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VOL, XXVIII, PITTSBORO, CHATHAM COUNTY, N C. THURS13AY. FEBRUARY 15; 1906 NO. 27.
III II
WW
!
1 LITTLE MAKE-BELIEVEl
illJ 3S
I!
A CHILD OF
CHAPTER XL
Continued.
If the roads had been rough aud un
even when falter talked over them
Willi Saranne" ifi his; arms, they were a
thousand tiiaes-' more rough and tin
vcn now they were In the cart, bump
ing along.
For the driver was anxious to get to
lis own cottage, and he urged the
3ior?e to mark. as much haste as was in ,
the power Oiau animal that was by
"constitution a slow goer and plodder
B1, consequently a philosopher.
lie. sitting in front pn the shaft, and
tumping up and down as though that
rere his natural way of life, did not
see his passenger?, but he heard them
try out to him merrily, to "Stop, stop,
stop:'
By that lime Saranne was pressed
close to Walter's side for no other rea
son, o' course, than that if he moved
way from her the billionth part of.,
a inch something dreadful might oc
cur. ' You really," said Walter, "for the j
sake of our bones, must go a little
kwer." Thereafter they jogged along at a
more sober pace (the driver being
soothed by the promise of an extra
eM'licgi, but notwithstanding this im
proved mode of progression, which re
duced to zero the chance of falling out
of the cart, Saranne was still pressed
tlose to Walter, and hi9 arm was
rcmd her waist.
Perhaps experience had taught Wal
ter that it was well for a man to be
prepared for sudden shocks when he
is riding in a rough cart over rough
country roads with a pretty girl by his
sal.
It was a glorious sunset, and at Lit
tle Make-Believes request the driver
pulled up so that they could ascend a
hill uud look afc-K.
he evening was still and peaceful,
and the young people were for the
mcst part silent, as they gazed at the
irundrous color of the western skies;
ivst now and then a whispered word or
tvro from Walter's lips reached Sar
anne's ears. '
As they " rode along again they
watched the sinking of the sun through
the lacings of the distant trees; the
fiery shadows, gliding hither and
tbilhor, seemed to be imbued with life.
Lower sankthc sun, until not the
faintest line of arc could be seen:
darker grew the dusky shadows until
tot a trace of restless light remained.
And night was with them. ,
"Peaceful, and; beautiful. They were
iuile silent now. - , ,
Not a word fism their lipsv only now
and then a soft and happy sigh.
TLe driver ' with the: prospect of an
additional shilling, and another on top
of that the additional . promise having
elready been given by Walter sat con
tentedly on hisshaft, smoking hisipipe.
So amiable was he that he wenta lit
tle oat of his way to show them a great
haystack, to which a match had been
wickedly put la the morning by a
linmken laborer smarting under a
grievance against his: master. r
It resembled an ancient castled with
turrets and towers and Gothic arches.
The fire was still smouldering in the
mined building. . . Sudden lights ap
peared and disappeared; flaming shad
ows, glided over the surface?; columns
cruuibjed to white dust; lurid -windows
thono everyhere umltl the blackening
patches; the ..vf nils bulged inward;
with a silent crash, vast pieces of the
-ceiling tell to the ground, sending
myriads of sparks, in a furious rush,
upward to the skies.
Onward once more through the
peaceful night, leaving jtbe fiery wreck
behind them past tall trees which,
with dark clouds hanging over them,
seemed of monstrous height through
narrow lanes dotted with familiar
landmarks past "a pond covered with
water lilies skirting the footbridge
they had, often crossed nearer and
nearer home till the cottage lights ap
peared. In" accordance with Walter's wish,
the driver had brought them to within
a hundred yards of their door.
He was well paid for it, and giving
them good-night, set his horse going,
.lumped -go. to the shaft, and jolted
homeward, whistling. 5
A' hundred yards was not far to
valk, but It took a long time, the jiace
being so very, very slow.
Perhaps the circumstance that Sar
anne and Walter had joined bands . as
they walked ' had something to, do
with It. ' "J '--7 ' '
This love, palming is accountable for
much. -r. 1
No one knew of it but themselves;
Little Make-Believe was on Walter's
left, Saranne. on his right, so that it
Tvas his right hand and her left which
"were softly infolded one" within the
other. -
It is necessary to be correct -in the
endeavor to explain why -they were
uch an unconscionable long time
waging those hundred yards.
