6 WHAT -XEN? (That If the <lay be cold and dari and long? \. .<at though X drag a burden through the street? Hen treat me coldly and affairs t?o wrong. But I to-night shall hear two little feet, 4a4 two soft hands fehaJl stroke my weary brow. And two sweet lips shall press against my cheek— What if I hear complaining only now; What though no one has friendly words to spu4Lk ? fVhea men are coldest and the killing grind Weighs heaviest upon me through the day. How teweet it is to leave my cares behind Anil rush to where 1 hold imperial sway; To dioce my loving subject on my knee. To press his face against my own. to hear Him lisping baby words of praise for me. And feel and know again that God is near! But, oft, if after some dark day, and long. When I have been pushed down by stronger men; 11. after some sad day when things go wrong, I should not hear his little feet—what then? M. if some night when, heavy-hearted, I Rush home to claim his loyalty again, fie should not meet me with his joyous cry— It he were gone—what then, alas! what then? —tk K. Kiser, in Chicago Dally News. By CHAUNCY C. HOTCHKISS {Copyright, 1897. by D. Appleton & Co. All rights reserved] CHAPTER IX.—CONTINUED. The broad light from the window fell full ■pon him, showing him to be a man of but medium height, though stout and pale of face. Mis eyes were dark, his nose long and slightly dished at the bridge. The mouth was sensual, and bespoke his char acter at a glance, though his face was by no Di|w« coarse or weak. His brow was not broad, but it was smooth and open, and his brown hair, greatly puffed about his cars, wa» tied into a queue behind and profusely powdered. But he was not a striking figure despite the Gorgeous uniform of scarlet and gold adorned with the waistcoat ribbon and bril liant star of his knightly order. Something there was about him which impressed ine with the littleness of his nature, and there was a lurk in his side glances wholly in compatible with an honest, fearless spirit. Undoubtedly he was a man proud of his rank and power—a man much given to self commuuion and silence, llis official stand ing was indicated by the single heavy epau let adorning his right shoulder, llis sword, with its belt wrapped about it, he carried ifi his hand. "I declalft madam," he said, as he ■traigbtened himself and walked to a hand somely appointed table, on which li% de posited his sword, "you hare braved the ■tons and stolen a march on me, as you promised. Jlave you other charms to pit againSt the terrors of tempest and earth quake*' You are the queen of graciousness to thus honor me. lio you find Lounsbury to your liking?" And as he pronounced the name he recognized my presence by a look and an almost imperceptible bending of the head. "Now I j#otest, Sir Henry!" said Mrs. Badely, rising and affecting petulance as she adjusted her costume. "You interrupted me before I had come to conclusions. The affair is none of my making, and I am broken-hearted at its necessity. Oh, neces sity is such a dreadful word! —is it not, Capt. Lounsbury? Really, Sir Henry, I sup posed you would not come for an hour yet, but, now that you are here, I will leave you to settle with the captain while I look after tny recreant ward. Sir Henry, I feared I would have found her with you. Ah! Capt. Lounsbury, one's children, be they ours by law or nature, are such a trial—such a trial! W Hen *hall I know of your decision, Sir Henry?" Then with an upward look and elearly aSected archness, "You will honor me to night, will you not, Sir Henry?" What answer Clinton made I never knew. He held oat his hand to her, the fall of lace from his cuff almost covering it, and with a step as unnatural as that in the minuet escorted her into the hall, closing the door behind him. He was not absent long. I had but time to take in the details of the elegantly fur nished apartment, from its carved fireplace behind the table to the carved casing of the window overlooking tJ<> Vhen he entered rather hastily, h'.s face no lonarer bearing its genial expression, and with something of a business-like air seated feimself at the table, motioning me to take the »-hair opposite. Before speaking he cast quick glances at me, instantly removing his eye from mine as he met my gaze, but immediately returning to the charge. Finally, he began quite •harply: "Are vou Capt. Lounsbury?" My heart leaped at the question, and I polled myself together with the firm in tention of laying hands on him if he had discovered the fraud, but I answered quietly and with an unswerving look: "Yes, your excellency." "General Knyphausen has always vouched for you, but you hardly appear the des perado I had been led to expect. Your physique and carriage make you an excel lent agent —if—you have subtlety behind." His manner was unsuspicious, and this relieved me. Bowing, I answered: "I have seen service, your excellency, and have always rendered a good account of myself." "So 112 am told," he replied. "You are a remarkable man. You look and speak like a (gentleman, yet your record is »!iady, sir; •till," he putin hurriedly, "I am not criti cising. War has its necessities. You read the order given you yesterday?" "Yes, your excellency." "Are you prepared to act on its sugges tion?" "Yes, your excellency." He stopped as if perplexed, and passed his hand across his brow. "You were not successful in your mission to Norfolk! Why did you not report?" "The party was out of reach," I ven turnd. hararding the guess that he referred tn the kidnaping business. "But I made ■mends lat» r. I have been ill from a wound," I continue.