6
IN THE PAPERS.
There »eems to be no way In which an hon
est, modest man
Can get his name In clear, cold type, for
everyone to scan.
We've got to cut up some mean trick, or
papers quite refuse
To notice what we're doing, for they say
It isn't "news."
A. man may kiss tila wife, and yet the pa
pers never tell;
But let him kiss his neighbor's wife, and.
horror! how they yell.
We all may do the proper thing for years
and years, and yet
Receive not half the notice that a crooked
chap will get.
Just let an honest oltizen be sober as he
may,
There are no headlines to declare "Jones
Isn't drunk to-day!"
But let him dare imbibe until he makes
himself "a brute,"
And all the papers will remark that "Jones
Is on a toot!"
A thousand bank cashiers remain still
faithful to their trust,
l*hey never skip to Canada, and cause their
bank to "bust."
let papers never tell us of these noble men
and true,
But give whole columns to the ones that
skip the tra-la-100.
Ten thousand servant girls refrain from
using kerosene
start the kitchen Are, even though the
wood Is green;
But Just because one tries It, and Is scat
tered galley-west.
Her name gets In the papers far ahead of
all the rest.
80, when I buy a paper, I'm aware I'll And
a dearth
Of news about the doings of the better
folks of earth;
For"news," as It Is termed to-day, I've
noticed, as a rule,
Is very likely to concern a rascal or a fool.
—Nixon Waterman, In L. A. W. Bulletin.
FBEE-IANCEI
By CHAL'NCV C. HOTCHKISS
[Copyright, 1897, by D. Appleton & Co. All
rights reserved.]
CHAPTER XXI.
DE PROFUNDIS.
It was now so dark that the sky thowed
but faintly through the hole in the boat's
bottom. As time advanced and there be
came great danger that the wind might rise,
thereby rendering my attempt abortive, I
sank myself into the water and came to the
surface clear of my late shelter. The tide
or some unknown force had drawn the
wreck from the schooner's side, and I found
I had been slowly drifting south, being now
tome ten or a dozen rods off the vessel's
starboard bow. By the most intense lis
tening I could hear a stibdued sound of
voices, but from what part of the deck it
proceeded I was too far away to determine.
All around me was black water, with noth
ing in sight saving the shadowy hull of the
Phantom and a guiding light, evidently
swinging over the stern of the Sprite, though
that craft was swallowed by the distance
iand general gloom. Not a star was in sight,
not a breath broke the glassiness of the si
lent swell as it rolled northward. The ocean
never seemed so vast nor its depths so re
pulsive as now, when in the darkness it
■clung to me with its chilly fingers. The
fathoms below gaped like an open pit, and
it was with a convulsive horror that 1 let go
my hold on the dingy and struck out for
the schooner, resolute, come what might,
to rid myself of the frightful loneliness
which all at once was magnified before me.
Indeed, I felt that my time had come. For
good or evil there would be a sharp turn
of affairs, but if evil, I would die by shot or
sword; not to the black element about me
would I give myself.
Like a frightened child fleeing from the
dark, I at first swam boldly, but, as my
vigor sent before me a small surf that roared
through the silenae, I abated my speed,
and with slow and noiseless stroke headed
myself toward the schooner's bow, that
I might approach her as I djd when drifting
through the fog. The gold In my pockets
dragged on me, but not once did I think
of ridding myself of the burden, for the
swim was short, and I had won the money
hardly. However, it seemed an age ere I
saw the Phantom's bowsprit outlined agaipst
the sky over my head, and by the time I
felt the firmness of her bobstay in my hand
something like confidence came back to
me, and my momentary horror of the deep
was past. The touch of the rigging put
strength in mo, and I slowly drew myself
out of the water, that the torrent from my
clothing might not attract atfention from
the deck. I could now hear the sound of
voices plainly, and knew it came from for
ward, but it was too muffled for me to make
head or tail of the conversation. It would
guide my actions in a measure, for, so long
as it continued, my presence would be un
suspected.
Carefully I dragged myself up until I came
within reaching distance of the bowsprit,
and then 1 brought my head to the level of
the deck. The jib and staysail hung mo
tionless from their riggings, but from be
neath the latter I marked the figure of a
man leaning against the larboard fore
shrouds and smoking a pipe as he looked
over the water. He was partly turned to
ward me, and as long as he beld this po
sition I could not advance. As far aft as I
could see the deck was otherwise deserted,
though a light, hitherto concealed by the
rail, gleamed from the cabin window. A
slight yellow haze spread from the open
hatch of the forecastle, and from there came
the voices I heard.