'
h the midlle of the night Little
Jiake-Believe awoke. .
Her face was turned tq Saranne.
who, with her bae to her Bister, was
1
3i
ing on her elbow, gazing at some- J
itizs jS held In her band.
I : : : : by b. l. farjeon. J
I!!!!
THE SLUMS.
It was the light which had aroused
Little Make-Believe. i
"Saranne r said Little Make-Believe,
and slightly raising herself as she
spoke she saw in Sarannc's hand a
portrait of Walter. 4
"Oh, Make-Believer cried Saranne, j
quickly blowing out the candle; "how
you startled me!" i
"I thought there was something the
matter,' said Little Make-Believe pres
ently; she spoke very quietly, "when I
woke up and saw the light." r
"No, there is nothing the matter.
I am restless and can't sleep. What a
happy day we had what a happy, !
happy day!"
"Yes, dear, a happy day Indeed. It is
hard to remember all that occurred, it
was so long and full of pleasure."
"I can remember everytLing--every-thing!
I shall never, never forget it
Don't you think it was the happiest,
the very happiest day you ever-spent?"
"Do you think so Saranne?
K "Yes, Make-Believe."
- "Then so do I! Yer know, Saranne,
that to see you happy makes me happy,
too.' ,
?I know, Make-Believe. I am afraid
I have been very ungrateful to you
sometimes."
"That you never have, my dear. You
have always been very good to me."
"Make-Believe," whispered Saranne,
"one day I may be able to repay you
for all you've done for me."
"To repay me, my dear? Why, that
is as if you owed me somethink."
"I never knew,' said Saranne, nest
ling closer to Little Make-Believe, "till
lately when it was put into my bead,
how much I really owe, you. 1 ever
even thought of it, ungrateful girl that
I am."
"You mustn't speak of yerself in that '
way. I will not allow. y$i. Who has
been putting such ideas into your
head?" - .
"Can't you "guess, Make-Believe?
The best man that breathes on the
earth, who loves you, and is never tired
of speaking of you. Can't you guess,
dear?".
"A man as loves me! As calls me
sister! ' Do you want me to tell yer his
name? Are" yer too shy to do It yer
self? Why, Saranne,, it's dark, and no
one can see! And your prince is come!
didn't I always tell yer he would?
and his name is- "
"Waiter."
She pressed Saranne in her arms
close to her heart.
It . was the name she expected to
hear, but she had not the courage to
mention it first; brave as she was,
capable of self-sacrifice as she was, she
was not strong enough for that.
"It.; was the death-knell of her hopes
which, she acknowledged now, but
never before, held sway over" her; as if
she should ever have had the" presump
tion to lift her eyes so high! it was
the death-knell of her love, but she
bore It nobly. .
"Are 3Hu glad, Make-Believe?"
"Am I glad!" repeated Little Make
Believe. "What greater happiness can
I want than what you've told me?
There is only one thing, my dear;- he
is a gentleman, and we are only poor
girls what will his father say?"-- ,
"Walter has spoken of that, He has
not told his father yet why, Make
Beiieve, I only knew it tQ-day !but his
father is the best of men, after Walter,
of .course, and Walter says he has
never crossed him in a wish. It has
made me proud to hear the opinion
Mr. Deepdale has of you, Make-Believe
but Walter shall tell you all that--"
"I'm glad Mr, Deepdale thinks well
of me, though it's hard to say for what
reason. I've never done nothing that
I know of except to thank him for his
goodness to us."
v All this time Little Make-Believe h'ad
not kissed Saranne, whose head she
bad kept pillowed on her breast, but
now by a simultaneous movement of
affection their lips met in loving em
brace. "Why, Make-Believe, you're crying!"
exclaimed Saranne.
"I'm crying for joy,. my dear, at the
prospect afore you. With all my heart
I pray that it may come to pass with
all my heart with all my heart!" j
."We are, not to gc back to Clare Mar
kef, MaTce-BeTieve; we are "to remain
here until all is settled, and then we
are to go to school for a year yes,
Make-Believe, you and me together
and Walter is coming to see us regu
larlyand at the end of the year you
can guess what Walter says will hap
pen then." -
"It's a easy sruese, God bless "yer
both, my dear, dear sister, and iny
brother as I hope'll be." .
