tie National Geographic 80 ? lfijh!n*ton. P. C ) in the rocky region t Dead sea. midway be jeep depression and the is one of the strangest, and most enchanting earth? the Hock City I throws light on the gene tor It was founded by descendants of Esau, [gyry parting from Jacob. Itrs of the Nabatheans* the central point to tiravans from the interior Persia and India came ill the precious commodi &&and from which these tere distributed through BiSice, Syria and all the Werin? the M edi terra - eren Tyre and Sidon de of their precious wares 6wd Petra. it that time the Suez of tie world, the place where West met to trade and ws also, in fact, a great it" Into which the cara ifter the vicissitudes and tbe desert. Its wealth be |te. and It is not without rcajon that the first rock ?f sees in Petra, guard fcerious entrance, is still pinu-h's Treasury." It iten the Xabatheans who It natural beauties of the increased the rock-cut Ed temples and tombs to interminable extent In ire found today. |J period of the Na f?ded from 150 B. a to *!>en the Romans con wntry and city, extended r?ads into it, and estab province of Arabia Petra. Otr ?as always to these f*>ples what Rome was and Jerusalem to the fitK Ednmltes. Xabatheans have all rejoiced and tie possession of this J^old and most remark antiqu-Ity. . '"'Thousand Years. 1 power waned and the !ps on the edge of the! riltandnned, no doubt the ? withdrawn from such 1 Then the Romanized w ^abHtheanized Romans *** against the desert '?n? as they could, and Probably about the same ?Greek cities of Decapo ?). From that time on history became more l?r more than a thou ms ancient capital iff !"st to the civilized fcVts discovery by Burck J/*1 lts seems to have to the wander |^y fin exaggeration to ^ntrnnr-f. to the Rock 081 s,rilnii>;t(i]i(.) winding ^ HS though it was J* "f This sik, Utonp ^ tw" miles long. Its r ? a w itie semicircu |L the r'?ht to the lefty tin J ,sh,'n hav " an,J corners in Its Pr|?b,? Treasury. t,le sik varies from 12 point to 35 or Ui , (P ac,'s- Where the !U Ual!y ?vlll on the top ot ? . stump. OriglwiMj redwood forest cov IJr' and the owner lathis tall stump when <7** were legged off, 1? Mndnnll high enoogb over the surrouftd* . ^though the orlgltt^ cleared ?ff? tl* " r'naraon's i r??tury, Petra. matchless defile he will wander on amazed, enchanted and delighted Suddenly he will step out of the nar dow gorge into the sunlight again. Th?re, carved in the face of the cliff, half revealed, half concealed in the growing shadows, is one of tho largest, most nearly perfect, and most beautiful monuments to antiquity? Bharaoh's Treasury. Almost as per fect a^ the day it came from beneath the sculptor's chisel, fifteen hundred or two thousand years ago; colored with the natural hues of the brilliant sandstone, which added an indescrib able element to the architectural beauty ; flanked and surmounted by the cliff 8, which have been carved and tinted in turn by the powers of na ture ; approached by the mysterious defile ? it Is almost overpowering in its .effect Descriptions of the width and height and the details of this monu ment of antiquity carved from the living rock may enable many to re produce for themselves some of its striking features ; but neither lan guage, measurements or pictures can give more than a bold idea of the temple and its charming surround ings. The secret of its magic seems to be the culmination of man's best efforts with the powers and beauties of nature. From the moment the visitor sights the great castellated mass In which the city lies hidden until he takes his last glimpse from the highlands above he cannot cease to wonder at the in describable beauties of the purples, the yellows, the crimsons, and the many-hued combinations. Whethei seen in the gloom of the slk, or th? brilliant sunshine, that seems to kindle the craggy, bristling pinnacles into colored flames, they inspire continued surprise. Beautiful Color Effect. / The ancient sculptors fixed the levels of their rock-hewn tombs and temples and dwellings so as to make most artistic use of the more beauti ful strata in the mountain walls. They consciously practiced a kind of lan^pcape gardening where, instead of beautiful effects produced by banks of fading flowers, all was carved from t,the many-hued and easily wrought! solid stone, which took on new beau ties as It crumbled away. Not far from Pharaoh's Treasury is a great theater cut in what may be called the Applan Way of . the city. It stands among some of the flnest tombs ? a theater In the midst of sepulcbers. The floor of the stage Is 120 feet in