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THANKSGIVING.
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Live fast, you selfish, thankful throng, |
For life to-day is fair, !
And when the dinner comes along,
Take in a goodly share!
The future keeps just out of view :
And sorrow waits ahead ;
There may be days when some of you
Will beg a bit of bread.
The blessings of this day do not |
Secure a future one :
This is to thank the Lord for what |
He has already done. |
And every laugh, however gay, {
By grief shall yet be quelled ; !
O'er each heart that is here to-day
A funeral! must be held, |
Laugh on in with careless voice, |
As soon
|
grace is said!
trod loves to see his folks rejoiced,
No matter what's ahead.
You're sure of this Thanksgiving day,
Whose blessings on you fall
A million thanks you should display
For having lived at all. -
Grief should be checked, with crafty plin,
But ne‘er by dreading nursed ;
Care for the future all you can,
Then let it do its worst !
— Wir CARLTON,
THANKSGIVING FOR TWO.
BY FREDERICK A. OBER.
The Widow Wilson’s farm had seen bet-
ter and more prosperous days, and now
was traveling backward. It began at the
top of Brindle hill, where it was bounded
by the county road, and straggled down to
the lake shore, its hundred acres or so
wandering over hills and dipping into hol-
lows, until they terminated at the bay,
with its rim of white and glistening sand.
One of the most picturesque spots of
earth, and right in the centip of if, crown-
ing a rounded knoli, surrounded with stal-
wart oaks and butternuts, squat the house
of its owner.
It was always a difficult spot to reach in
winter, when the drifting snows piled high
their white billows aguinst the low-eaved
structure, and hid the windows from the
outer world. But in summer it was a de-
light, this moss-grown dwelling beneath
the oaks, and at one tine had heen a home
around whose hearthstone had gathered
sons and daughters.
Now it was desolate. The passing
stranger would have but added it to the
category of deserted farms. No sign of life
was visible this bright Thanksgiving morn-
ing ; from its wide paneled chimney no
curl of smoke invaded the crisp and frosty
air ; the light fall of snow that had covered
the ground the night before showed no
trace of footstep leading from the weather-
beaten door. And yet there was a stir of
life in the hollow among the trees, where
the old barn tottered, ready for its fall.
There a flock of fowl and turkeys wandered
disconsolately about. In the adjacent stall
an old horse stamped impatiently for his
breakfast, and a forlern cow chafed rest-
lessly at her stanchions. Except for these,
the old farm was as silent as when its first
owner carved it from the virgin wilderness.
A rustling of the shrubbery that fringed
the tall, stiff-ranked pines on the hill be-
yond the barn told that a visitor was com-
ing to Lonely Farm. A human head ap-
peared in sight. It was crowned by a
woolen cap, from beneath which pecred a
pair of black, bright eyes. Their owner
took off his cap and mopped his brow. He
was a rugged country lad of 18, well-knit,
and sturdy, with a pair of ruddy cheeks,
white teeth and lips rosy, but with a droop
of sadness,
«ew England, always hard to her child-
ren, had taken from this boy the home
and mother that make Thanksgiving, even
as it had taken from the widow all but the
wretched framework of what had once been
home. .
‘‘House looks like mother’s used to after
she got so she couldn’t get about,” solilo-
quized the boy, staring at the smokeless
chimney. “I’ll bet there ain’t been no-
body near the widder ina week, and I'll
bet, while I’m a bettin,” that she nceds
something. Guess I'll find out what’s the
matter.’
He strode down to the house and
knocked. There was no response. Only
the crow in the oak tree was disturbed by
the unwonted noise and flew away, with a
caw of alarm. A second knock startled
the fowl in the barnyard, who greeted him
with a suppressed chuckle ; but there was
no answer from within. ‘‘Guess I might
as well go in. He pushed open the crazy
door and entered the room which served as
kitchen and sitting-room, all in one. A
table stood in the centre of it, covered with
a snowy cloth, and sct as if for supper. A
tall clock ticked in the corner under the
stairs, but its rythmatic beats seemed only
to make the silence audible. ‘‘It seems
kinder creepy, that’s a fact. Hope there
ain’t nothin’ happened to her. Wonder
where she is! P’raps she’s asleep.”
He rapped loudly apd then put his ear
down to the keyhole, listening intently.
At first there was no response. Then he
thought he heard a faint, quavering voice.
“It’s me—Jem Hastings, I’ve come to
see if you need anybody.’’
‘‘Come in.”” The feeble voice struggled
with a cough, then: ‘Yes, I’m so glad
you've come. [I was taken faint yesterday
and had just strength enough to crawl to
bed. Perhaps’ —
“What, an’ you ain’t had nothin’ to
eat?’
