Bellefonte, Pa., April 24, 1891.
AN AIR CASTLE.
1 built a house in my youthful dreams,
In a sunny and pleasant nook,
Where I might listen the whole day long
To the voice of the gurgling brook ;
A cottage with wide and airy rooms,
And broad and shining floors—
A house with the hidden charms of home,
And the freedom of out of doors.
Fair morning glories climb and bloom
At will by the eastern eaves,
And on the doorstep and window sill
The roses shake their leaves ;
And fair old-fashioned lilacs toss
Their purple plumage high,
While honeysuckles drop their sweets
On every passer-by.
Down at the end of a pleasant path
Is a group of evergreen trees—
Pine and hemlock, and spruce and fir,
With their spicy fragrances;
And, sweetest picture of calm content
That mortal ever saw,
Under a low boughed apple tree,
is a beehive made of straw.
1 have pictured it all a hundred times—
I shall do it a hundred more—
But I never shall own the pleasant home
With the roses over the door.
Never a dream of mine came true,
1t is Fate’s unbending law.
I never shall see the apple tree,
Nor the beehive made of straw.
But yet, in the airy realm of dreams
Where all my riches be,
Ienterinto the heritage
Which is else denied to me ;
I have but to close mine eyes to find
My Eden without a flaw—
Thehome, the garden, the apple tree
And tue beehivemade of straw.
Elizabeth Akers Allen.
THE AUSTRALIANS STORY.
I had just finished reading for the
twentieth time my last letter from home
when a sudden growl from Bouncer,
our station dog, brought me back from
the dream into which I was beginning
to fall and made ame drop my letter,
look hastily round and then walk to
the door ‘of the hut. But all was as it
should be. Nothing unusual was to
be seen in any direction. The sun was
sinking blood red behind a range of
dim blue hills, and stars were begin-
ning to show onthe paling sky.
Long Ridge station was a very soli-
tary spot indeed,.even at the best of
times; but just.at present, when Leng
Peter and I were its only occupants,the
loneliness of our position was horrible.
I don’t think Peter felt it as I did. He
was a tall, gaunt Scotchman, who had
been a shepherd in his native land. I
had come out from a full nest—a hap-
py home; and the awful monotony of
the Australian wilds seemed some-
times more than.I could bear.
For a month at least Long Peter and
I had shared the work and the danger
between us, he, as the most experienc-
-ed, going out with the sheep, while I
kept the hut, cooked the food and at-
tended to the various duties.
On this particular day I had been
feeling an amount of listless weariness
which I could searcely understand my-
self; but the fact avas that nervous de-
pression so overpowered me that when
Bouncer rose up, from my feet with a
growl, I started as though some terrible
danger was close at hand. TI walked
to the door of the hut, as I have said,
and looked keenly all around, but
could not see anything unusual. Still
Bouncer knew what he was about; he
never growled without having some-
thing to show for it. I therefore walk-
ed back to my faithful companion, and
taking his muzzle in both my hands,
“What is it, Bouncer, my boy ?”’ I said
“Is it friend or foe? Almost any one
would be welcome in this dreary soli-
tude.”
Bouncer had risen to his feel and
was listening intently. Again he growl-
ed; no, not growled, but whined impa-
tiently, and trotted to the door. Then
I knew that whoever might be ap-
proaching was no enemy, but a friend.
Yet who could it be? Long Peter and
his sheep were not due yet for nearly
an hour, and I need scarcely say that
afternoon visitors were scarce at Long
Ridge. I followed Bouncer to the door
of the hut and, shading my eyes with
my hand, looked earnestly toward the
west, which was the direction in which
the dog was looking. ‘Presently the
quick, though muffled, fall ot a horse’s
feet became distinctly audible. Tknew
the canter well ; ic was that of Black-
foot, the splendid riding horse belong-
ing to Mr. Ashby, the owner of the sta-
tion. Yes, there he was, cantering
over the waving grass and making
straight for Long Ridge. “Good after-
noon, Jem,” he said in his usual pleas-
ant manner. “Give me a light for my
pipe and a morsal to eat, for I must be
off again directly. Any news going?
