girl. Tell m Mary—tell me?”" She turned quickly. “I'm here, George,” sald she; and gave herself to bhis arms. | m That same week Jessie came home fresh from the sights and pleasures of old Dub. lin. Her stay there had changed her much had rubbed away some of the hillside rough- ness, given her the air of one who had seen lite and the world. She minced her words now, stepped daintily; had something of scorn in her way of looking at vulgar coun- try ways and things. Everything was so different in Rathmines; Grafton street and | the Phoenlx seemed heaven in sight of Burn sidewalks and the rush-colored hills, | Ab, the things she had scen and done—the theaters, the shops, the parties, days by | the sea, trips to the Dargle—such times and fun! Days it would take to tell about it all. Herspoor head was just in a whirl. Let Mary put y that stupld knitting and come upstairs and see her new dress and hat, those shoes and gloves, the pres- ents she had had, the books and music and photographs. Whew! the stuffy hot room it was, so small and dingy; and the bare floor, the cracked ceiling, the narrow little hed! “Ah, Mary, dear,” cried Jessie, sink- ing by ber box on the boards, This swept | vision made George gasp in his chair. supper laid of youth. Mary sat eclipsed, content enough, George only an occasional glance, a Whis- | ang went stumbling | a-flutte | meant | chance by the band and concert, sail with him on the river, drive ocut with him, accompany him to fair and meeting. She herself was dull, was busy, had hardly a minute to spare nowadays from the service of the needle. | Thére was much to do, much to prepare for that blessed time lying there in next spring. Still—still. ‘'Well sometimes she thought—a hint from Hannah having maybe U mever | the & y nigh:, maybe. I'm dyin'sto see him—dyin to her f g est gown. salt when you've caught your fish That evening then as Mary and George Hannah took the news kindly (as was | eqr together way) and thankfully (as well she | gyaet nothings and hand in hand, the door | might); one thing only she counseled opened and in came Jessie, stepping gra clously (like some herolne in a play) through the twilight. Adorned from head to heel she came; greeted George pleasantly, to a chair and gave him her eyes. | Oh, glory, glory. | down. And springing | agony of change Jessie hastened to find her nvw-l Five minutes went—minutes black with th What change! Dear heaven, what e agony of ages. 8till they did not speak. But soon, as and with that George selzed her hand, scrambled to his knees and broke into pro- testations—miserable protestations that lashed Mary's heart. Dear God, that she | should live to hear them! Listen, listen. ‘The same words; the words which but yes- Poor Mary, there in her dim corner, could i terday had been only for her; and now— but starc; sudden sigat of this radiant adventures, and her eyes were bright; bent over the table, when candles were it and quite charming in her sparkle proud of this dashing sister, asking of pered word. “Mary,” said he at the gate | that night beneath the solemn stars, “‘that | sister of yours is a kind of miracle. She has the spirits of a lark; an’ sure she takes one off their feet.”” He caught her arm and stopped. “I'm thinkin’ it's well I lald ayes on yourself first.” Mary looked ug, her eyes grave in the starlight. “Ye wish I was like her, George?" she asked in her sober way. “Like her?" George held his answer for a breath. DI he wish it? “Now,” said he, “falth I don't. Woman, dear, you're worth a houseful of her. Whisht now, with your solemn face. Just kiss me, an’ away into your bed; an’ expect me in a night or two. Good night, me own Mary.” He kissed her | and tramped off between the hedges, whis- tling gaily, thinking of M thinking of Jessie. But Mary stood lonely by the gate, thinking only of him. Ah, she liked him well. How happy she was, how con- tent. Life seemed just begiuning. A month ago how dull was the world; now what bounty it held! ‘‘George, George,” she sald, her thoughts following him along the road; “God keep you, my own boy, an’ make me worthy of ye.” She bowed her head upon the gate. Tears came. George whistle died out in the silence of the hills, Then & quick step sounded behind on the with mischief. “I saw you, I was watchin'. Ob, you're a sly pair. Kissin' at the gate, indeed, lHke Pat an’ Blddy. Just wait till I see him again; my word, won't I tease him."” Mary did not answer; so Jessie stopped. “Mary,"” she whispered, “he'll do. 1 wish you joy. He's just the kind I'd choose myself.” The words came lightly; but somehow they fitted 11l with Mary's humor. With- | out answering them, she turned from the gate. “It's late,”” said she, “an’ I'm tired. Aren’t ye comin’ to bed, Jessie?" ) 1V, It Jessie in tho days that followed, did Dot twist George round her fingers, at lesst, | she held him submissive between them, captive yet not a prisoner, free yet not unbound. Al was open as the sun. They nothing. Soon their ways must part. Jessie would find another moth, George cease his circling and flutter down. Winter was coming, so dull and cold; life was short the sunshine fleeting; let them, then, whilst yet there was chance, enjoy these golden harvest days. So they took And time flew Hannah sat wondering and James consider- ing. And Mary? Well, as you know, Mary was not one She was easily satisfied, expected little; gave more than she was likely to receive Perhaps love made her blind; perbaps she was by nature so faithful a soul and so trusting at heart that she gave others credit for a faithfulness and trust which they did not possess. Entirely she had given herself to George; implicitly did she | believe—oh, us she believes in God—that he was her very own. It was natural that George should admire Jessie and be her good friend. Everyone was ral that Jessie should divert herself with George, should attract his attention, de- mand his company, laugh with him, sing, chatter, attend him even (o local dance struck home, or a word of Jessie's, or of And | to claim much consideration. | He | George? | her., | It was natu- | now—Ah! was it possible? Could that be That be Jessie? This be her very say it—a better wife or housekeeper no | fe)t tongue-tied, awkward: scarce could | gelf? Listen, listen! ‘Jessie,” ho says, man in the world could find. Her butter | tuke eyes from her face. When Mary spoke | “before God I swear to you that you're tho gets top price in the market, her bread's | (which was seldom) he looked round, | one woman in the world for me. I swear | the sweetest ever was baked, with needlo | gmjled and nodded; but Jessie's chatter |jt. Ah, listen to me, Jessle. Don't turn or crochet hook she's just matchless.” drew his ear. Indeed, she seemed to fill | from me. Don't blame me for Mary's sake “Ma'am,” sald George, "I can well be- | tho room, demanded attention and admira- | Dear knows I pity her—but I can’t help it. Heve it. tion. She talked of Dublin and ite won- I can't. You make me, Jessle. You're the “All T can say is this, Mr. Hand—an' | ders, and her volce was sweet; told of her | one woman—" Oh, that again! It was pit- iful. It was unbearable. Then, blessedly, maybe, of a sudden darkness blotted the sunshine and Mary lay still, When light came back the hollow v.as empty. Weak and sick at heart, Mary rose through the heather, down toward the farm house, her one desire now being to get home. But presently the two saw her; soon they joined her; with- out. word or look Mary hurried oa, face set hard, hands clenched, her heart like stone. And_behind the others stepped gulltily with averted eyes. They reached the farm house, and there the two stopped to get,the car, but Mary went on down the lane, hurrying—hurrying on. Her brain burnt; her heart was ice. “Let me get home,” she thought; ‘‘oh, dear God, let me only get home—get home!" Like a hunted creature she went stumbling over the stones, stumbling and hurrying blindly. Nearing the highway, however, and close to & spot where the lane turned sharp to the left, a clamor arose on the slope behind Shouts and cries came, a rumbling of wheels, a pounding of hoofs, and turning, Mary saw the car come tearing down with only Jessic in it, and George running be- hind, shouting and waving his arms. The horse was galloping. The car came thun- dering over the stones, joiting and swaying, Jessie sat pulling at the reins, arms out- stretched and face white above them. Well might she be pale, well might George rave, for the turning was there, and black ruin near it. Ruin? Perhaps death? Yes; Mary saw well. In a flash all was clear to her. The horse was beyond control. George could do nothing. At the turning somelhing dreadful must happen. Already Jessie had dropped the reins, and now sat covering her face, shuddering from what lay befors Only one chance was there—that Mary should stand in the way. Then perhaps the horse migut swerve, or stop, or col- lapse before it came to that fateful turning. Only a chance—a poor chance—yet, yet—— Why should Mary stand in the way? Why risk life for a chanco—a miscrable chance— of saving the life of this Jessie whom sh hated? Her chance Jessio had wrecked, her life had blighted, and here was revenge, justice, heaven's own opportunity of repay- ing all, of ending all. Only to stand asi to wait & minute longer Ah, the shame, the shame! Nerving her- self, Mary stepped into the middle of the lane, and