Bend over and kiss her—that won't hurt! Bend over and kiss from her heart the dirt Of daily trouble and sorrow and gloom. Bend over and kiss her, until the bloom Of love comes back to her cheeks, and she Is glad as the woman you love should be. Bend over and kiss her—she wants you to, Though she would not hint it, what'er vou do: But that don't matter, and so be kind, And so lean over, and so don’t mind, But softly caressing her brow and hair Bend right over and kiss her there. Bend over and kiss her—it may surprise Her heart with joy, till her wondering eyes Lift through shadow and tear and trial, To look in yours; but her lips will smile, And her heart will leap with a nameless thrill i you bend over and kiss—you will! Bend over and kiss her—you forget Sometimes to do it, and she may fret. And far thoughts fill her of days to be When you'll grow cold and your love will fiee. And she'll not charm you as once in life When vou bent and kissed her and called her wife. ~Baltinore Sun. HIS HOUSE FORLORN. Young Clewes sat before the grate, with his hands in his pockets, looking at the cross upon the ap of Great Britian which marked the , unknown corner of his late father’s estate. His fancy was pleased with the notion of the house which had stood swept and gar- nished and empty and unchanging while a century had blown over its roof. He had just that streak of cross-grained imagination that made the thought of over the Clewes estate, the stiff houses, the formal forests, the long, dull t i a deal of a bore. And now | Sesnred Bia he sight_mit gate this duty in is im- age with the little house of which, up to this moment, he had never heard. He had meant to put off his Inspection till the following month: now he to n next week. But before he went to next week had become the day after-to-morrow, and when he arose in the morning, rather earlier than usual, he called to his man Pell to look up 2 train, for he meant tobe out of town that after. noon. Trains into that rather lonely part of the country were slow, and the one es caught set him down at the Ded- ham station when the shadows were | reaching Jong and black over field and hedgerow, R the pools of light that lay between them were yellow. He stood a short Srivite distance from his own es- tate, and did not know in what direction i and would not have recognized it he seen it. He found himself in the odd position of having to go to an inn to i re the location of his own house. e landlord of the “Dedham Arms" himself seemed to think it a queer ques- tion; but after a moment's stare of won- der, he turned red, and, with a low scrape, "My lord.” he said, “it's thirty years since | saw your father here, but, were my eyes what they once were I should have known you before you spoke.” The old man wore such a mixed look of awe, curiosity, and something like ap- prehension as mightily amused young Clewes, and smiling at such simplicity, he asked if the were fit to sleep in. _ Indeed it was, the landlord assured him; it was always kept ready; and he went on almost eagerly to say that his wife was the caretaker, and he knew well enough that he had been through it only last week. Would his lordship have din- ner while a conveyance was sent for? That his arrival had caused some small sensation Clewes was aware at dinner by the persistent, though covert searching of old man’s eyes, and, later, when he the carriage to go to Clewes fees i «sg £ fais il (hii I ; Hil tli as iit i i 8 ¢ esis bi ih est 3 B ! iH : : g i g I Fg : g i ; 5 ai + where farthingales must once have float. ed and the swords of xX gone ing at their heels. Pale, panel- 4, pained cong were above i hou t, lovely shapes of chair and taboret were about him, and the filtered light filmy wrecks of Mechiin curtains. Yet, for all the decay of perishable substance. he lent Sisto had the seeming o being so set and ordered, the Thais a if su lately grouped for P, the spine: with an of having heen closed but recently, instead of entering an ancient house preserved up to the he felt as Shough ke had back a fragment of the past. ; 1 over it. Clewes beneath the tapestries; she peered : me himsical | the to it as if it had been consideration before opened door | a window; i searching with | i : neck at stretch and terrible intent head, It was a painted chamber, white and | and her quickening motions heart red, with four windows a view upon | beating faster as if with a premonition that ' the garden. There was no glove | she was approaching upon its floor, or film of lace upon its | He saw her flicker on the dressing-table, which seemed to wait, ex- | It opened to her. She stood, ring dread- pectant, for the light fall of it, vet, none fully into it. Then, before the less, the room revealed the reason of | another House to him: it was the inmost Clewes him from under the great pale shadow of chamber of the jewel-casket. her hair. “Is there no way out of this house?” The whisper seemed to come from all about him, yet came from immeasurably far, as if clearly but faintly