Long Feter is not home yet, I sup-
pose ?°’ ’
Even as Mr. Ashby spoke we could
recognize the bleating of the flock, and
could dimly see the white fleeces of the
sheep as they .caerged from the som-
ber shadows of the trees. “Aye, there
they come,” said the master, in a re-
lieved tone of voice; “and now after a
few words with Peter, I can mount and
‘be on. I ought to be at home before’
it is quite dark. Jem,” he added im-
pressively, “I eame to-day to warn you
and Peter that there are blacks in the
neighborhood. They have been lurk-
ing round the home station for several
days, and they mean mischief, too, for
their women are not with them. I
would have sent Sam and Jerry here
to help you and Peter, but it is impos-
sible now to do so. My wife and chil-
dren must be protected, and we need
all the hands we have. I hope your
guns are in good order. Do you want
powder or lead ?
“We have enovgh of both,” I repli-
ed, “but we have only halfa dozen
bullets. I'll run them to-morrow.”
This I said with a flush of shame Tris
ing to my cheek, for had not Peter ask-
ed me that very morning to run the
bullets? Yet I had spent the long
summer day listlessly reading letters,
because, forsooth, I saw no immediate
need of the bullets; and now, thanks
to my’ carelessness, we were practically
unarmed.
Mr. Ashby did not seem to observe
my embarrassment, for he was stand-
ing at the door impatiently waiting for
Peter. He had, however, heard my
words, for he replied immediately:
“Don’t put off anything till to-morrow,
Jem. Fetch the mold and get the bul-
lets ran at once ; then go to the water
hole and fetch up as many bucketfuls
as you can stow away in the hut.”
Even as he spoke Peter and his
flocks arrived, the animals feeding
quietly all the way along. “Good
evening, sir,” said Long Peter quietly
to his master. “I've had some trouble
with the beasts to-day. Three are
missing. I found the body of one of
them, Sir, it had been speared!”
Mr. Ashby looked full at the man,
consternation clearly written in his
face. ‘Are they so near us as that,
Peter?” he said. “I must get home
to-night: I only came to warn you
and Jem.”
“I don’t think that you can possibly
go, sir,” responded the shepherd, cool-
ly filling a pannikin of tea. “They
are too close to us!”
We looked at the man inquiringly ;
his face was pale but resolute looking,
{ and his voice sank to a whisper as he
added: “After seeing the spear wonnd
ia the sheep I looked about me pretty
sharp you may be sure, but I saw
nothing till I was clear of the timber,
then 1 sighted one of the blacks wrig-
gling through the grass like a snake.
I would have fired at him bat I saw an-
other, then another, and I thought it
best to return and warn Jem. They
did not guess that I had seen them or
I would have had a spear through my
hack, Aes itis I expect they will at-
tack us to-night.”
Scarcely were the words out of his
mouth when a spear whizzed through
the open doorway and quivered in the
wooden slabs behind, Had my two
companions been as inexperieneed as 1
was all would now have been confusion
and dismay, but both the master and
Long Peter were old colonists, and had
had more than one brush with the na-
tives. They were both as cool as pos-
sible.
“Bar the door, Jem,” said the shep-
herd, “and hand me the powder flask
and bullets. Here, Bouncer, keep to
heel, good dog.” :
With a feeiing more akin to agony
than I had ever known before, I hand-
the powder flask to my fellow servant,
at the same time telling him that I had
forgotten all about the bullets, and that
only a half a dozen remainedon hand.
He just gave me one glance, partly
indignation, partly pity. “Then we
are all up a tree,” he said. “However,
let us do our best; two bullets to each
of us, Jem, and we'll stand by each
other. ;
The good old fellow ! 1 saw by his
face that he felt for me in the agony of
remorse I was enduring, and did not
mean to make it worse for me by his
reproaches. Yet Long Peter had a
wife at home among the heather
mountains, and a daughter, a curl of
whose golden hair I had often seen in
his pocketbook. Ah, Long Peter could
uot afford to die yet!
