TRUTH.
There's a hand on the rudder that will not flineh,
There's no fear in the Pilot's face
As he guides the world’s life boats in a storm,
Through the rocking seas ot space;
And whether they make the harbor at last
Beyond the shoals and the swell
Or sail forever a shoreless sea
1 know that all is well :—
And I Jearn these things from the heart of the
wood,
From the solemn soul of the sea—
For never a bird in a wire bound cage
Told all these things to me.
And the soul of a man is a sunward bird
With wings that are made for flight,
To pierce to the fount of the shining day
And float through the depths of night!
And I read these things in that Bible of God
Whose leaves are the spreading sky,
And the legible face of the dark green sea,
With the eye behind the eye,
For truth is not closed in the lids of a book,
For its chainless soul is free ;
And never a bird in a wire bound cage
Tcld all these things to me.
For truth surges into the open heart
And into the willing eye,
And [streams from the breath of the
earth,
And drops from the bending sky ;
Tis not shut in a book, ina church, ora school,
Nor cramped in the chalns of a creed,
But lives in the open air and the light
For all men in their need!
But the fish that swims in a goldfish vase
Knows not of the salted sea,
And never a bird in a wire hound cage
Told all these things to me.
steaming
*Tis the Voice that comes from the gilded peaks,
From the hills that shoulder the sky,
Through the topless heights of a man’s own
dreams
This Voice goes wandering by ;
And who roams the earth with an open heart,
With an ear attuned to hear,
Will cateh some broken chord of the sound
Whenever the Voice comes near,
But not pass the prison of custom or creed
Will the Voice or the Vision fiee ;
And never a bird in a wire bound cage
Told all these things to me.
—San, Walter Foss, in Yankee Blade.
JONES, WIDOWER.
Jones was a luxurious fellow ; he loved
the good things of life and had thus far
been quite successful in obtaining them.
Still, it was not the good fortune that
comes by luck that was his, but it was the
fruit of energy and industry. Left with a
considerable patrimony, he had carefully
improved his circumstances, until now, at
the age of 35, he was classed as one of the
solid men of the town in which he had
built up his fortune.
For the last two years Jones had been a
devoted club man—tfor Jones was a wid-
ower, and for two years home had been a
doleful place, full of the bitterness of bit-
ter-sweet memories—every corner echoing
a voice that was gone, every room full of a
vanished presence,
To-night he had not gone to the club,
but loafed in his own library and ruminat-
ed. For, though Jones was a widower, it
was his intentions to remain such very
little longer. The echoes of the voice that
was gone were growing fainter, and he no
longer felt so sharply the influence of the
vanished presence.
Just now he was engaged in that venera-
ble occupation, reviewing the past.
He began with the wedding. He felt
again the hush of his heart as he had felt
when he had realized that Elizabeth had
given herself in to his keeping. ‘‘To have
and to hold,’’ he whispered, and his pulse
beat strong. Elizabeth looked from the
shadows with the old, sweet look of confi-
dence and invitation.
The face faded and Jones settled him-
self to his neglected cigar, and, in the
smoke curls that drifted into the corners,
he saw visions.
Children had come to them. He lived
again his hours of agony while Elizabeth,
his Elizabeth entered the valley of pain ;
and his being throbbed once more with ex-
ultant joy when she had passed the valley
and emerged on the bright hilltops beyond,
bearing a precious life in her hand—her
pledge of her love to him.
Elizabeth !”’
Children had come to them—one, two,
and then a third, and Elizabeth had found
that the valley opened into the deeper,
darker valley of the Shadow of Death ; and
Jones, baffled and despairing had found
that the brightest hilltops beyond that val-
ley were veiled in a mist he could not pen-
etrate.
He lived again in the firelight here, the
dark, cold days that followed—the days |
that were months, the weeks that were
years, the years that were centuries. He
turned restlessly as it flashed to him that
of these centuries there had heen but two.
A tiny coffin stood in the corner there
and Elizabeth's baby had gone to her wait-
ing arms. Two little, helpless clinging
girls remained to him.
Housekeepers !| His soul shuddered.
There was the tearful one, whose vocal
organs were paralyzed in his presence, so
that no conversation could be maintained.
She died, poor thing and when she was
gone he realized that she had mitigated the
toughness a little. Still, he always
thought of her, not as a person, but ‘poor
thing.”
A jolly, rosy face thrust itself before
him. Well,” said a cordial voice, ‘will
it be a permanent position ?”’ Stuttering
Jones had been compelled to state that he
could give her no assurance of perma-
nency.
Next came the widow of the terrible
headgear, and he had suffered in silence.