}, pointing to my sling, which through all the excitement in leaving the Kind's Arms I had not forgotten. "TRll you undertake a similar errand— b»re in the city, and in connection with the trip tM Newport?" h» Mked, looking at me *b4 then away "Yes, your excellency, if it be feasible." "It is feasible; it is easy, and you shall be will rewarded. Have you money?" "No, your excellency; 1 have nothing but my promise of prize money. lam living on the credit of that." "Indeed! Have you the paper with you, properly indorsed?" l'or an answer 1 took it from my pocket and laid it before him, at the same time realizing with a start that the communica tion given to me the day before had been left m my room in the hurry of escaping from the tavern. He picked up the docu ment 1 laid before him, glanced at it, and then, rising, went to a bookcase, which on being opened disclosed a small strong-box. This he unlocked, and taking from it several rouleaux of coin laid them on the table. "You must have money; you cannot get ready without it. You will have many ex penses. Listen! I shall not intrust you with a packet to general I'igot. The ven ture is too hazardous. Teli him to hold Newport to the last extremity, and 1 will start to his relief within two weeks. I shall also communicate with him by land." He arose again, and clasping his hands behind him walked up and down the iloor. I saw that the man was wishing to come to a point against which just then he was shy ing, and, as time was an object to me, I hoped to help him over the difficulty by remarking: "The matter of the cruise is plain enough, but your excellency hinted at se cret instructions." "Yes, yes," he answered. "It was that I referred to a moment since." He hesitated, and then pointing to my arm, continued, "Perhaps your wound would cripple you for active service?" "No, your excellency," I answered hur riedly; "it is about healed." "Will you, then—undertake to—to—in short—to abduct a—a person and —and perhaps deliver her to Pigot?" "It is a woman, theji?" "It is a woman. In fact, my position is delicate —I must not be known in the mat ter. She is troublesome to — Well, her brother is about to be executed. I wish to save her from this knowledge. Do you follow me? She is to be the victim of an unauthorized outrage; the motive to be your own. No ill treatment, no unnecessary violence, of course. You shall be paid— you shall be well paid. Get the boat ready—be ready within five days. Can I rely on you? Then report for final details. Is there anything more?" "Ves, your excellency, there is more. I shall need a pass. Some of my men are with out the lines." "Very good!" he returned, sitting down and pulling paper toward him, on which he wrote rapidly; then pushing the writing away, he began talking with the feather of the quill betwixt his teeth. "Here is your pass," said he, laying his hand over the paper and looking hard at me, "and there is your gold. There is more to come. No violence—no brute violence. What would you do if necessity demanded your sinking the ship? If —if—if—" The pen in his mouth gave his voice the character of a snarl; his eyes flashed, and he bent forward eagerly. I caught a glimpse of the villainy of this man, and without winking promptly replied: "Save myself, your honor!" As though smitten by a revulsion of feel ing, he started back and exclaimed: "No! no! Not that! Great God! not quite so quick! What a tool you are! Is there no other way! Let me think; let it rest as it is until you report.—Ah! what is the meaning of this?" The last remark was drawn from him by a noise of controversy in the hall without, the sudden opening of the door, and the en try of a female unannounced. She was veiled, but before the door had fairly closed behind her, with a graceful move of her arm she uncovered her face, and I involuntarily came to my feet as 1 recognized the young girl whose beauty had struck me as I was about leaving the Sprite. Her eyes were red from weeping, and, in deed, the tears on her cheeks were as appar ent as the few raindrops on her silken hood, as well as on her plain though elegant cos tume. Over her white brow and from under the back of her head covering there strayed a few locks of hair, which some might have called red, but red they were not, being the richest of auburn, antl of such a nature