‘‘No,”” with a feeble smile.
“Well, if you'll let me try, I'll make a
cup of tea.”
Jem closed the door, set his gun in a
corner and looked around for the place in
which the widow kept her stores. The
dressers, ranged against the wall, were
bright with old-fashioned pewter platters
and china. Here he found a caddy of tea
and then set about making a fire. A huge
fireplace yawned at one side of the room,
hung with black iron crane, from which
was suspended a tea-kettle. The woodpile
was outside, near the back door, and,
brushing off the show, Jem soon had some
dry wood, with which he made a roaring
blaze. It was not long before he had the
satisfaction of seeing the kettle send forth
a volume of steam, aud a few minutes later
he tapped again at the bedroom door with
a tray, on it a tempting cup of tea and two
well-buttered slices of bread. The bread
had been intended for his luncheon, the
gift of the farmer’s wife who pa.d for his
services in ‘‘keep’’—New England wages.
Wrapped in a shawl of Canton silk, the
heirloom of a grandmother whose father
once sailed from Salem to the Indies, the
widow sank back into her comfortable arm-
chair with a deep sigh of content. She
closed her eyes from sheer weakness, while
Jem tip-toed about the room, ‘setting
things to rights,’’ and preparing the table
for a prospective meal. To be sure, there
was very little in sight, but he had faith
| that there might be something in the cellar
and in the cupboards, for the widow was
{ a silvery halo.
; and how young she looked. He paused a
known in the township to have been a
“good pervider’’ in her days of affluence.
Through the narrow paned southern
window an advance guard of the outside
sunbeams came streaming in, one of them
lighting the gray hair of the woman, with
Jem thought he had never
seen a woman who appeared so ‘‘lady-like’’
moment to regard her, and she opened her
eyes. He retreated in confusion a step or
two, the red blushes staining his honest,
open face.
“You’ve made me very happy, Jem;
very thankful.”
“We'll, ma'am, I'm glad of it. It’s
Thanksgivin’.”’
“What! Really Thanksgiving day? |
It’s the first time I've forgotten it—ever. |
I must be growing old.”
Jem grew bolder.
*“There’s a turkey out in the barnyard.
He ain’t very fat, but if you say so I'll help
you fix a turkey dinner.”
The widow urged no objections, and both
fascinated at the prospect of a Thanksgiv-
| ing dinner with themselves as host and
hostess, the boy trudged out to the barn.
Some sticks of hard wood were soon
piled on the fire, and by the time Sir Tur-
key was ready for the oven the widow had
peeled the vegetables and dropped them in-
to the mysterious depths of the steaming
kettles, Jem logking on with glowing but
bashful appreciation.
A snowy cloth over a round table, with
two seats opposite each other, is always an
inspiring sight, and when topped by a
steaming brown turkey, with all the ‘*fix-
ings’’ of a turkey dinner the feast is one to
melt hearts harder than that of the lonely
widow and the homesick New England lad.
“It is the happiest Thanksgiving dinner
I had in many a year, my boy,’”’ she said
to him, as he cleared away the dishes and
brought out the dessert, of fragrant quince
preserves.
“May God bless you. And to think
how the dreadful, gloomy morning has
been turned to such bright sunshine by
your coming !”’ .
Jem turned to the window to hide some
tears that would persist in squeezing them-
selves oul of his eyes. ‘I wish she
wouldn’t be_so sentimental,’ said he to
himself, quite wrathfully. But to the wid-
ow he said : “Why, ma'am, [ ain’t done
nothin’ great ; no more’n you’d have done
for me, I'll bet. I ain’t cnjoyed a dinner
so, myself, sence I can remember. I wish
I could jest stay here all the time.”’
A new light came into the widow’s faded
gray cyes, born of a thought that had been
struggling for expression for an hour or
nore. ‘And why can’t you stay, Jem ?”’
“I could, ma’am, if I could come as—
as partners !"’
It was out at last, the boy’s yearning for
something as his own, and the chance he
saw upon the widow’s farm. ‘I could fix
things up,”” he went on eagerly, ‘‘and
make the chickens lay eggs and the cows
give milk—and”’
Jem stopped, but the widow’s respectful
attention led him on.
“I could earn my board in saving things
that’s goin’ to waste. When I come
through your wood-lot this mornin’ I no-
ticed cords an’ cords of dead trees that
ought to be cut an’ made firewood of. An’
dollars wuth there that'll all be spiled if it
ain’t cut an’ sold pretty soon.”
The boy hesitated, amazed at his au-
dacity ; but the widow nodded her head,
and smiled approval. ‘That is true, Jem.