But since he had known Sue—oh, Sue
was a jewel! She looked so haughty
and cold—stiff, people called her. But
he knew how she could warm and glow,
how her eyes could brighten, how her
cheeks could burn. and her lips curve dis-
tractingly. It made his blood chase just
to think. here in the smoke, of Sue. And
in a week Sue would be his. He swelled
with pride. He thought of his plans of
the future. How well it was all arranged !
He dwelt with complacency on the fact
that his friends were in the dark as to his
purpose. Even his brother did not know.
How discreet he and Sue had been to be
sure, and it had been delicious, he having
his sweet secret with Sue.
“A widoweris so remarked upon if he
chooses to marry, it is annoying.’’ Jones
had not confessed to himself that he dread-
ed his friends, just now.
Jones loved to see things done de-
cently and in order. He felt that this
season of reflection was a delicate little at-
tention due his past, and that he had prop-
erly choose a book he meant to lay aside
and look at no more. He threw his cigar
“My brave
| into the grate, stretched himself luxur-
| iously and took himself to bed.
| The business day was nearly over, when
| the hoy announced a name and Jones rose
{ promptly and advanced to meet a trim lit-
and gray-blue, earnest eyes, whose color
was matched by the elegant gown she
| tle lady, with a clear, fresh complexion
| wore.
They proceeded at once to a matter of
| business he had in hand for her, and when
| that was attended to she sat chatting for a
few moments.
Jones liked Mrs. Mason. Aside from
| his respect for her good sense and his
friendship for her husband, she held other
claims upon his regard. He had known
her long and well, and she had been a
neighbor and a dear friend of Elizabeth.
“I hear you are to be married ?’’ she
| she said, suddenly. There was question
in her voice, but not question that at all
doubted of being answered.
Jones chafed. It was none of her busi-
ness ; it was meddlesome curiosity ; yet to
himself acknowledging that she had al-
ways shown unselfish interest, and that
now he would, nay, must, answer.
All he could attain to by his inward re-
i bellion was an attempt to soar lightly
ahove her. He crossed one knee over the
other, then crossed the other over that,
and said : ‘‘Well, congratulate me, won't
you ?’’ and he succeeded in saying it with
a sort of nervous flippancy.
He could detect nothing but gentle grav-
ity and she answered : “I cannot do
that.”
He sat stifily, thinking that if this were
a man, he’d know pretty well what to do
with him. t
“I’ve had experience with a step-mother
myself,”’ she went on, quietly, as if think-
| ing aloud, and without thought of influ-
| encing.
Jones started. Really, it was almost in-
| delicate in her to talk this way. Beside,
| he had not thought of Sue as a step-mother.
That is surely an ugly name.
| “And I could never wish any little hu-
man being so unhappy a childhood as I
had. My step-mothor was a good woman,
land her ways were right in her own eyes.
| She was cruel—not physically, of course,
but in the thousand and one ways that
only a person thoroughly out of sympathy
| with a child can be. I tried my little best
| to please her, and then have wept my lit-
| tle heart out to a sympathetic pillow at
| night, that nothing I could do was pleasant
to her, and that she didn’t really want to
be pleased. I was simply crushed. If
I had not been vigorous I believe I would
have died.”
She paused, and Jones found no words.
He told himself that he had no need, nor
no wish to defend Sue to this meddlesome
woman. “If I had not been vigorous I
believe I should have died’’—the words
{ burnt him. His little girls were not vig-
orous.
“I have thought of your poor children
many times, but I cannot come to Eliza-
beth’s home now. I cannot. I should only
make a spectacle of myself.’’
‘‘About anything so long ago?’’ thought
her listener, and then he turned restlessly,
as he had done last night when he remem-
bered that it was not really so long ago.
“I can never pass the house without see-
«ing Elizabeth’s dear face just as she stood
the last time I saw her. She was wearing
the pretty blue gown with the gay little
ribhons—you remember.’’
Jones nodded.
‘‘She leaned against the pillar at the
corner of the veranda, and talked saucily
to me at the gate. The clematis vine she
planted at the corner—you know—laid one
of its clusters on her head. Her arm was
raised — hadn’t Elizabeth the dearest
curves to her arms ?
|
i
i
|
|
{
ness often.”
Jones’ face was blanched.
dear arms! He felt them clasp him! He
laid again his cheek to her wrist and kissed
the whiteness.
! “One other time, among the last I re-
member, I had said something I had feared
| had hurt her,and I apologized ; then, going
! home on foot, I passed your gate just as
i she left the carriage. She stopped me to
: speak of what had passed. and wasso sweet
in her assurance of her love for me—I loved
her so! I remember just how she looked ;
| she was entrancing ;in brown, with plumes
| on her broad hat that made her hair glis-
ten gold and her face look like a lilly."’