Meanwhile Mr. Ashby was coolly re-
connoitering through the loopholes; he
had let down the window, and was pre-
paring for action as calmly as the shep-
herd. We had handed him his two
bullets, but he pushea them back ; he
had a few ofhis own. “Take them,
them,” he whispered; “you will need
them all,” And traly wedid. By
this time the moon had risen, its light
gradually growing on the landscape (ill
we could see the outlines of the trees,
and could see the long grass waving
white in the ghostly shadows, but all
was silent—nothing but the hoarse cry
of some night bird broke on the still-
ness around. Oh, how long was it to
last, this dreadful silence and inaction ?
For myself I must confess that every
pulse in my body was beating like a
sledge hammer, every nerve quivering
till I could scarcely hold my rifle. But
the master and Peter, they knelt as
quietly as though no danger was to be
apprehended, their barrels pointed
through the loopholes, while they
closely watched for any movement out-
side.
But there was none. The sheep
were camping quietly round the hur-
dles, the night wind swept with a
mournful sound through the dark trees.
causing the spectral tracery of the
branches to dance in the mooulight on
the grass, but that was all. Sull the
terrible silence. But suddenly there
wae a change, three or four of the
sheep rose, looked all around, stamped
with their feet and huddled close to-
gether. Something had alarmed them,
some sight or sound as yet unrevealed
to our blunter faculties. Bouncer rose
to his feet, too, whining uneasily.
“Down, dog, down I" whispered Peter
breaking the silence for the first time,
and the docile animal once more sank
to the ground.
The next moment a loud report rang
out into a thousand echoes. Peter had
fired the first shot, a shrill death scream
following it, while we could dimly see
the dark figure of 2 man who leaped
from his ambush and fell like a clod to
the ground.
“Now, master,” cried Long Peter,
while rapidly reloading his gun, “fire
away, but aim to the right, sir, aim to
the right. I can see the cursed creat
ures gathering there in numbers.”
Mr. Ashby obeyed the directions
given him by his servant, for in truth
Long Peter had a fuller view than any
of us of what was going on outside.
“There, you are all right!” he add-
ed exultantly,’as both Mr. Ashby’s
gun and mine were fired at tho same
moment. “You have each fixed your
man, and the others are drawing off
tor a little. But mark my words, sir,”
he added, “though they are mortally
afraid of our guns, they'll find out soon
enough that our ammunition is run-
ning short, then they will fire the hat
and we are done for. Sir, I mean to
get Bouncer to help up.”
“The dog?’ asked Mr. Ashby, in-
quiringly. “I don’t understand. What
can he do? They will certainly kill
him if you let him out I”
“So they will, if they can catch
“hut we must take our chance of that.
gir, If you will write aline to the
him,” replied the sheperd composedly ; |
Head Station, telling them what a fix
we are in, I reckon that my dog will
carry the letter there in less time than
a thoroughbred horse could do it. I
have taught him, sir, to fetch and
carry, little thinking that at some time
our lives might depend upon him doing
it. Please write the letter, sir.”
“But will he go to the Head Station
with it 2” replied the master, who was
busily writing. “How can you get him
to understand ?”’
“Leave that to me, sir,” replied Long
Peter; “the dog is as wise as any
Christian, and a deal wiser than many ;
besides, I have a waistcoat here be-
longing to Jerry ; if I show him that it
is all right ; he loves Jerry, and knows
that he is at the Head Station. The
only difficulty is, will the black fellows
wait long enough before they fire the
hut, so as to allow of help coming ? It
is doubtful ; but we can only try. We
are in God's hands, sir.”
“True,” replied Mr. Ashby, as he
handed the letter to his faithful ser-
vant. The mastersaid no mare, but T
could see that his heart was full, Ah,
his dear young wife, his blue eyed lit-
tle ones! Would he ever see them
more ?
There #as certainly no time to lose.