I "There will be no occasion for ou
Jo struggle any more, Make-Believe
the hard old life is over. Walter's
father is rich, and we shall nevir,
never again want for . bread. You are
crying still, Make.-Believe!" ': t
"My heart's so full that it's running
over. t3o on, dear."
"And you are to live with us always,
and never, never leave us till "
; "Till what, my dear?"
"Till your prince comes and takes
you away from us." -
That's never going to happen, Bar-
fljjje."
"Ab, but yo aon't know, Make.Be
bit of room in my heart for any otbe
love than what fills it now, for you and
Walter. Go to sleep, my dear, and
dream of him and of me just a little.
Go to sleep, my dearest dear, go to
sleep.".
. In the midst of her tears she softly
sang an old song with which she used
to lull Saranne to sleep in the days of
her infancy land before a dozen broken
words were sung Saranne had sunk
to slumber, with smiles on her lips and
joy in her heart.
..And the whole night through, while
Saranne was calmly sleeping, Little
Make-Believe lay awake wrestling with
her agony wrestling with it and striv
ing to conquer it.
"They mustn't know, they mustn't
as much as suspect," this was the re
frain .of her thoughts "I mustn't let
'em see as I'm not the happieest of the
happy. It'd spoil everything if 1
showed 'em what a weight there
was on my heart. Serve yer right,
yer little fool, for daring to think of
him as anything but a friend! With
tyour ugly face aud cbmmon ways to go
and love him as you've been doing
but .mustn't go on doing, mind! if yer
do, yer false to Saranne, and to be
false to her means that you're the
wickedest wretch as crawls! to think
of him as you've been doing for ever
so long why. you must be stark-staring
mad! It's all over now, that's one
good job, and you're wide awake, and
know what's afore yoUi Oh, my popr
heart oh my poor heart!"
And so she mourned and grieved and
rpproaehed herself till daylight came
and it was time to rise.
' Saranne still slept. Very softly Lit
tle Make-Believe drew away the pillow
upon which her head had been lying;
it was wet with her tears; if Saranne
discovered that she had been crying all
the night she might think that Little
Make-Believe was envious of her, or?
something worse, perhaps."
Not with tears, but with smiles,
must she meet Saranne when she
awoke.
She sat in her night dress by the
side of her beautiful sister, and gazed
at her. . '
"Wouldn't it be the best thing that
could happen if I was to die?"
These words were not only in her
mind; she had spoken them under her
breath, and she clenched her teeth in
scotn of herself as though there lurked
in the words a treasonable wish to
ward the being who was knit to her
by the closest, the dearest ties.
For the purpose of accentuating this
scorn of herself, and of punishing her
self for her baseness,, she" took the
dressing glass from the table and
rested it on her knees as she took her
place again by her sister's side.
She looked at her own plain face in
the glass and at the loveliness of Sar
anne's as it lay upon the pillow.
"You ugly little scorpion!" she whis
pered to her face in the glass, "who do
yer think'd be fool enough to fall in
love with you?"
This brought the image of Foxey to
her mind, but though he had been fool
enough to fall hi love with her, and
fool enough to ask her to marry him,
his image brought no comfort to her;
it made her shudder at herself.
She shook her head angrily to drive
him from her mind, and sat for half
an hour with the glass before her,
schooling herself for the part she had
to play.
A slight movement from Saraune
warned her; she replaced the glass
quietly onthe table and plunged be
face into cold water.
Turning, with the tojvel in her hand,
she met her sister's opening eyes with
looks of affection and happiness. '
"How good it is of you!" murmured
Saranne, as . Little Make-Believe
stooped and kissed her, "It's a lucky
sign to wake up and see such a bright
and happy face as yours,' I've been
dreaming all night of waiter and of
your prince, Yes, indeed I have. I
don't care what you say, Make-Believe,
He'i; come you'll see if ho
won't,"
t'And what was my prince like, Sar
anne? Anything like Walter?"
Something like, but not so hand
some as Walter; you could hardly ex
pect that!",
"I should, be foolish to expect it.
There's only one Walter, Saranne."
"Yes," said Saranne, with a happy
sigh, "only one!"
r;
On that day Mr. Deepdale returned
from London.
He had been absent a week, "and
letters had passed daily between him
and Walter.