Putting myself astride the bowsprit, I sat
concealed from the larboard side by the
schooner's head cloths, though by bending
nly body I could peer beneath the sails anil
we the figure that blocked my further prog
ress. The talking from the open hatch
drowned the drip of the small streams still
flotfinij from my clothing, though it seemed
to accentuate the mournful creak that
from the top hamper occasionally answered
th<j heavier rolls of the sea. I was now mo
mentarily at my wits' end, for neither for
ward nor backward could J go. Had I
-vished to return to the wreck, I could have
found that speck in the darkness, and my
plans had not extended beyond getting onto
the vessel, and this had been accomplished.
Hut 1 had not remained passively seated
astride the bowsprit many minutes before a
scheme opened before me. It was born of ne
cessity, and unless he should soon move, de
manded the life of the fellow standing by the
shrouds. I had barely come to this conclu
sion when, as though he read my thoughts
and felt thesinister threat they contained, he
knocked the ashes from his pipe and turned
kimsftlf toward his companions below.
As he came into the radius of light that
shot from the hatch, I saw he was an ordi
nary seaman—a regulation manof-war's
man—from his light pumps to his oiled and
eclskin-cased pigtail curling clear of the
collar of his shirt. With a light remark to
his fellows, he seated himself on the top
step of the ladder leading down, and, rest
ing his elbows on his knees and his chin
on his clinched hands, started to palaver
with those below, probably enjoying to the
fullest extent the contrast in the discipline
of the two vessels.
His action was a plating piece erf marine
carelessness, but it both saved his life and
opened to me a way to act. Now, with the
dazzle of light full in his face, he might lift
his head yet fail to see me, and, as the
time was ripe, 1 felt for the foot ropes and
silently slid to the heel of the bowsprit.
Once there, I crept to the cathead, and from
there with a spring I reached the fore
castle opening behind the unsuspecting
sailor. With a sudden push I sent him
htflfdlong onto his fellows, and then I quick
ly closed the doors, slid the hatch cover, fas
tened it, and for the third time I had made
the Phantom's forward quarters a prison.
There was now little tune to spare, for I
knew the rumpus that would come would
attract the cabin, and it behooved me to get
command of that ere Lounsbury could act
on the offensive. Snatching a belaying pin
from its ring on the mast, Iran to the galley,
but found it dark and deserted. PYom there
I hurried aft, and, without the precaution
of peeping through a window, presented my
self at the open door of the companion way.
I knew not what I would find, but was far
from expecting the sight that met my eyes.
The lantern swinging from its beam had
been trimmed and washed, and cast a strong
light over the interior. Though no one was
at the table, it showed that a makeshift
meal had been sent from the Sprite, for on
the Phantom there were now no means of
cooking, as pots, kettles and table gear had
gone the way of my instruments. In a
bunk, the curtains of which were flung wide,
and at the side of which stood a bucket of
water, lay Ames, his face like chalk and his
eyes closed, but whether in death or sleep
I could not tell. On a transom locker at the
other side of the cabin sprawled the doctor,
somewhat more than tipsy, his head rolling
to and fro with the plunge of the- vessel,
while in his hand was a bloody rag or
bandage, lie was vainly trying to reach a
bottle and glass that stood near liini on the
floor, the heave of the schooner throwing
him off his balance at each attempt to raise
himself. At the extreme end of the com
partment was Lounsbury on his knees work
ing at the bulkhead with a carpenter's chisel
and calking mallet. Ignoring the presence
of the drunken surgeon, I*: had torn away
half the casing to the partition, and had
finally struck upon my hidden gold, which
now lay as plain to my eye as to his. For
this, and probably for this alone, he had
once attempted to betray me, threatened my
life, and well-nigh lost his own. lie had
guarded the secret as well as I, and now,
after months of waiting, hard fare, and
harder blows, he doubtless felt a full meas
ure of sordid pleasure as my little hoard lay
uncovered before him. And not so little,
cither. Five hundred pounds would make
him passing rich among his fellows.
Though his face was from me, its exulta
tion seemed to strike through him and shine
from his back. I could almost see the dry;
greedy grin and close set of his ragged teeth
as he laid his hand on the bag to judge its
worth by lifting. With the inborn sus
picion of the everfeart'ul thief or miser, he
threw a cautious look over his shoulder, and
as he did so his eyes met mine.
