Decatur Democrat, Volume 40, Number 15, Decatur, Adams County, 26 June 1896 — Page 6

BE SURE A /■■•♦.« / % ’& v' f ♦pT iflSO -? T A&. ibitei' • ’> OKUHraMr w- >.• ■’ lifwrM Pr !f 'w™ BsOlsfß YR>v>jj iwdm? To Attend the • Cfand . . . ffIWIW r ~ AT - — DeciHiir, Ind. / oxJULY 4,

i ' GRAND li . . I i 9' i t I ■! ; t j 1 1 ■ 'J 4“ R i *>' ’ • ' c .1 Baße’i teasion;t .;. - r Sack. - ' ■ ■ a '■ • _N" t r»ny, ' , J ' "- Pacing, ' ■■ ’ c • ' Hurdle, vt ■ ' . Chariot, ■ * Trottinp, ’ . ' 1 Running’ Hippodrome arid Greased Pig’ RAGES. ■ ( GRAND i ■■ ' ' F . . - I IMHSTBIAL ■n . F U." . PARADE. There will be a . _ tol Contest -- ‘ -••■'. ■ ■ ./• ■ - ■ . - -■ -ij ' . ■ ... by some of }r ’ J -the best bands in the State.

i THE CROP OF MELONS . I WHAT THEIR LOVERS MAY EXPECT I THIS SEASON. New York Alone Receives Twenty million Watermelons From the Sonth Prospects In GetS i;l and Florida —Trouble With Kall way Shippers, New York has received its first carload of 1,000 watermelons, and they were sold wholesale for SSO per 100. The first melons of a season, which opens about June 1 and closes r aboutSept. 30, come from Florida. The acre- ; age planted in that state this year is a little more than 8,000 acres, which is about twice as many as were planted last year. Qu account of the drought, • which continued for ten weeks, however, the yield per acre will be about 50 per cent less than that of last year, so that in spite of the doubling of the acreage there will be no increase in the Florida crop this season, and possibly there may be a considerable decrease. Georgia planted about 24,000 acres last year, but the prices realized were so unsatisfactory to the growers that this year they planted only about 10,000 acres, or less than one-half of last year’s acreage, so that .there will surely ■ be a large deficiency in the supply from !' that state. • It has been estimated by experts that I when the crops are full there are annual--1 ly received in New York about i 000 melons, bat what the quantify will I be this year is difficult to predict until [ later in the season. The melon growers of Florida, Georgia and other southern states have l»< en for several years asking the railroad transportation companies to reduce tin ir freight rat, s. bat the companies have declined on the ground that melons be- I ing perishable the . companies would be I liable to large losses if the shipments i should spoil on the way and the consignees refuse so receive them on the . r arrival here. Many growers say that if I

■ the comp.i’.i"s wnuld consent to a frt iglit 1 reduction of 20 per cent they would willingly jn-pay tlje freight in. full, which would amply guarantee the companies ■ against all possible less. If some i amicable adjustment is not sooii made. ■ many of the largest growers have exI pressed th-'ir determination to abandon i the raising < f melons. It now costs the Florida and Georgia growers from $l2O to $l5O per carload-to place their melons in this market, andJhere have been mstaiices in which the cost was—much higher. It certainly is a cause for regret