In Mr. Deepdale's letters there had
been no cause for uneasiness, and Wafc
ter was therefore the more grieved, to
perceive that a great change had come
over his father during those few days.
It almost seemed as if in seven days
he had grown seven years older, and it
was evident that there was a weight
on his mind which sorely oppressed
him.
"You don't look well, dad," said
Walter.
. "pon't & Wally? Perhaps it is be
?afise I have been much worried."
1 am sorry to hear that."
'Don't be anxious about me, my boy;
I shall be better by and by, I dare
saf . But you, Wally," and he laid his
hands upon Walter's shoulders, "I don't
think: I have ever feeen you look quite
so well as, you do now."
. "Dad, I have something of the ut
most importance to say to you." -
"And I have something of the ut
most importance to say to you, my
boy. But let us defer out confidences
till later in the day; I feeK scarcely
strong enough, at present to go into
matters. Let me rest a little; this
evening, Wally, we will speak in pri-
Kvate together,"
"Agreed, 32; but you nmit m m$
spfftk&rt,"
J)IOJ4l HIS . strictly commercial
rtJf business of shark hunting
O I o is done in small ' sloops,
it Tfrhnaf lipfldmiartwa sr In
the more northerly &orw;g-
gian ports. The crews are for the
most part made up-xf pure-blooded
descendants of the Vikings, who 'are
etill to be found in any number among
the" cod-fishers of Hammerfest and
Tromso. And a magnificent race of
men they are! Accustomed 'from boy
hood to a life of hardship, they have a
way of treating Father Neptune with
a slightly contemptuous toleration,
like an old friend of Somewhat Uncer
tain temper, whose rapid changes
froni smiling benevolence to wild,
blustering anger are on the Whole
rather amusing than otherwise
They care nothing for danger and
little for suffering in themselves or
in others. Why, then, should they
stop to think that perhaps a maimed,
but still living, shark can feel? -
The fishing is done off the coast of
Iceland in about eighty fathoms of
water. Three or four gallOws-like
structures are rigged up around the
sides of the sloop, and from each of
these hangs a pulley-block, over which
runs a strong rope; and to the end of
this the baited hook is fastened. A
plentiful supply of grougfd-bait is
thrown out to attract the quarry, and
such is the eagerness withwhich the
sharks take the bait, thaf "sometimes
each one of these gallows-like fishing
rods will have its fish hooked and' fight
ing for life, all at the same time, y
There is no "playing'; the fish; it is
not necessary or possible, and the pow
erful tackle is hardly likely to break,
no matter how fiercely the hooked
shark may struggle. But the shark is
not, for his size, a game, fish; and, ex
cept when he is 'actually being hoisted
up out of the water, there, is no very
serious strain on the tackle. If he does
now and then get away, it is not be
cause he ever manages to break the
line, but because a lightly fixed hook
easily tears through the soft cartilagi
nous skeleton of his head, and so sets
him free. '
As soon as a shark has taken one of
the baits, the hauling tackle attached
to his '. particular gallows is manned,
and without any superflous fuss or
ceremony he is hauled up to the sloop,
and hoisted just clear of the water.
He is not brought on board at all,
but with a few bold slashes his liver
is cut out as he hangs, and Is thrown
into a tub, to. be further dealt with
later. Then his eyes are put out, and
he is cut adrift to go and complete
the tardy process of dying where and
how he pleases, i
All this sounds very horrible; but
there is one curious fact which goes far
to make us believe that this death can
not, after all, be such a cruel one as at
first appears. It is this: the fishermen
say that, unless they put out the
shark's eyes, he will afterward cause
them a lot of trouble, by coming and
Uking the bait a second timev-
It sounds incredible; but the state
ment is thoroughly well authenticated
by eye-witnesses, who have seen a
liverless shark do just this very', thing.
Scientists, doubtless, are right in. say
ing that the shark (which by anatomi
cal classification is one of the lowest
of fishes) does not feel pain in the way
more highly organized animals feel it.
We will cling to that belief; for it is
consoling to us, if not to the shark,
who is thus sacrificed that bU liver
may supply us With what?
It is a secret not to be spoken aloud.
Norway is one of the great centres of
the cod trade, and from cod is made
cod-liver oil, and shark-liver oil tastes
and looks, exactly Uke it. Pearsoa's
Magazine, ,
FAIR EXCHANGE.