I once saw a laughing man shot clean
through the heart, and the sudden change of
his expression as death seized him, was ap
palling; but it was nothing to the swift al
teration that came over the face of Louns
bury as that villain recognized me. Crouched
low at the top of the companion way, with
one foot on the steps and the other on deck,
I remained immovable as I witnessed the
effect of my sudden appearance. Without
shifting his position, the wretch held his
head craned over his left shoulder, his jaw
dropped, and his small, piglike eyes opened
to their farthest extent, glaring at me as
though their owner was in a trance. His
face was too blackened and weather-beaten
to allow of a change of color, but pallor and
fright were plain in his vefy attitude. Not a
sound or movement was made by either of
us as we thus faced each other, and the
surgeon, marking nothing amiss, still made
desperate though ludicrous bobs toward the
liquor on the floor.
Perhaps for a minute Lounsbury he'd his
position, and then with a slow, suakelike
motion, his eyes still fixed on mine, he
twisted till his back was to the bulkhead,
where, extending his arms against the wood
work, he flattened himself as though try
ing to shrink through the partition, horror
and dread written over his swollen and re
pulsive features.
It had never been in my mind to play a
part, but it was plain that to this ignorant
and superstitious man I was nothing less
than a veritable spirit of the dead. Indeed,
the glistening of my dripping clothes, the
plastered hair on my head, unshaven, and
with the paleness of long immersion on my
face, these, with the probable glitter of ex
citement in my eyes, all tendei*to make me
uncanny in appearance, especially as my
figure was backed by the absolute blackness
of the night. Lounsbury had seen me in ap
parent desperation plunge overboard, and
doubtless thought I had been drifting fath
oms deep below the Phantom's keel, yet in
the hour of his success I had come to tor
ment him. Like Banquo's ghost—and ghost
I was to him—l would not down.
The agony working in his mind would
soon find an outlet in some fashion, but it
stirred him in a Way I hardly expected. Still
piercing me with his glance, his broad chest
heaved spasmodically and his right hand
gradually moved to the hilt of the ciftlass
hanging on his left hip. Slowly, like a man
asleep, he drew the blade, and with slaver
now running from the corners of his mouth,
he left the bulkhead and crept toward me.
Fascination ruled him. The pent-up energy
of the man showed in his crouching, catlike
step as he glided along the edge of the
table and into the space between it and the
foot of the ledder. Madness, murder, and
every evil flamed from his eyes, and I knew
that now he or I must die, though I would
have mighty small qualms in killing him,
and had still smaller doubts as to which was
to be killed.
Though I was armed with naught but a be
laying pin, while he possessed a sword, the
were more in my favor than in his.
In the narrow passage of the companion, to
which he must come to attack me, his
weapon would be of no avail save in the
thrust, while the short and fairly heavy
club I gripped would be untrammeled by
want of space, and my position above him
gave me an advantage I had seen from the
beginning.
As the fellow reached thfc foot of the
steps, his manner suddenly changed. Pull
ing himself upright, lie let out a yell that
was blood-curdling, and clapping bis left
hand over his eyes as though to shut out
the sight of me, he thrust his'sword at arm's
length before him and rushed blindly up
the ladder as though to impale the uncanny
spirit he had seen at its top.
AM the stevi ouu near me I beat it d«wn
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1900.
with a blow of the belaying pin, and, reach
ing forward, struck him fairly on the head,
lie threw up both hands, balanced for an
instant, and then pitched backward, strik
ing the floor head first, the weight of his
body doubling and breaking his neck as
though it had been an icicle.
Before I followed him by a leap that car
ried me the length of the companion, 1 knew
my enemy had come to anchor forever. It
was not to him I turned my notice as I
struck the floor, but to the now half-sobered
surgeon who was fumbling beneath his pil
low, from under which he drew a pistol just
as I reached him. Grasping him by the
throat, I threw him onto his back on the
locker, and, with my knee on his thin chest,
twisted the yet uncocked firearm from his
hand and sent it spinning across the cabin.
It was done. Once again 1 was master of
the Phantom.