that some agreement cannot be reached between the growersand the carriers by which this popular and healthy fruit could be brought here at rates of transportation sufficiently low to enable it to be sold at prices cheap enough to place it easily within the reach of ajl classes of consumers. —New York Tribune. THE PRESIDENT. Here Is What Joe. Howard Says After a Talk With Him. On a recent visit to Washington I saw the president. Allison,-Reed and Quay. No friend if Grover Cleveland need disturb hi: i-' If. .one little bit as to, his mental, physical < r .financial condition, It was my gut d fortune to have an interesting. talk with hini-.on. a-number of mutually inter', sting topics, and it affords m>ph ;.-uro, as an American citizen of !-i/generations back, to photograph hi: th" president of the Unit'd. States, a- i «• impr- ssed me, clearheaded, kindly deposed, warm hearted, virile handed, I have n< r seen him in a better physical rendition, and he hadn’t been fishing either. - , He sat a lone in- the great "room formerly Occupied by Lincoln as a cabinet chamber, the historic chaiid- Her, whose lights I have seen Lincoln, in his own proper person, turn out time and time again, hanging as it did in days of yore, Behind a table., the history of which has been told many a time, sat the president, with piles of documents, memoranda, parchments, letters and books about him. His manner is peculiarly gracious and winning.. Convinced that the party with, whom ho talks is worthy of confidence, lias no schemes to further, no point to-make,, he is the Dau ideal of courtesy and self respect, leading up to a recognition of such qualities as his visitor may pc-soss. !’■ lioving as Ido that he will b • nominated in 'Chicago, and defeated,‘by life Republican candidate whoever he may be, I .studied him with much unfeigned interest, and lef t his presence with sincere respect and personal regard.—Howard in Chicago Tiines-Herald.

As Others See Burns. No effort will be spared to make a success of the Burns exhibition to be held’in Glasgow tte summer. A sum of upward of $12,500 has already been subscribed to thu guarantee fund. The committee, of which Lord Rosebery and Lord Provost Bell are respectively president find vice president, desires, how’ever, that the guarantee fund should ■ amount to $25,000, and they now appeal for further subscriptions, and also for loans of pictures, manuscripts, relics, ' books and other articles likely to enhance the interest and value of the exhibition. “What, one wonders, would the bard think of it all?” queries the Westminster (I a/j ■t r; •. ” l . . Ohl Story and New Dress. Here is a new version of an old story. It is from the New York Journal: “Mr. Alden, the editor of Harper’s Magazine, used to* g') to i lie Author’s club oftener than; he has of late. His desertion of ■ is-sai l to be due to a conversation which did not end to his liking. He was telliiig'several interested listeners—most of them contributors to his magazine—of qfip very great difficulty he had in procuring suitable . short stories. - He --TTrtrTtr-ircrenj.ver;Wvitli the confident assertion: ‘But’we get them. We get them. ’ A frank friend,present, probably not a contributor, asked innocently, /W’hat do you do with them, Alden?’ ” - . ' f

A REFUGE. There's >i util), cozy nook, with ii novel or two, And a getn-rbus Armchair that beckons tc rrat, And it jar of tobacco, whoso wealth I may strew In and over-tl|o bowl of the pipe I like brat. And there, where the incense of indolence burns; , Above the big jtrinclmir, the pipe and the bo. k, It seems that life’s labors, its d -vi .ns turns, Hilt lend, after all, to this stilt, cozy noylt. The noise of the woj-ld bal.lvhs dtsfant and soft, ' ’ ■ ‘ , And tiie cannon's dull rattle, the trumpet's rude blare. Would mellow, should war hurl his banner al It. For 'gentleness only can p< netrate there. ‘Tfs a spot that was ever a stranger to f. ar, A shelter ‘gainst fate which no storms ever shook. And tiw hours are my comrades, who whisper of cheer. With the generous armchair, the pipe and the book. —Washington Star. A MOTHER’S TRIUMPH I knew right along that Maurice was in the habit of paying court to every other woman of his acquaintance pro-»vidwW^fe>.v-ts pretty, and irrespective o.tll®|S!3p«lHiether she was married or The boy sebrned to pay noJHiTO^ft*whatever to details, but it never occurred to me to lie jealous, except in. the case of this Juliette. His gallant adventures, his conquests among theatrical ladies inid young women of all-sorts —what were they to me? Pah, it all struck me as rather amusing. Indeed,”l felt a sort of pride seeing that emancipated as well as strictly proper girls ran into his nets like fluttering, larks attracted by tiie glamour e.f Bis'young- fame, I y his enchanting disposition and his correct maimers. ' M, And if you consider things rightly, did m t his succe-s reflect credit upon mys< If t: . .- Thi s artist who had become