Jones’ eyes burned. ‘She was so sweet
in her assurance of her love for me’’ ran
through his brain. “God !"’ he cried to
! his aching heart, *‘I loved her so !"
“I never see the little girls without see-
i ing in them dear Elizabeth’s sweet, sweet
| face.”
| She was torturing him! his skin was
' parched.
{ ‘“*And’’—she said as she rose. Jones
| lifted his eyes heavily. She seemed taller
| than usual ; he wondered dully at it ; *‘to
| see another there in her place, caring for
her flowers. or perhaps neglecting them ;
sitting in her chairs, reclining on her dain-
ty couches, presiding at her place at your
table ; to have yon giving your homage
and love, holding her in your arms and
melting her with your kisses, as if Eliza-
beth had never been—oh, I cannot bear it,
I cannot bear it?’
A sob broke on Jones’ ear ; he heard a
door shut loudly, and looked up to find
himself alone.
And then, to his surprise, hegan a strug-
gle, in which his native common sense
could not conquer. ‘‘Oh, Elizabeth, Eliza-
beth I” his heart called, yearningly. He
walked the room with uneven, restless
steps. He turned fiercely on an inoffensive
office hoy : ‘‘No I can see no one.”
He thought of Sue.
What had he seen in Sue. What a stiff-
backed, ungraceful walk she had! How
expressionless her face almost always
was.
He tried to recall the passions her kisses
had aroused him to, but his blood refused
to leap and thrill. It struck him now that
she was a thought too eager; there had
been a delicious shyness about Elizabeth
that no other woman possessed.
He recalled some woman's unthoughtful
romark that the Simpsons were not careful
housekeepers. Heavens, the daintiness of
Elizabeth !
His mind was a blank ; his heart was
cold, save for Elizabeth.
could warm his heart.
This thing was a ghastly impossibility.
He felt, as if somnambulistic, he had as-
sumed an obligation he could never
meet.
He returned to his desk. He wrote,
not pausing, for he knew what he must
say. Just the shortest way to break the
chain—that was all he wanted :
My Dear Miss Simpson—My marriage with In
is an impossibility. 1 fear I cannot make it plain
to you, but the image of my dear wife Elizabeth
has come to me with so much force that 1 ‘cannot
feel it right to take in her place one for whom I
feel no more affection than I do for you. You
cannot be expected to forgive what must seem so
strange to you, but at least I feel sure you could
not wish the thing to go on under the circum-
stances. I remain very sincerely your friend.
JAMES JONES.
I just wanted to lay |
my cheek on her wrist and kiss the white- |
Elizabeth’s |
Consciousness came to him, hut nothing |
as he dispatched it with promptness, and
sat waiting for the reply, which, roused by
| such frank brutality, was quite sufficient
to conceal any hurt it might cover ;
Mr. Jones—I have just received your odd note.
As you say, I cannot be expected to forgive your
duplicity, but I can be thankful that I am saved
from a man who is either afflicted with a diseased
mind, or is completely under the visionary con-
trol of moods. am not—your friend
SUE SIMPSON,
Jones heaved a sigh—actually, a sigh of
relief. ‘‘Sue has spirit ; I admire Sue!”
he said heartily. /
He walked home to dinner almost gaily.
He weuld live happy in the memory of his
happiness with Elizabeth and his dear lit-
tle girls, dear replicas of Elizabeth, should
be at once his care and his solace. They
would soon be companions—oh, the years
are short, short !”’
And Mrs. Mason? Mrs. Mason never
knew whether Jones had been engaged or
not to that girl. But she did feel sure
that she, Mrs. Mason, had ‘‘made a spec-
tacle”” of herself.—Cincinnati Commercial
Tribune.
Japanese Labor.
The Reasons of its Cheapness Explained by a
Cultivated Native.
An American traveler who went to Ja-
pan to study Japanese commercial meth-
ods and conditions, and especially the ques-
tion of cheap labor, says that the last issue
was made very plain to him in a few words
in a casual conversation with a Japanese
gentleman who had spent ten years of his
life in Europe and America. He said :
“You people are inconvenient. You re-
quire so much more than we Japanese to
keep you comfortable, you are paying $5
(silver) a day at your hotel, and I am pay-
ing 65 sen, or forty cents of your money.
I am just as comfortable and happy as you
are. You certainly have tables and chairs
and wash stands and pitchers and a bed-
stead and sofa, and goodness knows what
in your rooms. I have nothing of the sort.
A nice, clean tatami mat and a quilt isa
good enough bed for me. Then you have
so much more trouble at your meals with
your tables and chairs and crockery
and glassware and knives and forks and
spoons and mustard and pepper pots. Then
you are crowded together in one room.
My meals are served on a tray in my room
by a pretty maid, who kneels before me
while I eat, and chats and makes herself
interesting, looking after my every want at
the same time. Then you carv a lot of un-
necessary baggage silk dress gown and a
nice clean night robe, and I can buy a
toothbrush for a sen or so. Say what you
like, you Europeans are convenient people.
You do not go along the line of least resist-
ance. You make too much effort to live.
It costs you too much in worry and anxiety,
in flesh and blood, and gray matter as
well.” Close proximity with this happy-go-
lucky Asiatic life enables the striking con-
trast between it and the amount of energy
expended on the daily necessities of Ameri-
cans to be fully realized. The simple dif-
ference between the $2.75 American money
paid by the traveller and the 40 cents of
the Japanese, by which each man filled his
daily wants, represents actually the differ-
ence between Asiatic and American labor.
Our laborer must have $1.50 in good, sound
money to supply his bare wants. A Japa-
nese laborer can get along very well with
50 cents silver, or, say, 27} cents of our
‘money. The rooms occupied by the most
| prosperous working families—one room be-
ing sufficient for a family of a man and
wife and two or three children—are some-
time five mats in width, but, as a rule the
mat does not exceed three mats, with oc-
cassionally a space of matless ground of
about two feet square. In the case of many
rooms, especially those occupied by the
| poorer classes, the dimensions of the room
| do not exceed six feet, or two mats. Often
| those houses, or rooms, consist merely of a
poorly constructed roof, under which the
occupants sit and sleep on woven straw
spread on the bare ground. The food sup-
ply of the poorer classes is often derived
from the table refuse of barracks and other
large establishments. Where this refuse is
utilized, a family of five members can live
on 14 or 15 cents (silver )a day. say 12 cents
for rice, 3 cents for other food. Where the
supplies are purchased fresh, the cost reach-
es 30 cents. The remuneration for nearly
all kinds of labor is correspondingly low.
Why Are We Right Handed?
The question of right and left-handed-
ness is so frequently brought up that any
investigation of or light on the subject
must be of general interest. It has heen
observed that infants who crawl on all
fours make much more use of the right
than the left hand, unless they are left
handed. A scientist accounts for this by
| declaring that righthandedness is caused
| by the location of the organs of the body.
| The heart being on the left side causes very
{much greater weight than in the right.
. | During active life the heart and arteries
| filled with blood make the increased weight
of that side an item of some importance.
| The center of gravity is therefore thrown
more to the left side. This being the case,
| the right arm is much more free than the
| left. There may be also a provision of na-
| ture in the use of the right hand more than
| the left. Throwing a ball, striking with a
hammer, or other violent exercise might
have a depressing or injurious effect upon
| the heart if done with the left hand. This
| theory of balance and weight is by far the
| most rational one that has been put out,
| and further development will be watched
| with great interest.— Ledger.
Rich in Pearls.
The whole coast of the Gulf of California
| abounds in pearls, and last year $350,000
| worth was harvested in Lower California
| alone. Pearl fishing is the entire occupa-
| tion of the natives, and La Pez, the head-
| quarters, a city of the peninsula, with
| about 2000 inhabitants, is solely dependent
upon the industry. Every oyster does not
contain its pearl, and only at intervals is a
| really valuable pearl thus discovered.
| The largest one ever found was about three
quarters of an inch in diameter, and was
i sold in Paris to the Emperor of Austria
| for $10,000. Many black pearls are found
{ in Lower California, and are valued higher
| than the pure white.
England’s Debt Alone Wanes.
According to official statistics which have
just been issued in London, the national
debt during the last five years in England
shows an average daily decrease of nearly
$100,000, the exact figures being £19,488.
During the same period the national debt
of the United States shows an average
daily increase of $125,000, the exact
figures given being £25,275. France’s
debt increases $120,000, while that of Rus-
sia shows a daily growth of not less than
$405,000. France's national debt to-day is
the largest, heading the list with $6,000,-
000,000. Russia comes next, then Great
Britian and then Germany.
“An unpleasant businesss’’ he mused, |
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN,
| good wages.
| mining.
| of secretary of the treasury Lyman J. Gage,
Vast Strike of Gold.
Wonderful Fields Discovered in Distant Alaska. Pros-
pectors Made the Great Find in the Klondyke Re-
gion on the Upper Yukon, Where Millions are in
Sight—Holders of Claims Have Already Taken out
Hundreds of Thousands—The truth of the Report
Proved by the Arrival of Much Gold at San Francisco
and St. Michaels.
Stories of the richness of the newly dis-
covered Klondyke gold fields, just across
the Alaskan boundary in British territory
are confirmed by the arrival at San Fran-
cisco from St. Michaels, Alaska, of 40 min-
ers, who brought an amount of gold
variously estimated at from $500,000 to |
$750,000. A letter received from a
San Francisco business man now in the
Klondyke region says ; .
‘The excitement on the Yukon river is
indescribable and the output of the new
Klondyke district almost beyond belief. |
Men who had nothing last fall are now
worth a fortune. One man has worked 40
square feet of his claim and is going out
with $40,000 in dust. The estimate of
the district given is 13 miles with an aver-
age value of $300,000 to the claim ; some |
are valued as high as $1,000,000 each.
| At Dawson sacks of dust are thrown under
the countersin the stores for safe keeping.
Some of the stories are so fabulous that I
am afraid to repeat them for fear
of being suspected of the infection.
Labor is $15 a day and board, with
100 days’ work guaranteed, so you can
imagine how difficult it is to hold em-
ployes. If reports are true, it is the big-
gest placer ever made in the world, for
though other diggings have been found
quite as rich in spots no such extent of dis-
covery has been known which prospected
and worked so high right through.
H. A. Stanley, of the Binghamton (N.
Y.) “Herald,” writes from St. Michaels
under date of June 30 as follows :
“The steamer Weare, which wintered at
Dawson, 2,200 miles up the Yukon, arriv-
ed here on June 27. She brought authen-
tic news of some of the most wonderful
gold strikes in all the world’s history, and
brought also some 45 miners, every man
bringing in from $5,000 to $100,000 of dust
and nuggets, with an aggregate of more
than $1,000,000. The steamer Alice ar-
rived at St. Michaels on June 29, bringing
25 miners and $500,000 in gold for them.
The gold strike was made mn the Klondyke
region last August and September, but the
news did not get to Circle City until De-
cember 15, when there was a great stam- |
pede over the 300 miles intervening be-
tween there and the newer fields. On
August 12 George Cormack made the first
great strike on Bonanza creek, and on Au-
gust 197 claims were tiled in that region.
Word got to Forty Mile and Cirele City,
but the news was looked upon as a grub
stake rumor.
authentic news was carried to Circle City
by J. M. Wilson, of the Alaska Commer- |
cial company, and Thomas O’Brien, a tra-
der. They carried not only news, but
prospects, and the greatest stampede ever
known in this part of the world commen-
ced. Those who made the 300 miles first
struck it richest. Of all the 200 claims
staked out on the Bonanza and Eldorado
creeks, not one has proven a blank. Equal-
ly rich finds were made June 6 and 10 on
Dominion Creek. Not less than 300
claims have heen staked out on Indian
creek, and the surface indications are that
these are as rich as any of the others. The
largest nugget yet found was picked up by
Bert Hudson on claim No. 6 on the Bonan-
za and was worth $257. Next in size was
one found by J. Clements on Indian creek
$231. The last four pans Clements took
out were worth $2,000, and one went $775.
In all about 75 lucky miners have reached
St. Michaels. Some brought but a portion
of their clean up, preferring to invest other
portions in mines they know to be rich.
Among the most lucky are T. F. Clements,
of Los Angeles, who has cleaned up about
$175,000 ; Prof. T. C. Lippy, of Seattle,
who brought out about $50,000 and has
$150,000 in sight, and who claims his mine
is worth $500,000 or more : William Stan-
ley, of Seattle, who cleaned up $112,000 ;
Clarence Berry, $110,000 ; Henry Anderson,
$55,000 ; Frank Keller, $50,000 ; T. J.
| Kelly, $33,000 ; William Sloane, Nanaimo,
B. C., $85,000, and at least 30 more who
will not talk, but stand guard over the
treasure in their state rooms. Then there
| are at least 20 more men bringing from
$5,000 to $20,000.
All this gold and more
to come is the clean-up of last winter's
work.
The excitement over the Klondyke mines
is on the increase and hundreds of people
are preparing to sail for Alaska. The
steamer Portland, which brought down
over $1,000,000 in gold from St. Mi-
chaels, is on her return trip and will be |
crowded to her utmost capacity. Conser-
vative men who have been in the country
! claim there is room for hundreds more in
Alaska. They admit that all of the fields
in the vicinity of Klondye have been taken,
but every river in Alaska is, in their judg-
ment, filled with gold, which can be secur-
ed if the men are willing to risk the hard-
ships. Inspector Strickland, of the Cana-
dian mounted police, who came down on
the Portland, says: ‘When I left Dawson
| City, a month ago, there were about 800 |
claims staked out, and there were between
2,000 and 3,000 men there. We can safely
say that there was about $1,500,000 in gold
mined last winter. The wages in the mines
were $15 a day and the saw mill paid la-
borers $10 a day. The claims now staked
out will afford employment to about 5,000
men, I believe. If a man is strong, healthy
and wants work he can find employment at
Several men worked on an
interest, or what is termed a ‘‘lay,”” and
during the winter realized from 85,000 to
$10,000 each. The mines are 35 to 100
niles from the Alaska boundary.”
A detachment of mounted police of the
Northwest territory, which passed through
Seattle two years ago, struck it rich. Five
of the 20 guards returned on the Portland
with gold amounting to $200,000. The
other 15 remained in Alaska to engage in
Mrs. E. A. Gage, wife of the son
came down on the Portland. She went
north on it and was at St. Michaels. She
said in an interview :
“The country is enormously rich. The
| present gold diggings are only a very small
part of it, and there is little doubt that
there are millions only waiting for the
miners to come and dig out. The men
from Klondyke are not the men to exagger-
ate, for I have talked with people whom I
know to be truthful.”
It 1s declared that there is no danger of
food giving out. The North American
Transportation and Trading company will
not allow a man to take any food north of
Portland, but it will guarantee to furnish
him food for a year at less than $400.
He can secure such a guarantee before leav-
ing this city, so that starvation will not be
one of the difficulties to stare men in the
face. In a letter received from Dawson
City under date of June 18th’ Arthur
Perry, a well known citizen of Seattle says:
“The first discovery of gold on the Klon-
dyke was in the middle of August, 1896,
On December 15, however, |
| by George Cormack, on a creek emptying in-
| to the Klondyke on the south, called by the
Indians Bonanza. He found $1.60 to the
| pan on a rim and after making the find
| known as ‘Forty Miles,” went back with
| two Indians and took out $1,400 in three
| weeks with three sluice boxes. The creek
| was soon staked from one end to the
other and all the small gulches were
| staked and recorded. When T first
| reached the new camp I was in-
{ vited by two butcher boys, Murphy
| Thorpe and George Stewart, to go down in
| to their shaft and pick a pan of dirt, as they
had just struck a rich streak. To my sur-
prsse it was $283.50. In 14 pans of dirt
| they took out $1,565 right in the bottom: of
| the shaft, which was four by eight feet.
April 14th we heard that some boys on No.
| 30 Eldorado had struck it rich and had
| taken out $800 in one pan.
This was the banner pan of the creek
| and Charles Meyers, who had the ground,
told me that if he had waited to pick the
dirt he could have taken 100 ounces just as
easy. James McLain took out $11,000
| during the winter just in prospecting the
dirt. Clarence Berry and his partner,
Anton Stander, panned out about the same
in the same manner. Mrs. Berry used to
go down to the dumps every day to get
dirt and carry to the shanty and pan it
herself. She has over $6,000 taken out in
that manner. When the dumps were
washed in the spring ‘the dirt paid better
than was expected. Four boys ona ‘lay’
in Eldorado took out $49,000 in four
months. Frank Physcater, who owned
the Grand, had some men hired and clean-
ed up $94,000 for the winter, Mr. Lippin,
so I am told, has clerred up $54,000. Louis
Rhodes, No. 25 Bonanza, has cleaned up
$40,000. Clarence Berry and Anton Stan-
der have cleaned up $130,000 last winter.
This is probably the richest placer ever
known in the world. They took it out so
fast and so much of it that they did not
have time to weigh it with gold scales.
They took steel yards, and all the syrup
cans were filled.”
“Russell Montgomery, a United States
naval cadet, who disappeared from Ann-
apolis over a year ago, has been heard from
in Alaska.” He writes to his father, J. B.
Montgomery, a well known capitalist of
| Portland, that he has a claim in the
Klondyke district, and is now working it
| successfully. Young Montgomery failed
in his examinations, which fact so humil-
| lated him that he left Annapolis without
leaving any word behind him, and, al-
| though his father had used every effort to
find the son, nothing has been heard of
him until the letter from Alaska was re-
ceived.
A Country Luncheon.
Delicious, Yet Everything Was Raised on the Farm.
© What was to be done? The little coun-
| try place possessed but one caterer, and he
| had gone away on his vacation, and in the
| hands of the little wife was a letter an-
nouncing the arrival next day of four
| friends who had not seen the bride since
| her wedding day.
As there had been innumerable com-
- ments made as to the impossibility of get-
| ting ‘‘anything fit to eat in the country,”
the little wife, who was very proud of her
| John, and almost equally proud of her
| tastily furnished home, felt that every-
| thing must be attractive, and at last decid-
ed that so far as possible all the viands
! should be provided from their own farm.
Visions of the dainty viands which she
| was accustomed to seeat her own dear old
| home rose before her, and for a moment she
| felt almost discouraged ; yet with determi-
i nation and will she made up her mind to
| meet and conquer the emergency, and, as
| was proved by the result, with far greater
effect than if a caterer with his mechanical
devices had been called in.
Nothing could be daintier or more charm-
ing than the dining room, with its cool
matting in shades of green, its white dimi-
ty curtains at the windows : but the great-
est charm was in the exceeding daintiness
of the luncheon set before the city guests.
| The oaken table was covered with the
| snowiest of cloths, and on a round mirror
"in the centre was placed a glass dish filled
with the generally despised blossoms of the
wild carrot, whose feathery beauty was en-
hanced by contrast with fine, deep-green
ferns, which formed an artistic and beauti-
ful combination. .
Olives were served in glass dishes on beds
of cracked ice. These, of course were sent
from the distant city, but everything else
came, as she had laughingly declared it
should, ‘‘off their own farm.”” The menu
was as follows :
First, in the thinnest of egg-shell china
cups was served the most delicious of
chicken broth, the crouton giving it that
delicate flavor that nothing else can give.
Chicken was again made to do duty in a
salad, crisp and cool. This was dressed
with the delicately tender inside leaves of
freshly-picked lettuce.
Hard-hoiled eggs, cut in halves, with the
yolks mixed with highly-seasoned mayon-
| naise and replaced in the whites, then laid
| on a bed of lettuce.
| Fried potatoes, crisp and brown, a dish
of cool, appetizing cucumbers, thinly sliced |
and some tender radishes, rosy and cool.
There was no attempt at style, but
ing. that at last, when these delicacies
were followed by cantaloupes cut in halves
guests could no longer refrain, and unani-
mously exclaimed : This is one of the
most delicious as well as one of the dain-
| tiest luncheons we have ever eaten.
Burned to a Crisp.
Hotel Proprietor Struck by Lightning and Cremated.
Will E. Stewart, proprietor of the Hotel
Grand of East Liverpool, O., was killed by
lightning and his body burned in a barn
on his father’s farm opposite the city, duar-
ing Sunday’s storm. Stewart, with Frank
Stevenson, a hired man, had gone to the
barn 10 minutes before, when the bolt
struck the barn, killing Stewart and set-
ting fire to the hay.
Those about the place began fighting the
flames, not knowing anyone was in the
barn. Stevenson recovered and crawled
out just in time to avoid burning to death.
LOTS OF COMPLAINING.
There's lots 0’ complainin’
From folks when it's rainin’
An’ some—when the weather is dry.
Jest grumble an’ grumble
For tempests to tumble
The rain from the clouds in the sky.
»
It's hard to content ‘em ;
No matter what's sent ‘em,
They wrangle and worry about;
An’ one seat in heaven
Would make ‘em want seven
If the saints didn’t hustle 'em out!
—dAtlanta Constitution.
everything was served so crisp and cool |
and the dainty balls of golden butter and |
the light rolls were so sweet and appetiz- |
and filled with frozen custard rich and |
golden, some delicious cottage cheese dress- |
ed with ferns, thin wafers and iced tea, the |
| FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
|
| Unless you want to be entirely out of
| fashion you should have a shirtwaist of
is 7s pind oi i hE OF
| shepherd’s plaid gingham in blue, pink or
| lavender and white, with a block a quarter
tof an inch square.
The tunic or apron overskirt is a highly
increase in popularity as the fall season
creeps on.
The latest tailor-made gowns have lost
their characteristic simplicity, and are now
universally trimmed with rows and rows of
braid, milliners’ folds or a multiplicity of
buttons, but you know this is a trimming
vear. The vogue at present demands a
great many trimmings and ornaments, even
the trimmings themselves being trimmed.
Pongee makes the coolest, prettiest sum-
mer lounging robe or neglige jacket imag-
inable. It launders beautifully, looks
well, is cool and adapts itself either to a
plain style of making or to a lot of trim-
ming equally well.
A French woman, whose exquisite dress-
ing is the envy of all the belles of Paris,
declares nothing is more fatal than for a
brown-eyed woman to dress herself in
brown or a blue-eyed woman to dress her-
self in blue. The reason is that an artificial
dyed color, placed in proximity to a natur-
al color, injures the latter. There is one
color, or one shade of color, or one combi-
nation of colors, which suit each individual
woman, and it is this that must be sought
for and adhered to when found.
The surplice waist is coming in again and
muslin bodices eut in this style, finished
with a soft fichu, will soon be seen.
The new sailor hats to be worn with out-
ing dress are high-crowned and broad-brim-
med, with a ribbon band tied at the left
side of the crown in a flat bow with ends.
A word as to the care of clothing ; The
band of the skirt should always have three
loops or hangers instead of two, as usually
seen, and all three should be placed on one
hook in the wardrobe to prevent the ugly
sagging often seen in otherwise handsome
dresses.
The waist should be, if possible, hung
from a shoulder hanger such as men use for
their coats, but if this is not convenient
hang by a loop in the centre of the neck
band.
In spite of all said and written to the
contrary, carefully hang the waist over the
back of a chair when you remove it so that
it will have an opportunity of becoming
thoroughly dry and well aired before it is
placed in a close closet.
Brush the skirt carefully and remove all
the dust from the velvet facing hefore
hanging itaway ; but do not throw the
skirt on the bed or chair until it is conve-
nient to attend to it, but hang it on a knob
or nail where it will be free from dust.
This duty should not be delayed, but
should be performed the first thing in the
morning, and the dress then hung away.
It is possible for a woman to dress well
with the expenditure of an exceedingly
small allowance if good taste and good
judgment are used in the selection of her
gowns, lingerie, foot wear and gloves, and
the proper care taken of them.
Shoes should be brushed, the dust re-
moved from the edge of the sole and from
under the buttons, the buttons be kept in
place and fresh ones added when the old
ones become worn. As shoe buttons may
be purchased for eight cents a gross in our
large stores, it costs but little to keep the
shabby ones in the hackground.
Dark gloves are far more econcmical than
light ones. But when light ones are nec-
essary they may be kept iu good order by
the judicious use of gasoline or naptha.
both of which must be applied in a room
where there is no fire or burning light, as
they are exceedingly inflammable.
A bottle of alcohol, one of ammonia,
some French chalk, some naphtha or gas-
oline, with a bottle of thoroughly good Ii-
quid blacking for the shoes will keep a
wardrobe spotless and bright with very lit-
tie trouble and expense—when judiciously
used.
Mrs. Julia Ward Howe on one occasion
presented herself at a club of which she is a
member, with her bonnet wrong side in
front. After some hesitation lest Mrs.
Howe should feel hurt, a sister member in-
formed her of the mistake. ‘*What a blow
to my vanity !"’ said Mrs. Howe with an
amused smile. ‘I thought I was receiving
quite an unusual amount of attention as I
came down town in the car, but attributed
it solely to my own attractions !”’
Underskirts are much gored, to make
them fit smoothly under the skirt at the
top, and have a wide ruffle of about 12
| inches, with a still narrower one of about
| three inches, on that again at the bottom.
| This holds the overskirt out nicely.
|
The latest drawers are in umbrella shape
| that is, very full at the bottom. Some are
| gathered at the knee. Then, a very full
ruffle of either lace or embroidery is put
around the knee, headed by four or five
rows of pink or blue bebe ribbon run
through as many rows of beading.
22
| Airiness is the desideratum in a hat for
| this time of year, and to secure this effect
| abjure heavy trimmings and ostrich tips.
| Choose tulle, chiffon or mousseline trim-
| mings with wings or flowers, or both com-
| bined. The panama in its undyed state
| and bright-toned straw are the midsummer
| hats to have, and they are universally be-
| coming.
The standing military collar is the most
worn of the linen collars, with the very
narrow turned-over one second. The wide
turned-over one of last year has fallen into
innocuous desuetude.
A woman who has a good laundress in
her household staff on account of the little
| children in the nursery, and very little
| money for her own dress, wears only white
| shirtwaists. They do not not fade, as the
majority of the colored shirts will with al-
ternate sunning and laundering. They do
| not go out of fashion.
| The latest model for a white cambric
shirt waist has tiny clusters of tucks in
| horizontal groups, and high standing col-
Jars and cuffs. One box pleat three inches
| wide goes straight down the middle of the
| front. The stiff embroidered fronts, like a
| man’s shirt, are no longer popular.
| A white taffeta blouse has scarcely any
| lining, only at the arm size, and a yoke
back and front. The fronts are tucked
| sideways in three inch deep tucks, which
| do not come below the bust line. The
| sleeves are tucked in groups of three for the
| entire length of the arm.
|
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