a voice was Spediing from the other side of the world. It seemed to him his heart must the { burst if he could not answer, but his faces in the | tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The sweat was pricking out upon his. body. While he looked, her eyes moved, Hie from him, looked avEoEs lim, and expression changed. Into the vacant - | terror of her eyes there crept a flicker of some perfume lingered, but, how- | doubt, of wonder. With a creeping sense | ever sweet a hundred years ago, its odor | of horror he saw it slowly transforming now only of the flight of time and | into a faint, incredulous, wistful smile. i t him back roughly to the present. | Then suddenly she trausfixed him with | The longer he was in this room the | the joy that flashed up in her face. She ‘more its atmosphere impressed itself | raised her hand; she pointed with a quick + upon him as somewhat too stifling. It was | stabbing motion at the windows. the concentrated essence of the air of the ' “Ope, two, three, four!" The sound | + whole house, not unpleasant in odor,— | yang in his head, a cry of triumph. She sweet, rather,as of many ancient med | flashed across the room. For a heart. shaken together,—but th the sweet- | beat the black gap of the window was | hess there seemed to lurk some original | filled with her floating gown and hair. | bitter taint, and the whole was so closed | Then. in the casement, he saw again, | up, so locked in, so confined, as to make | framed terribly. only the clear, black gar- | it difficult to draw a free breath in. _ , den | He turned to the four windows. They ' He cried out; he reached the window: - were nailed as well as locked, though no | the garden swam before his eyes. He | others, even on the lower floor, had been peered fearfully downward. The white | thus fastened. The rusty nails resisted like | square of the terrace beneath lay empty clinched teeth, but he finally succeeded { in the wash of moonlight: only, on the | in bursting open the swinging-casement, | flagging under the window, hovered a and, leaning out, drew in a deep draught | shadow—a shadow of rose branches. a | of relief. ; | shadow of drifting cloud; but to his dis- The sound of steps approaching down | ordered eyes it seemed like the ghost of | the hall gave him a Spprehen. | something which years ago might have | sive start. It was only Pell, with linen and | fa)len there. | lights, inquiring where his lordship pre- | ; | ferred to sl When Clewes came into the Dedham “Here,” piey Clewes, and wondered at | Arms early the next morning, the land- his own involuntary promptness. The lord met him nervously. Did my lord room was oppressive, but it haunted him. want breakfast now? he inquired. It drew him by its mingled essence at | “I want a word with you,” said Clewes. | once sinister and lovely. Look where he | The landlord looked taken aback. He would, the objects his eyes traveled over, | hesitated, gave a frightened glance at the the stifled fragrance they seemed to ex- young man's pale, disturbed face, turned, hale upon him, left him whimsical and | and led the way into a small back room. sad, apprehensive and tender, as if the | Clewes closed the door. delicate spirit of the place had already | “Now,”hesaid, “tell me what that means { laid finger upon him, forbidding him to | over there at the house.” be otherwise than gentle, , The landlord's secretive eyes seemed ! Such sensations were stimulating to his | to retreat in his head. "Was there any- imagination. It was long since he had had | thing wrong, sir?” he stammered. a fancy for anything he could not see or i Clewes almost grinned at him. “You touch. And later, when Pell had filled | know S all the tarnished candelabra in the draw- only vou, but the whole village. Come, ing rooms with towering tallow dips, the | now, have you ever seen it?" last Lord Clewes Managed to pass a very! “Not! God forbid!” The man drew tty evening beneath those flickering | his sleeve across his dry mouth. “Clewes fights, reading the French inscriptions of Clewes House, sir, are the only ones | flourished around the walls, tinkering at | who see it—yourself, sir, vour father, the clock to set time going in these rooms | and, and—"" sgain, and drawing from the spinet such | “My grandfather?” strange, unexpected sounds in his at-' “Ah, sir; he saw the real thing." tempts. to play love-snatches—such sobs | Clewes looked steadily at this state- and groans from the lower register, and | ment for a moment. “Go on,” he said.’ from the treble such crackling laughter, | “Who was she?” such sudden cries, such windy Breathing "A young lady from London, sir, your without sound,—as once or twice ma | grandfather him pause look behind him. | your he was a great gentleman At twelve o'clock he went Nps ; for ladies. But she preferred another. A The painted chamber was d and | very sprightly lady, sir, and very young, | breathless. Its four windows opened pale | an they do say she laughed at him; and mouths upon the moon-washed garden, ' vou can see that would make any gentle- but the heavy atmosphere of Clewes | man angry.’ The landlord hesitated. House seemed to shut in around him | “He built that house for her and—and—" like a wall. As he lay down in bed, the! “And got her there? Speak out, man! musty odor of a past century breathed | Did he take her by force?” upon him through the clean linen. I. ing your pardon—as you say, For a while he lay wakeful. His eyes | sir,” the man stammered. “No doubt he | followed the fiight of Dapite across the | thought she, being so very young, wouid ceiling, and the rape of Europa along the ' come to his way; but instead of that, sir, | glimmering walls. Then the moon went she—" He came to a full around the corner of the wing, and the, ‘For God's sake, man,” it. You knew it last night—not | a fancy for. Begging | ewes en- treated— ; The landlord solemnly nodded. “She . , went mad; so that he and all the servants were afraid of her. They do say, sir, she | was terrible to see, going about the house | - { knocking on the walls as if they were | pictures, | He woke with a start of one hose , and asking them the way outof the house. 2 grandfather?'’ “He left 1 the country, sir. He died in France.” g 7 | : i i 2 £ g : § 8 & 2 i g : i; E 8 ! i ii fi SHE fice igi fii g i & I ; g i i ii 1k! ik g if | id i + 7 FEES ; £3 i i i f | ed through with excitement. to breath, she turned and looked at , excited—*“] must be mad,” he , upstairs alone. , strange among the din, old, faded satins | and gildings. He went to the four win- , that had broken his sleep the night + head back and closed h i F i] : gS § See =F i uttered, but his black mood was fiush- He began run toward the house. On the threshold doubt returned upon him. He laid his hand upon the door as 7 § i ¥ 2 ; rooms, sageways into the far ground wings of | the house. imes he hurried as if to escape the idea that pursued him: sometimes he walked slowly, frowning with concentration of thought, unaware of his surroundi as if the vision were still the only in the world. And in he would come back to himself with a siart, and, with an impatient shake of head, with a smile, seem to repudiate steps, with its armorial bearings and the great eyes of its lamps, waited the Clewes carriage. Step by step, like 2 thing of wood, Clewes descended, and terror sai upon his shoulders. He reached the outer door, and turned. The hall was all a broad reality, and through it he saw her . coming. Beneath the lights, between the blank-white servants’ faces, down the solid stair, he saw her coming, like a lost wreath of mist, growing thinner, dimmer, still coming toward him. He stumbled down the steps, and opened the door of the carriage. There immediately above him, he saw her hover on the outer : threshold moment while the living air shook her. Then something like 2 wind, like a sigh, went past him into the dark mouth of the carriage. He closed the his obsession. At last he stopped again door in the middle of the drawing-rooms. “Why, it’s absurd!” he a ized the mute pictures “It ‘s im ! And yet—" he looked into the mir- ror at his own reflection, pale, disheveled, repeated. Then, precipitately, as if he doubted his resolve, he turned to the old writing desk, and, searching in his pockets, find- ing card and pencil, wrote rapidly. Going to the door, he called Pell. “Take this telegram to the station, and be quick about it. It is important.” He thrust it upon Pell as if it were all-im- portant that it should get out of his hands : before he change his mind. Then he waited while the day advanced and waned, forgetting to eat, forgetting to rest, driven over the house by the spur of anticipation. He paced the rooms, measured the corridors, haunted the bal- conies. He was not merely young Harry Clewes in that strange hour: he was ail of Clewes, dead and to come. He shook with his father's fears at sight of those four high windows, he was driven with the despair of a man undergorund these forty years, he was urged on by the hands of children yet unborn. At his heels crowded a thousand fears of failure, but in his heart rode hope. It wasnot a hor- ror he looked forward to, or, if a horror it was, he seemed only too eager to em- brace it. At sunset Pell left again for the sta- tion, but dark had come before he re- turned with the fulfilment of his orders. Night kept them unrevealed to the world without, but the pictures in the house stared down over the candle-flames in amazement. Clewes touk from Pell the traveling- bag that he had brought from the sta tion, and nodding the man away, went Half an hour later he | stepped out of one of the smaller bed- , rooms, went down the hall, and into the inted chamber. All his dishevelment, | is restlessness, was brushed away. The ' formal precision of his evening clothes, their brilliant white and black, looked dows and closed them, pushing hard upon the rusty locks. Over their staring faces | he let the curtains fall, smiling as if in irony at his own precaution. He put out the light, and