Hurriedly searching the prostrate man
and his immediate surroundings for more
weapons, and finding none, without further
attempt to conceal my voice or purpose, I
commanded him to lie where he was on pain
of instant death, and, as I saw the cowardly
noncoinbatant shrink away from me and
knew I had nothing to fear from him, I left
his side and crossed the cabin to where lay
my wounded friend. To my astonishment
his eyes were open and he was regarding me
curiously enough, though the greeting he
gave me was but a movement of the lips, for
from them there came no sound. I grasped
his hand. There was but the faintest trace
of fever in it, and a slight answering pres
sure was returned. Again his lips moved,
and, by bending to them, I made out the
word "Ghost?"
"Nay, my lad," I answered heartily. "We
are once more to the good. I had small
hopes of ever again seeing you alive, but
God has willed differently. Are you badly
hurt?"
The only answer was a tremor of the lids,
and I might have known that weakness
would hold him dumb. "Where was the boy
hit?" I demanded, turning to the lank red
ooat who had not shifted his position but lay
looking at me with intense interest. The
royalist raised himself on his elbow, and,
instead of answering, asked:
"Who are ye, man, and where from?"
"Know ye not Donald Thornd.vke re
turned from hell for a substitute?" I thun
dered, striding up to him. "Answer my
question, ye sot! Where was the boy hit?"
"In the right lung; the ball passed clear
through him," he answered as he shrank
back, and then, as his curiosity struggled for
mastery, he continued: "Th«/ told me that
overboard ye had gone."
"They told ye the truth," I returned,
stooping for the pistol I had wrenched from
"The ocean never seemed so vast nor its
depths so repulsive."
him, and cocking it."Put me aside and tell
me, will the lad live?"
"Ay, like as not if he has the pluck," he
snapped back, eyeing and dodging the muz
zle of the firearm. "Faith, I'll do my best
if ye will honor my calling and play that
damn thing to some other point. Have ye
murdered all but myself?"
"Nay, ye skewer," I answered, almost
amused by his fear and amazed at Ihe way
it had overcome the fumes of the liquor in
him. "I but gave the crew a rest from duty;
it is their watch below, and if ye dare call
me murderer for taking and defending my
own, I'll act the part in truth."
"By me sowl, ye are the devil himself!"
he ejaculated, but I cut him short.
" Whate'er I am, ye are my prisoner. Now
take your choice betjwixt irons and parole;
the hold or this cabin. Speak fast! I have
buisness on hand."
"A prisoner only, is it?" he exclaimed
quickly, sitting bolt upright and raising his
hand aloft. "Then, on the honor of an
Irish gentleman, I take oath not to sneak
from ye or bear arms," he answered, as
though relieved by the terms I offered.
"And bide in the cabin until allowed the
deck?" I added.
"That same," he answered.
"And care for the wounded lad?"
"Oh, ay! oh, ay! an' now—"
"Then 'tis ten to one that before long ye
will be biy_k among your fellows by ex
change," 1 interrupted, being in a hurry.
"Bring the boy to liia feet, and 'twill be
money in your pocket; but no more liquor."
So saying, I picked up the bottle and took
a long draught of what proved to be good
whisky. 'Twas a well-earned and sorely
needed dram, but a mighty uncivil way of
taking it, inasmuch as 1 had just cut him off
his own grog. The act may have been the
means of fanning the spark of malice held in
his nature —a spark that glowed, smoldered,
and burst into flame when I least expected.
The cunning in his brain made up for the
lack of sinews in his body, for when I turned
from locking up the bottle and sliding the
key into my pocket, I noticed a malevolence
in his face; but he shifted his eye from me,
and, getting to his feet with an effort,
walked unsteadily across the cabin and bent
over Ames.
CHAPTER XXII.
FROM UNDER THE SQUARE-SAIL
YARD.
By the rules of civilized warfare I had
rendered the surgeon incapable of offensive
action, but, apart from his word of honor,
my best defense seemed to lie in his cow
ardice and ready acquiescence to my de
mands. Even in my intense interest in the
welfare of my friend I did not follow the
doctor to his side. I had matters on my
heart and hands requiring immediate atten
tion, but my first business was to rid the
cabin of the repulsive carcass that cumbered
the foot of the companion way.
With as little feeling as though I was
handling a bale of goods, I turned Louns
bury over that I might be sure of his death,
and by the limp and hideous way his head
fell to his shoulder 1 knew he was past all
surgery. Grasping him by the I
hauled him to the deck, and from thence to
the rail, launching him over the side with
the feeling that with him went the last of
my ill luck. With the dead man's cutlass
about my waist and McCary's pistol in my
belt (a poor place for a dry priming, as I
was still reeking with wet), 1 went again
into the cabin, and with an apology to the
doctor for leaving him in the dark, took the
lantern from its hook on the beam and hur
ried to where the wreck of the top hamper
still covered the deck about the foremast.