The farm is running down for the lack of
someone to oversee out of doors. So, then,
it is a bargain.”’ :
. Al so this strange partnership began.
The first winter Jem spent in thinning
out the superfluous wood in the neglected
lots, stacking up behind the house enough
fuel to satisfy even the cravings of that
yearning fireplace for years to come, and
selling to the sawmill on the pond timber
for shipping that came to quite $500.
As the spring opened he was soon afield,
continuing the good work of improvement,
and ‘‘planting time’’ found the farm with
more and earlier labor performed than it
had ever before experienced. In front of
the western door he threw out a platform,
protected by a la‘tic2-work covering, and
here the widow passed all the spare time
she could snatch from her indoor duties.
It had never occurred to anyone before that
farm work might be made attractive. The
widow had looked upon the beanties of her
farm around her only through the kitchen
window, or during a hasty trip to the well
or farmyard. The latticed porch was a
revelation to lier, and a haven of rest where
she sat and mused during the long twilight
of summer.
“I never thought I should take such
comfort here,” she said. ‘‘Before you
came I was more than willing to give up
the farm and go away. But now, Jem, I
want to live here the rest of my life. I
would not leave it for the world.
‘“That’s so, ma’am. It would have been
a great mistake to leave the old place.
Why, there ain’t a prettier view in all the
world than this from your front door. If
there is, then it is right there, down in the
woods where the great trees meet overlicad,
the brook sings a soft song of rest and the
fern-covered banks stretch down to the
pond. I never traveled any yet, but I
don’t want to ; this suits me.” And he
returned to his work with a cheery whistle
that sent a thrill of satisfaction through
the widow's heart.
A wonderful change had heen affected by
the time another year had rolled another
Thanksgiving into the calendar. The roof
of the old house no longer leaked ; the
barn had been raised from its attitude of
deep dejection, and its mows were crowded
to bursting with hay and grain. The old
horse spent his days chiefly in the pasture,
while a younger and more vigorous animal
did the work, assisted by a yoke of big and
handsome oxen. The solitary cow now
had plenty of company and frisky calves
gambled about her in the summer time.
There was no longer any doubt as to the
availability of any of the fat gobblers for a
Thanksgiving dinner.
Thus the seasons succeeded one another
with their measure of content. Each
found the widow more and more depend-
ent upon ner stalwart helper. She clung
to him as she might have clung to the son
of whom she had been deprived in the
spring time of her wifehood. As her tot-
tering footsteps were supported down the
aisle of the village church, on a Sunday,
few of the congregation knew that the
handsome young man who watched over
h:r so assiduously was not, in fact, her
own son. Those who were cognizant of
the relationship between the two shook
their heads knowingly, saying to them-
selves and to cach other: ‘Lucky boy,
that ; stepped right into the farm, just as
the old lady was about to leave it. He
knows the side of his bread that he has the
butter on.”
But it is doubtful if Jem had ever given
that a thought. So happy and content was
he that the merely material conditions of
his life had never troubled his conscious-
ness. Only one thing troubled his thoughts
as fer timber, there’s more’n a hundred’
of late. He was deeply stirred by the soft
brown eyes of pretty Susie Jones, a choris-
ter in the church ; Susie, who lived as he
had done, with friends for board and keep,
another of New England’s orphan.
He never mentioned this daridg specula-
tion, not even to the widow’; but her eyes,
though growing dim, were acute enough to
penetrate his honest soul. His whole life
lay centered in the farm, which had be-
come as essential to it almost as the air he
breathed. But now there must be young
life there. A pair of brown eyes persisted
in dancing before his face, in woodpile, in
field, in garden.
And so it came to pass that'there was a
wedding next Thanksgiving in the little
cottage, now pretty with vines and cheery
within. Susie was glad of so pleasant a
place for the troth whiéh she was to plight
with Jem, while he; lucky fellow, though
| he was, could not take time to travel to
Susie’s home, far away over the rough,
hilly roads. ‘‘A wife’s a good thing.’’ he
soliloquized to the widow the evening be-
fore his marriage, ‘‘but there’s cows to be
looked after and hens to be fed—more’n
you could ‘tend to alone.”
“That’s so, Jem,” smiling brightly,
“and thanks to you for it all.”
Under branches of autumn leaves from
thelast redening trees, Jem and Susie prom-
ised all things of the simple marriage ser-
vice. Then came the country wedding
supper.
When the last guest had gone, driven
away in the farm wagons that had clus-
tered around the door all afternoon, the
widow turned to Jem and Susie sitting
bashfully in the firelight.
