Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 109, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 May 1910 — Page 3

THE QUICKENING FRANCIS LYNDE

CHAPTER H. Thomas Jefferson's twelfth summer fell in the year 1886; a yeat memorable In the annals of the Lebanon iron and coal region as the first of :m epoch, and as the year of the great flood. But the herald of change had not yet blown his trumpet in Paradise Valley; and the world of russet and green and limestone white, spreading itself before the eyes of the boy sitting with his hands locked ,over his knees on the top step of the -porch fronting the Gordon homestead, was the same world which, with due seasonal variations, had been his wond from the beginning. It was a hot July afternoon, a full month after the revivals and Thomas JefferSon. was at that perilous pass where Satan is said to lurk for the purpose of providing employment for the idle. He was wondering If the shade of the hill .oaks would be worth the trouble It would take to reach It, When -his mother came to the open window of the living-room: a small, fair, well-preserved woman, this mother of the boy of 12, with light brown hair graying a little at the temples, and eyes remindful of vigils, of fervent beseeching, of mighty wrestlings against principalities and powers and the rulers of the darkness of this world. “You, Thomas Jefferson,” she said, gently, but speaking as one having authority, “you’d better be studying your Sunday lesson than sitting there doing nothing.” - “Yes’m,” said the boy, but he made no move other than to hug his knees a little closer. He wished his mother would stop calling his “Thomas Jefferson." To be sure, It was his name, or at least twb-thirds of it; but he liked the “Buddy” of his father, or the “Tom-Jeff” of other pebble a vast deal better. Further, the thought of studying Sunday lessons begot rebellion. At times, as during those soul-stirring revival weeks, now seemingly receding into a far-away past, he had moments of yearning to be wholly sanctified. But the miracle of transformation which he had confidently expected as the result of his "coming through” was still unwrought. When John Bates or Simon Cantrell undertook to bully him, as aforetime, there was the same intoxicating experience of all the visibio world goipg blood-red before his eye# —the same sinful desire to slay them, one or both. - He stole a glance at the open window' of the living-room. His mother had gone about her housework, and he could hear her singing-softly, as befitted the still, -warm day. All hymns were beginning to have that effect, and this one In particular always renewed the conflict between the yearning for sanctity and a desire to do something desperately wicked;’ the only middle course lay in flight Hence, the battle being fairly on, he stole another glance at the window, sprang afoot, and ran silently around the house and through the peach orchard to clamber over the low stone wall which was the only barrier on that side between the wilderness aiul the sown. Men spoke of Paradise as "the valley,” though It was rather a sheltered cove with Mount Lebanon for Its background and a semicircular range of oak-grown hills for its other rampart. Splitting it endwise raw the white streak of the pike, macadamized from the hill quarry which, a full quarter of a century before the Civil War, had furnished the stone for the Dabn«y manor-house; and paralleling the road unevenly lay a ribbon of silver, known to less poetic souls than Thomas Jefferson's as Turkey Creek, but loved best by him under Its almost forgotten Indian name of Chiawassee. Beyond the valley and its inclosing hills rose the "other mountatl," blue in the sunlight and royal purple in the shadows —the Cumberland: source and birthplace of the cooling west wind that was whispering softly to the -cedars on high Lebanon. Thomas Jefferson called, the loftiest of the purple distances Pisgah, picturing it as the mountain from which Moseß had looked over inttf the Promised Land. Sometime he would go and climb it and - feast his eyes on the sight of the Canaan beyond; yea, he might even go down and possess the good land, if so the Lord should not hold him back as He had held Moses. That was a high thought, quite in \keeping with the sense of overlordship bred of the upper stillnesses. To &>mpany with it, the home valley straightway began to idealize itself from the uplifted point of view on the mount of vision. The Paradise fields were delicately-outlined squares of vivid green or golden yellow, or the warm red brown of the upturned earth nt the fallow places. The old negro quarters on the Dabney grounds, many years gone to the ruin of disuse, were vine-grown and invisible save as a spot of summer verdure; and the man-or-house itself, gray, grim and forbidding to a small boy scurrying past it in the deepening twilight, was now no more than a great square roof with the cheerful sunlight playing on it '* Farther down the valley, near the place where the white pike twisted itself between two of the rampart hills to escape Into the great valley of he Tennessee, the split-shingled roof under which Thomas Jefferson had eaten and slept since the earliest beginning of memories became also a part of the hlgh-mountain harmony; and the ragged, red Iron-ore beds on the slope above the furnace were softened into a blur of Joyous color. The Iron furnace, with Its alternating smoke puff and dull red flare, struck the one Jarring note In a symphony blown otherwise on great nature’s organ-pipes; but to Thomas Jefferson the furnace was as much n / „ .

