Indianapolis Journal, Volume 52, Number 215, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 August 1902 — Page 23

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THS IXDTAXAPOLIS JOURNAL, SUNDAY, AUGUST 3, 1002. 1 1

5 jfize TTAirr .. Uj- AARON ,. Yarebridge workmen were usually ...r. what solemn in their cups. Their would not run to revelry at the j.r; and at the worst they were so low ir. dulse nee in more than a weekly :a rt was a high form, or extravagance, i: t. 1 "r as they were, and thrifty as tr. v I. i" "j- n made by circumstances, most ci :!'.-." v.'.rknun at Yarebridge mills, when .i;ry l:a-l tiled one by one past the cash ,v on Saturday, each picking up h'S 5v.u:.'y earnings, adjourned In srroups, as by crr.".o.i consent, to the various alehouses c-; t';.o town, there to spend the afternoon in .1: passed with them for conviviality. It v.s understood in Yarebridge that on -.. h occasions each man should "stand j.:s t'.r.t." The law was unwritten, but j -.va:: .b'.e; unless. Indeed, some recIHetss r, ;y.-trer should Etand his pint three or o;r tinus over. In which ease his com-p-.i-'.ns would, for the most part, grate1 enough share in hi3 drink whilst 5 : ; . r 1 1 y condemning his extravagance. n men were closely looked after by t!.-;!r wive:-, themselves factory hands, who v. '..-I wait about the mill on pay days, an 1 demand thi week's wages on behalf of the children at home. If the woman was a ?rrew fh commonly insisted on the wh:!-? of the week's earnings without deduction; but If she had any sympathy with rr.j'-e weaknesses she would observe to the con:; anion of her cares: -li.frc, lad! There's a shilling for thee; a-..l ; ust mind that thou doesn't spend It IT " . Th ro were, of course, a few blackguards, v.r.1 thrashed their wives if the poor wc.r.r.. with long experiences of hardship Ii h thtm, should become too importur.te; hut these made a class by themselves, d-Atl.ii.g in a little Coventry of their own, i. i: were, and being carefully avoided, alter work hours, by all their more orderly and provident neighbors. These. "were the men who frequented the Cat and Fiddle, high v.p in the town; but the best, the most trJUrly and most 'frequented Inn, was the Crosj Keys, which also had the advantage cf t- ir.g nearest to the mills. It was at the Cross Keys, then, on a Saturday afternoon, that a. numerous party of Yarebridge workmen was seated round the tig table in the parlor. They had no more than one Jug of beer and-one small "tot ia??" before them; but the glass was circling round from hand to hand in a ruh r formal but persistent way, and when th jug was empty It was immediately fv.t out to be replenished at. some new c:i:L By this arrangement of "sending round the ?la?s" each, man got the full h-r--:it of hi" own pint whilst appearing to ?tand treat to-his neighbors; for though it was impossible fur "so moderate a provision of li r; r. however small the tot glass might ho, to pass round so large a circle, there was always somebody else's pint to "take i:: th- running," so that a Jug was always trawling in the direction of the man who l. id tnwn the last Order. Somewhat elab.:,!t..:, and made much more costly, the -..-t.m is known in "higher circles of. society a.- "Tommy Dodd." .. krl!" said, one of the men, addressing r.irr.s.if to a fellow-workman on the other h ! of thr table, "Thee hasn't stood thy I in: y.-t. Zekel." ' Tv sot no money to stand no pint," ea!d Z kol. quite impcrturbably. "Our Nan has trtk'n it liome with her, and hasn't left r.-.e fvfi as much as three-halfpence." -i'h, that's it, is it?" said the first speaker, with t lie evident approval of his companions. "Then thou'U get no more drink hre to-day." Zekel was undismayed by this threat. "I thfv;sht tome on you would be saying that before long," he replied, with undiminished cheerfulness; "but I'm none going away yet, for all that It may be that you're not ail of cne mind." "I don't know about that, though," said another member of the solemnly festive circle at the Cross Keys. "Thy wife gets all thy money a bit too often for us, Zekel. However, If you can sing a song", I doubt not but you might get another glass of a" "I'm nowt of a singer." Zekel replied; "but I can do something betterthan sing a song, and that's truly what I come for. Ve gelten something to tell you." There was general but unexpressed doubt 3 to whether Zekel came for anything but, as gerne poet has expressed It, "The rapturous, wild, and ineffable pleasure Of driaking at somebody else's expense." There was g-eneral tut unexpressed doubt Kent of expectation. "What Is it, lad? Out with it!" cried two r three members of the company at once. "You haven't heard, I suppose," said ere, "that Owd Starberry means to raise cur wages?" 'Wish to goodness, I had." said Zekel, with f.ne fervor. "It caps me how a L jinss that makes so much" money for th rr.esters should b able to pay so little to t.V men." "Thou makes slow work of telling a story, Zekel." said a strong voice from, the chimney corner. "Get along, man,' get al.-rg." "Ah, vrnat's It about?" was the general i-.rrund. "About? Why It's about th' youngmester. If you must know, he's coming homa next w e v k." ekei had certainly produced his intended There was amazement In all the faces, r.o-. cf the men being calm enough even to notice that Zekel had helped himself to t 3 glasses of ale In succession. "Th' young mester! Why, who would have expected to see him in Yarebridge as a In leastways, before his father died?" fail the strong voice In the chimney corner. "He's coming, Aberhum, anyhow. I Just fr-arien to know all about it." "V.vii, what more is there to tell?. Let's r-ave it all now that thou's started," re r:. ci cked Abraham Ilalg, generally spoken s Aberhum. "I wonder what he'll make th' cwd man this time." Oh. that's all squared up," said Zekel, !; :r. himself to the contents of the jug if he had come into permanent possesr.. "Th" young mester's going to marry th lawyer's daughter this time. It were " .tUd in France, so I hear. Th' lawyer i-i.d his daughter have been over there, you :-r .v; and so has th young mester, it '-:r.$. it were at a place they call Klvvlv.ary." "Wen. that young woman has a pluck o' r own, I must say," observed Abraham II.".!,-. II. , "Aye, my dear, and Isn't. it wonderful?' Th. a f whole river Is yoked In to bring them '.Ttun?.' ' fho remark was made by one motherly1 'ft woman to another as "they stood b. i'"e one of ihf !eer reservoirs wnicn the water-wheels of Yarebridge mills. It Waa a reervn?r th.it rnlifted wide PUb1:'ity, for it lay close' beside the main .street c? YartbridKe. btlng divided therefrom, for purposes of public - safety," by a tall iron, palisading. In dry 'seasons, .when, the ater was lower than usual, the cumbrous atr-wh66l might be uten under tba