spicad her arms, and shouted loud. But just too late. For though chance served, and the horse swerved and fell, and the car collapsed and Jessle escaped, Mary's be George's—that perbaps all was not quite as it should be. Was George changing in bis manner toward her? W he cold at times, irritable; was he tiring of her, giv- ing to Jessie time and altention which once he had given only to her? Why did she lje awake at nights sometimes, thinking, think- Ing, fearing, dreading? Was it—? Oh, ne, no! She was wicked 17 doubt. She must trample fears under foo.. 1et her mother quit hinting. Let herself be content. She was thrice blessed. George was the same. ften when he bade her goodby st and she spoke doubtingly, did the absolute eate which you find in real aristocrats. ““The picture has been in my mind all day, and it is next to impossible to rid myself |of her. To return to the incident, I | bowed and stood, hat in hand, awaiting or- in the parlor, exchanging [ Mary watched, Jessie's hand fell beside her, | gers, for it was not my good fortune to be favored by an acquaintance with her. In | my most courteous manner I inquived if I could in any way be of servicc to her. “*Yes; indeed you may,' said the girl. ‘T have heard so much of you and your great | ability that T wish to consult you concern- ing a matter that is of paramount import- ance to me. Won'c you get in and drive with me, Mr. Black? She had my name all right “ ‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘T feel that I already know you. Dear Jack speaks of you so often and tells so many funny things about your last year at college. Of course, you remember Jack?" “You ecan just about believe I was the happiest man on earth, and fairly beggared the English language telling her so. I could not land Jack, and aldn't try to. I was breathing the delightful atmosphere ot that drive, and unscrupulously adopted ev- ery means by which the moments could be prevailed upon to stay their Mght. But at last her home was reached, and I knew it was up to me to say farewell. “But the fates favored me, and in spite of my explanation about not being dregsed for dinner, I was told that I must ‘come right in’ and that I aid. We had been seated in tho parlor only a short while when my new friend said I must moet papa and mamma, and that she would leave me with them while she dressed for dinner. Very soon ‘father’ and ‘mother’ afpeared, and 1 was presented to them as ‘one ot Jack’s college chums,’ after which my falr charmer lett, only (o appear some moments later, more entrancing than before. “During her absence her father confided to me that of late he and his family were greatly distressed concerning his daugh- ter's health, and anxiously inquired if I had noticed anything strange or unusual in her manner. Well, I had my own ideas of her manner, because I wes simply en- chanted, and T assured the old gentleman 1 had not, and was indoed pained to learn of his daughter's {11 health. “Just then the vision of beauty appeared, and she was so beautiful that I absolutely lost all knowledge of her mental suffering. Her father soon left the room, and I was again happy. 1 had noticed ome peculiar thing, though. The girl had never removed her hands from behind her since she ap- peared in the dgorway, and I was just try- ing to account for this strange attitude when, to my utter amazemen!, she cried ont “‘Now, 1 have you at last, and just where 1 want you' She approached me with a stealthy tread: 1 protested wildly at first, and suggested that she be seated, and I would summon assistance if she were il and I feared she was. “But she waved me aside and assured me she was ‘quite well' and strong. Where- ‘upon sho drew from behind her a revolver, ‘Now,’ she said, pointing It straight at me, ‘throw up your hands.' The listeners were breathless, and at this juncture strained every nerve. With the narration of hie experience the young lawyer showed great emotion, evinced great feeling. and now he ‘Go on," sald his friends. “Well,”" continued the young lawyer, “'she «aid ‘throw up your hands.’ 1 did, and struck the headboard so hard that 1 woke | ap + You musr choose/// Jween K o Avemeany The beginning of baldness is dandruff. Dandruff is a disease and can be cured.’ Cure the disease that causes dandruff, And the dandruff will disappear for good. Use only some old established remedy. We know one tested for more than 50 years— Ayer’s Hair Vigor - It cures dandruff, checks falling, makes the hair grow, always restores color to gray hair. ‘“Ayer's Hair Vigor b cured Ip of a bad landruff. 16 fa & ol SRRt 00 BT 59419 456 hed aneo of J. 0. Ayor Co., Loweil, Mass. Mrs. L. H. Budd, Lebanon Springs, N. Y. L e S s~ T S