Indian nature was aboutthe same
in 1S76 as it was in 1S04, say t. the au
thor of "The Trail of Lewis, .and
Clark." In illustration of this he tells
of a time when Lewis and Clark, on
their journey of exploration toward
the Northwest, found that their stock
of merchantable property was exhaust
ed, and they created a. new; fund by
cutting off the buttons from their
clothes, and adding vials and jemall tin
boxes to their stores. With jhis mer
chandise two men went out on a trad
ing expedition and returned to camp
laden with roots and other provisions.
Their experience recalls a certain one
of my own, writes Mr. Wheeler. Late
in the fall of .1876 J. H. Renshawe, now
of the United States Geographical
Survey, and I, with a. topographic
party, were slowly making our way
down Meadow Valley Wash, in south
eastern Nevada. Misfortune had been
our constant companion, and as we
reached the banks of Muddy Creek, a
beautiful, clear, cold stream, one noon,
we were ra.ther a gloomy set-of men.
We were a" month behind time, our
horses were almost exhausted, all our
horse feed "was gone, the grazing was
worthless, we were out of money, and
there was no way to get more. We
felt that we -were in rather a serious
plight.
Soon after we camped a Piute In
dian appeared, and within a few min
utes several more came to camp. We
soon found that they bad a store of
barley and corn, and an exchange was
qrtfekly - effected for certain surplus
provisions tfcat w& bfifl, and; tb? poor
fcomsfcaia foil mn,
When the beans and "sugar were ei
hausted, the Indians Intimated that an
old hat or coat would'be acceptable for
barter.' This suggested a new line eh
tirely, and to make a long story short,
we bargained off all our old garments
for shelled corn and barley, until final
ly we had six or eight hundred pounds
of splendid grain on our wagon. Two
revolvers' .were sold outright for pre
cious silver dollars; and a mouth-organ
or cheap harmonica, was "great medi
cine,"and brought splendid returns.
When We-were done the Indians
quietly WithdreWj leaving us rich and
cheerful.
- At first thought, such 'bartering
seems one-sided and inequitable, but
it is not so. What was of value or in
terest to the Indian may have been
f aluelesg to its white owner, and vice
'versa. To the child a jumping-jack
is a precious possession, and .the In
dian was, and is yet in many respects,
an overgrown child.
TRANSFERRING THE. FLAG.
In the Battle of Lake Erie, in 1813,
when Commodore Perry defeated Jhe
British and captured- their entire fleet,
the flagship Lawrence was shattered
by the guns of the English, and Com
inodore Perry was obliged to transfer
his flag to the Niagara. In "Commo
dore Oliver Hazard Perry," the author
refers to this transfer as "the sub
limest passage in' the epic of Erie.'
From the masthead of the helpless
Lawrence the big blue burgeej the
whitelettered bugle-call upon an azure
field had come" fluttering down. The
pennant followed, but the Stars and
"-Stripes remained. It was not .then a
surrender, as the enemy had thought.
What was it? The next moment fur
nished a reply, for out from under the
lee of the battered hulk darted a small
boat, propelled by oars in the hands
of brawny seamen, straight for the
passing Niagara. Erect in the stern
stood a splendid, stalwart figure the
folds of the big blue burgee and the
pennant draped over the broad shoul
ders, the face still calmly impassive,
the eyes smoldering. Commodore
Perry Was transferring the flag.
Half-surrounded as it was by the
enemy's ships, the boat swept on
through a perfect roaring tornado, the
commander, still strangely impassive,
erect in the stern. Perry's young
brother pleaded with the Commodore
to sit down, 'but he seemed oblivious.
Finally his oarsmen, fearful for his
safety, flatly refused to row longer un,
less he sat down, when he complied;
The men then redoubled their efforts,
speeding toward the now waiting Ni
agara. The storm from the. British
guns, if possible, grew in violence; the
oars were splintered by musket balls.
As by a miracle, the small craft's ten
ants escaped unscathed--" ;-
A. round shot finally came tearing
through the boat's, side. In a trice
Perry had slipped off the pauleted
coat of his rank, the garment he had
donned -on leaving the Lawrence's
deck, and stopped the hole with it. The
boat reached the side of the Niagara
in safety, a quarter of an hour jaf ter
leaving the Lawrence.
OLD-FASHIONED BEAR HUNT.