by Francis Lynde

Copyriekt, 1906,

part of the immutable scheme - as the hills or the forests or the Creek which furrrtshed the motive power fqr its airblast. More, it stood for him as the summary St the world’s industry, as the white pike world’s great highway, and Major Dabney its chief citizen, i. ... ' ~ He was knocking his bare heels together and thinking idly of Major Dabney and certain disquieting rumors lately come to Paradise, when the tinkling drip of the spring pool at the foot of his perch was interrupted by a sudden splash. By shifting a little to the right he could see the spring. A girl of about his own age, barefooted, and with only her tangled mat of dark hair for a head covering, was filling her bucket in the pool. He broke a dry twig from the nearest cedar and dropped it on her. “You better quit that, Tom-Jeff GO •- don. I taken sight o’ you up there,” said the girl, ignoring him otherwise. “That’s my spring, Nan Bryerson,” he warned her dictatorlhlly. Shucks! it ain’t your spring anymore’n it’s mine!” she retorted. “Hit's on Maje’ Dabney’s land.” “Well, don’t you muddy It none,” said Thomas Jefferson, with threatening emphasis. For answer to this she put one brown foot deep into the pool and wriggled her toes in the sandy bottom. Things began to turn red for Thomas Jefferson, and a high, buzzing note, like the tocsin of the bees, sang in his ears. “Take your foot out o’ that spring! Don’t-you mad me, Nan Bryerson!” he cried. She laughed at him and flung him a taunt. “You don’t darst to get mad, Tommy-Jeffy; you’ve got religion.” It is a terrible thing to be angry In shackles. There are similes—pent volcanoes, overcharged boilers and the like—but they are all inadequate. Thomas Jefferson searched for missiles more deadly than dry twigs, found none, and fell headlong— not from the rock, but from grace. The girl laughed mockingly and took her foot from the pool, not in deference to his outburst, but because the water was icy cold and gave her a cramp. “Now you’ve done it,” she remarked. “The devil ’ll shore get ye for savin’ that word, Tom-Jeff.” There was no reply, and she stepped back to see what had become of him. He yas prone, writhing in Agony. She knew titfe way to the top of the rock, and was presently crouching beside him. “Don’t take on like that!” she pleaded. “Times I cay n’t he’p bein’ mean: looks like I was made thataway. Get up and slap me. If you want to. I won’t, slap back.” But Thomas Jefferson only ground his face deeper into the thick mat of cedar needles and begged to be let alone, - “Go away; I don’t want you to talk to me!” he groaned. “You’re always making me sin! You’re awfully wicked.” ” ’Cause I don’t believe all that abo-tt the woman and the shake and the apple and the man?” " v “You’ll go to heli -when you die, and then I guess you’ll believe,” said Thomas Jefferson, still more definitely. She took a red apple from the pocket of her ragged frock and gave it to him. “What’s that for?” he asked, suspiciously. i - “You eat it; it's the kind you like—off ’m the tree right back of Jim Stone’s barn lot,” she answered. “You stole it, Nan Bryerson!” “Well, what if I did? You didn’t” He bit 'into it, and she held him in talk till It was eaten to the core. “Have yovf heard tell anything new abotjt the new railroad?” she asked. Thomas Jefferson shook, his head. “I heard Squire Bates and Major Dabney naming It one day last week.” “Well, It’s shoreffcomin’ thoo’ Paradise. I heard tell how It was goin’ to cut the old Maje’s grass patch plumb in two, and run right smack thoo’ you-fins’ peach orchard.” A far-away cry, long-drawn and penetrating, rose on the still air of the lower slope and was blown on the breeze to the summit of the great rock. "That’s maw, hollerin’ for me to get back home with that bucket o’ wat#r,” said the girl; and, as she was descending the tree ladder: “You didn’t s’picion why I give you that apple, did you, Tommy-Jeffy?” —1 -“’Cause you didn’t want it yourself, I reCffon,” said the second Adam. “No; it was ’cause you said I was goin’ to hell and I wanted comp’ny. That apple was stole and you knowed It!” Thomas Jefferson flung the core far out over the tree-tops and shut nls eyes till he could see without seeing red. Then he rose to the serenesf height he had yet attained and said: “I forgive you, you wicked, wicked girl!” < Her laugh was a screaming taunt “But you’ve et the apple!" she cried; “and if you wasn’t soared of goin’ to hell, you’d cuss me—you know you would! Lemme tell you, Tom-Jeff, if the preacher had dipped me in the creek like he did you, I’d be a mighty sight holier than what you are. I cert’nly would.” And now anger came to its own again. "You don’t know what you’re talking about, Nan Bryerson! You’re nothing .but a—a miserable little heathen; my, mother said you was '•" he cried out after her. But a back-flung grimace was all the answer he had. chapter nr. It has been said-that nothing comes suddenly; that the unexpected is merely the overlooked. For weeks Thom-