‘‘You’re my children, now, both of you,’’
she said. ‘Call me mother just once, Jem
and Susie.”
“Mother !”’ cried Jem taking the feeble
hands together and kissing them tenderly,
“‘my darling mother, dearest friend I ever
Thanksgiving Dainties.
Recipes for a Half-Dozen Kinds of Pudding.
For transparent pudding: Cream a
pound of butter and sugar together ; add
eight well beaten eggs ; flavor the mixture
with nutmeg. Line a pudding dish with
thin puff paste, pour in the pudding and
set in a very hot oven for ten minutes.
Serve without sauce.
ANGEL’S PUDDING.
Beat four ounces of sugar and two ounces
of butter together ; add four ounces of sift-
ed flour, a pint of thick cream and the
beaten whites of four eggs ; flavor with va-
nilla ; bake in tart pans and cover with
very stiff meringue.
QUICK' PUDDING.
Sift two cups of flour; add one table-
spoonful of butter, two tablespoonfuls of
sugar, three well-beaten eggs, with a pint
and a half of milk ; flavor with extract of
lemon ; turn into a greased pudding pan
and set in a quick oven to bake for twenty
minutes. Serve with hard sauce.
BATTER PUDDING.
Sift a quart of flour ; add half a cupful
of melted butter, a teaspoonful of salt, sev-
en well-beaten eggs, a teaspoonful of soda
and two of cream of tartar, with sufficient
sweet milk to make a thick batter ; turn
into a greased mould ; bake in a very hot
oven, and serve with rich pudding sauce.
FIG PUDDING.
Chop half a pound of figs and mix with a
teacup of grated bread crumbs, a teacupful
of sugar, two tablespoonfuls of melted but-
ter, four beaten eggs and five ounces of
candied orange and lemon peel ; turn into
a greased mould ; steam two hours and a-
half. Serve with pudding sauce.
ORANGE PUDDING.
had.”
She returned his loving glance, linger-
ingly, gratefully, as they led. her to the
door of her room.
Next morning Jem knocked again at the
Widow Wilson’s door just as he had done
on that lonely thanksgiving day four years
ago. This time not even a feeble voice
answered his repeated calls.
Three days later, as the neighbors strug-
gled back from the little cemetery on the
hill, 'Squire Lothrop drew Jem apart.
“I s’spos you know the widder’s left the
farm to you? No? Sho! It’s mighty
strange she didn’t tell you. She made her
will more’na year ago, and you’re her only
heir. She seemed to set a lot by you, the
widder did, and (lcoking around approv-
ingly over the snow covered fields) I d’no’s
I blame her. The last four years hev heen
the peacefullest of her life, and she’s left
her peace with you, for sure !”’
The End of the Turk.
The dissolution of the Turkish Empire,
so long hoped for and so often deferred,
seems at last to be at hand. The final
tragedy is like the death agony of some
loathsome beast, and as the monster writhcs
in his last struggles the situation of the
helpless people of the region over which
he rolls his slimy bulk is more wretched
than it was when he was in health and
merely devoured such individuals as were
required to satisfy his appetite.
But it is hard to see how the end can be
much longer deferred. If the European
powers could agree on a plan of partition,
there would be no Turkey to-morrow. If
they would merely take their hands off,
the horrible mass of corruption would fall
in pieces from ite own rottenness, and, even
as it is, with all Europe working for delay,
events are hastening to their destined con-
clusion.
The whole £¥mpire is decaying, but the
process is most marked at three centres—
Armenia, Crete and Macedonia. The
situation of Armenia is the most deplor-
able of all from the point of view of hu-
manity, and the most shameful to the civi-
lized powers that are responsible for it,
but it is the least troublesome to the
Turks. The Armenians have been dis-
armed ; they cannot defend themselves,
and as long as Europe does not object to
their butchery, the Sultan can have them
slaughtered with a mind at ease. But the
Cretans and Macedonians are men of the
same races that won the freedom of Greece,
of Bulgaria, of Servia and of Montenegro.
They have arms, which they are not at all
averse to using, and they have mountain-
ous retreats that make their extermination
no holiday matter. With all Europe sit-
ting on the lever the Cretan safety-valve
keeps popping up, emitting angry hisses of
escaping steam, and the pressure in Ma-
cedonia, under similar circumstances, is
becoming so great that an explosion may
come at any moment.
Diplomatists used to have an itch for
partitions. when partition was a crime.
Why is it that the partition of Turkey,
which would be the noblest achievement
of the nineteenth century, should be be-
vond the capacigy of the powers that found
it so easy to divide Poland ?
——He was an old man, bent and gray-
haired ; but with an eye still as bright as
that of « hawk.