The othei day information was
brought to the Traffic Superintendent
of the.Muar State Railway that bears
were destroying the cocoanut trees
near the fourth mile on the railway at
a kampong called Parit Bakar.
They -climb to the top of a young
tree and with their powerful claws
tear away the young letaves and then
proceed to devour the inside of the tree,
called the cabbage.
Mr. L. went to the scene on his hand
car, armed with a Snider carbine4
A young bear suddenly dashed out
close to one of the Javanese and he
slashed at it with his parang. The
blow enraged the bear and it "went
for" the Javanese, who climbed ths
nearest tree. The bear procedeed to
follow him up the tree. Mr. L. wa3
taking aim at the bear when, as he
thought, one of Ms men shook him by
tho shoulder. 'Mr, L. told bis disturber
to "get out,"
He felt himself being pulled about
rather roughly and on looking over bia
shoulder was astonished to see a bugs
bear with one big paw on each of bis
sbouldera and its gaping mouth almost
touching liis neck. It was impossible
to use the rifle,- and Mr. L. drew his
hunting knife and plunged it into the
side of the bear, just under the shoul
der. The blade penetrated the brute's
heart, and it rolled over, endeavoringv
to tear out the knife. The Malays and
Javanese ran up and slashed the bear
until life was extinct.
In the mean time the first bear waa'
still climbing up after the Javanese.
In his terror the Javanese dropped
right on top of the bear. This fright-:
ened the animal and it bolted through
the scrub and was notseen again.
Singapore Straits Budget"
BOY SAVES BANK.,
. After fastening the doors of near-by
houses by setting heavy eye-screws in
the door frames' and fasteningthe dooc
knobs to them with ropes, eight rob
bers attacked; the front door of tha
! Traders Bank, of Bridgeburg, a villagJ
on the Canadian side of pe Niagara,
River, opposite Buffalo, with a batter
ing ram, early on a recent morning.
Ralph Cf Young, eighteen years old,
was tha only person in - the bank.
Armed with a revolver, he went to ail
upper window andopened' fire. The
thieves replied with revolvers and shot
guns, some &f the gang meanwhile con
tinuing tne worK wnn tne Danermg
With his face streaming with blood
from shattered glass and splinters of
wood, Young kept up the fight for
twenty minutes. The tout oak doors
resisted all the efforts to break then
down, and, alarmed by a shot 8re
from up t!, street by an uoustA T
IfiftFi tfct tWfTtl fits, ; .
i-ot USA
younger
Children:.
THE WISE MAN,
A man who wag extremely wise
Said, "To-morrow the sun will rise
He said the same thing every night
And every day woved he was rieot.
When people saw his words wefe true,
They wondered greatly how he knew.
Jtle said to all ma mends, l near
We'll have some rain within a year."
And sure enough, it came about,
And rained before the year was out.
Aud then they said,.. "How very strange
That he .can make the weather change!"
He gave his friends) a candy treat,
And said, "I'misure you'll find it aweet."
They ate a little, found it so,
And said to him, "How did you know? ;
It's very sweet, as you, have said.
How can you taste -so far ahead?"
He said, "I cannot swim, and think
If I jump in I'll surely sink.'?
He jumped and as he. could not swim,
It was the last they saw of him;
And a$"he sank far -out of sight,
They'rsnid, ;"That provejihajt'vhe was
ijght." -
N Youth's Companion.
THE SHRIKE OR BUTCHER BIRD.
There is a strange little, bird; about
as big as a robin, whicji pearly every
winter , brings us. He is generally
alonejilike a tiny black and gray hawk
in many of his" Way, bht.Yelated truly
to. the gentle vireos and waxwmgs.
He 4s the northern shrike, or butcher
bird,iand he gets a cruel living by
catching mice and little blrdsf which
he hangs on locust thorns, sharp twigs
or the points of a wire fence, as his
little feet, unlike the-hawk's, are not
strong enough to hold his prey.. But
he is; a. handsome fellow, and rarely
one may hear a very-f-yeet little song
as he sits on the top of some leafless
bush, particularly late in the winter.
But generally he is sisnt, like the true
birds of prey, or at best gives only a
rasping squeal. St, Nicholas.
"HONEST ABE."
It is a significant fact that in a com
munity where crimo was virtually un
known, where plain, straightforward
dealing was assumed as a matter of
course, and credit was f 5arlessly asked
and given, Lineoln won an enviable
reputation for integrity and honor. In
a moral atmosphere of this sort or
dinary veracity and fairness attracted
no particular attention. . Honesty was
not merely the best policy; it was the
rule of life, and people were expected
to be upright and just with one an
other. But when a clerk in a country
store walked miles to deliver a 'few
ounces of tea innocently withheld from
a customer by an error in the scales,
and whej he made a' long, hard trip in
order to return a few cents accidentally
overpaid him, he was talked about,
and the fact is that "honest Abe",was
a tribute, not a nickname. Century.
A HOME-MADE ZOO.
'Most small girls enjoy nothing bet
ter than a visit to the zoo. The tigers
pacing restlessly back and forth with
velvety footsteps, the monkeys play
ing all sorts of fantastic tricks, the
kangaroos and the rest, are unceasing
objects of delight. But a great many
girls are unable to visit the zoo very
frequently, and such will be glad to
know how to make a zoo of their own
which they may see as much as they
like. : ' .
; First of all, get a number of sheets
of cardboard of the same size. They
should be a little larger than the" larg
est animal yenrare to have in your
menagerie, and, for a few cents, you
can get them.-ut at a printing oflice
Just the same size ana witu smooju
edges. The next thing to ao is lo.araw
the outline of the cage. Four stf alght
lines will do it, two horizontal' and
two nemendicular. For the smaller
animals you can put four ana even six
cages on a sheet. And then you must
draw just so many dividing lines.
The animals for your menagerie you
win find anvwhere and everywnere,
cha maraeinai and papers, tattered
Ttur bonks, advertisements, will all
mnnlv-rou. Til animais boouju uw
cut out carefully and placed in their
cages. After tbey we in placp draw
ths bars. These should be drawn very
MrpfniiT with the help of a ruier, ror
imagine th? Consternation in doll land
if a . ferocious-tiger should squeeze
through between a pair of shaky bars
nrirt tii.iks its escaoel
Besides the animals commonly xounu
in menaeertes. tb"home-made zoo may
fwntAin some remaraaDie specjmeus
j . TM nnL
n oi-af swn on lanu w bco. xsv
dragons, unicorns . like the one in
Mother Goose who rougnt wnu iue
Hon for the' CfOwn, and other queer,
oTAtvsnae creatures may look out from
behind the bar along with the giraffes
and OfitrichM.
when not in ttsd the bome-maoe zoo
ha nut away in a pasteuoara oox
t.tas nn rrv lime ruuiu.
sometimes whn the day is stormy and
M(v.r fun lmnossible. TOM win enjoy
nvmnffinc thft cages along the walls of
the play-room, and taking tbd jfloll fanH
ily for a vj5;to w
Weed, in tie. Progressive .cawr.
"XOAVD-READY.",
Rhoda's father used to caI ber little
Now-and-Readr." because tne was
a fond of having and of doing things
"right this 'very mftnte." When the
grown people planned along in January
whMwthev would go for the next sum-
rrpr vacation. Rhoda would lay out the
big doll's travelling suit,-and sy, "Oh.
3 ....... T..1. rtrr
please leva go away iu ouij
And if anybody mentioned Christmas,
vpn though the garden were over
flowing with roses, she was pretty
sure to beg, 'Why can't we go after
hoiw wreaths right this very minute?"
One Saturday Rhoda went with ber
mothw to beto tralgaten up tn attic
They lcoktd ftU tfcroufiv tb c3&J
cfetit, Train tw mvj
were, and shook out little Great-aunt
Amy's short-sleeved sprigged muslin.
. Then over in a dark corner Rhoda
spied a basket with a handle going
over the middle like a high bridge, and
a cover which opened on each side. .
"It's hen eggs," eaid Rhoda.
"No, it isn't hen eggs; it's quilt pieces.
They belonged to my sister " '
"That's my Aunt Rhoda.' I know
her. She Uvea in the country, . and
brings sausage and apples when she
coines to see us."
"Yes," said mother. "And once, a
long time ago, there was to be a great
fair 'in the town that was nearest
to us. Our mother thought it would
be a very nice thing for Rhoda to piece .
a quilt to put in the fair, while I was, (
to bake some bread. Your poor Aunt'
Rhoda worked and worked; bat'therd
were so many butterflies to chase that ;
summer, and the plum thicket, was s(
ovely to crawl through, that somehow
September came round and found the
quilt just half-done. So when you
were a little baby, and wc be'.n to
call you Rhoda, your aunt sent you
the quilt pieces, and hoped that some
day you would finish the big quilt."