Though the light was seen from the Sprite,
it would create no suspicion; so, seizing the
lantern to a hoop in the mast, 1 attacked
the mass of broken spar, gear and canvas,
that 1 might verify or prove groundless the
more than half hope which had come to me
while I hung beneath the wreck of the din
gy. Then the hope was but a flimsy tissue;
now it was tinged with fear. If the girl
had not been struck down by a falling spar
and hidden by the folds of the square sail,
then she must have been translated, for of
her deliberate self-destruction I would not
now believe.
There was a desperate thumping on the
forecastle hatch by the Imprisoned trio, but
I paid no attention to it, anil indeed I was
so engrossed in my present business that
nothing short of the splintering of the cover
or the arrival on a belated errand of a boat
from the Sprite, would have caused me to
desist.
The first I uncovered was what I thought
to be a pair of booted legs, but they proved
to be no more than my own foot gear which
I had stowed near the mast the night before,
for si:,ce boarding the Phantom in the fog
I had gone unshod. The wreck had been
thrown into a fairly compact mass by the
side of the hatch, and it was perhaps five
minutes before I had gotten to the bottom of
it. But 1 was well rewarded. Ere 1 had
cast aside the last of the fallen hamper I
heard a slight groan, and, on pulling away
a mixture of torn sail and tangled line, I saw
the object of my search.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
CLEVER ESCAPES.
Ingenious Resort* of Persona to Ex
tricate Themselves front
Awliirnrd .Situations.
A recent visitor to the Orkney islands
employed himself in gathering from
the natives many tales and traditions
of the experiences of Orcadian men
during the dajs of the press-gang—
tales which form the staple of story
telling in the islands, and are handed
down with great exactness and detail.
Although many of the islanders were
pressed into the navy, many escaped,
by daring and cleverness in eluding the
press-gangs, and they were efficiently
aided in their escape by the women.
One man, Robert Miller, was about
to be married, the guests were as
sembled, and the ceremony was about
to begin, when the dreaded press-gang
arrived. The liated men were so hot
ly received by the ladies, including the
bride and her maids, who treated them
not only to sharp words, but also to
more or less dangerous missiles, that
they were forced to beat a retreat.
Xo sooner were they gone than the
doors were locked, a back window lift
ed, and into the room bounded the
bridegroom, who had been secreted dur
ing the turmoil, lie was arrayed from
head to foot(ii>)feminine attire, and was
married just as he was, in petticoat
and bodice, ready to fly instantly in
his disguise should the gang return.
Two girls, Barbara Wick and. Bar
bara Dinnie, distinguished themselves
by rushing from their spinning wheels
to cover the retreat of two young men,
pursued in their dory by a cruiser's
boat; one of the youths being the first
Barbara's betrothed.
They watched the shoreward race,
encouraged the exhausted rowers,
pointed out the best landing place at
the foot of a crag, meanwhile gather
ing stones in their aprons, and as the
hunted men leaped ashore they helped
them up the cliff, and then, bidding
them run on, protected their flight by
hurling down stones upon the sailors
who tried to follow.
Barbara Wick fought so fiercely that
it was long ere any man dared face her,
but at last one, bolder than the rest,
sprang up, broke past her range of
stoning, and not wishing to hurt so
gallairt an enemy yet intent on pun
ishing her a little in a fa-shion he deemed
suitable to a pretty girl, caught her
in his arms to kiss her. But he only
courted disaster, for she flung him from
her so violently that he fell back on
his mates, and, each overthrowing the
other, the whole of them rolled pell
mell down the rocks, while Barbara's
lover and his companion made their
escape.
One bright young fellow, with plenty
of fortitude, saved himself by an in
genious stratagem. He, too, was en
gaged to be married, and was deter
mined not to be taken from his sweet
heart. He was pursued and headed off.
Seeing capture inevitable, before he
could be reached he stripped olt his
clothes, rolled in. a bed of nettles, and
dressed again.
When the gang came up, he submit
ted to be taken; but on being brought
before the surgeon to be examined
his wliqle body was found to be fright
fully blistered from head to foot, and
the dismayed official, supposing him to
be suffering from some shocking skin
disease, that was probably contagious,
hastily released him. He was declared
unfit for his majesty's service, and al
lowed to return to his lady-love and
nurse his blisters in peace.—Youth's
Companion,
Wonderful.
