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new set of officials having world-wide jurisdiction. The grandeur of all these distinctions suffers no diminution in their names. The chief officer is ruler, chancellor, commander, seigneur, president, potentate, with many superlative and worshipful prefixes. And in the rituals of the numerous orders the Almighty is habitually referred to as the Supreme Commander, Ruler, Potentate, or otherwise, as the case may be. By this means the American imagination accomplishes an interuniversal as well as an international organization. A few years ago, in a little country village, there was instituted a chapter of a certain benevolent insurance order. The chancellor was subsequently elected grand chancellor of the State. Afterward at a national convention he was made supreme grand chancellor of the United States. The next year he was elected most supreme grand chancellor of the world; and it became his duty, the order paying his expenses, to make an international visitation to the three chapters in Australia, New Zealand, and England that composed the aforesaid "world." When that triumphal tour was completed, his return home was heralded, and the chapter of his village arranged for a reception of the honorable dignitary. Never shall I forget the feeling of solemn awe that settled down upon the little community as the evening approached when the most supreme grand chancellor of the world was to arrive. This favored American was a "bigger man than old Grant." Not only are there offices enough to go round," but the really capable and pushing American is generally honored with a score. I heard an overworked man decline to be at the head of an organization because he was at the head of twenty-five already. Here, then, we have the great American safety-valve-we are a nation of presidents.


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I was standing at a Broadway book stall that hot July noon. A pile of second-hand music lay before me. As the boy at my side uttered the words, I turned the sheets idly and Campana's "Io vivo et t'amo" met my eyes. My heart gave a sudden bound. In an instant the hum of the crowd, the jingling of the cars, the roar of traffic, swept from me like the surge of an ebbing sea.

The slim,

The blazing noonday glare faded into a mellow, golden light. Again I stood in that old, familiar room. The soft notes of the piano stole dreamily upon my ear. graceful figure of a girl swayed gently before the key-board, her pale face upturned-the white rose nestling in her hair. How fragrant its perfume!

And we sang once more together Campana's sweet duetsang as we had sung, ah! how many, many times!

Softly the words fell from her lips:

"Io vivo et t'amo-I live and love thee."

Our voices faltered. Her brimming eyes met mine. Bending low, our faces touched.

was dispelled.

Then rudely the happy vision

I stood in a darkened room. Before me, in a bank of flowers, rested a figure draped in snowy white-still as marble, the waxen fingers clasped upon her breast, the pale face angel-like beneath its crown of chestnut hair.

And the white rose still nestled there. Can I ever forget

its perfume?

"Julie, Julie," I cried in agony, sinking beside her, "I live and love thee! Can you not hear me?"

Now, as then, a sweet voice echoed in my heart: "I live and love thee still."

"Only five cents apiece, sir.".

Again the blinding, blazing street. About me jostled the noisy crowd. The boy stood stolidly by. I had not moved. My hand still held the music. Once again, after years of death, my heart had lived-an instant. Moved by a sudden impulse, I drew out the sheet of music.

"I will take this,” I said.

As I turned away I examined the title leaf more closely. In the upper corner, faded and scarcely legible, I found the name " Julie Courtenay."


The eating a traveller gets among the mountains of Kentucky is not always the exact thing he would choose if left to the dictates of his own taste, but he must put up with it or go empty. One June day after a rough ride of thirty miles and no dinner, I pulled up in front of a house to make inquiries as to entertainment for man and beast for that night. The proprietor was sitting on a wood pile by the gate.

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What are the chances for something to eat and a place to sleep?" I asked, after the usual greeting.

66 Come fur?" he answered.

"Thirty miles."

"Whar from?"


66 Come from the Blue Grass?"

"Yes, left Winchester a week ago."

"Live down that a-way?"

"Yes, when I am at home."

"I used to live down in the Blue Grass myself," he said with a reminiscent pleasure in his eyes. "Lived down thar 'till I was twenty-one, married a gal up in these parts and come up here to live. She owned this farm. I didn't own Grass," and he winked slyly. "But I reckon we kin fix you. Hitch Want somethin' to eat, do you?"

a durn thing in the Blue git down and come in. your hoss to the fence.