I could see the dark figures of the na-
tives dodging round the hut, evidently
thinking that since we had ceased fir-
ing our ammunition must be totally ex-
pended ; but it was not so, we had each
of us one bullet left, but only one,
which we were keeping for emergen-
cies, or for final scrimmage. Mean-
while Long Peter had pulled away a
half rotten slab from between his bunk,
thus making a hole sufficiently large
for Bouncer to creep through. He
“then fastened the letter securely to his
collar, the noble animal giving now
and then a suppressed whine and
trembling from head to foot with
anxiety. He had smelt at Jerry's
waistcoat, and quite understood what
was expected of him, I could not bear
to look at Long Peter at this moment,
his features were working with emotion,
and I could have sworn that there were
tears in his eyes ; but he said nothing.
Everything being now ready he led
Bouncer to the hole, held his muzzle
for a moment pressed hard between his
hands, while he gazed into the creat-
ure's expressive eyes. “Now go, good
dog,” he whispered; and squeezing
himself through the hole Bouncer sped
away on noiseless feet.
We listened intently for a few min-
utes; oh, how we listened! our faces
blanched and our limbs trembling.
Had Bouncer escaped away on his
weighty errand without being discov-
ered? Alas, no! a sudden wild jabber-
ing rose on the night air, a rush of
many feet, and the next instant we de-
tected a yelp of pain.
“They have surely speared him!”
whispered Mr. Ashby.
But Long Peter turned on him al-
most in anger. “No, no, sir,” he said;
“he 1s just scratched. He'll do it yet,
I know he will.”
“He must be quick then,” replied
the master, “for those cursed savages
have struck a light somehow; they
mean to burn us out, look!”
Oar eyes were now intently watch-
ing the movements of the black fellows
from the loopholes, and we had not
watched long till we saw a flaming
brand whizzing throngh the air till it
fell upon the stringy bark roof above
our heads. Another and another im-
mediately followed, still it did not seem
to us that any of them had taken ef-
fect.
“Carry up a bucket of water through
the trap door and pour 1t over the
roof,” whispered the master to me,
“but take care of yourself; don’t let
them see you.”
I did as I was directed, and thor-
oughly drenched the roof, but while
thus engaged I heard a shout from be-
low. It was Mr. Ashby’s voice.
Come down, Jem; come quickly,”
he cried, and I rattled down the ladder
with a sinking heart. Long Peter lay
on the floor of the hut, white and gasp-
ing ; a spear had entered oue of the
loopholes and pinned him through the
thigh. In response to my groan of
utter dismay the good fellow struggled
into a sitting posture.
“Never mind me, Jem,” he said;
“fight it out to the last. Take my gun,
there is one charge in it yet; but first
drag me into that corner.
I obeyed in silence, handed him a
pannikin of cold tea, and then took
ay place by Mr, Ashby’s side. “Look
out,” he whispered. “I mean to fire
at their ringleader—that man with the
blazing log in his hand—I fear he has
already fired the roof. I hear it crack-
ling ; but it scarcely matters now, the
end 1s not far off. We are:doomed.”
As he spoke these despairing words
Mr. Ashby fired, his bullet bringing
down the man aimed at, who, with a
wild screech, fell to the ground. There
was a pause of consternation after this,
and a hurried talk among the savages
outside ; then, with wild yells, the
whole force of the hesiegers rushed on
our little garrison. A moment's surg-
ing round the door, then it gave way
with a crash, Mr. Ashby’s gun swing:
ing on the crowd of sayages with ter-
rific force, felling two of them like
oxen. I can scarcely describe what
followed. There was a wild struggle
with our guns and our fists ; then two
black fellows forced me to the ground;
one was shortening his grasp of his
spear to drive itthrough my body,
when he suddenly fell on the top of
me dead, felled by the butt end of Mr.
Ashby’s gun. But 1 knew little more.
Dimly I seemed to hear a loud hurrah
from outside, followed by the cracking
of rifles ; then every sound died away
into utter silence.
