The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1912-11-29

their one topic OF conversation, ana
heart-fag from rapture deferred. Mar
jorie had pretended to take a nap
and Mallory had pretended that ne
would leave her for her own sake
Their contradictory chains were be-
ginning to gall.
Mallory sat in the smoking room.
! and threw aside a half-tinished cigar
Life was indeed nauseous when TO-
bacco turned rank on his lips. he
watched without interest the stupen'
dous scenery whirling past the train;
granite rayines, internal grotesQues
OF architecture and diablerie, the
Giants Teapot, the Devils Slide, the
Pulpit Rock, the Hanging ROCK
splashes of mineral color, as II titanic
paint pots had been spilled or hung
against the cliffs, sudden hushes OF
green pine-worlds, dreary graveyards
of sand and sagebrush. mountain
streams In frothing panics.
His faded soul could not respond TO
any of these thrillers, the dime-noV-
els and melodramatic third acts OF ma
ture. But with the arrival OF train
boy, who had got on at Evanston with
batch of Salt Lake City newspa'
pers. he woke a little.
The other men came trooping
round, like sheep at a herd-boys
whistle or chickens when a pan OF
grain is brought into the yard. The
train butcher" had nasal sing-song,
but his strain might have been the
Pied Pipers tune emptying Hamelfn
OF its grown-ups. The charms OF fir
tation, matrimonial bliss and fem
mine beauty we're forgotten, and the
males flocked to the delights OF stock
market reports, political or racing or
dramatic or sporting or criminal
news. Even Ashton braved the eyes
of his fellow men for the luxury OF
burying his nose In fresh paper.
Papers. gents? Yes? MOI" the
train butcher chanted. Salt Lake pa
pers, Ogden papers. all the latest pa
pers, comic papers. magazines, Pc
riodicals."
Here, boy" said Ashton, swapping
his fingers, what's the latest New
York paper?"
Last Sat'day's."
six days old! read that before
left New York. Well, give me that
Salt Lake paper. 1t has yesterdays
stock market, suppose"
Yes, sir" He passed over the
sheet and made change, without abat-
ing his monody: Papers, gents. Yes?
No? Salt Lake pa"
"Whash latesh from Chicago?" said
Wellington.
Mondays"
II read that before-that breakfast
began" laughed Little Jimmie. We'll,
give me Salt Lake Bazoo. 1t has bashe-
ball news, s'pose."
Yes. STR" the butcher answered,
and his tone grew reverent as he
said: THE Giants won. Mr.. Mattyson
was pitching. Papers, gents. all the
latest papers. magazines. periodicals.
Wedgewood extended languid
hand: What's the latest issue OF the
London Times?"
Never heard OF It,"
Wedgewood almost tainted, and re-
turned to his Baedeker of the United
States
DR.. Temple summoned the lad: Il
don't suppose you have the Ypsilanti
Eagle?"
The butcher regarded him with pity,
and shifted: Il carry newspapers, not
poultry.
We'll, give me the" he saw
pink weekly Of rather picturesque ap-
pearance, and the adventure attracted
him. "I'll take this-also the Out
look" He folded the pink within the
green, and entered into a new and
startling world-a sort of journalistic
Summing tour
Give me any old thing" said MAI
Tory, and flung open an Ogden Jour
nal till he found the sporting page,
where his eyes frightened. by jove,
a ten-inning game! Matthewson In
the box!"
Matte Is most intelleckshal pitch
er in the world" said Little Jimmie,
and then everybody disappeared be-
hind paper ramparts, while the butch.
er fingered to explain to the porter
the details of the great event.
About this time, Marjorie, tired of
her pretence at slumber, strolled into
the observation car. glancing into the
mems room. where she saw nothing
but newspapers. Then Mrs. Yelling
ton saw her, and smiled: Come in
and make yourself at home"
Thanks" said Marjorie, bashfuIly,
81 was looking for my-my-"
Husband"
My dog"
How is he this morning?"
my dog?"
Your husband"
"Oh, he's as we'll as could be OK.
pectad"