that the damp of the air had curled them into a mass of crisp waves. If tears were on her cheeks, there were none in her voice as she advanced before the Englishman. As che came to within a pace of him she halted, and demanded in a low, firm tone, which for all its firmness was sweet: "Sir Henry Clinton, where is my brother?" Clinton dropped his eyes, while a heavy frown contracted his smooth forehead. For an instant he appeared about to give way to temper, but finally unpuckered his brows and Replied easily, as though patronizing a petulant child: "My dear Miss Gertrude, you must ask your aunt." "Call your Mrs. Badely no aunt of mine, Sir Henry. She may be my guardian, but none of her blood flows in my veins. Be that as it may, sir, she has but this moment referred me to you. My brother has been *;one a week. You have promised each day that I should see him the next. Sir Henry, where is my brother?" The docidedly defiant tone of the last de mand made me wonder at the audacity of the speaker, but instead of arousing the tem per of the man to whom it was addressed, it made him rather draw into himself, though not without an effort at self-control. Again he arose and paced the floor behind his dusk, but finally stopping in his walk, took a long breath as if he had arrived at a determina tion, and suddenly turning to me, said: "Capt. Lounsbury, the plan I mentioned will remain in abeyance.—My dear Ger trude," he continued, addressing the girl, "I have been trying to save you from pain, but, i-.s you will have the truth, I will give it to you. Your brother has been discovered act ing in the interests of the enemy, llis of fense was clear, and he has acknowledged it. He was arrested one week ago this day. He was tried fairly, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged as a spy. Yesterday he perished in the fire at Cruger's Wharf before the sen tence could be executed." Now at these words I guessed this was the girl whom I had been expected to kidnap and make way with, and my first impulse, quickly controlled, was to blurt out the fact of her own danger. It had become plain, however, that Clinton could not screw his courage to going the length of even indi rectly taking her life, much as he wished for some reason to be rid of her. It was strong ly force,! on me that he was being used as a cat's-paw by the woman who was known to powerfully influence his actions, even to the extent of altering the plans of a campaign. As he finished his statement, I knew he had told the giri an untruth, or he had been lying to me as he had informed me that the brot* .• was about to be hanged, no mention ha* ; been made of his death by fire, ln p' y there came to mind my encounter the scorched patriot, and I instinctiva .truug the two together. 1 expected to witness the collapse of the girl as the British general completed his sentence, hut there came nothing of the sort. CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1899. Instead, she stood tall and graceful, with lips Rpart and eyes widely strained. Her color faded a trifle, but after a breath or two she answered stoutly: "Gen. Clinton, that is false! My brother held no communication with anyone beyond the lines at Kingsbridge. You have overshot your mark. It was I, sir, who informed (Jen. Washington of your intended movement into the Jerseys, but my poor brother kas been doomed because he is in possession of facts which would compromise Sir Henry Clinton were they known abroad. 1, too, know them. Work your will on me, a girl —1 care not; but if you injure a hair of the head of Beverly, all England shall know how Mr. Henry Clinton obtained his knighthood, together with other matters which would make interesting reading. [Two yearn be fore, Gen. Clinton had challenged George Germain, of the British ministry. In fear of his life, Germain promised Clin ton a title and the command of the army in America if he would withdraw the chal lenge. Clinton diil so, obtained leave cf ab sence from America, went to London and was knighted by the king. Returning, he succeeded Gen. Howe, who resigned short ly before the evacuation of Philadelphia. The affair caused great scandal at the time.] By his appearance, here is doubtless cnc of your familiars," she went on, indicating me by a fine look of intense scorn. "Order him to apprehend and make way with Gertrude King, who, by the help of God, has been, is now, and always will be, devoted to her own land and its liberties!" As she uttered these words she was sub lime. Her figure swayed slightly, her eyes sparkled, and her voice rang like a bell. There was no effect of bravado, but it was apparent that with her there had come a crisis, and she had thrown off her mask, either because it was no longer of use or for the purpose of sacrificing herself for her brother. Her great beauty, her youth, her fearlessness—ay, even the grace of her pose, set off by her faultless costume —gave weight to the words which on