“Well, 1 declare, you have had a bit
of a scrimmage, and. here's poor Jem
about done for!” It was the voice of
Jerry, who was dragging away the
deady body of my assailant trom off my
chest,
“No, [ am no dead,” 1 said, feebly |
enough, “not even wounded, though |
balf choked with blood that is not my |
own. Where isthe master? and, oh,
go and look after Long Peter! He is
terribly hurt, I know.”
“The other chaps are attending to
him,” said Jerry, “and as for the mas-
ter hesays he is all right; he won't
own to a single scratch. He is a game
one, he is. We'll have you all carried
to the Head Station afore breakfast
time, see if we ‘don’t. But you
should have seen that doz of Peter's.
Why, his feet was all skinned and raw,
and he had an ugly spear wound 1n the
shoulder, so that the letter was cover-
ed with blood. We could scarcely
make it out, but we guessed quick
enough that there was something
amiss, and came away at once. We
were just in time, Jem, my boy.”
“Didn’t I tell ye as Bouncer would
do it?’ cried Long Peter, in rather a
weak quavering voice, “Poor old chap,”
he added tenderly, as the faithful brute
limped across the hut at the sound of
the shepherd’s voice and crept close to
his side. “You and me will never
part, Bouncer, never, as long as we
live.” And they never did part till
seven years later, when, in extreme old
age, Bouncer died and was buried in a
grave dug for him by Long Peter him-
self. “Ah,” he said, when the cere-
mony was over, ‘why do them faith-
ful brutes die so soon? I'll never see
hie like aga’n; he was as wise as any
Christian, and much more faithful
than many.”—New York World.
WHICH LOVETH BEST.
Man hath a sturdy and heroic soul ;
He can go forth to war and victory,
Can master tears, can smother sighs and
groans,
And, without terror as a martyr die.
Woman hath feeble frame and timid heart’;
She shrinks in horror from the bloody strife;
Her tears will stream, her sighs and groans
have way,
And not unfrighted can she yield her life.
Yet woman has a stronger heart than man,
And woman’s love more tender is and true 3
Firmer her faith, quicker her sympathy.
And more for Jesus will she dare and do.
All through his mournful pilgrimage below
She was his tender, ever faithful friend;
Man's fickle love oft wrung his soul with woe,
But woman: loved him steadfast to the end.
New York Ledger,
A WiLy ScHEEMER.—Mr. Young-
love—-Are you awake, Alice?
Mrs. Younglove—Yes, dear.
Mr. Younglove—Ah, I am sorry;
you have disturbed my reverie. As you
lay there I was drinking in the calm
purity of your angelic features, and
thinking how happy should be the man
who can awaken in the bright sunshine
of the morning and find such a fair and
radiant young creature by his side.
And—I—I
Mrs.—Go on, George; you do talk so
beautifully.
Mr. Younglove—I would like to, but
I feel so sieepy that I think I'll take an-
other nap. You won’t mind getting up
and lighting the fire, will you, darling ?
A ReaLLy NEW Story.—The big-
gest story of the season comes from
Lincolnton. Mr. W. T. Murry, who is
a merchant of that place, says that
while he was a soldier in Virginia he
came across a farmer who had just hous-
ed a crib of popcorn, and pretty soon af-
ter the hands had left the crib 1t caught
flre and every grain of the corn popped, |
and very soon the who'e plantation was
covered with the white corn. A mule
about 28 years old, which was in a barn
near by, saw the ground covered with
white corn, and‘ though the thermome-
ter registered 80 degrees 1n the shade,
the mule froze to death, thinking that
it was a terrible heavy snow storm.
BT ——
——Warden—“A dying burglar has
confessed that he committed the murder
tor which you were sentenced, and as it
was a clear cuss of mistaken identity
the governor has granted you a par-
don.” Innocent Man—¢“A Pardon ?
What am TI pardoned for?” Warden
—“For committing the murder, of
course. Go, but don’tdo it again.”
SE
A PracricAl Joxe.—Tramp—7You
gave me a countefeit $5 bill a few mo-
ments ago. .