"nis parents have spent a great deal
of money upon his education, haven't
the j'?"
"I should say so. You ought to feel
hia muscle."—Detroit Free Press.
LiiiKiinl CoiifiiMUm,
"Julia, I can say: 'llow d'ye do* and
'Good-by' in French."
"Ah, that's Rood, as far as it goes."
"Yes; but I can't remember which is
w hicli."—Brook Iy n Life.
To He Depended On.
"Isn't Maud a rather uncertain
friend?"
"Not at all; whenever she comes tc
see me I know she wants something.'
—Chicago Record.
HEALTHFUL SLEEP.
It Cannot He Seeured Inleaa the
Sprint of the lied la Level and
Properly Adjuated.
The most important element in solv
ing' the question of how shall we get
the best and most refreshing sleep is
that of the bed. If your bed or mattress
it not right you will not get the best
and most from your hours of repose.
Every one knows that it is bad to sleep
on your back, but it is even worse if the
bed is such that your stomach is as high
as your head and your feet are lower
than both, as must be the case on too
heavily wadded mattresses. On the
other hand, if the spring is too yield
ing you will find that the heavy parts
of the body make you lie in a kind of
hollow, whether you sleep on your back
or on your side. It is most unliealthful
to have your feet so high as they are in
this kind of bed, when you sleep on your
back, and if you try to sleep on your
side the spine is curved most uncom
fortably and unhealtlifully.
What then is to be done about it?
The spring of the bed must either be
L— —" wrong position
WRONO POSITION
RIOHT POSITION
RIGHT AND WRONG POSITIONS.
made in several pieces, or be made up of
spiral springs, so that all parts are in
dependent of one another, and the
springs at the center are stronger than
those at the head and foot, because they
have more •weight to support. In this
way it becomes possible for the tired
man or woman to obtain the greatest
possible amount of benefit from the
hours devoted to sleep. If they will
use a moderately hard mattress, of
cotton or hair, never of feathers, and
not too high a pillow, seeing that when
they are in bed the body is not curled
up in a knot by the poor springs and
that the feet and back are in almost a
straight line, the repose gained while
lying either on the right or left side
will prove refreshing and healthful.—
Chicago Kecord.
THE LINEN COLLAR.
How to Transform a Soiled, Crumpled
One Into a Frmh One In
Five Mlnutea.
Rail against linen collars as one will
they hold a place for trim morning
or street toilets that has not yet been
filled by any of the numerous styles of
neck lingerie exhibited in the shops
just now. To transform a soiled, crum
pled collar into a fresh, clean one may
be made the work of a few moments
without so much as a visit to kitchen or
laundry. A cheap little affair that fits
on the gas fixture or large lamp will
insure a hot iron, and with the aid of
a bit of white castile soap and a little
powdered French chalk, a nice finish
may be given to the linen. The latter,
however, must not be confused with
the high polish no longer desirable.
When the linen has been washed and
starched in the usual way ("elastic"
or cold water starch does away with the
need of boiling water), place the collar
on the ironing board well stretched,
and just before applying the hot iron
rub first with a damp cloth rubbed
over with the soap, then with another
upon which the chalk has been sprin
kled. This application and the ironing
is all to be done on the right side. Do
not attempt to dry thoroughly while
ironing, as this turns linen yellow, but
finish by drying in the sun if there is
no heat convenient. The use at the last
of white castile soap and French chalk
gives a coating to the linen that helps
much in the washing, as after a few
minutes' soaking in tepid water the dirt
slips off without having penetrated the
whole. This hint will be found a very
practical one, as it insures against the
ingrained dust and grease which is so
ditlicult to deal with in quick laundry
work. This does not, however, do away
with the need of thorough rinsing.—
Cincinnati Commercial Tribune.
Care of the Finger Nulla.
Great attention should be paid to
keeping the nails brushed at least twice
a day, not with a stiff brush, but with a
soft one, preferably a camel's hair
brush, and the skin around the lower
part should be kept down by rubbing
with a soft towel. In this way the
"moons" are exposed, and these are in
dicative both of health and beauty. The
habit of running a pointed instrument
around the nail under the flesh is not to
be advised, as it makes the skin tender,
and, if the material of the instrument
is a cheap metal, sometimes brings on
blood poison. The sides of the nails
need clipping about once during the
week. It' they become stained wash
them well with a pure soap, and after
rinsing off the soap brush them with
lemon juice.
oiillcliiK I.nmp.