as Jefferson had been scenting the un« .Wonted In the air of sleepy Pa radian Once he had stumbled on the engineers at work in the # ‘dark woods'* across the creek, spying out a line sos the new railroad, Another day he had cOme home late from a. fishing excursion to the upper pools to find his father shut in the sitting-room with three strangers resplendent In town clothes, and the talk was of iron and coal, of a “New-South,”-whatever that might be, and of wonderful changes portending, which his father was exhorted to help bring about. But these were only the gentle heavings and crackings of the ground premonitary of the real earthquake. That came on a day of days when, as a reward of merit for havlngyfaultlessly recited the eighty-third Psalm from memory, he was permitted to go tb town with his father. Behold him, then, dangling his feet —uncomfortable because they were stockinged and shod - from the high buggy seat the laziest of horses ambled between the shafts up the wjiite pike ahd around and over the hunched shoulder of Mount Lebanon. This in the cool of the morning of the day of revelations. In spite of the premonitory tremblings, the true earthquake found Thomas Jefferson totally, unprepared. He had been to town often enough to have a clear memory picture of South Tredegar—the prehistoric South Tredegar. There was a single street, hubdeep in mud in the rains, beginning vaguely in the open square surrounding the venerable court-house of pale brick and stucco-pillared porticoes. There were the shops—only ThomiS Jefferson and all his kind called them “stores"—one-storied, these, the wooden ones with lying false fronts to hide the mean little gables; the brick ones honester in face, but-sadly chipped and crumbling and dingy with age and the weathfer. Also, on the banks of the river, there was the antiquated iron-furnace which, long before the war, had 'Viven the town its pretentious name. And lastly, there was the Calhoun House, dreariest and most inhospitable inn of Its kind; and across the muddy street from it the great echoing train-shed,' ridiculously out of proportion to every other building in the town, the tavern not excepted, and to the ramshackle, once-a-day train that wheezed and clanked into and out of it. Thomas Jefferson had seen It all, time and again; and this he remembered, that each time the dead, weath-er-worn, miry or dusty dullness of it had crept into his soul, sending him back to the freshness of the Paradije fields and forests at eventide with grateful gladness in his heart. But now all this was to be forgotten, or to be remembered only as a dream. On the day of revelations the earlier picture was effaced, blacked out, obliterated; arftl it came to the boy with a pang that he should never be able to recall it again in its entirety. For the genius of modern progress is contemptuous of old landmarks and impatient of delays. And swift as its race U elsewhere, it is only in 6)at part of the South which has become "industrial" that it came as a thunderclap, with all the intermediate and accelerated steps taken at a bound. Men spoke of it as "the boom.” It was not that. It was merely that the spirit of modernity had discovered a Hitherto overlooked corner of the field, and made haste to occupy it. So in South Tredegar, besprent now before the wondering eyes of a .Thomas Jefferson. The muddy street had vanished to give place to a smooth black roadway, as springy under foot as a forest path, and as clean as the pike after a sweeping summer storrm The shops, with their false fronts and shabby lean-to awnings, were gone, or going, and in their room majestic vastnesses in brick and cut stone were' rising, by their own might, as it would seem, out of disorderly mountains of building material/ Street-cars, propelled as yet by the patient mule, tinkled their bells incessantly. Sipart vehicles of many kinds strange to Paradise eyes rattled recklessly in and out among the. street obstructions. •.Bustling' throngs were in possession of the sidewalks; of the awe-inspiring restaurant, where they gave you lenjonade in a glass bowl and some people washe£ their fingers In it; of the rotunda of the Marlboro, the mammoth hotel which had gfown up on the site of the old Calhoun House—distressing crowds and multitudes of people everywhere. (To oe continued.)