‘I tell you, it’s pretty hard,’’ said he,
as he left the polling booth. “For forty-
five years I have voted, year after year, the
straight Democratic ticket. This’’—
The old man’s voice shook with sup-
pressed emotion.
‘Is the first time I have ever cast a Re-
publican vote !”’
‘And what induced you to vote Repub-
lican this time?’ asked a sympathetic
bystander. ‘‘Was it silver 2’
‘Silver ?”’ repeated the white-locked
veteran, looking his interrogator indignant-
ly in the eye. “Do I look like a man of
that sort ?”’
‘No,’ he added, shaking his head, sad-
ly ; ‘‘it was not silver, it was a brand new
twenty-dollar gold piece.”
——1It costs a round sum to be elected to
Congress in some of the New York districts.
The sworn return of James J. Belden, re-
elected in the Syracuse district, states he
expended $13,180 in campaign expenses,
which is $3,180 more than the salary of a
congressman for two years. The Repub-
lican elected to the court of appeals ex-
pended $3,555, and one of the superior
court judges returns his expenditures at
$3.590. This is a pretty heavy tax on the
judiciary and hardly shows that rever-
ence we have heen lately taught was the
highest duty of the American citizen. It
indicates also that the judges are slightly
human in putting money where it will do
the most good.
Scene. Collier's cottage. Wife
(leaving for the town, with a basket on
her arm. )—An dae ye think, John, that I’ve
minded everything I’m to get when in the
toon ? .
John—Ye micht mind to bring me in
half an ounce of snufl.
Wife—'Deed, no John ; the times are
t)0 hard for sic extravagance! Ye maun
jist tickle yer nose wi’ a straw !——Glascow
(Scotland) News.
Grate the rind of three oranges ; squeeze
i over the juice of one lemon and the oranges;
| mix with a pound of sugar, half a cup of
| butter and the beaten yolks of half a dozen
| eggs ; pour intoa deep pudding dish and
| set in a hot oven to bake for fifteen min-
| utes. Take out, spread with meringue, set
J hake in the oven for one minute. Serve
! with lemon sauce.
i
|
1
The tender parts of a head of celery cut
very fine are required for celery sauce.
| Pour on just enough water to cover. Cov-
| er the saucepaw and let the contents sim-
mer for one hour. Mix together two table-
spoonfuls of flour and four of butter, and
after the celery has hoiled one hour add
this, also a pint of cream, with salt and
pepper to taste. Boil up once and serve.
A number of people like chestnut sauce
with roast turkey and oyster or celery
sauce with boiled turkey. For the first
savory dish boil a pint of shelled chestnuts
for three minutes, remove the dark skins
{and put to cook in a quart of stock for
about an hour. Remove and mash very
fine. Put one tablespoonful of flour and
two of butter in a saucepan, cook until it
is a light brown, stir into the stock and
chestnuts ond cook two minutes. Add a
tablespoonful of lemon juice, salt and pep-
per to taste. Boil up once, then rub
through a sieve.
Instead of the ordinary bread stufling,
which, however, can be made to taste de-
licious, I will ‘give a recipe for chestnut
stuffing. Blanch twenty-five large chest-
nuts by removing the shells and throwing
into boiling water. Take off the dark skins
by rubbing with a rongh towel. Cover
with boiling water, simmer for one hour,
drain and mash fine. Chop one pound of
veal and one half pound of salt pork very
fine, add the chestnuts to this, also half a
teaspoonful of pepper, two tablespoonfuls
of salt and a cupful of stock or water.
A delicions desert consisting of whipped
cream, frozen coffee and gelatin is compar-
atively new. Dissolve a fourth of a box of
gelatin in the same quantity of cold water,
add a cupful of clear, hot, strong coffce
and a cupful of sugar. Stir until the su-
gar is dissolved, then strain through a
cloth and cool. Add to this a cupful of
whipped cream and stir. When it begins
to thicken put in a freezer and stir until
frozen hard. Whip a pint of cream as
thick as possible, sweeten with half a cup-
ful of powdered sugar and add a teaspoon-
ful of vanilla. Puta layer of the frozen
mixture in a mould, at least an inch thick,
pressing in all around the sides. Fill up
the centre with the whipped cream, then
cover the upper side with the frozen coffce.
Put the cover on the mould and pack for
two hours.
THAKSGIVING DAY MENU.
BREAKFAST.
Fruit.
Sugar and Cream.
Hamburg Steak.
Scalloped Potatoes.
Buckwheat Cakes.
DINNER.
Oysters on the Half Shell.
Consomme a la Royal.