her listeners pro duced profound though widely differing emotions. My own first feeling was that of utter in significance as I marked her great courage arid heard the inspiring eloquence of her last sentence; my next that, if necessary, I would risk my life to assist her if my way to do so was made plain. My admiration, my respect was beyond measure. I was al most moved to defy Clinton to his face there and then when that party exposed the spirit ib which he had listened. lie had halted and whirled about as she threw at him the falsity of his statement, and as she progressed, his face turned from white to red and from red to'purple. On her finishing, he hung a moment as though 4.0 gatiier the full import of her words, and then banged his fist on the table as he ex claimed: "Vou doubly damned rebel wench! You spy! How dare you use such language here and to me? So you have taken advantage of your housing with— My God! what a fool your aunt has been! Madam," he suddenly thundered, "you are under arrest —" "Sir," she said, cutting him short, "if I am, I will be released. You have now an opportunity to confiscate my property as you have my brother's. Doubtless this sum will also goto en rid i your paramour. You have taken me for a child, but 1 am not the helpless girl you think me. I know your motives. They are money, and fear, anil Mrs. Badely. And now I have but one de mand, Gen. Sir Henry Clinton, and one more statement. Your personal secrets are safe with me conditionally, a>id my proper ty you are welcome to, as you will but hold j it until the right prevails; but thi< 1 will have now —a pass beyond your lines at Kingsbridge. The statement will simply show the extent of your falsity and the ease with which it is overcome. My brother—" At that moment the hall door for a second time was thrown open violently by a female, and now it was Mrs. Bsde]y"who reentered. There was no affectation about her as sfie hurried in and closed it behind her. With her hand on the knob, her face blanched to an ash color, and her whole figure trem bling, she pointed to the defiant girl and burst out: "She is a traitor! she is a traitor! Let her not go hence! O Sir Henry! Sir Henry! he has escaped! He has been back and —taken —all—those—" She got no further, but., tottering sligUtly, gradually sank to the floor in a real or pre tended faint. CHAPTER X. THE HEROISM OF GERTRUDE KING. Gen. Clinton stood as if stricken with catalepsy, while I sprang to Mrs. Badely. Discarding the useless disguiee, 1 threw my sling from me and, lifting the lady, bore her to the couch. As her aunt sank to the floor the girl had given a violent start, and, as though taking for granted that the escaped party referred to was her brother, she raised her hands and exclaimed fervently: "Thank God! thank God!" Then the emotion she had bravely suppressed when her misfortune seemed at its height over came her on the relaxation of the strain, and she broke into a torrent of tears. Giving no further attention to Mrs. Bade ly, I turned and looked at Clinton. He had sunk into his chair, and was undergoing a strong inward struggle, but the expression of his face boded little good to the girl who still stood before him. In a moment he straightened himself, and pointing to the weeping maiden, sternly said: "Capt. Lounsbury, call my orderly, and see that this woman is placed in confine ment. Report to me when it is done." It appeared that the moment had arrived when I must declare myself, fir to allow this heroic girl to suffer the indignity of arrest while 1 could prevent it, was not in my books. 1 was about to turn on him with my answer when she lifted her head, and, direct ing her wet eyes toward Clinton, saiil as firmly as she had before spoken: "Gen. Clinton, I care little for what you may do to me. The only load 1 had has been lifted. My brother is free! Listen to me! He was never arrested as a spy, never tried in any court, never condemned to be hanged! 1 knur he was to be secretly re moved from his prisqn; of that 1 was in formed by one of your own officers, and I came here to demand his whereabouts. Is not my so called beauty as powerful for my interests as your commands for yours? Look to yourself, Sir Knight! What 1 know of you will find a ready ear, but, Sir Henry Clinton, you will scarce have the courage to demand an earldom from the one who hears it." The utterly fearless way in which she spoke, coupled with sarcasm and a taunt the nature of which 1 then knew nothing, drove the British general into a fury. Springing to his feet and again slamming the table, he shouted: "Arrest her, sir! Arrest 'ner instantly! Stop her vile mouth! Good God! am Ito be thus bearded by a self-confessed trait ress?" By this I had gotten to a pitch of spirits that ripened me for any deed insuring the safety of the gallant girl, and yet ray head was left clear enough to see the possible consequence of my act. "Nay, Sir Henry," I replied, clearly, but without