Feeds Hungry Children.

Four years ago the generous people of London were providing 6,000 hungry school children with their dinners or breakfasts a week, an exchange says. At that time they were subscribing £7,700 a year through various associations, while numbers of people spent, on the average, £1,500 during the year for providing food for the starving school children of London. Five years ago there were fewer than 5,000 children needing food which their parents could not supply. To-day there are 47,000 children in this position, each receiving about five meals a week. For years the pubic of London had subscribed nearly £IO.OOO a year to provide food- for the children. That money is no longer forthcoming. The growth in the army of the starving children of London during the past /four years has been so great thatiriore than six times £IO,OOO is now wanted to keep nearly 50.000 London children from being starved to death.

Underground Rivers.

Subterranean streams of water have been detected by sound by a French instrument known as the “acoustele,” with which the Belgian Society of Geology, Paleontology and Hydrology is said to have made extensive experiments. Write your name in kindness, love and mercy on the hearts of thousands you come in contact with year by year; you will never be forgotten. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heaven.—Chalmers. The truest help we can render an afflicted man is not to tdke his burden from him, but to call out hts best energy, that he may be able to bear the burden.—Phillip Brooks.

HAD A CLOSE CALL.

Bill Aider«oa Saved the Idle '«! Hts Stboalnatc. ’lMjr father owes his life to the fact that he helped 11111’ Anderson, the guerrilla, arork ovtt a problem In arithmetic," said W. T. Rutherford of Huntsville, according to the St. Louis Globe Democrat. “Father and Bill Anderson had been schoolmates in a little district school near Huntsyille. "Anderson’s gang swooped down on father’s farm one day. It seems .that a number of valuable horses had been run out of the neighborhood to prevent, them falling into Anderson’s clutches. Some spy had told AnderstM that father was among those who had secreted his animals. When the gang first reached the house Anderson was not with them. A lieutenant conducted .an examination and father was found guilty. In a twinkling he was standing under f a tree with a rope around his neck. The guerrillas were getting ready to ‘hist way’ when Anderson himself rode into the yard and asked: “‘What you got, boys?’ “ ‘Been hidin' his horses, cap,’ was the terse reply of the executioner of the deajh sentence. “It wis .a capital crime in the eyes of the guerrillas. Anderson - looked keenly at the pale face before him. “ ‘Why,’ he said, ‘it’s little Hade Rutherford'.’ ‘“Yes, it’s me, Bill; your old school chum.’ “ ‘Humph!’ Father tthought he detected just a gleam of resentment in the eyes of the bandit and he played his last card. ‘Remember that problem you got stuck on, Bill?’ he asked: # “ ‘You bet. Teacher was going to lick me if I hadn’t worked it.’ “ ‘Yes, and I’m the lad that showed you how to do it, Bill.’ “ ‘That’s what you did, Hade,’ said Anderson, as he caught hold of the rope.

