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A SUMMERTIME MEDLEY

A Young Violin Maker of Omaha and His Work -- One of His Creations.

Nebraska's School for the Deaf and Some of the Things It Has Accomplished.

The Negro Question and a Word for the Indians -- Mrs. Peattie Drops Into Poetry.

Love for a day -- and then, my sweet, farewell!
I would not with one accent, bid you stay.
See, not the semblance of a teardrop fell.
Even when you said 'twas love but for a
day.

Dreams are the dearest things that life may bring.
And knowledge robs us flat of these, you say.
But you will leave me with this flawless thing,
The perfect memory of love a one day.

No, let no purer day on our love dawn.
I fear to see the hideous feet of clay,
Love, go. I shall not weep when you are gone,
To think our kisses lasted but a day.

'In all centuries, at all times," says Oclave Thanet There have been artisans with the artist's soul."

There is no such a one in Omaha. His name is Clinton A. Cane, and he is to be found high up in a certain business block of the city, in a little room about 15x10, standing at his bench.

He is a young man, only 27, and he dresses fastidiously, and wears a tiny gold chain to his eye glasses, and white tie. But he is a workman all the same And his occupation is the making of violins