diameter. Fully 5,000 spectators could have found comfort In the 33 rows of seats. Here, also, the coloring of the sandstone is bril liant and at certain places In the ex cavation the tiers of seats are lit erally red and purple alternately In the native rock. The eastern wall of the valley, near the entrance, rises to a height of more thin five hundred feet. For a length of a thousand feet the face of the cliff is carved and honeycombed with excavations to a' height of three hun dred feet above the floor of the val ey. j Here are found some of the most Impressive ruins in the city. The Urn tomb in the center has in the rock behind It a room over sixty feet square, whose beautifully colored ceiling can be compared to a great storm in the heavens. The porinthlan tomb and temple are among the largest and most beautifully colored monu ments In any of the walls. The Deir or l^onastery is reached by one of the great ravines op which winds ? path and stairway until an elevation of 700 feet is attained. - A small plateau opening toward the south give* an extended view of Mount Hor and all the southern end of the Dead cavity. The spot la wholly inaccessible except by the one rocky stairway and winding path. ' . ? . * convenience of the Idea haa continued Its use, which, now that\ the second growth has become lofty, Is again ? necessity. ?? Minnehaha's Crave Located At be Soto, Wis., a town of 840 population, which was settled by New England Yankees, the Indian maiden Minnehaha la burled on the crest of a hill overlooking the town. Many persona wrengfully suppose she was burled In Minnesota, where Minnehaha falls are located. ? - ?' ? " jHDNEST ? < ! S. ATKINS' PQUCV I ' 'Vin v ? r , By PEARCC THORNE ./ 1 ^ ===S?s^s===^=^=fc=i 1 (?. Double day, p^, A Co } ThHE 0,(1 w?man behind the cigar I k0?.".1,61^ lD the Iobby of the bant A building was flustered by the rush of customer*..! /This may ha?e been the reasoo Bhe gave John Atkins too much change. She gave Mw three one-dollar bills, and Instead of a fourth one, gave him a live-dollar wit. So that instead of four dollar* change he got eight. ? ? , to * piclon at John Atkins. But his square face. With Its pug nose and blue chin, wrinkled into a smile as he recognized the banker. "By the love of Pat, Mr. Atkins" he laughed, MI was Jlst about to pinch you! This note's phony. They've 'been a lot of 'em loose around here lately and we're on the tralL I won der now, kin you repilmber where you get this little law-breaker?" John Atkins felt himself grow warm. Someone had had the audacity to hand him a counterfeit five-dollar bill, to put blm ? a banker ? In the position of of* tfering spurious currency! "I most certainly can, Casey. You come with me and we can get there before they close." When the old woman looked np and saw the badge Casey was disclosing, she closed her eyes and would have fallen had he not caught her by the arm. "There, there !" said Casey soothing ly, "you mustn't take on so. It's Just a talk we'll have, and then you'll be home In time for supper." The old creature drew her greenish black shawl more closely about her throat Suddenly her knees gave way, and despite Casey's arm she sank to the floor. . "Oh," she moaned, "I wfts afeared! Charley said It was all right . . ? and I beileved him . . ? but all the time, I. am afeared. . "Where Is Charley now?" asked Hon est John Atkins. A dim radiance came in her glazed eyes, like a lamp lighted behind black curtains. "Ain't you got him?- she cried. "Ain't you got my boy?** "Not yet," said Casey. She held out her trembling arms to be lifted up. "Thank Godl I'll go with you ? now." Honest John Atkins forgot about the Incident until Officer Casey's card was handed him by his secretary some four weeks later. "Well," began Cfcsey, as he sat on the edge of a mahogany chair and hung his black derby over one knee, "we've done what we could, but that ain't much." Apparently he was em barrassed about the subject he was leading up to. "We got Indictments of Charlie and all his gang rushed through the grand Jury so that they could be tried at this term of court If we caught 'em ; but we didn't ketch 'em." Casey cleared his throat. "That is, we didn't ketch nobody but the old woman, and I came to see you? to see If you didn't want to drop the case against her. She's technically guilty, all right; and we can convict her In twenty minutes. She knew Charlie printed the bills. But she says she didn't know It was wrong. She didn't think her boy would do wrong. Of course, ignorance of the law is no ex cuse. But I taught? well, I Just thought I'd come by