Roast Turkey. Oyster Stuffing.
Cranberry Sauce.
Mashed Potatoes.
Peas.
Browned Sweet Potatoes.
Mayonnaise of Lettuce.
‘Wheatlet.
Coffee.
Wafers. Cheese.
Pumpkin Custard. Mince Pie.
Fruit. Nuts. Raisins.
Coffee.
SUPPER.
Thin Sliced Tongue.
Preserves. Tea.
Tr THANKSGIVING DINNER.
Roast Turkey. Bread Stuffing
Cranberry Sauce.
Mashed Potatoes. Peas.
Mayonnaise of Celery.
Mince Pie.
Coffee.
——A few days ago a gentleman who
had drank to the health of his friends too
often in his rounds among the grocers to
sell a wagon load of produce, was somewhat
the worse for the imbibing. Success had
not crowned his cfforts up to the time he
met a well-known Bryan grocer, when he
inquired if he wanted to buy any ‘‘on-
(hic)ions, butter, cabh(hic)age, potatoes,
sausage, vinegar, (hic). ‘No,’ said the
merchant. A very strong expression es-
caped his lips as he crawled into the
wagon, to which he added, ‘‘you can’t sell
anything since McKinley’s election.’
Now, that business is improving, we
should not forget that the Wilson tariff
law is in operation. If there isto be any
praise to be distributed why shouldn’t it
come in for a share? When we had hard
times it was blamed for them. Under an
equitable arrangement, therefore it should
be given credit for the improvement that
has been manifested. ‘It should be further
understood that there is no prospect of an
early repeal of the Wilson law. So any-
thing like that cannot be the reason for
the better times.
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
A
Around the World Route.
| The newest project that is broached by |
Yankee capitalists is the establishment of a
globe circling line of travel It is pro-
posed to construct a swift line of steam-
ships to traverse the Pacific, which shall be
ready by the time the trans-Siberian rail-
way is completed, ang by means of that
line and such arrangements as can he made
with existing land and occan routes of
travel to complete the circuit of the planet,
and enable anybody, for a comparatively
moderate sum, to far surpass the record of
Phineas Fogg, whose imaginary journey.
completed in 80 days has furnished the world
with so much entertainment. While the
present reports as to the project may be in-
correct, there is little doubt but that some-
thing of the sort will be provided as soon
as the Siberian route is completed to the
Pacific. When that is done the feat that
made some of the ancient navigators im-
mortal and that required so much of the
enterprise, endurance, courage and skill
can be accomplished by the nost common-
place individual without any serious sacri-
fice or personal comfort. And the drum-
mer will soon be able to rattle off as fa-
miliarly the unpronouncable names of far
Siberia, and to relate incidents of his deal-
Arizona.
train at the Union station and, starting
westward, inside of 30 days he can roll in-
to the other end, having in the meantime
to conquer which men have labored
through all timg. In accordance w
their usual enterprise the railways
provide us with such trams as the Trans-
Terrestrial Express, or the Globe Girdling
Flyer, and the bureau of information will
be compelled to answer questions as to
whether there is a stop at Novi Novorgod
for breakfast, as to whether there is dinner
between Irktusk and Koblonsk, or what
the charges for excess baggage are between
Viadivistock and St. Petersburg. Special
round the world excursions will be gotten
up, and special fast trains provided to
make the run in specially quick time,
i while the novelty lasts, and when we meet
time we will not be surprised when he tells
us, in answer to where he has been, that
he needed alittle rest and change and took
ra run round the world.
But this will be but a small part of the
effect which the competion of this great
undertaking of the Russian government is
likely to have. It avill open up new ave-
nues for a vast commerce which will imme-
diately increase by leaps and bounds as
soon as it is released from the restrictions
which were placed upoa it by the neceessi-
ty of being conducted by caravans across
Siberia. That country is of vast extent,
who have not given the subject study. A
ing rich returns to labor and enterprise, and
and could be settled by intelligent enter-
prising Yankees, it would grow just as our
great West has grown during the last gen-
eration. But even as itis it cannot but
feel very strongly the influences of the fa-
cilities of modern civilization, for even the
check enterprise or wholly block the spread
of intelligence.
The completion of a railroad across Asia
and the consequent development of Siberia
cannot but hasten the general awakening
of the vast hordes of China which has been
begun as a result of the war with Japan.
The teeming millions of that hive of hu-
manity cannot long be uninfluenced by the
progress that is going on around them, and
when they awake from their long sleep of
Oriental conservatism and. become active
factors in the general forward movement of
the world, Asia will become a vast field of
enterprise whose activities will be felt in
every channel of trade and commerce
Igting the difference that would be put
wpon the face of things if the millions of
‘Asia should become even half as prosperous
as the average of European populations.