moving, "I shall never arrest her nor see her arrested here; ruther would I see her canonized. Do yonr own dirty work." "Hell and furies!" he thundered, fairly bounding from the door. "What means this treason? Vou are under arrest yourself, sir! What, sir! you defy me?" As he spoke he moved from behind the table and took a couple of strides toward the haW; but seeing his intention was to call the sentry, and that for me it was now the whole pace or the scaffold, in an instant I was ahead of him, and, quickly locking fhe door, threw the key through the open win dow. I was none too soon. Through the heavy mahogany 1 heard the approach of hurried footsteps, and the knob twisted while yet my hand was on it. With an oath Clinton turned toward the table and grasped his sword; but again I anticipated bis action and was before him. Laying my left hand on the weapon, 1 pressed it down, while with my right I pushed him into his chair and held him there. I'e paled as though fearing imme diate assassination, and gasped, then after a fruitless effort at freeing himself, he shouted: "What! Capt. Lounsbury, would you mur der your commander?" I rapidly shifted my grip, and to prevent his further clamoring placed my hand over his mouth, pinning his head fast to the back of the chair. "Call me not Lounsbury!" I exclaimed in my excitement. "I have been damned by that name weeks enough! Know me as Donald Thorndyke, an enemy to the king. —Quick, now!" said 1 turning to the girl. "Here is a pass ready written. Get away— out of the window! 1 will cover your go ing." And with that I snatched the writ ing from the table and held it toward her. By this time there was a violent knocking at the door and some shouting in the hall, but, taking no notice of the shortness of time allowed for her escape, the girl stepped close to me, and, peering into my face with un disguised surprise upon her own counten ance, said: "Are you from Washington?" "Nay, miss," 1 answered, "I am but a free-lance; not from him, but for iiim to the end. Hurry your leaving, and God bless you for a brave lass!" "But you—but you! Must I take the sacrifice?" "I am already known and outlawed. Hurry! Heaven help the first man who en ters this room now! If you would prevent bloodshed, leave at once. I will follow be times. Live for your brother's sake! Get gone—get gone!" Taking the paper I had pushed into her hand, she gave me a smile that was a bene diction, the memory of which comes to me as 1 write. Turning, she hastened to the bal cony. I saw her gather her skirts, climb over the light iron rail and drop—a matter easily accomplished, as the window sill was a scarce six feet vrom the soil of the gar de* below. And then I turned attention to myself and my own desperate situation. There was nothing to do but follow her immediately if I hoped to escape, but, know ing that every second's delay helped the maiden, I still held the general so that he could neither cry out nor prove aggressive, and so continued holding him tor perhaps the space of a minute. In the meantime the attacks on the door were becoming more violent, and even the one through which Clinton had entered was now being tried. Mrs. Badely, who had been unattended through the episode, suddenly recovered her senses atld lifted herself up right on the couch, when, seeing me appar ently strangling her lover, she set up a shrieking that must have driven to despera tion those without. tTO UE CONTINUED.] STUCK TO HIM. The Annoying Experience of an Eng liHli lilxhop with u Horsy Station Master. A certain bishop, in travelingthrough his diocese had occasion to change at a wayside junction. While waiting for his train, be seized the opportunity of making friends w it'll the station-mas ter. Ono of the kindest-hearted men. he was very fond of trying to enter into the varied interests of those with whom lie came in contact. However, on this Occasion be did not find it easy to dis cover the exact topic in which his new friend was interested. So reluctantly he fell back on his particular "shop," i. e., the traffic. "I suppose, with the race meeting taking place to-day. there has been some very heavy traffic on your line?" Inadvertently, the bishop liad indeed struck the station-master's weakest point—not the traffic, but rac ing. So for the next quarter of an hour he listened in his kindly way tothe vari ous merits of the horses engaged in the St. Leger. and the chances of success. At last, to the bishop's great relief, it must be admitted, the train arrived, and, shaking hands with his racing friend, he got into a carriage. He hod not traveled very far. however, when, the train having pulled up. he heard th.