em to enter into conflict with his prejudices. His
prejudices will be, at first, by a feeble sort of conviction, afterward,
by reason of his own interest, identical with those of the crowd; and
lastly, his poverty and the impossibility of his getting a living
outside of politics make it certain that he will never break out of the
narrow circle where his political employers have confined him; his
imperative mandate is the material necessity which obliges him to obey;
his imperative mandate is his inability to quarrel with his bread and
butter. Democracy obviously has need of politicians, has need of nothing
else but politicians, and has need indeed that there shall be in
politics nothing else but politicians.

* * *

AN IOWA ROMANCE.

[From the Clinton Herald.]

Lost--A large white tom cat with gray tail and two gray spots on body.
Return to 1306 So. Third street and receive reward.

Lost--"Topsy" black persian cat. Any one having seen her kindly call 231
5th ave.

* * *

WE SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

[From the Idaho Falls Register.]

A lady's leather handbag left in my car while parked on Park avenue two
weeks ago. Owner can have same by calling at my office, proving the
property and paying for this ad. If she will explain to my wife that I
had nothing to do with its being there, I will pay for the ad.

C. G. Keller.

* * *

COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD.

[From the Tavares, Fla., Herald.]

The home of Mr. and Mrs. H. H. Duncan was the center of attraction
Sunday afternoon. All the relatives and a few special friends were there
to celebrate two happy occasions, the anniversary of Mr. and Mrs.
Duncan's marriage and the marriage of Miss Cora L. Peet, Mrs. Duncan's
sister, to Mr. J. E. Hammond, and the soft winds of March had blown the
planet of love over this beautiful home.

The composition of the decorations adhered with striking fidelity to
nature. The wide veranda was completely screened in by wild smilax and
fragrant honeysuckle vines, which entwisted themselves among the
branches of sweet myrtle and native palms, fitly transforming it into a
typical Arcadian scene beckoning to

"Come unto the garden, Maud;
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the muck of the rose is blown."

Soon the sound of music greeted the impatient
ear. With a voice full of indiv