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of Wheels WA TSON. 55 at the other side of the mwvnir it revolutions "bringing ln a thousand pounds at each turn," as the simple people of Yarebridge devoutly believed. It was true enough, as the woman said, mat the river Yare had been yoked in to make that whirr of many wheels which might be heard proceeding from the storied buildings of the Yarebridge flax mills, which here occupied bothsides of the principal thoroughfare, and stretched to right and to left over many acres. A swift river, flowing from far-off hills, through miles and miles of pleasant meadow-lands, the Yare broadened out magnificently as it approached the bridge from which the little town had obtained its name, making what at first sight seemed to be a spacious lake, with osier beds fringing its margins. And it was all the more lakelike because, before It reached the bridge it was chained in by high semi-circular stone walls, over which it poured only in times of flood, making then a respectable Niagara of Its own. On ordinary days at all its waters were diverted for the purpose of turning the wheels and driving the spindles of the Yarebridge . mills, beyond which they were, after their hard labor, set free in a 'tumultuous torrent, to lind 'their way again Into ' the old river bed. and to How on peacefully and Indolently until they were once more enchained for similar labor when they had traveled a dozen miles further towards the sea. 'An' just to bring them. a fortune; for it brings nothing but toil and poverty to us," said the other motherly-liking woman to her companion. "Oh, we're none so badly off, what with what the men. earn, and w hat the children earn and what we earn ourselves. We just make shift anyhow; and that's somethiug to be thankful for, Hannah. Ilaig." "I suppose it is, Betsy Jenkins, specially when the children grow up. as ours has done, and there's enough coming to leave us free to look after our own hearthstones." "It'll be a cold hearthstone they'll be having at the Hall at Bridgend, I'm" thinking, never mind all their servants to keep It warm and clean," said Betsy, as the two women sauntered on into the town, their little marketing baskets on their arms. "But why mightn't. It be a love match, Eetsy?" asked Hannah Haig. "A love" match! What? Between th young mester and Lawyer Wagstaffs gell! There's no love-match there, I can tell you; Why, that woman will be like a toad tethered by one leg to a millstone." "You were always a. woman hard in your judgments, Betsy Jenkins," said Hannah Ilaig. "Why shouldn't they be happy, even if they have got such a lot of money. I could be happy enough with only a hand ful of it, that I could." "Happier without any of It than them with the whole of it, of that you may be sure. Why, It's Taticnce Morton, her as turned. dressmakker, that th young mes ter's fond on." "You don't say so, Betsy?" "But I do say so; and who could say it with more reason, for wasn't my sister Jane parlor maid at th hall before th' young mester went away?" "It's many a time I've wondered why he did go away, Betsy," said Hannah Ilaig. "Why, just because he wanted to-marry Patience Morton. What else could it be?" "What hindered him, then?" "Why, his owd father hindered him, oi course. It was Lawyer Wagstaff's daugh ter that th' owd mester wanted him to marry. And now, it seems, he's got hi way. This was how it was, for our Jane heard.it all. 'So you want to marry that Morton gell?' says th' owd mescr. 'Yes and I mean to marry her, too,' says th young one, who alwuys was a bold, disre spectful sort of chap. 'Then you'll ge out of my house,' th' owd mester says wnai iorr says in young one. 'i;ecause there'll be no Morton gells here,' says ow Starberry. 'It's Lawyer Wagstaff's daugh ter you are going to marry,' lie says. 'I'll see her somewhere first,' says young John Then you can get out of this house,' says th owd mester. 'Where am I to go to?', th young mester eays. 'To th bottomless pit, if you like,' says his father. 'After you,' says his son. And then he turned away and rung for his valley, and . they packed up and went away, goodness knows where. Ah, they never could abide each other, those two, father and son as they were.? , "Well, well! 'And fo you tell mc. . And young.Mcster John comes back after these many years, and is going to marry Lawyer Wagstaff's gell after all." "Aye, and to be a partner In the mills, and to have the hall at Bridgend to himself, and to have as much money as th' big water-wheel would make in twenty years' time if it went oround ever so fast." "And he'll have forgotten Patience .Morton, I reckon." "More likely tr have remembered that his father's a rich man, Hannah. It's the prodigal returning- from hhs husks, it seems to me, and nothing but husks he'll get now he's come back, If he's to marry Lawyer Wagstaff's sell." "Gell no longer, Betsy," said Hannah Ilaig. "Why, she must be twenty-seven If she's a day." "Aye, and she's not like green apples. She's none the better for keeping, neither ln good looks nor sweetness." "Well,. I'm sure I wish neither of them any harm, Betsy. And they may be happy enough, one with so much money and the other with such a way of spending it on fine clothes. I wonder what Patience Morton will think, if he wanted to marry her once, as you say." "Eh, goodness knows!. But what do you suppose. Hannah? She's actually got th' wedding- gowns to make. You can be sure she'll think enough." III. It Is always as the poet says: "Love gives itself, and, If not given, wealth nor wisdom, worth nor wit; gold of earth, no gem of heaven Is rich enough to purchase it!" ' The approaching union between John Starberry and Edith Wagstaff could in no . . as a love match. It was tried lit' t-it-'-not even a marriage of convenience, for