"To send Aunt Rhoda for a Christ
. ... x -1 1
mas present riguc now, iu-uuj
asked Rhoda, her fingers fairly aching
to pull out all the stacks of gay calico
pieces and begin at once.
But mother shook her head, vnoc
yet, little daughter, not yet a while,"
she said. ' t '
But she took out someof the pieces .
and showed Rhoda how they went to- '
gether four of the littlest squares to
make one big one. next to that a big .
pink one, and then four more littlu .
ones to make a big one. ,
"Did vou make your bread, mother
the little girl asked, as they closed the
basket aud started down-stairs.
"No. that was tha queer part of it.
When the falr-tlme came Rhoda and I
both had what do you think? Mumps I
And I couldn't cook. So poor granaina
had nothing to show how clever her
daughters were." . 1
After dinner Rhoda disappeared, and
mother was too busy to notice untu ,
Rhoda's ; father came home. Nobouy
knew where she was, so he started out
to hunt or her. .
Father, was troubled, and as soon as ,
re was trouDiea moiner ut-j;a.ii i-
worry, and when mother worried Law- .
rence got scared, ana me nany siopyeu
aughlng, and cried instead.
"I'll get the lantern," said father, and
started, to the attic three steps at a
time, with a lighted candle iu his
hand. ,
In a minute they heard him give n
shout, and his voice sounded so happy
that they both ran after him, as many
steps at a time as they, possibly could.
When they got there father was just
gathering a bundle from the floor into
his arms, and the candle was shining
right on two fast-shut eyes and a head
or tousled curls. All about were scat
tered quilt pieces, big and little, "and
Rhoda opened her eyes long enough to
say, . sleepily, "I most made . ' Aunt
Ihoda's quilt right this very minute.
And sure enough, when mother ex
amined closely, she found that, littlo
Xow-and-Ready" had . sewed in tuo
one afternoon nearly as much us the
other Rhoda years ago had done m too
whole long summer. It was not Christ
mas when the big quilt Was sent away,
all finished and packed neatly iu white
tissuC'paper and with a little sachet
bag-it was the twentieth day of No
vember, just two weeks after it was
taken out of the basket Augusta
Kor trecbt, iu Youth's- Companion.
Tcsoltiotc Honesf.
Fifteen or twenty years ago Bill
Smith was a well known character in a .
Missouri town whose name neea not
he mentioned here, Bill was a 'col
ored boy who roamed the streets at,
will. One day he found a pocketbool;
containing ?40, and the owner's namo
was stamped on the boos, uuc mu
burned tho pocketbook and spent the
$40 in riotous living. Of course It was
found out and Bill was arrestee, iiieu
and found guilty, and sent to the pen
tentiary for two years. lie serveu
his time, and when be emergeu e
knew something about making shoes.
The day he retnvned to his home town
an old acquaintance met mm auu
asked: ...
'Well, what did they put you ai jn
the prison, Bill?"
"Dey started to mate an jiouesi
out'n me, sab." . . . . A
"That's good, Bill, ana i noye uitj
succeeded."
"Ded did, eah."
-And bow did tbey teach you to be
honest, BUI ?"
"Dey done put me m dc snop, bnu.
nailing pasteboard onter saoei, .w
soles, sab." The commoner. ;
HU Aim Mtr. ;
t h.v.tffht." said the irritable old
head of the firm, tbatou said wbeu
j tired you that you bid taken a court
of Instructions at an academy.!"
"Yes, sir." replied tne young muu.
"Weil do you mean to tell me that
any one could go through an academy
and spell the way you do?- Loo x at
that letter.- Half the words are mis
spelled; and. what do you mean by
making me say 'has came?' f ContonnA
you, if I hadn't glanced over this thing
after you'd got it copied the man it s
written to would think me a fool!
Com, own up. nowU What academy
was this that you attended? ' ;
"It it wa3 Professor Do Fhppen
dale's .dancing academy, sir.'-Cblcago
Becord-Heraldv ' -
Fcctball of tbt JLnotffitioa pattTO
l ft fMM9S & AWtrtHSWHWi; ;