Practical Joker—He! he! ho! ho!
Found it out, eh !
‘Yes, sir, and, on my information, an
officer is now looking for you. Gim’me
$5 in good money and I'll throw ‘em
off the track. Thanks. Ta, ta”
et ———————=———
A SuccessFUL FAILURE. — Miss
Doem-—Papa =ays all must be at an end
bet ween us, Hiram.
"Hiram—Why, what have I done?
‘What's the matter ?
Miss Doem- -Papa has become rich.
Hiram —Rich ? Why, 1 heard he
had failed.
Miss Doem—7Yes, that’s how he has
become rich .
Bora GoNk Up.—Customer—I no-
tice that you charge me a dollar a piece
more for these shirts than you did for
the last lot. I don’t propose to pay a
cent more.
Clerk—But, my dear sir, since you or-
dered the last lot shirts have gone up.
Customer — That's all right. But
since I ordered that lost lot I have gone
up too.
“You should never allow liquor
to pass your lips,” said a mission worker
to a hard specimen she had picked up.
“Well, mum,” heresponded regretfully,
“You see I can’t help it, seein’ as how
my drinker is sittyvated in the manner
it is.
Fasnrons oF ’91,—De Dude—Aw,
mah good man’ do you make trousahs
wide or narrow now ? .
Fashionable Cutter--All depends h’on
th’ legs, sir; the less leg th’ more
trousers, sir
Too PraiN.—Jaysmith (gloomily)—
Larkins called me a liar to-day.
Mrs. Jaysmith (indignantly) —Did
you tell him to prove it ?
Jaysmith—It wasn’t necessrry.
—— When a woman falls in love you:
can’t make her believe all men are alike,
and when she had married ten years
you can’t make her believe they are
not.
How good a man is to his wife
the first day after she has caught him
doing something wrong!
Two Loves in a Life.
The Most Thrilling and Passionate
Love Story Ever Written.
[This story will not be published in book form]
CHAPTER 1.
Strangers once, but lovers now.
He presses a kis on a snow white brow.
Oh, the dreary past is sere and brown :
Take an axe and hew it down.
Reginald Travers leaned carelessly
against the fauteuil. He held a scented
billet doux in one hand, and smoked his
Havana with the other.
“Ha! ha !I”” he laughed, that low,
rippling, musical laugh that had thril-
led the proud heart of Ethel Beanpoddy,
the aristocratic heiress of Thornfiela
manor--but to return to the ha! ha!
Then Reginald Travers’ eyes glanced
around the luxurious apartment and a
scornful smile rippled across his face
and broke in billows 'againt his classic
pompadour. At that inst there was a
loud ring at the door.
“Fool thet I am !”” muttered Reginald
Travers. “Why did Iever tie myself
to that white faced girl. Thank heaven
she knows that I am an exercise com-
missioner. But if I am betrayed’ —
and a pallor of death overswept that
mobile countentance.
“But no,”’ he resumed “that can nev-
er be.
covered cottage in Hoboken. She little
thinks that Andrew McGugy, the artis-
tic kalsominer, her husband and Regi-
nald Travers, the excise commissioner,
who is soon to wed the peerless Ethel
Beanpoddy, the rich heiress, are one and
the same.”
Far over in Hoboken the sad faced
girl wife, Bedalia McGuffy, was cooking |
flapjacks on an oil stove. Marks of
flour and of care were on her pretty
face, while her big, wide, pansy eyes
were filled with tears that anon fell
down on the griddle and spoiled the
flapjacks. Then all at once a sudden
resolve seized her, Taking a large
cloak that hung behind the door, she en-
veloped her lissome form. “Heaven
help me !”” she cried, as she sped onward
to the grim and ghostly ferry. “I must
bilk them, for I haven’t a penny !”
CHATER II
“She refused to tell when, a reporter
called, bat only said that it was box
plaited with a shirred waist, the front
being frocked, and a six inch hem to the
overskirt, with accordion plait, the
whole affair of golden gauze fly screen
wire,”—Romance of a Wire Dress.—
Adv.