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UK TiiüUtiUT HE .MUST UK HAPPY, Customer I want tset n mourning tie. My mothr-ln-law died yerterday. Taier r those- mother-in-law live with blm)-Hcre' a very pretty red one, lr, and these liglit blue are the very latest fctyle, sir.

one of "the parties, at least, was utterly in

different as to whether it took place or not. It was not a marriage of Interest even, for, as a fact, John Starberry was not a prodigal coming back from the husks. lie was a man of business, who had done rather well for himself since he had fceen asked to leave hi3 father's house. It was on both tides, as soon appeared, to be a marriage of Indifference. There had never been any real occasion for the rage of starberry, senior, at the idea that his $on should marry Patience Morton. The mind of John Starberry was not at all resolutely set on the matter. It was a mind wholly without sentiment of any kind. There were in It no depths of any descrip tion. He liked Patience. She was "a fine. strapping girl," as he said, and he had of fered to marry her; but If his father had not put himself in the way he would not have cared more for the carrying out of his engagement than for the foaling of one of his marcs. But it was Just In that way that the trouble arose. His father did interfere, and peremptorily. And then all the stolidity of a nature conspicuously stolid stood up as a barrier to his father's will. He was a young man quite wonderfully destitute of all the finer feelings, this John Starberry. He had been motherless from even his earliest days. He had been brought up morosely among wealth which had a thrifty and even cheeseparing side. He had taken keenly to the mills, but even more keenly to the lower pursuits of a country life. He was shut out from the county families by his industrial origin even more than by his manners; but he took to the society of the gamekeepers with far more relish than he could have displayed in that of their masters. He was" able, In a way; selfish; 'keen as his father; dogged beyond anything. He would have been an ideal son for Squire Western. There was, however, nothing vicious about him but want of taste, want of polish, and want of heart. Patience Morton! Why, Ehe was out of his mind, after that parting from his father, before he was out of Yarebridge. There was no communication on either side for several years after the separation of father and son. John had no ill feeling on the subject. lie bore no grudge; but he had also no Interest in his father's affaris or his father's wellbelng. He was a son without any of the natural emotions, good or evil. . They met eventually, and by accident, ln a great Lancashire town to which Starberry, senior, had gone on matters of business connected with his mills. . John had a mill of his own, and the father was pleased. He had a passionate love of success, and.it was delightful to find that his son was succeeding. - - . .1 There Was nothing emotional about the meeting. They shook hands with some heartiness, like two long-separated friends; that was all. But after some hours of each other's company the father said: "You must come home again, John." "What for?" "To help me.". . . "Oh, you're all. right. So am I. Why, I shall have a business äs big as yours in a few years' time." "Well, keep it, John, keep It I like to see you doing well on your own account; but why shouldn't you come home and have half of my business, too the whole of it by and by?" "Oh, I don't mind," said the wholly unsentimental John. "I should never have gone away if you hadn't turned out so rusty." "Well, but you were going to marry that Morton girl." "Who?" "Why, that Morton girl." "I was going to marry her? Oh, yes, I remember now. So I was; but I don't think 1 snouia nave Dotncred anout it 11 you hadn't." "Well, John, there's nothing between us now, and we're father and son, I suppose. Why shouldn t we behave as such? You come home with me and I'll turn over half the business to you, and you shall give mo half of yours." "Not much," said John. "You give me what you like; be as dutiful a parent as you please, but what's my own's my own." "Oh, well, we needn't fall out about that. I'll just write to Wagstatf to make out the agreement taking you into the firm." It happened, however, that ltwyrr Wagstaff was already abroad and that the making out of the ' agreement had to lx delayed. This suggested a new idea lo Starberry, senior. The father and son were now in London on a little friendly jaunt. "Hang it all!' said the father," "Why shouldn't we go abroad as well as anyone else I've never been out of my own country, or the smell of flax mills, nil my life. Let's set off for France, or somewhere.'.' "Oh, I'm willing enough,' said John. "My business will go on without me for a "bit,and so will yours, I daresay. Walter, just bring a 'Uradshaw,' will you?" And thus was initiated one of the most unsentimental journeys that was ever undertaken, either before Sterne or after. The wanderings of. the easily-reconciled son and father eventually took them to Canne, 1 and theie they met the Wagstaff, and an engagement was brought about in the easiest and most natural way, without the coming into operation of any of those forces that may have been suggested by a conversation in a previous part of this sttfry. There were a few visits to Monte Carlo; there were a few drives along the Cornice road; there were a few wranderings by the sea in those pleasant evening hours when all French people in the Riviera keep themselves indoors, to doze off, it may be, the effects of a long dinner. Then there was a reflection on John's part. "I suppose I shall have to marry somebody, so I may as well marry this woman as another. She's a pleasant enough companion, anyhow." So he proposed; and Kdith Wagstaff said: "If I don't take him I may never get another. It should prove a good marriage for me." So she accepted. "I trust you are marrying for love, my dear," said the lady who was known in Yarfbridge as Mrs. Lawyer Wagstaff. "Marrying for love, mamma!" replied Edith. "What a funny notion. Who would marry John Starberry for love?" The mother looked pale and astonished. "Why should you horrify me, Edith? Why should you marry except for love. "For a home of my own, mamma; for

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servants and a grand house; for carriages

and horses; for bows and scrapes from all the folk In Yarebridge and the country round; for a large settlement, and for power over a man." The mother looked more dismayed than ever. "Edith, you terrify me. You say things that are horrible to listen to. Do you think I would have married if I had not loved your father, whatever he had offered me? And he could offer me nothing, for he was then only an articled clerk." Edith loved her mother dearly, but she laughed. . "You married him for love, mamma. Why, that's funnier than. ever. ..Which do you think my father loves best, yourself or a good case at Petty Sessions?" "My dear," said the mother, "don't speak in that way, or you will break my heart. Never a fonder couple went to the church doors than your father and I; and never a more good-looking, the people said, though, of course, that was quite untrue," said Mrs. Wagstaff, with a satisfied and faraway look which seemed to indicate that ln her opinion it was true enough. "Oh, you are quite good-looking yet, mamma. You are, Indeed, a quite beautiful thing, and I admire you just as much as father can have done when he was an articled clerk," and Edith went up to her mother and threw her arms around her, and kissed her so vehemently that the sound of the kiss ended in a sob. "My darling Edith, you are unhappy," her mother said. "Nonsense, mamma! I am only a cold, calculating girl. There were none such in your time, I suppose. I am going to marry for my own advantage, and because I am tired of being single. Oh, you needn't look so horrified. I am neither going to make myself nor my husband miserable. We shall lead a very nice and agreeable life, I can tell you. I mean to make John very contented with me. Of course, I know, mamma, that there is no more love on his side than mine. What's the good of being hypocritical about it? We are two practical, businesslike people. We are going Into partnership, don't you know?" "Oh, .my poor Edith!" the mother exclaimed. "Don't be ridiculous, mamma! John is a good fellow at bottom. He can be man aged. "He is a clod; but clods are useful for agricultural purposes. I shall cultivate him into a desirable husband." "Whatever you say, Edith and, really, your cynicism dismays me I am quite convinced that marriages without love can only lead to misery." "Well, mamma,. I always like to agree with you; but on' this subject we -must agree to differ. You and father began with love, it appears, .and you have fallen into indifference. You must admit that, dear. We shall begin with indifference; but why should not indifference ripen into love?" But the mother's capacity for argument was gone. She . was incapable of any answer to this . question. She merely rose and hissed her daughter rather mournfully, and then sat down by the drawing-room fire, wondering that any unmarried woman could speak as her daughter had done. And the daughter, on her part, was anxious to bring her mother back into a condition of cheerfulness. . "Why," she said, "you don't half know what a good husband -John is going to make, mamma. If he cared a bit whether I marry him or not he would be quite the most delightful of prospective bridegrooms. Why, just think of it! He won't let papa pay for anything. I was to have gone to London for my trosseau. Tapa really gave me carte blanche." "And are you not going to London?" her mother asked. "It seems not. I should have liked to go to London, you know; but John said he would have the dresses made in Yarebridge. 'Isn't Miss Morton a good dressmaker?' he asked, and I had to admit that she is; for, you know, mamma, nobody ever saw better, dreascs than some, that she . has made. So he said: 'Well, the dresses shall be made by Miss Morton!' " "But, Edith, you shock me more and more. You surely are not going to commit the indelicacy of letting the bridegroom order the wedding clothes?" "I must, mamma. You will pay that I am without sentiment, and you actually do say that I am cynical. It is quite true; but John is unsentimental without being a cynic. He is just a brute, if you want my candid opinion. He said that if I would not let him provide the wedding dresses the wedding would bo 'off.' " "My dear, I don't know what to say. I am f hocked by every word that you utter. And Miss Morton is to make the wedding dresses, of all people." "And why 'of all people.' mamma? She is a beautiful dressmaker. But 1 must ray he is a great deal too much given tr weeping about something or other. Just think! When I went to see her the other day she at once started to cry, and if I had not plucked the material from her hands her tears would have spotted the gown in which I am to le married." Tne mother shivered, knowing something of an old story; but before the could say anything more to her daughter Lawyer Wagstaff came in in a most unwonted rage. There were numerous articles connected with wedding attire scattered about, and without looking at his wife or his daughter he took these in his hand and tore them to pieces. "What ln the world are you doing, papa?" said the dismayed Edith. "Have you gone mad?" "I am putting an end to the marriage," said the irate father. "But why?" asked Edith, with a wail in her voice. "Because no such scoundrel ghall come Into my family." "Scoundrel?" "Yes, scoundrel. I merely proposed that the marriage settlements should be doubled, as both his father and he are much richer than I supposed, and he said he would see me . Well, never mind what be said." "Then it was he, and not you, who broke off the marriage, papa?" "Oh. put is as you like, Edith." "But I like to put it in my own way, papa. I hope you won't think it cruel if I say that you have behaved very unjustly to me. Why did you not come to me before making this fatal proposal? I was the person most concerned. I know John Starberry's character far better than you. He would have made any settlement you could think of if I had asked him. It was not two young foois that were going to be mated; and you have broken it all up! You, a father, supposing yourself to be acting in your daughter's interest! i ObJ it is the old people who are fools. Oh' Oh! Oh!" and, In mingled laughter and shrieks, she fell upon the floor, amid the ruins of her shattered ambition. "Poor, dear Edith!" said her mother. "And she never had hysterics before." - v. , "What about those ; -wedding . dresses ?' asked John Starberry. abruptly entering the upstairs room in which Patience Morton was at work. . . - "What business is it of yours, I should like to know?" Patience Morton asked. ."Plenty of. business of mine, I - should think." Eald wthe young mester." "Those dresses are to be worn when I am wedded to my wife." " - "Well, you can ask about thera when Miss Wagstaff is your wife."

"Would those dresses fit you. Tatlence?" "They might." j "Well, try them on." ' ! "I know they will fit me without trying them on." I "How do you know that?" "Because Miss Wagstaff and I are of the same size and figure." , ' - "But you are far the handsomer woman, Patience." "rerhaps; but what has that to do with it?" "Why, just this. I mean you to be married In those clothes. Patience. I meant to have married you long ago; but I didn't, for one reason or another. We needn't go into that now. I've got a license, and your name is in it.' We can now be married any day you like. And here's the wedding clothes ready. They're mine; I was to pay for them. And, being mine, they are yours." Then Patience, belying her name, turned round and spoke her mind, and this brutal and imperturbable man was dismayed for the first tlma In his life. It was a. new sensation, but it went no deeper than his other sensations; so he turned away from an incomprehensible shower -of reproaches, and thought he would go and have It out with somebody at the mill. Who was it to be? He went at a tearing pace through rooms full of spindles, long rows of them on each side of what was called "The Alley." He tore through the carding rooms, where large cylinders, covered by thousands of little, wiry, glittering teeth were tearing the raw flax into the requisite state of looseness. Nothing whatever wrong here. Nobody to fall upon. Nobody to dismiss for duties he had not neglected. Everywhere the whirr of many wheels; but no desirable victim in any direction whatever. Then he remembered. Something had been wrong with one of the huge water wheels. It might have been the merest accident; but he would find that out for himself. So he went down the lift which communicated between story and story, until 'he came to the very foundations of the mill. There was the water wheel, in what seemed a vast, cold cavern, with a sound of rushing waters underneath. But the wheel , was no longer revolving. He had forgotten that the dinner hour was approaching as he. went down the lift. When he arrived in this gloomy place, where only the sound of waters was heard, the wheel was locked and still. The anger grew ln his heart against the man who was guilty only of a wholly imaginary offense. He would wait for him.' The dinner hour began at 12; it would conclude at 1. Ye3, he would be there whep that unconscious offender returned to his work. He wandered about the vague, tremendous, awe-inspiring' room, with its gigantic wheel standing there silent. He seemed never to have known so much before as to how the spindles upstairs were tent upon their rqpid swirl. This was how the Y archelped them, he thought. Then we went and leant against th--wheel and listened to the rush of the unimpeded waters underneath, and his mind wandered off to the scene with i'atience Morton. What could the woman mtanV He forgot the flight of time. The dinner hour was at an end. Why, the wheel was moving! Ho shrieked. The man on whom he h.-d in

tended to vent his wrath had not noticed . his presence, and had u nis presence, ana naa uniocted the vast piece of machinery just as the clock s truck 1. He was doing his ordinary duty in hiiordinary way. And as John Starberry shrieked the wheel bore him downwards, and bru!st d and broke him, and tossed him into 'the hur. yinj; stream which was coursin-; down b?twvcn high walls to the Yare; r.nd when hv wv..; seen again it was only as a mangled :o".pfe, dragged out of the weir which cross d U. river at a dozen miles below Yarebridge. Copyrisht, L'OIJ In" 31enl I)iersin Mental Ketf American Mcdirine. That physical rest may be obtained by bringing into play a diffuent set ot :;iu.clv from those previously in ue i iliu. iruud in the old siory of the pugmid mu.e that was found to step olt briaXiy in Ih.r afternoon If allowed 10 reverse the mnio.i of the mi.l. The child who produces iin-ip!iit gi'idinci-3. by t.suting up a t-wirr;, bnnj the unequal coii.itiun of the c;ticrd vC equllib. ium to a balance by a rajid uatwistmg motion. ALsoiue rest of .bid or body bcaicily exirtfc, illative rest or rnouiiicatlon of the mode 01 activity givtH a sensation of rec-t at any rate. Alter a long day of close visual application, when the hand. press the li.cd tyes (although thhs particular mode ol t timulatiny; i.sbal Sensation may b? harmful), how delightful to many persons are the subjective sensation.1; of color the kaleidoscopic ei'uets that come aud go with slight variations in pressure. The brain tinds rest in an objeetlesa play of color; so the tired mind seeks rest from the stress of routine dutk, net J:i thi unconsciousness of siecp, but in the frolicsome vaudeville, vr the perusal of liyht literature or the newspaper. Perhaps this expl)in3 to some extent th- wondetful demand lor books of lletion and magazines, as well as for the ploikss stage performance so characteristic of these days of strenuous intellectual life. Lullaby. In her .imile of wind and her slippers of sleep The Twilight comes like a littl'- t,.jo.e-fciri. Heroine her owls with many "Tu-whi," Hr little hrown owls in the woodland deep, Where din.ly he wal.ta in h?r whimpering snooj. Ana gown of lirmuering ijearj. Sleep, flfep, little one, fleep; This ts the road to ltockaby Town. rtoeStaby, lulHLy. whore ilrtaiiu are cheap; lltje you can buy any dream for a crown. Sleep, iltep, httle one, sleep; The craule you l.e in is oft anJ fa deep. Th wngon that takes you to KockuLy Town. Now you :o up, swtet, now ycu go down, UocWably, lullaty, now you go down. And after the twilight comes Midnight, who wears A mantle of t-unde po oli. eo old! Who stables the lily-white Moon, it ia said. In t wontriul fcha:r.br, with iolet t&it, Up which you can sec- her come, silent of tread, On hoof of i-ale silver and fjolJ. Dream, dr&am, little one, dream; This Is the way to Lullaby Lwtnd. Lollaby. rocWaby. where, white as creara. frugar-ilum bowers drop tweets in your hand. Dream, dream, little cne. dieam; ' The craale you lit ln is tijjht at each seam, The boat that poes palling to Lullaby Land. Over the sea, ?weet, over the sand, Lullaby, rocüaby, over the sand. Th Twilight and Midnight are lovers, you know. And each to the other is true! And there on the mocn through the heavens they rile, With the little brown owls all huddled arov.-, Through meadows of h?ven where, every side. Blossoms the etars and the dew. Heat, rt. little one, rest; FtockaLy Ton 1 in Lullaby isla. Rockaby. lullcby. pet like a nest. Deep in the heart of a song and a smtle. ReH, rest) littlo one. rest: Th craile you Hp In 1 warm as my breat. The white bird that bears you to Lullaby isle. Out of th Ft, sweet, into th West, Rockaby, lulUby, into the VV'eet. Madison Cawein.

HAD ENOUGH. Hatu Job, rising Say, boss, I done got a marriage license from yo' laV Clerk Yes.' What can I do for you to-day? Ranus Joumlns Jcs' wrap me up a divorce, cf yo' please.

jf SPHINX LORE 5T Enigmatic Knots of Odd and Ingenious Kind dij for the Leisure Hour. ' ?

Any communication lntenSe4 for this deartrTf-r.t hou!l b a ! !r Lewlton, llalr.r.J

2 14 IX VACATIOX. SEE BEE. SIR x i'Mnn I CA L. At twenty-five how buovant, and how blue The soft 1-2-3-4-5 doth Infold one With 3-4-5-6 clouds of silvery hue. And 2-3-4-5-6 perhaps a gold one! The distant hills are touched with rosied charm: ' The upward path teems carpeted with flowers. Where smiling Hope becks with uplifted arm The world is lovely and the world Is OURS! 4- 5-6 fifty-five, less sunnily Beams Nature'? face; 3-4-5 fairest day May show black clouds hung in a leaden sky; 2-8-4 hills we've climbed are bare and gray; Vet naught is changed, but Just the glamour fled Through which young eyes see with false estimate; 5- 6-7-S the world Is now Instead Of 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-M MABEL P. 210.-HKCIPH0CITY. (The emphasized words are deflnit.ons of four words, the last two of which are formed by exchanging the Initial of the fim two. Kxainple: Platter, found; flatter, pound.) I hnve met many a CRIPPLED soldier who had been severely wounded In some ENGAGEMENT during, our civil war. Every one of them was proud of his wound, and on account of his ItEPUTATION for bravery and patriotism looked upon Iiis disability as a TRIFLING misfortune. T. H. 217 Himil.E. A type of darkness, used as such, lnphrase expressive, quite; Yrt some there are beware their touch, Who see to make it light. Some hold it, though that is a sin, too. Their best and dearest part; If eer it is broken into. That breaks in twj their heart. 'The miner and his wife, in doubt, Prospect the place assigned it; Tiif-y know 'tis soir.ewehere thereabout. If-they could only find It. The small boy raises loud lament I caT.se he hax but one; Ar.ii 1 well, sir ce rr:y dimes are spent, Ln.ight as weil hae none. M. C. S. is AitiTimim cai.. Three boys stopped at p. fruit stand to 1 hvy Unit. Of oranges and apples the first i bougnt the second 31, th e third bought 4 5. Thfy cacls pai l one dollar. What was tiic :iice of an apple; of an orange; and how many of each did they buy? HARRY. IN -THE GOSSIP'S CORNER. The Derelict. A les she Iks upon the deep, . il tempest-bruised und worn; . cross her deck the waters sweep To gush from, bulwarks torn. Her u:at, that towered unto the sky, Are tumbling now 'longiioV, And --ailfl and tangled -rigging lie PeiHiUh the channels wide. She reels and groans beneath the shock Of each succeeding wave That pound. her like a sunken rock. To drag h-r to her grave. No more she'll course upon the sea When fav'rin-j breezes blow; A derelict fdie's doomed to be; No rest is lur's below. Till the becomes a üarsome thing, All hoar and mossy grown. And t-ave the gray gull, wandering, Is left to rot alone. XXX The Hartford Courant reproduced, in a recent itsue, this paragraph from the shipping columns of the New York Herald; Steamer Finance, from Colon, which arrived June 17, reports on voyage from New VorK to Colon, parsed wiecit of a threemaFted schooner on ilay lat. -j.lti. long. ihu with fore-mast, bowsprit and jibboon standir.g, apparently same vessel that she passed on htr previous voyage on March ti, in lat. 'iil'J, long. 74:55. The vessel was partly burned about the stern and no signs ot lite on board. She Is a dangerous obstruction to navigation. "To one safe on land, but hoping to be afloat sometime or other," comments the Courant, "the question inevitably suggests itblf: Why did not the Finance etop long enough to dispose of the derelict? True, the ship had for this trip run out of the danger, but the log shows she had once before recognized the peril, and the second escape seems all that one ship is entitled to. It looks as If the rule of the sea wai to let the next fellow beware, but not to do anything to help him to keep out of trouble. When once he is In trouble, then every true sailor Is ready to risk life to get him out. Put, until the trouble arrives, no sailor Is his brother's keeper. He will carefully note in his log just what timfl it was when he saw what might wreck the next ship to come that way, but he has no time to blow up the Moating wreckage, nor any spare matches with which to burn It." xxx This impresses me as being rather puerile reasoning for a great paper located practically on the seaboard and not very far from several of the great shipping ports of th; country, including the greatest. Few merchantmen, whether Eteam or sail, have appliances for destroying wrecks. Merchant ships carry no heavy guns with which to blow holes. In a derelict, and if they had, and the derelict were loaded with lumber or other light cargo, it would not sink. Nothing but torpedoes or charges of dynamite will do the work in such a case, and

t9 P

H.