** T noticed you started to smoke last
wght when Miss Sweetey was enter
taining Mr. Slowpop," remarked the
piano stool.
"Yes," replied the pavlor lamp. "I
saw she was just waiting for an excuse
to turn me down." —Catholic Standard
and Times
LITTLE ROSE CRAIG.
Ellen Terry In llrlnK'nv I'p Da
Urnnilehllil to lip (lie Aotreas
of tlie Future.
Miss Ellen Terry, who is now playing
in this country with Sir Henry Irving,
is trying an interesting experiment. It
is her theory that u girl can be so edu
cated that she cannot fail to succeed
as an actress; that if a parent will he
gin to teach his boy to act at the very
moment when he lirst initiates him
into the mysteries of the alphabet he
cannot fail to win fame and fortune oa
the stage.
In other words, while she does not
entirely disregard the old theory that
men and women are born players, just
as they are born poets, she is of the
opinion that early training is even more
important, and she is now engaged ii
making a practical application of hei
theory.
No one who has seen Miss Ellen Terry
play the youthful Clarisse de Maulucon
would ever imagine that she was i
grandmother, and yet such is the fact
Moreover, unlike many actresses, Miss
Terry is not ashamed of her age. She
is proud of the fact that she has been
able to defy the ravages of the year."
so well, and she openly boasts of th.
little grandchild who is to be the great
actress to whom the world will pay its
honors when she, the grandmother,
shall have ceased to play her parts.
The name of the little child who is
being educated up to this ideal is Rose
Marie Craig, and she is the daughter
of Miss Terry's son, Gordon. At pres
ent little Miss Craig is but four years
of age, but in spite of this, her training
has already commenced.
When she still lay in her cradle hei
charming young grandmother dedi
cated her life to the stage, and her fa
ther and mother are anxiously assist
ing Miss Terry in carrying out the ex
periment. The}' have full confidence in
her theory. They believe that she can
do what she says she will do, and Ihat
their little girl will yet be the greatest
actress the world has ever seen.
To begin with, the child shall be so
educated that she will have no self
consciousness. To Miss Terry's mind
this is the gravest of all faults, and la
fatal to the success of man or woman
on the stage. Already she is learning
to have confidence in herself, and on
her seventh birthday she will make hei
bow to the public.
Miss Terry believes that the period
of self-consciousness begins soon aftei
ROSE MARIE CRAIG.
(Ellen Terry's Talented Young Grand*
daughter.)
a person has attained this age, and she
propos.es that her grandchild shall be
come used to seeing vast audiences be
fore she has become old enough to be
tainted with this one grave fault.
She herself appeared upon the stage
when she was eight years of age, and
that, she believes, is the reason why
sh has never realized that a crowd of
people had their eyes fixed upon her.
As it is, she never sees an audience, and
the vast sea of faces that so terrifie
many players has no effect upon h
Little Miss Craig is to be given t
same advantage.
The next two years of the child's li
will be spent in the theater. As oftei
as possible she will be upon the stage
during the progress of the plays. At
first she will be given no lines, but she
will have her place and she will be ex
pected to fill it creditably. She will
also be permitted to play about in the
wings. She will become well acquainted
with the uses of scenery and drops.
She will learn all about wigs and paints.
Costumes will become an old story to
her.
During this time no one will be al
lowed to flatter her. .Tudicioys praisr
may be given, but little of it, and she
will be taught to believe that the only
way to do a thing is to do it well.
While she is undergoing this training,
however, her physical training will not
be neglected. She will have plenty of
fresh country air. She will play in
the fields. She w ill wear loose clothing.
Everything will be done to make her a
perfect specimen of healthy woman
hood. Whether she is at home or on
the stage, she will be surrounded by
the best of people only.
When little Miss Craig is nine years
of age attention will be paid to her or
dinary education. She will learn t'
read ( lie best books. She will betaugh
to see the beauty in blank verse. Sh.
will study the dramatists. She will be
come familiar with the people and cus
toins of all ages. She will learn to
play upon musical instruments, t'
sing, but above all. she will be taught t
observe people. When all this has bee'i
accomplished she will be ready tog
back to the stage.—-Chicago Democrat
I.one-I.lved Nor wen'ln n*.
In Norway the average length of li
is said to be greater than in any oth.
country on the globe.