famous in a night, whose past was the promise of a m-'.-t brilliant future, was he not fii sli of my flesh, blond of my blot dr I bpr-mie a widow s< <n after his birth and n ver entertained any other wish but to find consolation in his live. Because I hi. I gladly relinquished everything in order to save tin- means for his education, the'devcloppient of his relents, his glory was as fully my. work as his personal beauty. At least I thought so, and think so still. Unlike other mothers, 1 had reel gnized hi* .genius from the start, and had nurtured and helped expand it; therefore was I not entitled 'to share in hi- greatness? . And such, a grateful child he was; full of tenderness for his old mother, this :sweet,heart of an artist, this artist in the realms of love. Even before perfect strangers he used to call me “dearest mamma. ” A big boy he was, and still eager to do my biddings, at all hours,, to fulfill-my slightest wishes. Yet none of his teachers had ever succeeded in subduing - his independent spirits. They might run after him ever so long, these ladies, boasting of his acquaintance. I knew it well —he used them only to kill time, changing sweethearts as often as the horses from the livery -stable which he rode in the Bc-is. The oiilj- woman that had any influence upon hi lif'.', Ide adviser,.-Iris confidant, she that filled his heart,...was his mother. He meC+his Juliettein mii'alk c’nss ..sccii ty —that society which iii< lines to think irs If of the first Qat'.-r and likes to “coquet” with .artists, 'bif-anse the great Os this world In .air tlu-iHswifli invitations. She was no longer a young girl, li t j b< .-u flirting a good deal and had stood several times on the. very threshold of the altar. I hated her at first sight, but? must admit she was pretty.. The.hair of the red of English' mahogany, her complexion was of that dull whiteness and 'was so excessively delicate one might be afraid to spoil it by a kiss. Add to this eyes of a very peculiar, very dark, very moist, greenish tint, the color of al,' a seaweed. Like the rest of them, she fell in love with Mauriri, and my boy was equally infatuated with her, for every time he finds a new love he imagines, for the first six weeks 'at - Toast, that it is tTie great As ter.me, I locked on without a shadow of alarm. The groat passion indeed!. He had enjoyed half a dozen of the sort since Christmas. Still, when Maurice painted Juliette’s portrait la r moist, cold, alga eyes began to make me uneasy. I read in them nothing of that -admi-ration, that limit.,y less devotion, which other women paid to and felt for my boy. Maurice seemed to be in-a state nf disquietude. He was nervous, excited, disinclined for work. True, he told me funny little stories as usual and tried to appear unconcerned, but his heart was not iii it.

Three times he began the portrait aiiew, and as often it turned out a failure, Juliette telling h’im so plainly.' Ah, that girl knew not moderation in anything—not even toward my Maurice. Sumjner..came. She was to leave for the country. “I will try a fourth time,” .said Maurice. “Maybe that I am mofe fortunate in thequiePudeof rural life.” Juliette’s parents, -you must know, have a chateau in the Touraine, and invited Maurice to spend a few weeks with them. Os course, he had to wait some time after Juliette’s departure for propriety’s sukn But, oh, how the separation .affected the boy I His spirits always depressed and his love-of work entirely gone, his creative genius seemed to have taken flight. As for mo, I suffered as much, for, poor boy, he refused to confide his sorrows tome. It was the first time that he did so. The mum' of Juliettetnever passed his lips, and when I tried to turn the conversation upon the loved subject—loved by him—his face hardened and his eyes looked fierce. And that to me, his old niotlier. Had he ever done such a thing before? He was entirely .changed, this boy.; He went away.. For a month and a half I was-entirely alone. He returned the old and happy, devil may care lad. f You should have seen the joyous manner in which he greeted mo.. Everything