It would give an impetus to civilization
exceeding that which was produced by the
discovery of America. When we consider
what has been done in Japan in a little
more than a generation, it is not extrava-
gant to expect that very many of us will
live to see the majority of the people of
Asia keeping step to the march of civiliza-
Nicknames of the States.
California-—Bear State. Inhabitants. Pio-
neers or Argonauts. . :
anasedesentennial State (admitted in
187€.)
Delaware—Diamond State. Inhabitants,
Blue Hen’s Chickens.
Florida—Land of Flowers. Inhabitants,
Crackers (applied to the ‘poor whites.’’)
Kansas—Sunflower State, Prohibition State
or Bleeding Kansas.
Maine-—From Maine, France. having been
settled bv French Catholics. Inhabitants
Down-Easters.
Nevada—Snow Mountains.
New Jersey—Inhabitants, Jerseyites or
Clam Catchers.
New Mexico—Inhabitants, Greasers.
Pennsylvania—Inhabitants, Quakers or
Broadbrims.
Utah—Inhabitants, Latter Day Saints.
Virginia—Inhabitants, F. F. V's (First
Families of Virginia.)
Washington—Northwest.
Washingtonians.
West Virginia—Pan Handle State.
Wyoming—\Woman Suffrage State,
In explanation of the name, *‘Crackess,”’
is applied to the ‘‘poor whites’ of Florida
and’ Georgia, and, to some extent, to the
same class of people in the Carolinas, that
a hundred years ago or more, the British
Government released from imprisonment a
number of burglars, or ‘‘eracksmen,’’ on
condition that they would emigrate to Amer-
ica. The ‘‘cracksmen’’ accepted the posi-
tion and settled in the woods southward of
the Alleghenies.
Inhabitants,
——The folding bed Las gathered in an-
other victim in Chicago. Warren IJ. Ma-
son, President of the Chicago Acetylene
Gas and Carbide Company, arose during
the night to see what time it was. In get-
ting back into bed he jarred the top so that
it fe!l upon him breaking his back and kill-
him. A few more victims ought to rele-
gate this insane contrivance to the junk
shop.
—— “What will it cost,”’ asked young
Cholly’s father, *‘to give my boy an educa-
tion?’? ‘“The Lord only knows,’ replied
the professor, eyeing the youth thought-
[ fully ; “but you can put him through col-
| lege for about $2,000.”
YET SIE EEA
|
|
FCR AND ABOUT WOMEN"
Bring children up to sleep in the dark,
2%1t is much better for their eyes, the com-
plete darkness being an entire rest. Dark
green or blue curtains are the best for bed-
rooms, and they should be drawn across
the window to prevent the glare of the
morning light falling too strongly upon the
eyes. Never place a child's bed opposite a
window, as the bright light falling upon
the face in sleep is exceedingly bad for the
sight. :
Hands that are coarsened by exposure
and housework can be made soft and white
by a little attention, as follows: Take
about one pint of fine white sand, and put
it in a wash basin, which fill three
| parts up with hot soft scapy water. But-
termilk and sulphur soaps are pure and
nice for the skin, as well as deliciously per-
fumed and refreshing.
Wash the hands in thissoapy water, rub-
bing them thoroughly with the sand ; then
rinse them: in tepid oatineal water, and
afterwards. thoroughly dry then. vushing
back the quicks and pressing the tips so as
to keep them narrow and the nails nicely
The traveler will then be able to take a |
girdled the carth and crossed every barrier |
that nature has enterposed to travel, and |
a friend whom we have missed for a short |
the plains, the mountains and steppes of | 1001 like braid.
in the the globe. There is no calcu- |
rounded. At night the washing in oat-
meal water can be repeated, and after dry-
ings with the strange peoples of that vast | ing them, rub in a little *emolliment to
territory, as he is now to entertain his com- | soften: the skin and keep up the natural
panions regarding the peculiarities of Geo- | oil so essential for obtaining that softness
gia Crackers or the robusi etiquette of | and delierey which wonien can least afford
to lose, for a soft white hand isa grand
thing.
Sleeping in gloves after rubbing in the
| emolliment tends to whiten the bands, but
[it is as well to cut the tips off, so as to
| leave the nails exposed, otherwise the
| warmth renders them soft and brittle.
Those who are afraid of the back of the
| hand presenting a sticky appearance in-
Ath stead cf applying glycerine after drying the
will | hands, can rub them well with powdered
starch or some other harmless toilet pow-
der. The effect of the powder is magical.