- station-inaster's voice, asking if the bishop of was in the train. Hastily the bishop declared his presence. Of course, his fellow-passengers in the third-class carriage (it was the bishop's boast that he always traveled third) were on the qui vive to know what the station-master wanted with fhe bishop, while quite a little knot of spectators gathered around the carriage window. Up conies the official, making a prodi gious salute to the great ecclesiastical dignity. "I've just received a wire, my lord, from the station master at . asking me to tell your lordship that Donovan won the Leger." Corfthill Magazine. Goldsmith's Extinguisher. Goldsmith read much after he had retired, and at other times when not disposed to read and was unable to sleep, he would lie in bed thinking. The candle was kept burning at such times, and his original mode of extin guishing it was characteristic of the careloes and ease-loving genius. lie flung hUs. slipper at it. which, in conse quence, was found in the morning be smeared with grease. —Detroit Free Press. An Infant I'bllosOplier. Friend—He is a bright child, isn't he? Papa—Bright? Why he has learned already that perseverance overcomes obstacles, and he makes himself a nuisance until he gets what he want*! —Puck. The human voice can in a few cases utter 296 words a minute. THE AGE OF CHIVALRY. 11l PUMIDK Away, Cleverly Arvuea Thin Wo mini AVrlter, IN U SIKH of True Kiiuality. When we sigh over what we are pleased to call the "decadence of man ners" and long for the return of "chivalry," do we, as women, realize what such a state of affairs would mean for us? it would mean no more clubs, no gymnasiums, no education higher than housekeeping, fine needle work and dancing. It would mean weakness, both mental and physical, dependence, loss of personal liberty in every form. The conditions governing society in years gone by were vastly different from those of to-day. and, perhaps, made the almost slavish attentions of men to women a necessity. Whether chivalry was the cause of the weakness and dependence of wom en, or vice versa, it is impossible to say. It is always difficult to judge be tween cause and effect in such matters; but the fact remains that weakness and chivalry existed at one and the same time, and both ceased to exist simul taneously. No, this is not an age of chivalry; but. never before in the history of the world have women had so much lib erty —liberty in thought, in action, in everything —or been such an influence in public affairs. True chivalry docs not consist in knowing how to pick up a lady's kerchief gracefully—and doing it —nor iri guiding the steps of a healthy woman as though she were a wooden doll. Nor does it consist in or dering "coffee and pistols for two" in the gay dawn of early morning because of some implied insult. But rather does it consist of a recognition, an appre ciation and—what is more to the point —an acknowledgment of our moral and mental qualifications. What we call a "decadence of man ners" is only an avowed recognition of THIS WAS PRETTY, RI-'T AI.L, SUR FACE. woman on the part of man as his equal. We defer to our superiors and patronize our inferiors; but those whom we con sider our equals, hose whom we meet on the same social anil intellectual plane w treat with a "bonhomie," a good fellowship which has in it a re freshing sincerity. In tiie days when "chivalry" flour ished with all its benefits and harm fulness. physical delicacy was con sidered "good form," and women re sorted to all kinds of villainous de vici« itnl cosmetics to produce an "in teresting pallor." Firm rose-tinted flesh \\as frowned upon as "vulgarly healthful" in any but housemaids. Nowadays not to have good health is almost criminal, and is usually an ac knowledgment of the, at least practical, ignorance of sanitary laws. In the rush and whirl of the business of to-day, would it not bo foolish for lis strong women to exact the slavish attentions which the leisure of 50 years ago made possible to our weaker Bisters? The wife of to-day is a com panion to her husband, and often in business her timely advice saves him thousands of dollars. We do not now have men for our knights errant, expending life and blood for our sake while we sit idly by and drop flowers on half-dead victors; but a man will fight with "nature's weapons," as a rule, just as quickly to day as in "ye olden time" for the fair fame of mother, wife or sweetheart. Of course there are men- specimens, not types —in every profession and in every grade of society who cannot see a woman enter a public office or pass along the street without expressing the sneer of baseness. These "specimens," however, existed half a century ago, just the same as to-day, the only dif ference being that women never ven turing outside their own doors with out a protector, they feared the ready sword thrust, considered "discretion the better part of valor," looked wise and said —nothing. Women, then, were dressed up dolls, pretty playthings, to be petted or ca ressed, or flung jut of the window, ac cording to the temper of their several lords and masters. To-day we are neither goddesses nor slaves; men are neither heroes nor semidemons. We just plod along life's road together, men and women alike, and the favors are, in most cases, reciprocal. —Cincin- nati Knquirer. .WiMMeil Hii Vocation. Patient—"Sou should have gone into the army, doctor. Doctor—Why so? Patient—Judging by the way you charge your friends you would be able to completely annihilate an enemy.