“Father said that was the most anxious moment of his life. He had heard of stories of Anderson shaking hands with people in one moment and shooting them the next. His mood was as irregular as the winds which swept across our prairies. But this time the rough rider was generous. He threw the rope over the limb and took the noose from father’s neck. Father and mother both started to thank him sf‘ fusiveiy. He drejr out his revolver and gritted his teeth. v " ‘None of that,’ he said, harshly. “You don’t love me and there’s no use pitting’ on.. Clear out before I change my mind.’ “Anderson probably uttered the last for its effect on his men, as his iron rule was to discourage any semblance of which he Considered as weakness. The netx thing that was heard of the guerrilla chieftain and his ciew was the affair at Centralla,. in which the sick soldiers were butchered by. the dozens, and’ Major Johnson’s mounted militia annihilated. Then came the bloody affray in Ray county, in which Anderson met the fate that had been due him for a long time. His body was literally shot to pieces while he was charging almost alone against a company of 100 soldiers."

WOKE UP A TOWN.

When Commodore Thomas Macdonough entered the United States navy at sixteen as a midshipman, in 1800, he drew nineteen dollars a month pay and was entitled to one ration a day. In the “Life” of this brave officer Rodney Macdonough says that so great were the exactions and so unceasing the strain on a boy’s nervous temperament that only the most rugged and determined could remain In the service for any length of tifhe. Nevertheless, the records show that the young Maodonough found some amusement, and paid for his mischief. Boys are boys, in all ages, and the midshipmen of that day were as fon’d of fun and as full of life and spirits as are healthy boys of to-day, and sometimes, no dpubt, were sore trials to their superiors and others. While the ship Ganges was lying-at New Castle, a skylarking party of midshipmen oi shore leave conceived the idea of waking up the sleepy place. One of their number climbed into the belfry qf the Venerable Episcopal chtirch, drew the bell-rope up through a hole in the floor and let it down outside. Then the entire party tailed on to the rope and gave the old bell such a ringing as roused and startled the whole town. - The supports of the bell, unused to such a severe strain, presently broke, and the bell crashed to the floor, while the midshipmen took to their heels. Before the Ganges left, the worthy dominie received an unsigned letter expressing regret for the damage done, and containing a sum of moaey which, It was hoped by the senders, would cover the cost of the repairs. The letter was In existence until recently, and from the writing it was always supposed to “be the work of Midshipman Macdonough.

Mistaken Identity.

“Oh, doctor, he growled so savagely I was sure he was mad g|en before he went on In such a biting way.” “I beg pardon, madam, but is it your large dog or your 'small pet one you are speaking of?” “Law, doctor, it Isn't* my 4<>g I am talking about. It’s my husband/'--Baltimore American.

Those Questions.

“Have a pleasant trip east?” r “Yep.” “How did you find New York?” “Why, you can’t miss it, if you take the right train.”

CALIFORNIA MAKES GOOD.