The roughened skin is cooled, soothed and
healed, bringing and insuring the greatest
| degree of comfort from this by no means
insignificant annoyance.
Oatmeal water is wonderfully softening
and-whitening to the skin, and is, there-
fore, much to be recommended for red and
neglected hands and florid complexions.
Many ladies use oatmeal instead of soap,
for it is cleansing and beneficial. Tie up a
handful of ordinary oatmeal in muslin, and
let it soak in the basin ali night. It will
rgive the water a niilky tinge, and will he
found very cooling and softening. Toilet
oatmeal, scented with violets, isa favora-
ite substitute for soap.
Black trimmings have Leen revived again
with great furore, and the use of the nar-
row black velvet ribbon is becoming more
popular every day. Rows and rows of it
are seen on most of the newest gowns, the
favorite width about a quarter of an inch,
and it is put on by sewing only one edge,
leaving the other free. This certainly pre-
vents the stiff look, which, when it was
| sewed on both edges, very often made it
It seems an odd fad to
| put it on muslin gowns, but on pale pink
and its resources are not realized by those | 1 yelin, or indeed, on any of the delicate
i colors, it is much used on the flounces and
great portion of it is like our own country, | ues.
equally fertile and equally capable of yield- |
: Black satin is used to make the foided
! corselets and bodice-shaped belts, which,
if it were under a government equally free | when they are becoming, are extremely so,
{ and “when unbecoming should be avoided
i like the plague. Straps from the shoulders
| to the bust are often put on in black satin.
i They are finished with a button of rhine-
| stones and a fall of lace, and, though it is
| an odd caprice, it is one that finds favor.
despotic government of Russia cannot | pojeros are worn more than ever separate
| from and as auxiliary to the bodice, and
[ richly trimmed or embroidered. Buttons
will be much worn, placed everywhere,
without the least idea of being used or use-
ful, only as ornaments.
As to the skirts of dresses, they are made
clearing the ground : they are gored rather
in the umbrella style, but not much gored
at the back, leaving fullness enough te
make three flat double plaits at the back.
The skirts of thick materials are generally
made plain ; if trimming is used, it must
be flat galons or passementeries.
Immense use is being made of braid and
of garnitures of all sorts composed of sou-
tache and cord. Some of the tight-fitting
coats are entirely covered with vermicelli
| designs in soutache ; others are trimmed
| with military braid and frogs.
The postmistress of Gibraltar is Miss
Margaret Cresswell, who receives the hand-
some salary of $3,500 a year. She is alse
superintendent of the various postoffices on
the north African coast.
The big picture hat that women have
worn to theatres with such infinite pleasure
is now on the wane—that is to say, none
but those who are so bad or homely that
they dare not take off their hats or wear
mites of bonnets thinks of wearing them to
any public assemblage, not even to church.
Heretofore no one cared whether big or lit-
tle hats were worn to church. In fact, I
believe that most persons rather liked them
they could enjoy delicious little surrepti-
tious catnaps. Mrs. Fashion has now put
her foot down, and the unfortunate woman
who wears a big hat toa theatre is put
down at once as one of three things, each
equally reprehensible. One is, ‘‘She is toe
poor to have a honnet and hat both,’’ or
‘She is bald and can’t go bareheaded,’’ or
‘She is no better than she should be and is
trying to attract attention.’”” -To be able to
go bareheaded to the theatre makes dainty
little opera hoods, fascinators and scarfs all
necessary.
Loose coats are the prevailing style for
outdoor garments. They are a certain sort
of relief from the monotony of the cape or
she tight coat, and are thought by many to
possess a considerable amount of chic and
dash. All this depends. On a slight, wil-
lowy figure they may be immensely fetch-
ing, but only on such a figure. The loose
coat is a trifle longer than the waist quite
free and loose all round, and "is plain or
plaited, according to the material.
The smartest models fit snugly across the
bust and shoulders, as well as under the
arms, bt flare out, both back and front, in
single or double sets of bhox-plaits, gradua-
ting from a narrow width at the top to a
considerable width at the bottom. These
coats are hy far the most effective when
made as a part of the suit. They do not
seem so detached as when a separate coat
of this pattern is worn. A smart costume
comprising a new narrow skirt and an Em-
pire coat built of pale bisenit colored mel-
ton is handsomely braided with black silk
cord.
The skirt, according to the latest man-
dates, clings at the front and sides, spread-
ing out in a fan shape at the back with im-
mense fullness caught into a narrow point
at the top.
The front breadth is outlined by the
braid simulating a panel. The jaunty coat
is exceedingly short, with broad turned
back lapels at the front, stiffened and
edged with the braid.