In a brilliantly lighted Murray Hill
mansion sat Ethel Beanpoody, the heir-
ess of Thornfield manor. On every side
were strewn the evidences of wealth and
luxury. A Broadway rose sent its fra-
grance from an Ives sale Japanese vase,
real coal burned in the open grate. Ah
Ethel Beanpoddy had ne’er felt pov-
erty !
Her beauty was of the rich, dark,
southern type that costs money. Her
argent lidded eyes glanced carelessly ov-
er a libretto of “Reilly and the 400.”
Ethel Beanpoddy was one of those
bright butterflies that bask in the sun-
shine and have pie three times a day.
The footman in the bird’s eye maple
plush announced inrich Castilian ac-
cents, ‘‘Mishter Riginald Travers.” The
next instant her form was locked in his
embrace and they had gone to press.
None noticed the slight girlish figure, |
clad in a shabby sealskin in cloak, that |
crept up the marble steps. It was Bed-
alia McGuffy. In an instant she had
reached Ethel Beanpoddy’s bourdior,
silently sandbazging the lackey at the
door. She burstinside only to find Reg-
inald Travers covered with confusion
and Ethel Beanpoddy, who sat in his
lap.
Fhe wronged girl wife raised her
hands and shrieked. :
The continuation of this thrilling and
passionate love story will be found in
No. 1,012 of the Queen of the Kitchen,
the best paper ever published. For sale
at all newsdealers.— New York Evening
Sun.
To be able to say the right thing at
the right moment is a great art, and
said only to be acquired by those who
have a natural talent that way. When
a careless talker, who was criticising a
young lady’s father severely, paused a
moment to say, “I hope he is no rela-
tion of yours, Miss B?’ Quick as
thought she replied, with the utmost
nonchalance : “Only a connection of
niother’s by marriage.”
Few could hope to show such a read-
iness of speech in a dilemma of this
kind. Yet in a more curious and
amusing way this was matched by a
cautious old women, who, when asked
what she thought of one of her neighbors
of the name of Jones, with a knowing
look replied : “Why, I don’t like to
say anything about my neighbors ; but
as to Mr. Jones, sometimes I think,
and then again I don’t know ; but, after
all, I rather guess he'll turn out to be a
good deal such a sort of man as I take
him to be.”
Light Hearts and Plenty Money.
I have completed my first week with
my Plater, and have $24.25 clear mon-
ey. Iam charmed with the business. T
bought my plater from the Lake Elec-
tric Co., Englewood, Ill. for $3, and
feel confident if people knew how cheap
they could get a Plater, and how much
money they could make, we would see
many more happy homes. 1It’is sur-
prising the amount of tableware and
jewelry there is to plate; and if per-
sons now idle would get a Plater, they
would soon have light hearts and plenty
money.
——Polishing can be done with a
variety of patent preparations, as a very
satisfactory and simple polish 1s a mix-
ture of linseed oil and vinegar, put in a
bottle and shaken befere use. Dust the
furniture well, then rub on the mixture
with an old piece of flannel; only do a
small area at a time, and polish quickly
and briskly with two or three soft rub-
bers, ending up with an old silk hand-
kercheif, This home made prepara-
tion is recommended for this reason;
patent polishes, creams, ete., may have
a satisfactory result as far as appearance
goes, but in time they form a sort of
cake over the farniture, whereas the
mixture of oil and vinegar polishes as
well as removes stains and grease
She awaits me at the little vine |
|
Fashion Notes.
Narrow plaitings are no longer used
to finish the edge of dresses.
Fruit is only occasionally used asa
decoration for hats and bonnets.
Nainsook morning jackets have their
entire front laid in narrow tucks.
Sailor hats in colored straw are effec-
tively trimmed with black lace.
The ribbons used for sewing in rows
on net dresses are generally two inches
wide.
Many of the summer dresses made of
thin fabric have bodices without darts.
Yellow daftedils were the floral table
decorations much used in London this
spring.