Euttrnera Sit Up and Take Notlea When They Visit the Coast. The gi*eat thing: about California is that she make good. Both in our literature and by our speech when we are away from home Californians are thought to be a somewhat boastful people. “Oh, no doubt you have a beautiful country and a fine climate, out you are not yet a finished product in other respects,” is what the outlander says to us with an amiable and patient smile. But it has now come to pass that when we get an easterner here we make him sit up and take notice from every possible point of view he may care to take. We have not only the scenery and the climate, but we have everything that anybody else has and a whole lot of things that nobody else has. If yre boast, we can make the boast good. Let us take, for instance, the blase man—the man,-above all others, who is hard to please. He is a man whq must have luxuries —elegant hotels, clubs and all that sort of thing. Well, what do we do to h'm-when he comeg to California? Why, we can lodge ..him in as fine a hotel as there is on earth. We can put him up at a club equal to any he has ever known. Suppose he were to spend his winter in this immediate neighborhood, can he find anything better in the hotel line than he will find between Santa Barbara and San Diego? Has' he ever seen in all his life and in all his wanderings country clubs to discount the Ananadaie Club and the other California country clubs? Then take the financier, the banker and the business man who come here from the east or from any other part of the world. They come as skeptics and go away true believers. They are staggered by the immensity and the solidity of our financial institutions. They are astounded at our present commerce and are soon willing to admit that it is a commerce destined to become Jhe greatest the world has ever known. They can hardly realize that we are carrying out projects of the stupendous bigness of the Owens River aqueduct and things of that character. They see what we are doing in the way of building highways equal to the highways of France, and that we are digging harbors to accommodate the fleets of all the. oceans. The stranger comes patronizingly, but he goes away dofiing his chapeau respectfully. The day is past when we could be considered raw and unfinic The possibilities of the most frui!*!ll and advantageous section of the globe have been taken full advantage of. California makes good.— Los Angeles Times. _l _

DEER IN THE FAR NORTH.

Thousands Seen by Canadian Police Near Artillery Lake. Three thousand three hundred and forty-seven miles—that is the police beat which Inspector, E. A. Pelletier of the royal northwest •mounted police has had to patrol for the past year, says the Canadian Courier. Inspector Pelletier, accompanied by his two comrades, Corporal M. A. Joyce and Constable R. H, Walker, crept back Into civilization not long ago, and is being nicknamed “Daniel Boone” because of his exploit, by the smart boys in the western barracks. It was back In 1908 that the inspector was dispatched to the far north, where he was under instructions to report ont a feasible route from Hudson Bay to the Mackenzie River and to Took after Canadian interests in the wilderness. The jaunt to the top of the world began at Fort Saskatchewan. Pt few miles steamer stateroom comfort; then some gritty paddling, and Great' Slave Lake was reached. That was where the real work commenced. The route along this great, wild sheet, into narrow, roaring channels was a nightmare of portages, mosquitoes and lurking, foaming rapid. On the Ist of September Inspector Pelletier and party touched Hudson Bay. The windtossed timbers of a sailboat on the shore was the first object to meet their gaze. The wreck of the sailboat meant a long pause at Fullerton till winter should set in and permit the dog trains to gallop south with the police. The move from Fullerton to Churchill—4s» miles —was a thriller. Raw deer meat was all that was left of shrunken supplies to sustain the expedition. Probably the most picturesque part of the journey was the passage from Artillery Lake to the height of land. Inspector Pelletier has this to say on the event: “Aided by the sails, we were making good time, but were delayed by large numbers of deer crossing et various points. We must have seen between 20,000 and 40,000. The hills on both shores were covered with them and at a dozen or ipore places where the lake was from a half to one mile wide solid columns of deer four or five abreast were swimming across, and so closely that we did not like to venture through them for fear of getting into some mix-up.”

Ragtime Beats.

“Music,” remarked the sweet girl graduate, “is the language of the heart.” . “According to that,” rejoined the mere man, “ragtime must be caused by palpitation of the heart.”

A Legal Difference.

The Client—How much will your opinion be worth in this case? The Lawyer—l’m too modest to say,, But JL can tell you what I’m going t« charge you for It.—-Cleveland Leader. If a woman has proper pride she will never forget her dignity, not even when running to a lire.