| was well us far as ho was concerned, j He was to marry her. I thought I should faint upon hearing | the news. I 4'ould no longer restrain myself. I told him all I knew of this 1 Juliette, for I laid gathered no end of ■j information concerning her. I knew i | some stories connected with her nailin' ] that Vie Parisienne would hardly dare I print, and those fellows, you know, 1 I publish anything. I admit some.of. the ' narrative would not hold water; maybe .many were inventions pure and simple, I but I pr -ferred to believe everything. ' and told Maurice all I knew, endeavor- : ing nt rhe same time to inspire himj with confidence in my reports. He lis- . teiied attentively and, without a word’s reply, went away. I saw him bit.' his ■ lips as lie withdrew; his face w,;is deadly pale. When he came in at night he embraced mo in his .usual fashion and said in a tone that forbade further argument: “See hero, little mother; you mustn't' I tallr tlutt way to me. It is highly unI dignified in a woman to repeat such infamous tales concerning another. Juliette deserves my love, and loves mo with j i all la v heart. Pray, do not force me to i I choose between her and my im it her. ” I Well, they married. Although Jnlii ette invited me, I would not live with i them. 1 could not have done so. I 1 I packed my things and with the two old : 1 ! servants buried myself in a small sub- I 1 ! urban villa. Maurice visited me quite ! frequently. On Sundays he took lunch- I 1 eon at my house. As to-my daughter-j 1 ■ in-law, I saw her only when I went to ■ i the eitv. So two wars went bv, the i ■ sorriest of my life.- I aged at least a dec- | ■ ' ade during that unhappy period. No' 1 "deceived wife, no deserted mother, has I ever been mor ■ tantalized by the pangs ■ i of jealousy than I was. I 1 did not begrudge her his kisses and : j w Jf.. S ses—lie had made So others ; 1 happy with tl.at sort of thing—but she. I was his friend,, his confidant. >he was j I ail that I had been to him. She repre- ] wnted the great turning point in his l ; life, and I was nothing to him! During the first year of their mar- 1 riage he created not a single canvas. I 1 - Tile salon knew Kim not. Pt rhap's you; I won’t believe it, but I felt highly elab-d j • lat that. I said to myself“ She is in his i • way. She hinders the development of j ! liis genius. He will sicken of that. ”I 1 j But my calculations went for naught, 1 ' for in the year that followed h/ sur-qj! passed himself l y “The Death of Jia- 1 I non,” that grand paiutiug wlyich drew H : the prize of the salon. Strange to say, 11 did nor feel any satisfaction at this either j —I who hud- once lived bur to see him, suwe-. (1. “The Death of-Manon” pained me. ' < I That lithe body, flu.-.'red curls, those' alga eye:—they belonged to her whom ' f I hated. Stbjl he never neglected me, i Every now and then Maurice visited his 1 dold mother, and after awhile I noticed , 1 he came eftener and remained longer.