and talk to you about It." - ? Honest John Atkins leaned back In his swivel chair and, resting an elbow on each chair arm, put the tips of his long, blunt fingers together. This counterfeiting plot had Invaded the sacred precincts of his own personal ity. He himself had passed one of the bills. A feeling of Indignation per vaded him. ? "Mr. Casey," said he, "we must con sider first of all our duty to society. If we permit dishonest persons to es cape we shall never succeed In stamp ing out dishonesty. You may say to the United States attorney that my Institution Insists upon a conviction." Casey got reluctantly to his feet At tfie door he paused and looked back; but as If reallzlhg the futility of discussion Jabbed his derby over one eye and went scowling down the Cor ridor. For Buffalo Bill Monument There is a flat concrete slab over the unpretentious grave of Colonel Cody ? Buffalo Bill ? on top of Look out mountain, Colorado. This in turn Is covered with ordinary chicken wire, and on the concrete are hundreds of coins, cents, nickels, dimes and even larger ones, which the visitors have thrown there. The chicken wire is to prevent anybody from getting the money with a stick. The object of the collection Is t words of ?Dixie.' " "What words 7" "Look away.**? Atlanta Constitu tion. c' Power "1 can turn you out a statue," de clared a boaster. "I can turn you out a painting or novel. I can torn you out a song." "With all that," commented a by stander, "you alii't nearly so po-verf*l as that little fellow over yonder." "Who is he?" "He's a landlord. He can turn yoa out"? Louisville Courier-Journal. ? Preparedne* s Reggie ? Phyllis said that she was going to let me give her swimming lessons. We start with them tomor row. . Archie? You lucky dog. But where are you going in such a hurry to night? Reggie-Be prepared I* my motto rm going to lew? to swim. $iT0 1 & ?' ' ? The Deacon9* #7*. ?? .?? "jW ? ^ Wooing ~4 [fe By H. IRVING KING SS?*? 11 1 ' BSSSS? ? ? ? *\ tconritikt) DON'T know what ^oorare think ^ ing of," said Mrs. Marsden Ive* to her daughter ? Katherine. "You know we haven't a cent of iijioney. II your Uncle Amos didn't give we a small allowance we should both be in the poorboow. And here is Mr. Reuben Schofleid, a. most estimable mao In every way, deacon of the church, and you won't think of him as a husband when you know he Is crazy to marry you." Kate had no objection to the dea con as a family friend. He had been a friend of the deceased Ives, had con tinued his friendship with his family, and had. of late, been a constant call er at . the Ives bumestead ? the said homestead, with a mortgage on it, be* Ing all that was left of the late Mr. Ives' estate when his affairs were set tled up. Kate Ives, a strikingly handsome girl, listened, as she al ways did, to her mother's lecture until it ended, as usual, by Mrs. Ives burst ing into tears and sobbing. "You never think of your poor old mother; all you think about is yourself and that Roger Capron." "Mother.* said Kate, when the storm had subsided so that she could speak and be heard. "1 do think of you and of your welfare. But you must see that a marriage between Deacon Schofleid and myself would be ridiculous. As for Roger Capron, be Is no pauper. If we were married, do not think your children would see you want for anything. And besides, I love him, and shall never marry a man I do not love." "All very pretty and romantic," re turned Mrs. Ives, "but Roger has only a small Income at best, while everyone knows that Deacon Schofleid Is very wealthy indeed. Never in all my lifte have I had the luxuries which I have always longed for and to which I feel that 1 am entitled before I die. If you would marry Schofleid I might have them. But ydti only think of your self!" Mter that day came Deacon Reuben Schofleltf. Mi's. Ives looked forty In stead of fifty while the deacon looked to be sixty. The gold he had accumu lated seemed to have tinged his com plexion. But no man was more re spected In the .community. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of candy in his coat-tall pocket, [ both of which, after greeting the Wid ow Ives, he laid on the table, saying ? dtfJldMtlyc a M-l brought ; these for Kate. " Do you think she likes me any better than she did?" 'My daughter." replied the widow, ^canuor help but admit*' a iJMta pos sessed of the excellent qualities of Deacon Schofleid. Bitfshe Is younjp you thust flot take the wliimseys of:a girl for her real mind. If I cqji.UJ ?ee Katherine settled 'ftPqifr :ftli1nk I could die happy." "Ye?. replied * the deacon, "thaV's what I wjnt. She ought to I be maw^d. By . the way. $,hftve | b6ughtutfiat mortgage ? yofl need not worry any more about the Interest. fta^i^H^SjiftCi^ke -your tltae? 