to H. Ft. Chalbiurn,

210. ci i. it a nr. Th re was a Jolly grocer boy Who thimht to hive snme fun, Wh.cn nil alone one rainv right. By skipping o'tr the ONE. Two Mately TWOS in pranleur stood Within the window wMe, The wonder of the viliape ftrcet, His master's joy and pride. - Of course he made one fatal leap. And landed in a TWO; ; Quite paralyzed with frisht. tc thought, "O! what will master do? ' Then as a step came up behind, He bounded down the street; Nor stopped to breathe till -afe at home And under a COMPLETE. SP1CA. 20. PIIYMOLOGV QUEItir.S. To what parts of the human body do tha following correspond? 1. A musical instrument. 2. The apartment cf a prisoiur. Z. A carpent r's tool. 4. A long, sharp piece of metal. 5. The bo.Jy of a tree. 6. A blacksmith's tool. 7. Affirmative answers. I. The top of a hill. 3. A par! of a river. 10. A unit cf measure. 11. Negative answer?. 12. Part of an equestrian outfit. .33. A part of a tre 11. Tho young of a domestic animal. 15. Malice. H. A male deer. 17. An h niacin 1 waterway. IS. A small animal. 13. Part of a comb. :U. An unruly member. M. H. B. 221 AX A CHO STIC. WHOLE names the on whoe active brain Inventive genius should contain. The skill and faculty combined To wtll describe tli thing desigrd: Yet many WHOLES there are who lack Entirely such peculiar knack. Resolved to try till they succeed, "Itespectfully declined," they read, Or "not adapted to our need." Returns like these, so oftfn made. Show overstock in TOTAL trade. NELSONIAN. WIXXIXG SOLVER. The prlie for 132 is captured b. the fin list of poems sent by Mrs. J. W. Sidcrs, Plymouth, Ind. Other excellent solutions are acknowledged from F. P. Ncwson, A. L. Morgan, Margaret Gilmore, E. ß. Dunn, Mrs. Grace Creclman, Nina Fosdick, Polle S. Hann?., N. P. J., Edna M. Nason, Ida Steele, Mrs. A. C. Paterson. F. E. Lane, Hazel Gail Mount, P. II. Turner. Sunset. Nelle Somervllle, Mrs. R. IL Noyes, Mary R. Denny, Jennie Cross, A. M. Weymouth, Mrs. F. G. Haekelman, S. A. Luce, Florence Connor, G. D. Staples, Eflle June Dyer, Henry B. Hastings, J. G. Maines, Louise J. Zell, Mrs. E. K. Williams, Margaret Widdoy, J. G. Morse, Floyd P. Newborn. M. J. Donnell, Arthur Fray, Ethel H. Publow, Nelson Carter, Mrs. Thomas O'Flahörty, G. II. L., Mrs. J. C. Knox. Emma S. Wingr, Mrs. Barbara Anderson, I. F, Luce. AXSWERS. IDS. 'But the trail of the serpent Is over them all." Paradise and the Peri. L'3. Dew-drop. 3J0. 1. Box. Train. 3, Key. 201. Beside, desire. 202. "All that glistens is not gold." 203. Saturnine (sat-turn-nine). 3")!. Troops, groom?, smooth, sloops, choose, shoots, floods, floors, brooms, broody, spools, smooch, brooch, stools. 205. Assortment. bloody, ETOove, enooze. even then a great mass of floating wreckago will be left that may be fully as dangerous as the floating hulk; perhaps even more so, for the floating hulk stands enough out of the water, as a rule, to make a black smudge against the night, visible in all weathers except fog, rain or snow. As for "matches with which to burn It," the suggestion is ridiculous. If a hulk ia waterlogged it would take th trust's yearly output to start a blaze, and if it is not waterlogged, nine times out of ten It would burn only to or near the water's edge, and the remaining portion would be a vastly greater menace to navigation than was th original wreck. Pcsides these things, on of the hardest things that a sailor is called on to do Is to board a derelict.. It lies like a bs in the water, usually in a kam sea, rolling first one scupper under and then the other, making an approach in a small boat dangerous to lifo and limb. Under tho circumstances, the merchant marine, knowing Its limitations, and In the case of steamers usually operated within a fixed schedule that permits no delay tuch as would be necessary in thesa circumstances, does wisely in reporting its loff tntries of derelicts to the end that as fast as they can make the rounds, the revenue cutters may go out and hunt them up to complete the work of demolition. X X K I have a very friendly feellnff for derelicts. None of thera ever did me any harm and one of thera once did me a great amount of good. Iiesidea, I hve teen many human derelicts, those who with truth might say, each of himself; "The broker of hope has sold ne for nothing," that the sympathy I feel for the wreck of humanity is extended, in a way, to the Inanimate plaything: of the wind and the wave. Old shipping men along- the Atlantic seaboard will remember the loss of the Mary 11. Bacon, Wilmington, N. C. to Iialtimore with lumber and EhingJes, that broke In two off podle's Island, and whose floating afterpart was much ought after, often reported and furnished the text for a vast amount of speculation and surmise. It was an unmitigated blessing that the Paeon was loaded with lumber, tithtly wedged In her hold, and that ehe became derelict instead of going to the bottom; for to the six cf us who, lashed for sixty-tight hours to stanchions of her quarterdeck, under the water more than we were out of it, it was a long way better that phe stayed afloat and in the track cf shlrTlr.Jf. than that she should take us to Davy Jones. And that Spanish tramp Etramer that picked us up she was dirty and slow and her crew were unkempt and frowsy, but they were Nature's nnblemen, every jack of 'em, and nothing was too good er too much to do for the ragged, hungry, thirsty and half-frozen refugee! from the most famous derelict the Atlantic const has seen in a Quarter of a century. xxx The Bacon floated along the coast for several months and finally was blown up by a revenue cutter. I saw Julian Paeon, the mate, several years after, and he old me Captain Hskrldge grieved more over the demolition of the wreck than he did over the original loss. And the crew? O we were taken to Santander and snt home by the British consul, I believe out of his owa pocket. thi: GOSSIP. IHK Heed lllrü. New York Times. It was on the veranda of a club where the commanding I'-Kurc of tho ex-peaktr of the Houfo of ltt-fresentatlvs is often s-en and always welcomed. The doctor, famous for anatomic kill find gastronomic expertnes-, was recounting his ftuta tf carving to the t nglr.ct r. "On one occasion." .e remarked, "when I was a medical student in Philadelphia. I earned the undying gratitude of my landlady by carving into satisfactory portions for twelve persons one reed bird." "Humph." replied the engineer, "it must have Uen a Tom Jlcxd Lird."