pushing a chair against the wall close tothe door, sat down and! waited. ‘ For a little, muffled sounds came from : the rooms below, then they ceased. He | sat motionless, listening, while the moon- | light shifted on the walls. His ears were | pricking to catch the soundless Sounds fore. He listened for the traveling wind; he watched for the bristling of the hang- ings, as a man listens and watches for the approach of one he loves. But the house | was as still as death. The night seemed i to travel on for hours, and fear seized | him, lest what had come to him once was not to come again. He leaned his | is eyes. Imme. | diately his mind became vacant. All! thought fled from it. Then, like one drop into an empty dish, came to him, | without reason the overmastering impulse i to open the window. He went to it like asleep- walker, and pushed back the case- | ment. Then he turned about. sf was so near it seemed he could have touched her, yet thus, awake, awaiting her, she seemed a hun- dred times more impossible than when he He yy i ; £ £f i 2 g 3 g s £3 : 7 : : 25% £58 7g figiels : §% : il +2 ; gs ef : i i 4 ; | if g% i in 3 i EH h g il isk § 8 git i - Hh g i if | | i i § 2 § 8 g: : : fi 5 i g ; iE Et I ; ; : | 5 g Bee fr A 3 gf £ : : : I i 1 |. 1 : A EEE-20%8EES fh : iE i 5 He I : | | who are so “To London!” he cried. Leaning against the balustrade he watched the carriage lights disappear be- neath the black yew branches.—By Lucia | Chamberlain, in the Century Magazine. The Chinese Bank Clerk. The Chinese have a way of getting hold of the first principles of things, even though they may not have developed them into elaborate and scientific SyS- tems. A foreigner, especially if he be of pre- nossessing appearance, is received with great civility at a Chinese bank. ‘Schroff! ” shouts the head clerk. This word is not, as it sounds, German, but a corruption of the Hindu “sarraf.” or banker's assistant. In response to this call a native cashier appears, noiseless and deferential, with a smooth-shaven skull, a four-foot pigtail, and a spotless, flowing garment. With great rapidity he will make an i exchange of notes, doing his calculating on an abacus—a frame of wire and beads, similar to those used in country schools everywhere years ago. His long, lithe fingers move over the beads more quickly than the eye can follow, but there is no mistake in the total. Perhaps the visitor will want a large piece of money changed into small coin. Instead of going through the wearisome operation of counting out the three hun- dred pieces included in this transaction, a simple ingenious device is employed. A flat wooden tray is produced containing one hundred recesses, each just big enough to lodge one coin and just shal- low enough to prevent the possibility of two lurking together. pile of small coins is poured out on this tray, and with one jerk of the clerk's wrist the hundred recesses are filled and the surplus swept off. Women are to Blame In a great measure for home unhappi- ness. Not always the woman who helps perhaps who let her daughter assume the obligations of marriage in ignorance of the consequences. When a woman is | careless of her appearance, too tired to “fix up” for her husband; when she scolds the children and neglects house- hold duties, there is discord and misery to come. Why not use Dr. Pierce's Fa- vorite Prescription and be a healthy woman and have a happy home? There's no excuse for the majority of women dragged down with suffering. “Favorite Prescription” cures ninety- eight per cent. of all “female. diseases” even in their worst forms. More than half a million women are witnesses t> these cures. "Favorite Prescription” will cure you too, if your case is curable. It has cured hundreds of cases pronounc- ed incurable by doctors, You can consult Dr. Pierce by letter, free. All correspondence private. Ad. dress Dr. R. V. . Buffalo, N. Y. Manufactured Milk. Cows are not numerous in Japan, but the Japanese are fond of milk, and to demand in the face of a na- ago put their n cannot distinguish article. al milk is derived from the soja bean. The beans are first soaked, | fan has id In ab, DOSY ee { qu white; sugar 0 potash in proper quantities are added, and the continued until a sub- stance the of molasses is ob- tained. This fluid corresponds and when water is rrom fresh. —There must be a balancing of the : mal kind as itis with humans. cannot live on bread alone.” To feed an exclusive article of or physician the whole of medical ithe 4 Salen Soun i w 18 0 mn Pierce's ion Sense Modieai Adviser. over 700 illustrations, is sent free, on re- ceipt of stamps, to pay expense of mail- ing only. Send 31 one-cent stamps for book, or 31 stamps for a | cloth binding, to Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffa. Look Abend . It's only a trifle now, that little touch stomach But look ahead. ‘ trouble, Every dangerous disease begins in a tri. fle, just as the destructi po s disease is taken at the start, Take no pill which reduces you to pill slavery. Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets do not beget the and its almost i It is as important with the ani- | FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN DAILY THOUGHT. It takes so litile to make us glad, Just the cheering clasp of a friendly hand, Just a word from one who can understand ; And we finish the task we long had planned, And we lose the doubt and the fear we had So Fatle it takes to make us glad. No matter how nicely it is polished and painted and varnished the toy in the store is really not worth half so much as the toy you make yourself; and as a Christmas present | would rather ten times over have things made by the hands of my friends than things made | departing into the rooms above, as he | to fumble along the wall foot his head. “Surely | am mad now!” he rank: and without, at the foot of the Bemocralic, Watcywan, oe ti : by other provi 's hands and bought with my ‘ri _ money. So my advice to all boys and girls is, make gifts instead of buying them. The iollowing are a few sim toys that any ingenious boy or girl wl find it easy to make. Croquet-Set—A 10y croquet-set may be made out of some pieces of wire, a few of button-molds, and several nails. croquet-mallets are made of with wire nails driven into them to form handles. The stakes are wire nails driven into button-molds so that they will stand upright. For the wickets use wire bent to form arches, and insert in the sawed- off heads of spools. The holes in the spools are filled with beeswax to keep the wire from slipping out. A set of nine wickets, two stakes, six mallets, and six marbles for croquet-balls packed neatly mn a box would make a capital gift for a Christmas tree or stocking. The scheme of making outdoor games on a toy scale, so that they can be played on the dining-room table, is not a one. Games of this sort can be found in any toy-shop, and most of them are so simple that they can be made at home. An indoor tennis-court, for instance, could be made of a strip of soft-green felt marked out with white paint. For the net use a strip of pasteboard, and for the tennis-posts two spools, The paste-board can be fitted into saw-siots cut length- wise into the spools. For the tennis-balls use small flat buttons, and for the rackets larger buttons. The buttons can then be snapped over the net as in tiddledy- winks. » Tin-Can Kitchen Ware.—A complete set of kitchen utensils may be made out of old tin cans. Some tin cans are made of such thin material that they can read- ily be cut with an old pair of shears. The handle is then bent down to make a very . presentable toy frying-pan. The boiler is made in the same way, but .with a deeper body. The pail is made by cut- ting and fitting a wire handle into place. ' The scoop is cut and completed by fasten- make home unhappy, but her mother ' uct that , 1] fd $5759 1 li fi : i i BEgE>; i I i many other kinds of + ‘ cup akes i . It will cure in extreme Der to add when needed. Re cases. But it cures quickest when the Cr eo, Fo as g E stove and I habit. They cure con. | under the countless conse. | nuts and figs and pour into butter. ing it with a tack to a wooden handle. Rubber-Band Pistol.—A small boy will probably prize the toy pistol above the other gifts so far mentioned. The pistol is whittled out. A hole is dug out for the trigger, which is made of a piece of wood and pivoted in place with a small wire nail or brad. A groove is cut along the barrel for the wooden or paper bullets to travel in. A long rubber band is fastened in the middle, with a double-point carpet- tack. One loop of the band is hooked over the upper end of the trigger, and the other loop over the lower end, to keep the trigger cocked. Toy Boomerang. —This toy is really a sort of flying propeller, or fan, that can be sent spinning through the air. The fan is made of tin cutout to the shape of a spinning wheel with four blades, blade of the fan should have one say the right , tipped down, and left edge ti up, Four holes should be cut in the body of the fan by driving nails through the tin. To set the fan in motion, take a | and drive four brads in one end, to fit loosely in the holes in the fan, take a stick and whittle down one end of it to fit the hole in the spool freely; now, with the spool on the stick and the fan on the spool, a string is wound round the spool and quickly off to spin the spool y. i been right up, it will 7 the li- ' soar upward to a great height. very fair al t a - ac- + lookin, wrecker be made out of curately with onlinary condensed milk, wood. The pte wl in 4 ho ; has not be told | be lifted to can 3 2uy angle lv a crank, another may be hoisted up. is to swivel in any direction. For the body of the car use a board ing eleven by four inches. 2 i E ; £ fs bi : i ; = g gg god hie ele ith Fsi1%F He : : : £ 5 i | % ; 2 : : of i jit g it Fi =f 85 2 g 3 22 Hi i i 27 i g g 5 al i: Hi z i if §F § 7 & | i i indoor games to Jig loc The tin : into squares when cool,
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