9* you are sure Kate doesn't dislike me?" MI am sure she does not," returned Mrs. Ives; "very sure"., fl .. ?I am glad of that." said the dea con. "because ? because ? well, the bet ter she Ukje me the happier I shall be. The knowledge gives me courage to say something I have long wanted to say. So you think Kate would not object?" "She mlght^at first? for, fonn's sake."; replied Mrs. Ives. '"You know the Ways of silly girls, deacon." , "Yes. yes." wejnt.on the deacon; "just so. Let me see. that young Rog er Capron Is rather sweet on Kate, Isn't he?" . -V MA mere childish affair, not to be taken seriously, deacon." said the widow. "Kate has, I trust, come to her senses with regard to that matter long ago." "Let me see." said the deacon. "i have been coming here pretty fre quently for some time now, haven't I? And I_havf alwayp brought candy and flower* formate, haven't I? I thought that might win lier good will." "Kate," declaimed Mrs. Ives in' a stately manner, "would make an ex cellent wife for somebody ? and you, deacon, would make an excellent hus band for somebody.** "Do you really think so now, madam? Do you really think so?** said the deacon, chuckling and laugh ing. "Well. I nm glad enough to hear yon say so. You encourage me great?v ly. you really do. I came here today prepared to ask an important question ? one upon which I feel my future happiness depends. Where is Kate?* "In the kitchen, probably," replied the widow eagerly. "Shall I call her?" "No. no, not Just yet," cried the dea con, "wait awhile." Now Kate had left the kitchen and, hearing the deacon's voice in the par lor, had stopped at the door to listen? which was very wrong of her, but ex cusable on the ground that she felt that the conversation concerned her self. Ail thought of sacrifice vanished from her mind. She was about to break into the room and declare her self, but restrained her impulse And the deacon went on: "As we agreed not only Kate ought to be married, but I ought to be married. What I need If a helpmate, and If you are quite rare that Kate would accept me as a stepfather, I ask yon, madam, to be that helpmate.** As Kate, with a laugh, burst Into the room she beard her mother say. "Oh. deacon, this la so sudden." And It was. . Harmony lire. Corntossel ? HIrem, I've got a lot er things I want ter talk ter yon about Mr. Corntossel ? Mighty good. I*m glad to hear It, by jinks. Ye usually want a talk ter me *bout lots o* things ye haven't got. Womm of Odd IdoaU I have met with women who I really Uilnk would like to be married to a poem and to be given away by a novel ifimk f . .. ?K* ~ Full Military Honort at Squaw Man't Banal 8am Terry, beloved "Slksela" and . , squaw man of the Sioux, lies burled IB the Rosebud Indian reservation In 8L Francis, H. D. Full military bonora were accorded the old United Stales scdut and tol-mer Indian fighter by the American Legion as his body was low ered to its Iqst resting place. ? Samuel Mark Terry, nephew of Gen eral Terry of Civil war and Indian war fume, was born In New York Sep tember 1, 18o0. Sam Joined the Unit ed States army' in 1S38 and a gunshot wbund received In the Civil war caused him to wear a silver plate in his throat for the rest of bis life. Handicapped by the wound and un daunted by loss of bis toes by (reel ing while he was engage^ In army messenger and scout work for Uncle Sam around the army posts in the land of the Sioux Indians, Sam Terry continued in the government service until romance conquered him. - His detachment was about to attack an Indian villuge In JSC7, with orders to kill every man. During the lighting figures were seen hiding in the tall grass. One of the soldiers was about to simot when Sam ordered him to wait. Seurth of the grass revealed two Jndiun girls. After the attack, one of these persisted in pursuing Ter ry until lie became a squaw man and a reul loyer of the Indians. Old-timers declare Sam Terry was a noble character. He served his coun try for 23 years, and after his adop tion by the Indiups he helped bring about a mutual und?rstandlng be tween them and Washington. Where the Hairpins Co There Is a very charming fairy story written concerning the land where all lost points go, says the St. Joseph News-Press. So completely do vast quantities of pins disappear from hu man sight that It seems there must be some magic in their vanishment Rut the pretty fairy* story is far from the sordid reality of the discovery,