Had anything happened? It seemed ,to me as if- he had som Thing to confide, but hesitated, and suffered because he hesitated. Mothers’ eyes are uncommonly sharp. My pni-r darling undoubt'-dly was undergoing tortures, and I who loved him so well knew the cause of his unhappiness, Im! could not bear to ask him to Irt-e his mind on my bosom. In fact, I did not want him to obtain r lief. 1 ml afrf he should feel the extreme sorrows of th; positi<m_he .had.got himself into, 1.-s-ar it all alone 1 , wauling consolation, crying in vain- for sympathy. I desired him., to return to me exhausted and all forlorn; Then,'and only then, would I heal his wounds, and lie would forever thank me for saving him. And as this Juliette ceased to be my rival, ,i'iiy Hi..trod for her diminished. .While they were happy, I cared not to visit th l , in. Now, when dissolution was threatening. I invited myself and staid for days and weeks, for there were things to be-found out! What, an observer I canie to l<<-—-a regular spy and detective, and in the end got it all down line. My daughter-in-law had no adorer so far. but h'. r breast yearned for a change. Let us reconnoiter, I-s»id to myself, amr attended one of her “at homes. ” Presto, I fqund the. man whom she was eager to capture,. He was one of those with whom she had flirted when a girl, perhaps her first sweetheart; now that she knew what love was she meant to possess him, fo'r women drag the chain <>f their initial enchantment forever after them, anil < ften submit to the original yoke in after life against their will. Appeased, full of hope for the future, I returned to my quiet home in the suburbs, more settled in my mind and convictions, happier than I had been for a long time. Andwhgfi; after six weeks, my poor, belpved Maurice threw himself upon my ' necks crying, desolate, but also storming, full of rage, furious and violent against the woman who had deserted him, I opened ray firms wide and thanked God who had given him back to me. . ; ; . All my former torments were forgotten. Maurice was himself again, belonged once more tome; the other woman was conquered.—Prom, the French. He Knew It. The lawyer Rid aside the story of Edison’s lifoand looked out of the club window. \ “WhaJ a lot pf money there is in patents!’’ he said at last._? ■ - The inventor looked up in surprise. “Sure,” he replied. ‘‘The trouble is to get it out. ” Then he thought of the number of times h“ -had failed and sighed deeply, while Ihe lawyer thoughtfully announced that in that particular feature one line of business was very much like another, —Chicago Post. Might Be Useful. Merchant-—Y r ou say you are an orphan. ?. Applicant For Position —Yes. I haven’t a living relative. Merchant—Well, I’ll take you. I ought to get a lot of work out of you during the baseball season.—Philadelphia Record. '

THE OLD HAND i PRESS, Battered "-nd shattered, With ink nil bespattered. But still with tiie pnwer to annoy mid to lilosa, Loved by the editor. Cursed by the < reditor, Humbling and stumbling—the old hand prensl Gone nro tin' editors, I’ntient, meek creditors, — Sipce the far day win n it first sc.av the light. Age has but lenglhi lied it, Kivated. strengthened it, Made it a victor in mmiy a light. Stars from their setting fall; Men die, forgetting nil; Suns—they may vanish mid light may grow le- k .jBut still'Gabriel's horn shall blow, A;;es unborn shall know ; That it's still in thu business—the old hand press. .• —Atlanta Constitution. TWO AND LOVE. It was u moist, unpleasant day. The rain had begun immediately after break fast, and now at 11 o’clock it looked like raining till the crack of doom. I had wandered up and down seeking congenial company anti, finding none, had finally cast anchor in the billiard room, where I practiced the spot stroke. I had made a break of nine and was beginning to feel more cheerful, when suddenly the door opt ned and Miss Anstruther tqipeared. “Oh,” she said, as she slmt the door and stood with her hands behind her upon the handle, ‘‘l thought it was Mr. McDonald. ” “It is a better—and a poorer-—man,” I said, resting my cue on the floor. “Do you want to find Mr. McDonald?” “Yes—no! it doesn’t matter,” said Miss Anstruthcr. » “ Perlmps you can say it to mo as well?” I suggested. Miss Anstruthcr thought a moment or two and then shook her head. “No; I couldn’t say it to you.” It may have been my fancy, but I thought that Miss Anstruther blushed. “Aiiywuy, ” I said ehecrfully, “if it doesn’t matter, you come and play billiards with me. I’m lonely.” “But I play very badly, ” said Miss Anstruther, doubtfully. “I don’t think I ever played seriously. ” “Well, this won’t be serious, ” I said, selecting a light cue and chalking the tip. “Now, all you have to do is make ( your ball hit the red and go into a pocket, or put the red into a pocket—or both/’ “Oh, dear!” said Miss Anstruther, “what a lot to think about. There! What does that count?” “One tome,” I said, and missedan easy hazard. “Why were you so funny last night?” said Miss Anstruther.