— Chicago Daily News. AN OLD HOUSEKEEPER. Mm. Mnrtlin Dnrroir, of Murfha'i Vineyard* <«eln All ll**r Ncmli ul Ninety-Five. Imagine, Indies, doing one's own housework at the age of <js! Martha's Vineyard boasts such a feminine prodi gy. She is Mrs. Martha Darrow, and she lias the further distinction of be ing the olilest inhabitant. She is one of the objects of interest to the summer visitors at Edgartown, and is never too busy or too tired to receive her callers and chat with them about her life and old times in the old town. She was born in Nantucket in IRO4 and was taken to"the Vineyard," where she has since uninterruptedly lived, some 'JO years ago. She was mar ried when she was 10 and and has been COOKING AT NINETY-FIVE. a widow nearly a quarter of a century. Her husband was captain of a packet in the palmy days of New Hedford. She It: is had six children, and one of her ' daughters now lives opposite to her. At 95 Mrs. Darrow does her own work, attending to the household du ties as she might at 50 —a fact worthy of a little more than passing comment. She lives alone in the large white house on the road skirting the harbor. Perhaps one of the most striking characteristics of the aged woman i? the keenness and accuracy of her eye sight. Without the aid of any artificial agency she still reads her favorite pas sages from the Scriptures and iier be loved hymns from the Methodist song book. For Mrs. Darrow is a Methodist, and 112 one of the old-fashioned school, too, that doesn't mind a little noise now and then. She is one of the original members of the Vineyard Methodist church, and one of the very oldest liv ing Methodists in Massachusetts.—N Y. Herald. GOOD MANAGMENT. Ha»te Mnkrs Waste in Housekeeping an iu Every Oilier l'nrsull or I'n lie rtn kiiiK. The best managers in household af fairs are not those who never sit down from early morn until night closes about them. Ah, no! the best man agers are those who secure for them selves an hour of that healthful tran quillity so necessary to every human heart, says Portland Transcript. The habit of rush and haste takes posses sion of some housewives and their life is a burden to them as well as to those who love them. Kvery woman loves to be thought a good manager. You are, if every de vice known to make your work light er is used. For instance, the washing of dishes three times a day and clean ing up the cooking vessels is a busi ness in itself. So make it easier, and to do it in half the time let me tell you the New England way. Always have plenty of hot water, a* hot as you can bear your hands in, in fact, it's best to use mops with china and glass, so as to use very hot wa ter and to have a nice lather instead of using soap. Use washing powder in the hot water and wash quickly and have plenty of nice tea towels to wipe with. You can get through a large pile of dishes directly. Clean the cooking vessels the same way. You will gain an hour by this process of washing. Then, if you have a dining room where you cau keep the table set and ready for use. it saves many steps to have a waiter ready to put your dishes in, and to place them on the table after washiKj them. The morning hours should be the busy ones, but manage to have the after- , noons and evenings for agreeable work. It is a beautiful sight to see a well balanced, well-poised woman, who is a true homemaker, elevating every phase of life, making it subservient to her good and those around her. This is good management. We all feel its power. DlHinfectinK (lie SleU Room, For the sick room a pleasant disin fectant is made by putting in a saucer some freshly-ground cotl'ee and light ing a piece of camphor gum on top of it. As this gum burns it emits the odor of roasting coffee, an aroma that is agree able to most people. This perfume liar the advantage of being healthful, aiu'i is to be preferred to the pastiles and in cense powders, which to some are very sickening. The odor of the coffee will counteract any bad aroma in the room and the fumes of the camphor will kill ordinary disease germs that may bo floating around. To Cleun Clinmoiitc Ciloven. Make a strong suds with white Cas tile soap, or any other kind of good white soap, and to two quarts of suds add one teaspoonful of borax dissolved in half a pint of hot water. When the suds tire cold, put the gloves on the hands and wash them slowly and gently, as if washing the hands, llitise in the same manner in clear water; then draw off gently and hang in a shady place to dry, drawing them into shape when they are almost dry. When perfectly dry, rub them between the hands to gotten them.—Ladies' Home Journal.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers