Bellefonte, Pa.,
November 8, 1907.
A FALLING LEAF.
A trusting little leaf of green, I
A bold, audacious frost,
A rendezvous, a kiss or two,
And youth forever lost.
Ah, me,
The bitter, bitter cost.
A flaunting patch of vivid red
‘T'nat quivers in the sun,
A windy gust, a grave of dust —
The little race is ran.
Ah, me,
Were that the only one.
ee —
THE CURE OF HEZEKIAH.
It was Hezekiah's mother—the widow
of Red Tom Usher, of Wrath Harbor of the
Labrador, and the mother, also, of Tommy
—it was she who discovered the where-
abouts of a cure. ‘ Hook’s Kurepain,’
she declared, convinced beyond doubs,
“will sure do it.”” There was no denying
the virtues of the Healing Balm. They
were set forth in pring, in type both large
and small, on a creased and greasy remnant
of the Montreal Weekly Globe and Family
Messenger, which bad, as the mother of
Hezekiah was immediately persuaded,
providentially strayed into that far port.
The works of the Invaluable Discovery
were not to be disputed. The Boon to
Humanity was a positive cure for bruises,
sprains, chilblains, cracked havde, stiff-
ness of the joints, contraction of the mus-
oles, numboess of the limbs, neuralgia,
rhenmatism, erysipelas, pains in the chest,
warts, frost-bites, sore throat, quivsy,
croup diphtheria, toothache, aud various
other ills. Moreover, it was an excellent
bair-restorer. Aad if it bad cored mil
lions, why should it not cure Hezekiah ?
Hezekiah’s mother greatly desired a
bostle.
“I’ve found something, Tommy,’’ said
she, a little twinkle in her eye, when,
that night, the elder son came in from the
snowy wilderness, where he bad made the
round of his fox-traps.
“Have you, now?’ he answered, our-
jously. ‘“An’ what might un be?”
She sought to mystify bim a moment
longer, that his delight might be the more.
“Ty something, b’y,”’ said she, '‘¢’ make
you glad.”
“Come, tell me!” he cried, bis eyes
shining.
“I've beered you say,”’ she went on
smiling softly, ‘‘that you'd be fair willin’
¢' give anything ¢' be able 8’ find it. I've
heered you say —'
“Tis a silver fox |’
“I've heered you say,’’ she continued,
shaking her head,—'‘ ‘Oh,’ I've heered
you say, ‘if I could only find is, I'd be
bappy 1”
‘Tell me ! *’ he coaxed.
me!”
She laid a band on his shonlder. The
rempant of the Montreal Weekly Globe and
Family Messenger she held behind her.
“Tis a cure for Hezekiah,’ smd she.
“No!” he oried, incredulous ; but there
was yet the ring of hope in his voice.
‘“‘Have you, now?”
“Hook's Kurepain,” said she, “‘never
failed yet.”
“Tis wondeifal !’’ said Tommy.
She spread the newspaper on the table
and placed her finger at that point of the
list where the cure of rheumatism was
promised.
“‘Read that,”’ said she, ‘an’ you'll find
"tis all true.” ’
Tommy's eyes ran up to the top of the
page. His mother waited, a smile oo her
lips. She was anticipating a profound im-
pression.
‘Beauty has wonderful charms,’ ’’ the
boy read. ‘* ‘Few men can withstand the
witcheralt of a lovely face. All hearts are
won ——"' "
“No! no!” the mother interrupted,
bastily. ‘‘That’s the marvellous Oriental
Beautifier. I been readin’ that too. Bat
'is not thas. 'Tis lower down. Begin-
nin’, ‘At last the universal remedy of
Biblical times.’ Is you got it yet ?"’
‘Ay, sare !"’
And thereupon Tommy Usher, of Wrath
Harbor, discovered that a legion of re-
lieved and rejuvenated rhenmatics had
without remuneration or constraint sueg
the virtues of the Kurepain and the praises
of Hook. He was a lad remotely born, un-
knowing ; not for a moment did he doubs
the existence of the Well-known Traveller,
the Family Doctor, the Minister of the
Gospel, the Champion of the World. He
Naw vealy to admit that the care bad been
‘Please tell
“I'm willin’ ¢' believe,”’ said be, sol-
emnly, the while gazing very earnestly in-
to his mother’s eyes, ‘‘that ’twould do
Hezekiah a world o’ good.”
“Read on i»
¢ ‘It costs money to make the Kure-
pain,’ ’’ Tommy read. ** ‘It is not a sugar-
and-water remedy. It is a cure, manufao-
stared at great . Good medicines
come high. But the peerless Kurepain is
cheap when compared with the worthless
substitutes now on the market aud sold for
just as good. Our price is five dollars a
bottle ; three bottles guaranteed to cure.”
Tommy stopped dead. He looked up.
His mother steadily returned his glance.
Tommy had provided for the house ever
sinoe his father died. It bad been bard
work, and there bad been times when the
provision was lean enough. Five dollars
a bottle ! Five dollars for that which was
neither food nor clothing !
*¢ "Tis tearful !"’ he 8 .
‘‘Bat read on.” ne
‘ ‘In order to introduce the Kurepain
into this locality we have set aside One
Thousand Bottles this incomparable
medicine. That number, and no more, we
will dispose of at four dollars a bottle. Do
not make a mistake. When the supply is
exhausted, the price will rise to eight dol-
lars a bottle, swig so asoarcity of one of
the ingredients. We honestly advise you,
if you wd aor sulleting, to take ad-
vantage rare opportunity. A word
to the wise is sufficient. rive to-day.’ 7’
his
Hezekiah’s cured,” she went on, “‘he could
help you with ine supe, au’
$ not for that I wante un cured,”
Tommy flashed. “I’m willin’ an’ able for
me labor. "Tis pot for that. I’m just
thinkin’ all the time about seein’ him run
about like he used to. That's whats I
wants.”
“Doesn’$ you think, Tommy, that we
could manage it—if we wonderful
hard 2”
“Tis accordin’ ¢’ what fur I traps,
mum, afore the ice goes an’ the steamer
come’. 1 4 hopin® we'll bave enough lelt
over ¢’ buy the ho.” og
Sbe his band again. ‘‘There’s
credit ¢' be bad as the store,”’ she said.
“Bas I'm not wantin’ ¢’ get in debs.”
“You're a good son, Tommy,"’ the moth-
er said at last. *‘I knows you'll do for
the best. Leave ns wait until the spring-
time comes.’
“Ay,” be agreed ; ‘an’ we'll say para
a word ¢' Hezekiah.”
Hezekiah was eight years old—younger
than Tommy by four years. Hebad been
an active, merry lad, inclined to scam
and shout, given to pranks of a kindly
sors. But be bad of a sudden been taken
with whas the folk of Wrath Harbor called
“‘sheamatios’’ of the knee. There were
days, however, when he walked in com-
fort ; but there were times when, thus
walking, he fell to the ground in agouy,
and had to be carried home, and there
were weeks when he could not walk at all.
He was now more affectionate than be bad
been, but he was not so merry nor 80 rosy.
“ "Twould be like old times,”” Tommy
said once, when Hezekiah was put to bed,
**if the lad was only well.”
“I'm afeered, b'y,’’ the mother sighed,
‘thas he'll never be well again.”
“For fear you're righs, mum,’ said
Tommy, ‘‘we must give un a good time.
. . . Hush, mother! Don’t you ory, or
I’11 be oryin’ too.”
Bat sivce they bad laid bold on the hope
in Hook's Kurepain hfe was brighter.
They were looking forward to the care.
The old merry, scampering Hezekiah, with
his shouts and laoghter and gambols and
pranks, was to return to them. When, as
the winter dragged along and Tommy
brought home the fox-skins from the wil-
derness, Hezekiab fondled them, and pass-
ed upon their quality as to color and size
of tur, Tommy and the mother exchanged
smiles. Hezekiah did not know that up-
on the quality and vomber of the skins,
which he delighted to stroke and pas, de-
pended bis care. Let the winter pass!
Les the ice move out from she coast ! Let
the steamer come for the letters ! Let her
go aod return again! Then Hezekiah
would know.
“‘We'll be able ¢’ have one bottle, what-
ever,” said the mother.
“Twill be more than that, mom,”
Tommy answered, confidently. ‘‘We
wants un oured.”’
With the spring came the disap-
intment. The snow mel from the
ills ; wild flowers blossomed where the
white carpet bad lain ; the ice was ready
to break and move out to cea with the
next wind from the west ; there were no
more foxes to be caught. Tommy bun-
dled the skins, strapped them on his back,
and took them to the storekeeper at Shelter
Harbor, five miles up the coast ; and when
their value had been determined he came
horue disconsolate.
The mother had been watching from the
window. Well ?”’ she said when the boy
came in. .
“Tis not enough,’ he groaned.
sorry, mum ; but 'tis not enough.”
She said nothing, but waited for him to
continue ; for she feared so give bim great
er distress,
“ 1Pwas a fair price he gave me,” Tom-
my continued. “I'm not complainin’ o’
thai. But there's not enough to do more
than keep us olear o’ debs, with pinohin’,
till we sells ¢he fish in the fall. I'm sick,
mum—I'm fair sick an’ miserable along o’
disappointment.’’
“Tis sad ¢' think,” she said, ‘‘that
Hezvkiali’s not +’ be cured —alter all.”
“For the want o’ twelve dollars !’* he
sighed.
They were interrupted by the olatter of
Hezekiah's crutches, coming in baste from
the inner room ; then entered Hezekiah.
*‘I heered what you said,’ he cried, his
eyes blazing, hie whole worn little body
fairly quivering with excitement. “I
heered you say ‘cure.’ Is It’ be cured?”
They did not answer.
“Tommy ! Mamma !
was t' be cared ?”’
“Hush, dear !"’ said the mother.
“] can’t bush. [ wants ¢’ know. Tom-
wy, tell me. Is It’ be cored ?”’
“Tommy, b'y,” said the mother, quiet
ly, “tell an.”
“You is!’ Tommy shouted, catching
Hezekiah in his arms and recking him like
a baby. ‘‘Youn is to be cured. bs or no
debt, lad, by the Lord, I'll see you cured!”
It was easily managed. The old store-
keeper at Skelter Harbor did not hesitate.
Credit? Of coarse he would give Tommy
that. ‘Tommy,’ said he, ‘I’ve knowed
you for a long time, an’ [ knows you ¢' be
a good lad. [I'll fit you out for the saw-
mer an’ the winter, if you wants me to,
an’ you can take your own time about pay-
in’ the bill.””? And so Tommy withdrew
twelve dollars from the oredis of his
account.
They began to keep watob on the ice—
to wish for a westerly gale, that the white
waste might be broken and dispersed.
heTORNDY said Hezekiah, one night,
when the lay snug in bed and the
younger was sleepless, ‘‘how long will it
be afore that there Kurepain comes ?"’
“ "low the steamer’ll soon be here.”
“A
““An’ then she'll take the letter with
the money »
“AY?
*‘Aun’ she'll be gone about a month an’ a
fortnight, and then she'll be back with—"’
“The cure!” said Hezekiah, giving
Tommy an affectionate dig in the ribs.
“She'll be back with the cure! ”’
“Go ¢' sleep, lad.”
“I can’t,” Hezekiah whimpered. “I
can’s for joy o’ thinkin’ o’ thas care.”
By and by the ice moved out, and in
time the steamer came. It was at
the end of a blustering day, with the night
falling thick. Passengers and crew alike—
from the grimy stokes to the shiveriug
American tourists—were relieved to learn,
when she anchor went down with a splash
and a rumble, that the *‘old man’’ was to
‘hang her down’’ until the weather turn-
ed “oivil.”
Accompanied by the old schoolmaster,
who was to lend him aid in registering the
letter to the Kurepain Company, Tommy
went aboard in the puns. It was then
“You knowsa Yankee when you sees
un,” said he, when they reached she upper
deck. “‘Point au out, and I'll ask un.’
“Ay, I'm travelled,” said she school.
master, importantly. ‘‘And ’twould be
wise to ask about the company before you
post the letter.”
Thus it came about that Tommy timidly
approached two gentlemen who were chat-
ting merrily in the lee of the wheel house.
“Do you know the Kurepain, sir ?'’ he
“Eb ? What ?" the one replied.
“Hook's, sir.”
“Hook's? Inthe name of wonder,
obild, Hook’s what ?*
EEND We" Mid hose
s Ko "" said the \
“‘Dootor’’ —addressivg his companion—
‘‘do you recommend—''
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“Then you do no ?"' said the other.
The doctor eyed Tommy. “Why do
“I'm
Did you say I
you ask ?’’ he inquired.
“Tis for me brother, sir,” Tommy re-
plied. ‘*He’'ve a queer sort o’ rhenmaticks.
We're thinkin’ the Kurepain will cure
un. It bave cared a minister o’ the gospel
sir, an’ a champion o’ the world ; an’ we
was allowin’ that it woaldn’s have much
trouble ¢’ cure Hezekiah.
They's as much as twelve dollars, sir, in
this here letter, which I'm sendin’ away.
I'm wantin’t’ koow, sir, if they'll send
the care if I sends the money.’
The ddotor wos silent for a moment.
“Where do you live ?’’ he asked at last.
Tommy pointed to a far-off light.
*‘Hezekiah will be at the window.” he
said “lookin’ ont at the steamer’s lights.”
“Do you care for a run ashore’ asked
the doctoa, turning to bis fellow tourist.
“It is would not overtax youn.”
“Me, no—I'm strong euough now.
They voyage has put me on my feet again.
Come—Ilet us go.”
Tominy took them ashore in the punt,
guided them along the winding, rocky
path, led them into the room where Heze-
kiah sat at the window. The doctor felt
of Hezekiah’s knee and asked him many
questions. Then he beld a whispered con-
versation with his companions and the
schoolmaster; and of their conversation
Tommy caught such words and phrases as
“‘slight operation” and ‘‘chloroform’ and
“that table’’ and ‘“‘poor light, hat light
enough,’”’ and ‘‘rough-and-ready sort of
work’ and ‘‘no danger.” Then Tommy
was despatched to the steamer with the
doctor’s friend; avd when they came back
he carried a hag in his hand. The doctor
asked Hezekiah a question, and Hezekiah
nodded his head. Whereupon the doctor
called him a brave lad, and sent Tommy
out to the kitchen to keep his mother com-
pany for a time, first requiring him to
bring a pail of water and another lamp.
When they called him in again—he knew
what they were about, and it seemed a
long, long time before the call came—
Hezekiah was lying on the couch, sick and
pale, with hin knee tightly bandaged, but
with his eyes glowing.
‘Mamma! Tommy!’’ the bey whispered,
exultingly. ‘They says I'm cured.”
“Yes,” said the doctor; ‘‘he’ll be all
right now. His trouble was not rheunma-
vism. It was cansed by a fragment of the
bone, broken off at the knee-joint. At
least. that’s as plain as I can make it to
you. I have removed that fragment. He'll
be all right after a bit. I've told the
schoolmaster bow to take care of him, and
I'll leave some medicine, and—well—he’ll
soon be all right.”
When the doctor was about to step from
the punt to the steamer’s ladder, half an
bour later, Tommy held up a letter to
bim.
*“Pia for you, sir,”’ he said.
“What's this?"’ the doctor demanded.
““Tis for you to keep, sir,” Tommy an-
swered, with dignity. “Tis the money for
the work youn done.”
‘‘Money!"” oried the doctor. “Why,
really,’ he stammered, I—you see, this is
my vacation—and I—"’
“I "low, sir,” said Tommy, quietly,
“that you’ll "blige me.”’
‘‘By Heaven!" exclaimed the doctor,
being wise, ‘‘that I willl”
Aud Tommy Usher was very much
obliged. —By Norman Dancan in Harper's
Monthly Magazine.
Giving Him a Chance.
Mrs. Wilson's husband was often
obliged to go to New York on business
and frequently did not reach his home
until the arrival of the midnight train.
Mrs. Wilson had been in the habit of
sleeping peacefully at these times
without fear, but a number of bur
glaries in the neighborhood during one
of her husband's trips to New York
had disturbed her calm,
On the night of his return Mr. Wil
son was stealing carefully up the front
stairs, as was his wont on such occa-
sions, so that his wife would not be
wakened, when he heard her voice,
high and strained.
“I don't know whether you are my
husband or a burglar,” came the ex-
cited tones, “but I am going to be on
the safe side and shoot, so if you are
Henry you'd better get out of the
way "Youth's Companion.
A Lesson In Language.
A regular Mr. Malaprop recently
came home from his first visit to Eu-
rope. He grew enthusiastic about
Rome.
“It was fine,” he declared, “to go
into them churches over there and see
the old tombs—cigarophagusses, they
call em. And then the Sixteen chapel
is great, and as for the Vaccination,
where the pope lives, well!” :
But his stock of compliments gave
out when he got to the subject of beg-
gars.
“I always refused them pennies,” he
said, “because, you see, I didn’t want
to set a bad prestige!”—New York
Times.
Not So Many.
They went in to dinner together. He
was very bashful, and she tried in
vain to draw him out. Finally she be-
gan to talk books, and he became re-
sponsive. “And Hugo?’ she asked.
“Do you like his style?’ “Oh, yes,” he
replied; “I find him intensely interest-
ing. I've read a number of his books.”
Then she asked, “Have you read ‘Nine-
ty-three?” “No, I've—er—only read
three. I didn’t know he had written so
many.”
Reason For High Price.
“You charge me $2 for that little
dish of possum?” said the guest at the
crossroads hotel. “It's an outrage!”
“No, it ain't, stranger,” replied the
landlord. “I wuz six nights ketchin’
that possum, an’ when I kotched him
I kotched the rheumatism with him,
an’ | need the money fer my doctor's
bill.”—Atlanta Constitution.
If bigness made s book, Dr. Pierce's
Common Sense Medical Adviser would
still be ore of the biggest hooks of the ace,
with its 1008 pages and 700 pictares. But
it is not the number of pages which makes
the value of the book, bas she extect and
ity of knowledge it conveys. By this
. Pierce's greats work on hiocalogy,
Boysielagy and hygiene ranks with the
books of the day. It ia scienti-
floally written, yet in such simple English
that all may understand It is sent free on
receipt of stamps to pay expense of mailing
only. Send 21 one-cent stamps for book in
paper binding, or 31 samp) iu cloth, to Dr.
‘ina room baving a warm and uniform
FARM NOTES.
—Give plenty of water ; laying fowls re-
quire is.
—1It is stated that England imports ten
times the quantity of timber it produces.
| FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Little information, but much knowledge, the
primary gift of public life.~Gilbert Parker.
When yon buy your next black petticoat
—Ireland in orderto help forward the | buy it about two inches longer, taking the
cause of forestsy
has established an Arbor | extra leagth up iv a tock.
when the skirt is worn around the
bottom, cat the worn part off, hem again
—Some of the leading growers prefer $0 | neatly, les down the tuck and your skirt
trim fruit trees this month rather than | is ready to do servioe some weeks longer.
early spring.
—Young poultry should not be allowed
Whipping is done by rolling the edge of
the material hetween the first finger and
to go hungry, nor should they be given | 1. th iih of the left hand.
more than they can eat up clean at one
time.
—Quick sales make poultry profitable.
Waiting for a market is a risk.
The first essential to success in rearing
chickens is plenty of warmth.
—If all milk is hauled to the creameries
in a sweet condition and pasteurized the
farmers will be ahle to always haul away
perfectly sweet skim milk.
—Currants and gooseberries delight in a
deep, rich soil, a little shade and thorough
mulching. Plant them in fall as they
start into growth early in spring.
—The average amount of honey taken
from an English hive is 50 pounds, double
the American average. The record ‘‘take’’
from any hive was 1,000 pounds from a
stock of Cypriaus.
—Never give fowls sulphur in damp or
wet weather, and give it cautiously even
in dry weather. If fed, and the fowls get
wet, it is said to cause rheumatism and
weakness of the legs.
—The garden spot should be thoroughly
cleaned now, and for the earliest crops as
lettuce, onions, radishes, , ete.,
it may be dug and plowed at this time.
Now is the time to manure the garden.
—The easiest way to start a blackberry
plantation is to dig the roots in November,
out them up into six to eight-inch lengths,
bury them in sand layers through the win,
ers and plant out one piece in a place next
ng.
—Birds cannot open the foot when the
leg is bent. That is the reason they do not
fall off their perches. If you watch a hen
walking you will notice that it closes its
toes ns it raises the foot and opens them
as it tonches the ground.
—Some housekeepers put a peeled onion
inside a fowl that is to be kept for any
length of time. This absorbs germs that
wonld otherwise infect the meat. Sliced
onions ora bagof charcoal placed near
meat of any kind has the same effect.
—Milking fifteen cows may mean a
whole lot, or it may mean only as much as
some get from ten cows. Quality instead of
quantity should be looked after more than
it is. The good milker eats no more than
the ordinary poor milker, which is another
point to consider.
—The prices of farm implements are to
be boosted this season. Why not meet the
advance by painting and fixing up the ma-
chine on band now? A few gallons of
paint, a new piece of woodwork bere and
there, will put the machine back in service
for two or three years.
—The Canadian government has
‘she Dominion Reserves Aot.”” This Act
sets apart 21 forest reserves, with a total
area of 3,420,200 acres. Six of these re-
serves are in Manitoba, three in Alberta,
four in Saskatchewan, and eight in British
Columbia.
—A good balanced ration for feeding
cattle. recommended by the United States
Department of Agriculture, is composed of
ten pounds of shelled corn, five pounds of
wheat bran, two ponods linseed meal and
ten pounds corn stover for steers or cows of
1000 pounds live weight.
— Applying manure to grass lands during
the fall is a good thing to do, providing
the manure is not put on so thickly that it
smothers the plants.
The manure is not a small item of profit
fiom the poultry house. In cleaning up
the poultry house the Atoppings should be
put in barrels or boxes and kept dry.
—1It is not cold weather that hurts sheep
so muoh as it is getting wet. Sheep to
fatten well should be fed regularly twice a
day, morning and evening. Sheep natural-
ly drink a little and often, and should have
water convenient to them all the time.
Don’t feed well and give good shelter,
Sed allow yom sheep to drink ice water to
—Take ap the currant cuttings and plant
in nursery rows, and shrow a ridge of
earth over them, so that they are covered
about two inches deep. In the spring this
covering should be semoved, so that the
tips are left just below the surface of the
ground. In this way currants are readily
propagated from hardwood outtings made
rom well-ripened shoots of one season’s
growth.
—On many farms a good part of the ap-
ple orop is turned to vinegar, and the fol-
owing facts given by one whois an au-
thority on she subject are well worth
nudyig: .
The essential in makiog oider is to
have clean barrels, which should be left
open. The sugar is gradually converted
inlo alcohol, which gives us what is termed
hard cider. This in turn is worked upoa
by a form of bacteria forming a union be-
tween the alcohol and oxygen, which pro-
duces acetic acid, or what we call vinegar.
As this process is essentially an oxidiza-
tion of the alcohol through the of
bacteria, the greater the surface ex to
the air the more rapid
same amount with a shallow depth and
broad surface is more rapidly converted in-
to vinegar than the same amount placed in
a vessel of less surface and greater depth.
These bacteria are also vitally inflaenced
by temperature. Within certain limits
they are held in check by cold, and growth
is accelerated by beas. make their
most growth ina temperature of
from 75 to 90 degrees F, Henoe it is an
advantage to store your cider lor vinegar
temperature.
The shick, slimy growth found in vine-
gar, which is commonly called mother of
vinegar, is an immense colony of these bao-
teria. They are also found in small num-
bers in the air. The introduction of a
nantity of this mother into bard
cider will o.use the formation of vinegar in
a short period of time. It is not advisable
however, to add sweet cider to old vinegar,
as the acetio acid the formation
of the sugar into alcohol, and as a result
ao inferior watery grade of vinegar is ob-
ee —
The | day
Stitches are then taken over and over
through the roll, and the thread drawn up
to form a frill,
A gathered roffle may be joined to a
skirts by placing it between the edges of a
bem, or under the tuck, the edge of the
tuck being stitched over the seam.
Quaint styles in children’s headgear now
occupy the place of prominence.
Among the picturesque effects one sees
the poke bonoet in a dozen different
guises.
A very lovely ove is made of a white
felt flat having a semieircle cat in the rim
and turned over the top, which has been
previously secared to a wire crown.
A wide ruchiog of Irilled lace fills in the
scooped part, while rosettes of lace and
tiny clusters of rosebuds decorate the top.
The same trimming is repeated where
the ties are attached to the bonnet and
again near the ends of the ties.
The coior to reign supreme from a long
time to come will be brown in all its
variations, from dullest buff to rich dark
modore or old gold.
The new tone combinations in stripes
with leaf hrown produces the new zebra:
striped effect now so popula: for the tailor-
made.
Alter browns come grays, and there isa
vast number of stunning combinations of
these, where stripes of various widths are
woven in shadow effects mergiog in a dis-
tinct line.
It seems almost incredible that brown in
almost any shade would find favor alter its
longdominant influence.
Blues are also very good, from the light-
est to the deepest ehades. There is aleo a
new color called rouille, which contains a
high yellowish light, modified by a soft
shade of brown which heretofore has not
made its appearance in any other material
than the soft, plinble cloth in which the
shade is now found.
Another new shade used extensively on
French gowns in combination brown is a
piokish yellow, suggesting deep tones of
orange or salmon pink, perfectly blended
into one perfect tone shade.
A novel way to serve oranges is to ioe
them till they look like halls of snow. Re-
move the skin and pith and ran a thread
througe the centre of each orange. Make
an icing of whites of egg and confectioners’
sugar, allowing two eggs to a pound of
sugar. Beas till quite smooth, fasten them
to a stick, place the stick across a very cool
oven and let them remain till dry. The
oranges should be well coated and smooth-
ed with a palette knife.
The following thoroughly tested recipes
of a well-known oaterer are interesting
ways in which oranges may be prepared
for dessert.
Take as many oranges as required (navel
preferred ), peel and cut cross-wise, roll in
{ flour and fry toa golden brown in butter.
Duss with powdered sugar and cinnamon
and place on escallops of toasted sponge
cake.
Serve with bard sauce.
Line pie plates with paste, puncture
them all over and bake. Fill with the fol-
lowing cream: Stir in a vessel six yolks
of eg: 8, three ounces of sugar, one ounce of
cornstarch, the juice of eight oranges and
grated rind of one, and three-quarters pint
of water. Place the mixture on fire, keep
stirring until it begins to boil, remove,
beat in one ounce of butter, ornament the
top with meringue icing of any appropriate
designs. Sift with powdered sugar and
bake to a nice golden brown.
Take as many small navel oranges as re-
quired, peel and suga: them. Roll in pie
crust, bake to a golden brown and serve
with wine or bard sauce.
Scmetimes the two haves of the orange
skins are used, filled with an ice or char-
lotte russe, and tied together with a pale
yellow ribbon or with asparagus vire.
When salad is served in the orange skins
the handle ie omitted and bus the one
half used. This may be set on a bed of
fresh Water oress.
A pretty dessert is to have a melon
mould of vanilla ice cream, surrounded
with the halves of small navel oranges that
bave been dipped in boiling syrup and jel-
lied. A circle of whipped cream is massed
on the outer edge. A round platter should
be used.
Or the ice oream may be frozen in a oir-
cular mould, the centre piled with raw
sliced oranges and the whipped cream
served in a separate sauce boat or bowl.
Wine or lemon jelly makes a pretty des-
sert when moulded with oranges. Take
six small seedless oranges, peel them, re-
move every particle of the pith, separate
in sections and remove the skin if it can be
done without mashing the pulp. Fill the
bottom of the mould with jelly,let it grow
cool enough to hold, cover with she seo-
tions of oranges. Pour on more jelly, let
it ses, add another layer of the fruit, and
repeat till the layer is fall. When cold,
serve with whipped cream heaped around
is.
The gelatine should be kept liquid till
wanted by putting it in a pitoher and
standing it ina dish of boiling water.
This fruit jelly is somewhat tedious in prep-
aration and should be started early in the
. Remember, all jelly stiffened in the
ioe chest loses its flavor, 80 avoid it when-
ever the weather permits.
on
spread with a layer of Bermuda
in thin rings lightly
buttered bread.
with a second slice of
Another sand wich is made of brown
bread with a filling of mushrooms cooked
in cream, onbesor crisped bacon added and
all seasoned with salt and y
E
i
§
g
Ham sandwiches made in this way ‘‘stay
by’’ one. Rub a half cup buster to a cream,
one teas ul made mostard, ove
teaspoonful melted butter or olive oil, the
yolk of an beaten well, a pinch of salt
" rin at m
vig make a good consistency for
spieadivg and place besweeu slices of whole
wheat bisad.
NEW ZEALAND MAGIC.
A Native Story of the Power of the
Tohunga.
From New Zealand comes the follow:
ing weird yarn:
“The tohunga (native magician) was
even credited with the power of In-
fluencing the dead. The present writer
was a witness of the following incl
dent: A branch of the Arawas, the
tribe of the district of Rotorua, being
at war, had suffered defeat, and one
of their braves had been brought home
dead. The vanquished sought at once
to find out by some omen connected
with the dead chief whether they
would be successful in their next en
counter, The tohunga was requested
to procure the desired omen, the peo
ple squatting in a ring about the bier.
Advancing a few paces from the dead
body, the priest began to recite a
powerful incantation, intent on mak:
ing the deceased give some sign, the
eyes of all present being fixed on the
slain warrior. Presently the corpse
was observed to move slightly to one
side, on which a great cry of joy rose
from the people. The movement was
interpreted as a sign of future victory.
This feat was often performed by the
tohunga of olden times.” — Ckicagc
News.
THE OLD MASTERS.
Miserable Compensation For
Grand Works of Art.
“I make more mouey in a day than
Michael Angelo made in a month,"
said a popular illustrator. “I've been
studying up the wages those old chaps
got. It is amazing.
“Michael Angelo was paid $40 a
month while doing the cartoons of the
battle of Pisa, and Leonardo, whe
helped him, got the same rate. They
were both docked for lateness and off
days, but there was no overtime allow:
ance. Correggio get for his ‘Christ In
the Garden’ $7.25. Carraccl’'s ‘Resur
rection’ only brought the painter $6.50.
Albert Durer for his pen and ink por
traits was not paid in cash. A bag of
flour, a hundred oysters, a pair of
boots—Durer would gladly do your
portrait on such a system of remunera
tion.
“Rembrandt's top notch price was
$475. He got that for his ‘Night
Watch.’
“Velasquez worked chiefly for the
Spanish government. He was paid at
the average rate of $35 a picture.
Think of it! Thirty-five dollars for the
‘Rokeby Venus!" ”—Minneapolis Jour
nal.
Their
A MARRIAGE FICTION.
The Old Time Notion That Matches
Are Made In Heaven.
‘The polite fiction obtains that mar
rlages are made in heaven. This ro
mantic viewpoint is particularly popu:
lar in America, where it is held to be
highly improper for parents to make
any move toward securing good hus
bands for their daughters and immod
est for girls to manifest any interest
in the subject themselves.
The conventional theory is that the
matter is on the knees of the gods and
that in due season husbands will be
provided like manna in the wilderness
for sustenance of the faithful. Unfor
tunately this miracle does not always
come off for every woman. The supply
of manna gives out. There are not
enough husbands to go around, and
these are unevenly divided. Some wo
men get three or four, while others get
none. But neither the old maids nor
their parents realize that the reason
that they did not share in the dispen-
sation was their own fault, because
they did not put themselves, as old
fashioned Methodists used to say, in
an attitude to receive the blessing.—
Dorothy Dix in Ainslee’s.
The One Sided Humor of Spain.
The Spanish peasant is the most pol
ished gentleman in the world, but the
provincial dandy is not a pleasant per
son. He does not limit himself to ad-
miring one (which might be endured).
He laughs at one. Since the foreign
city hat is different from the Spanish
town hat, the Spanish town hat laughs
and points its finger. Even a lady hat
will do this. It never occurs to the
Spanish provincial headgear that it is
very funny, too—that is, because #
Spaniard is under it, and therefore If
must be right. Yet if the foreign city
hat laughed the resentment would be
deep.—Louise Closser Hale in Harper's.
Bunions.
“By the way,” sald the old shoe-
maker, “do you know what makes a
bunion? No? Well, it is simply get-
ting shoes too short. In a short shoe
the foot cannot follow the dictates of
growth imposed by nature. But it sim-
ply cannot keep from growing.
“So the tissue and bone and flesh
that should go into the toes is simply
sidetracked into a bunch wherever it
can get the easiest and forms a bun
fon.”—Philadelphia North American.
Willie's Wisdom.
Teacher— Willie, why don’t you keep
ain't got no comb.
don’t you ask your mamma to buy
you one? Willie—'Cause then I'd have
ter keep my hair combed.—Judge.
Better Left Unsolved.
Parke—Tell me, old chap, honest,
pow, do you permit your wife to con
trol you? Lane—To be honest with
you, that's a question I have never
dared ask myself. — Syracuse Post
Standard.
The Other Woman's Opinion.
“How well she preserves her youth®
“Yes. The stuff she puts on her sce
must be weatherproof.”—Chicago Ree
ord-Herald.
SRE