‘‘ I am never funny, ’’ I said; “serious, humorous, stupid—perhaps—but not funny?” Miss Anstruther aimed wildly. Her ball w?nt twice round the table and hit nothing. _ . “How provoking!” she said. Their she lifted her chin and rested it on the tip of her cue. “You know what I mean,” she said. “Why did you leave me alone all the evening with Mr. McDonald?” “Well,” I said, “I was talking—let me sec—to'Miss Bates.” “Yoxi found her iiinui’-ig“’ . “Not amusing. Blotter—pretty. ” “Oh. you couldn’t call her pretty. Nice, but”— ‘‘Decidi-div pretty—iii her way. N(>w —you ate plain, aren’t you?”. I said, .seeing a likely ca»ne:i. “1 beg y’nur pardon, ” said Miss Anstruther colfßy?" ‘ , “I mean—l’m .playing with spot. By Jove!” I exclaimed i.s I turned away in disgust after missing the cannon. “There lie is.” “Whom?” tfSked Miss Anstruther. “MiC jilcDijnald, walking up and down inSthe gißlen, stnokjng a cigar, in the rain, I whistle him in?” “Oh. no!” said Miss 4-Ustruther. “Why not?” I asked, facing round toward her. “I thought you wanted to see him. ” . ■ /‘Oh, there’s no hurry—no immediate hurry,” said she. “He doesn’t leave till this afternoon. ” “I thought it might be something important, ” I said. v . “It is important,” said';Miss Anstruther. “Oh, you are horrid!” she continued, -stamping her foot. “Y r ou know quite well what— 1 shouldn’t tell you, shrurkt I?” “But you haven’t told me,” I said consolingly. “Oh, but you can guess, ” said Miss Anstruther, shaking her head. “You must have noticed—something. And no right to say anything about-it. ” I paused judicially. “It seems,” I said after an appropriate interval, “quite a suitable arrangement. Mr. McDonald is very wealthy.” “Yes,” said Miss Anstruther reflectively, “he has money. But, then, so have I. ” “That is what makes it so suitable, ” I said. “But,” said Miss Anstruther, lifting her eyebrows pathetically, “he’s — well” 1 — “That is*true,P I said. “But we all have our faults. And poverty’s the worst of them. ” “I don’tq.think so,” said Miss Anstfutlier quickly. “Mrs. Anstruther thinks so,” I replied. -■■-:■■■ —a“Yes, of course, you .sould see mamma wanted’ ’ — Miss Anstruther tappe< 1 the floor with her foot. I turned to the window and watched Mr. McDonald walking up and down in the rain. Vlt happened last night,” she said suddenly, ‘‘when you were”— “What happened?” I asked. “Oh, you know!” “Your engagement?’ “I am hot engaged. ‘‘Not engaged? Then what are you taking about’?’ “You are stupid. Don’t you understand? That’s what I have to decide—to tell Mr. McDonald this morning—before he goes away. Oh, I oughtn’t to

tejl you all this. But you made mo, you know. And I think you might help me. ” “I would with pleasure, if I only knew”-r- “ What should a girl do when her mother wants her to—you know —and the man is” — “Rich, ” I suggested. "Yes, ami—like that.” Miss Anstruther nodded toward the window. "It’s a difficult question,” I said, "ft very difficult ipiestion. As you have asked me to advise you—well—do you. love him?” "You may put that aside,’’said Miss Anstruther with a sweep of her hand. “That simplifies matters,” I said. “Then there comes the qui st ion of filial duty. You sec, a parent judges in these matters with less—l mean with greater freedom from-—personal feeling,” “But, ” objected Miss Anstruther, ‘ ‘it is it> very personal matter, isn’t it? Besides, 1 am sure mamma would never j want me to —to marry any one whom I she thought I didn't really—l didn’t—or, I mean, if I”— | I shook my head gravely. “Y’oti must reall.v be frank with me, if I am to advise you prolit ably, ” Isaid. i “If I really cared for some one else,” I said Miss Anstruther, very sol fly. “Ah—there’s some one else?!.’ Miss Anstruther nodded. "Who doesn’t care for you?” | "Oh, yes, he does,” said Miss An- ' struther quickly, raising her eyes for a : moment to mine, and then dropping I them again. | 1 was just addressing my mind to this I fresh complication, when Miss An- . struther jumped up. I “Oli, but we are not playing,” she said. “It's my turn, isn’t it?” ! “It is,” I said, with a sigh, for I should have preferred to follow out the subject. “But, eiXeusc me, you won’t do it that way, and if you hold your cue j like that you’ll dig a hole in thi'cloth. ” I went round the table to where Miss . Anstruthcr was standing. “Keep quite still-and I’ll show you, ” 1 said. I placed her hand in the right i position at the butt end of the cue, and, ■ holding it there, showed her how to make a proper bridge wi: h Ihi left hand and slide the cue smoothly and horizonj tally over it. I : "Now,” Isaid, still retaining a guid- , ing hand on the cue, “if you aim so, you’ll get the pocket—unless the balls kiss.” Naturally I was compelled to stand i very close to Miss Ansfruther during tins objict lesson —soclose that the curl . that nestled round her left car tickled I my lips as my breath stirred it. Miss Anstruther made her stroke. It was a ridiculous stroke. i "Were you really going for the pockI et?” I asked. I “I think,” said she, turning and facing me, “the kiss spoiled it. ” Miss Anstruther was strangely agitated over her failure. Thinking it better to change tlm subject from billiards, I Isaid; | "Tell me, what are you going to say . to Mr. McDonald?” ; We were, as 1 have said, of necessity ' "very close together, and Miss zVnstruther dropped her eyes. ' “I am going to tell him, ” she said, “that I don’t care for him—not in that way—and’'— "And that’s what you -meant when you said just now that —that—you couldn’t sav it tonne?” i ... MiSS.-’Ailstrutlier’s attention was fixed upon tiie t<'u-of-hcr right shoe, which she was tapping w-itli the butt end of her cue. Mine was concent rated on Miss Anstruther"s' -drooped eyelids. Cbnse1 quentl.y miitln-ig tis us heard the door open.

“Hello! Playing?” said Mr. McDbn- - aid, walking round toward the marking board. “What’s the game?” “The game,” I said, looking up, “is —let me see—two and love. Isn’t it, Miss Anstruther?” Miss Anstruther looked quickly at Mr. McDonald and tlien at me. “Yes,’’.she said. . “H’m, lost forever,” said Mr. McDonald, going out and slamming the door. .. “I hope so, ” I said as I turned again to Miss Anstruther.—Black and White. How to Hide Hi. Dog. I saw a woman stop at the entrance to one of the big railroad stations the other day, remove her mackintosh and seize a handful or so of dog which had been trotting along beside her. It was a very wise looking dog, with long hair, which all but hid two eyes that told of rare sagacity. . “Don’t you dare move!” sjle said to the woolly thing. “Do you hear?” The dog heard and seemed- to understand. “If you make any more noise,, you’re a dead dog,” shß.continued. The woolly thing, by its eyes, seemed to say that it understood. She hid it under the cape of her mackintosh, and one could have sworn that she had nothing under the cape but her —— arm. I supposed that she was going only a little way out of town. To my surprise, she bought a sleeper ticket and paid $lO for her regular transportation. There was never a whine or a motion under the cape as she offered her ticket to bo punched and passed through to the train. The woolly thing kuew. it seemed, fhfit dire things would befall if, the sleeper were not readied in silence. Nothing short of X ray glasses would have betrayed his mistress.— New York Herald. The Natioual Bud. Some well meaning people are not > satisfied with the national flower, what* ever it is, and are suggesting the pondlily for that exalted honor. They claim that as this lily is closely related to the lotus of India and Egypt its adoption by the United States would show that we believe in the “sisterhood of states,” etc. The pefnd lily, however; from its aqueous habit, will tiot do so as a symbol of this great republic, for tlup United States never takes water, in which example it is followed by many of its brave'brigadiers and colonels. —Kansas City Journal.