Dressy young married ladies wear
white tulle veils with capote shaped
bonnets.
Mourning is worn for a longer period
inthe United States than any other
country.
Thefdirectoire rufile of whitefor black
lace is one of the features of summer
gowns.
White silk brocaded or lace parasols
are not seen to advantage in an unex-
pected shower.
Sage tea mixed with a little bay rum
is an excellent wash for the hair, and
prevents 1t falling out.
Scarf veils three-eights of a yard wide,
' scalloped on the lower edge, are worn
with traveling hats.
Sailor bats, which are again used for
summer wear, are much more trimmed
than they were last season.
The tea gown is no longer worn as a
reception dress but has taken its position
as a refined sort of wrapper.
Twenty yards of ribbon is avery mea-
gre estimate of an allowance for trim-
ming on a summer dress.
Plain coat sleeves are rarely seen.
There are always some plaiting or ful-
ness at the top about the armholes.
Coachmen’s capes made of white vel-
vet or cloth, trimmed with gold braid,
have been ordered by Newport belles.
There are new fabrics for mourning
brought out as regularly as novelties in
any ather department of ladies milinery.
Kangaroo skin is a favorite leather
for men’s summer shoes and boots ; oil
or cream is used to keep it soft and pli-
able.
Enormous sleeves are necessary ap-
pendages to the light taffeia and surah
silk dust cloaks worn by ladies when
driving.
An ancient fashion, revived by gen-
tlemen of changeable tastes, is the
watch fob on the right side of the trou-
sers.
seme eeds——"
For Women Folk.
Dresses made entirely of crape are
worn only by widows.
To be fashionable your parasol should
match your dress.
Henrietta cloth is the material used
for the first mourning dress.
Warm weather fancy work should
not require the use of needles.
The newest wrinkle in Paris is a col-
ored-gown with black sleeves.
Accordion-pleated skirts are in high
favor in Paris, so their lease of life is
likely to be extended here.
Blazers are closed with one button at
the throat, or three buttons placed lower
down.
The straight skirts which are now so
fashionable measure four and a half
yards.
Woolen dresses of different weights
are the most appropriate fabics for
seaside costumes.
Roof gardens are not the fashion, but
it is right to pray that they may be in
the near future.
Discount is known to be possible even
to a girl with red cheeks and a dimple
in her chin.
It is said that an insurance company
conducted by women has been estab-
lished in New Orleans.
EE RE ASO
“Where the Bee Sucks,”
In Java the woodpeckers bore into
the telegraph poles, deceived by the
buzzing sound made by the wires into
the belief that insecis are concealed in
the wood: Even hard teak has been
bored into by those birds.
In Norway the woodpeckers have al-
so been found to bore into the poles;
but more curious 1s the fact that that, in
Norway, bears have torn away the
large stones placed at the base of the
poles, St the sound into think-
ing that bees and their store of honey
were to be found beneath.
Hap BEEN THERE.—A boy discover-
ed a horseshoe lying on Woodward
avenue near Elizabeth the other day,
and after standing over it for awhile he
went into a store and got a pail of water
and took it out and poured it over the
shoe and then picked it up. Several
people noticed his action and laughed
over it, and one pedestrain queried :
“Did you think there was fire under
it, my boy ?”
“You can’t tell about these things,
you know,” was the reply, “I've picked
three of them up in blacksmith shops
and let go of ’em again as hard as I
could, and, I don’t propose to take any
more chances.”
—Little girl -— (timidly)— Please
Mr. Storekeeper, I want some shoe-
strings.
Storekeeper--How long do you want
them ?
Little Girl—I want them to keep, sir,
if you please.
——A New Zealand chief had taken
up his residence upon a piece of land,
his right to which was contested.
“] have an undeniable title to the
property,” he observed, ‘as I ate the
preceding owner.”
—#What ! You venturz to come here
again when I kicked you out ot my
house three years ago!”
Book Agent—What a magnificent
memory-your honor has I”
“Then what reason have you for
marrying.
“Really, no reason at all, only I’m in
love.”