Old Favorites

The Arab’s Farewell to Hie Steed. My beautiful,'my beautiful! that standest meekly by, With thy proudly-arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye! Fret not to roam the desert now with all thy winged speed; I may not mount on thee again! thou’rt sold, my Arab steed! Fret not with that impatleht hoof, snuff not the breezy wind; The farther that thou fllest now so far am I behind; The stranger hath thy bridle rein, thy master hath his gold; Fleet-limbed and beautiful, farewell! thou’rt sold, my steed, thou’rt sold! Farewell! Those free, up tired limbs full many a mile must roam. To reach the chill and wintry clime that clouds the stranger's home; Some, other hand, less kind, must now thy corn and bed prepare; That silky mane I braided once must be another’s care. Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright— Only in sleep shall hear again that 4 step so firm and light; And when I raise my dreaming arms to check qr cheer thy speed Then must I startling wake, to feel thou’rt sold, my Arab steed! Ah! rudely then, unseen my me, some cruel hand may chide, Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested wave, along thy panting side, And the rich blood that’s in thee swells, in thy indignant pain. Till careless eyes that on thee gaze may count each starting vein! Will they ill use thee?—if I thought—but no—it can not be; Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed, so gentle, yet so free; And yet if haply, when thou’rt gone, this lonely heart should yearn, Can the hand that casts thee from It now, command thee to return? Return!—Alas! my Arab steed! what will thy master do. When thou, that wast his all of Joy hast vanished from hts view? When the dim distance greets mine eyes, and through the gathering tears Thy bright form for a moment, like , the false mirage, appears 1 ? \ Slow and unmounted will I roam, with wearied foot, alone, Where, with fleet step and Joyous bound, thou oft hast borne me on; , And sitting down by the green well, Til pause, and sadly think, ’Twas here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink. When last I saw thee drink! Away! the fevered dream is o’er! I could not live a day, and know that we should meet ho more; They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunker’s power is strong— They tempted me, my beautiful! bpt I have loved too long. Who said that I had given thee up? Who said-that thou wert.sold? •Thr false.! -Ms false, my Arab steed! . I fling them back their gold! Thus—thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains! Away! Who overtakes us now may claim thee for his pains. —Mrs. Norton.

SEES FAULT IN SCIENTISTS.

Thinker* of To-day Lack lin agination, According to Writer. Men of science, your faculties are weakened by the very exactitude which is your pride. You measure and weigh, and you are surrounded and overwhelmed by the limitations imposed by the experiences of your senses. You seek causes upon observing effects, or determine the effects resulting from given causes; but such analyses do not lead you into the realm of imagination. You are too material. If you had been Newton, upon observing the apple fall, you would have thought, “The reason why it fell was because its stem became too weak to hold it.” Newton, however, had imagination, and thereby he discovered the law of grayitation, declares a writer in Cassier’s Magazine. Columbus did not care to prove simply that the earth was round. His imagination fired him with a knowledge of benefits to mankind resulting from a possible (and, as it turned out. chimerical) northwest passage due to such roundness. His imagination inspired the discovery of a continent. And so it is with name after name in history, and so it will be with you and ~ me.- You may achieve some small measure of success by doing what our fathers did before us, but our really big deeds will be offspring of our imaginations. Sometimes we see inventions accomplished by chance or a benefit, opened to mankind by a stumbling footstep. Such are rare, and shiftless we should be did we count upon circumstances for success.

Flapjack Days.

How dear to my heart are the flapjacks and bacon That mother constructed in the days long ago. And how I would eat till my food shop was achin’ And swallow each jack till the flap didn't show; r ’ The coffee and rolls and the fritters that sizzled, ’ The cat that sat meowing for scraps now and then— Oh, you may have breakfast served up in three courses. But give me the flapjacks and bacon again. —St. Louis Star. About all a genuine pessimist can see to spring is house cleaning, sassafras tea and the equinoctal storm.