"I should say so," I replied as I obeyed his instructions. "How'd a fine fried chicken with flour gravy strike you?" "Plumb centre," I replied in the vernacular.

"That's Blue Grass victuals, ain't hit?" he asked, with an appetizing laugh. And I reckon you ain't objectin' to some nice hot biscuits, flaky and white, with honey onto 'em and a piece of briled ham, that ud make your mouth warter?" "Well, hardly," I said, as the pleasant vision the man spread out before me began to tickle my palate.

Good cup of coffee ain't bad, nuther, is it? and waffles throwed in fur good measure, and then taperin' off on a big sasserful of fresh strawberries swimmin' in cream.'

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Don't talk about it," I protested; "I'm hungrier than a wolf. Let me get at it.”

My host's face fell, and there were almost tears in his eyes. "Talk's all there is to it, mister," he said mournfully "It uster be that a-way in the Blue Grass, but we don't git nothin' but corn bread and salt pork up this way."

I presume he saw the disappointment in my face, and that I was about to express it vigorously, for he threw up his hands appealingly.

"Don't say a word, mister," he pleaded; "ef I didn't git a chance sometimes to talk about the kind of fillin' fit for a man to put inside of himself, I'd a been a dead man twentyfive years ago."

And I didn't say a word.

AN INTERRUPTED TALE............A HUSBAND'S PATIENCE ...... LONDON TIT-BITS He-Oh, my dear, I must tell you something Jack Burroughs told me to-day while

She-Where did you see Jack Burroughs?

He-Oh, we went to luncheon together, and

She-How did you happen to go out to luncheon together? He-Well, we didn't exactly go out together. I met Jack at the restaurant, and

She-What restaurant?

He-Calloway's, and Jack

She-How did you happen to go to Calloway's? I thought you always lunched at Draper's?

He-I nearly always do, but I just happened to drop into Calloway's to-day, along with Jack, and

She Does he always lunch at Calloway's?

He-I'm sure, my dear (a little sharply), that I don't know if he does or not. It makes no earthly difference if

She-Oh, of course not. (Hastily.) I just wondered if he did, that's all. Go on with your story.

He-Well, while we were eating our soup, Jack—

She-What kind of soup ?

He-Oxtail. Jack said that

She-I thought you disliked oxtail soup?

He-Well, I don't care much about it, but

She-How did you happen to order it, then?

He-Because I did. (Severely.) But the soup has nothing to do with the story.

She-Oh, of course not.

(In a grieved tone.) I never

Isaid that it did. I don't see why you should get cross over

a simple question. Go on.

He-Well, while we were eating our soup, Lawrence Hildreth and his wife came in, and

She They did?

He I have just said so.

She-Well, you needn't be so cross about it.

He-They came in, and

She Is she pretty ?

He-Pretty enough. Jack bowed and

She Does he know them?

He-Well, now, do you suppose he would have bowed if

he hadn't known them? I declare if I▬▬

She-How was she dressed?

He-How should I know? I never looked at her dress. What I was going to tell you was that

She Did they sit near you?
He-Yes, at the next table.

ing, Jack said that they——

She-Couldn't they hear him?

And while they were order

He-Do you suppose (fiercely) that Jack would have no more sense than to let them hear him talking about them? Look here, now

She-James, if you can't tell a simple little incident without getting into a passion, you'd better keep it to yourself. What did Jack say?

He-He said that Mrs. Hildreth's father was opposed to the match, and

She-How did he know that?

He-Great Cæsar! There you go again!

She-James, will you please remember that it is your wife to whom you are speaking, sir?

He-No other woman could drive me raving, distracted, crazy, asking silly questions about


He-Every time I try to tell you anything you begin, and


She-James (rising with dignity and saying stiffly), I do not propose listening to any such insulting remarks, and He-You never listen to anything. That's the trouble.


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