Pittsburg dispatch. (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, June 16, 1889, THIRD PART, Page 18, Image 18

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    papers had come in, andMiss Woolstinehad
carried them ofl while Hale and I talked to
an eminent rose-cnltnrist who had just in
Tented a new rose or a pink that was yellow,
and a yellow that was pink.
All at once I heard a little cry, and Hiss
"Woolstine appeared at the door opening
into her room. Her face was white as snow,
her eyes filled with horror. I did not wait
for her to sneak, but at once arose and went
into her little office. For a moment she
stood still looking ac me
"I cannot tell yon," she whispered.
"Is it bad news bad news for me?"
She nodded her head like a dumb person.
Row, as my wife was dead and I had no
child, and I knew my office was safe, my
heart beat still steadily as I took her hand
in mine.
".Nothing dreadful can happen tone, my
child. I am so poor that Hale has little to
take from me! But yon do not be afraid
to tell me. My poor girl!"
She looked at me still with great horror
in her eyes; the tnrned her head back and
gasped for breath, her voice was choked and
she could not speak.
"Do not distress yourself so;" I held her
hand firmly in ray own, "If the trouble is
mine do not so increase it; if it is yours, let
me help vou bear it!"
"I is Jack!" she casped, "Jack! They
have killed him! They hare raided the
office they have killed him."
Ah, I was not so poorl ,Fate had left me
a possession vague, not in my grasp, but
still a possession, for it was Jack I had
meant to know, Jack, who was yet to be my
son and to inherit my fortune. And so, I
in turn, looked in horror at her.
"How do you know it?" I asked.
She pointed to the paper still in her hand.
And there it was all in head lines! A mob,
an attack on the Hill Beacon, a defense,
pistol shots, a dash into the office, and a
tearing out of all that was in it. Jack's
body had been carried off by the mob.
And he was dead. The handsome, gay
fellow who tound life with me too slow even
to try for a little. And he was my wile's
nephew, and I had not tried to make the
career I ofiered him pleasant and inviting.
I sat down crushed and guilty, lor, at least,
I shonld have forced him to leave the
miners, or cease his rating of the strikers.
I could not look at Margaret But in a
moment she was kneeling by me, and she
was telling me that he was not dead no,
no, not dead! "If he was dead they would
not carry him away. He is alive; oh! you
may be sure he is alive, and we must go at
once to him. We must find him, for he
must be sorely hurt, and we will have to
nurse him. Come," she said.
"Not you, my poor child," I answered.
"I cannot ask this of you. But you are
right. He may not be dead, yet even if he
is, it is my duty to go. The scoundrels!
The poor b'oyl"
The tears shone in her dark eyes, bnt she
did not weep. She looked at me with a
ghastly smile.
"What would Jack say if you came with
out me? He would never believe me
never! And II oh, do you think I could
stay here? I should go mad, mad."
"Margaret, you do not know what you
say. Ton never knew my nephew, dear
She turned her head away as if in appeal.
"Ask him that question! Why he loved
me he told me that his love for me would
be his death and I laughed at that yes,.I
did! I thought my fate far the hardest.
But I could not tell him so. You see the
very wedding day was fixed, and I could
sot tell him that" I loved him better than
the man I was going to marry. Could I?
Ton are his uncle, but you know I could
not. Sometimes women have to listen when
they cannot answer."
"I do not understand you, but you must
be calmer. Xou must sit down. Hale,
come speak to her. I do not know whether
she knows what she says."
"Indeed I knew very well. It was I who
killed him. I! I! He was desperate. He
did not care. He told me he should not
Hale was standing at the door,our visitor
had vanished, and J looked in mute appeal
to my friend, still feeling that the girl was
distracted. But Hale understood. He
came directly to her, took her in his strong
grasp and made her sit down. He gave
her a drink of water and sat down in front
of her. ".Now," said he, "we will help
you; but first you must control yourself,
and tell us so we can understand. If 'Jack
is to be helped, cool heads, not broken
hearts, will have to do it. Crawford," and
he turned to me, "sit down. You are as
much upset as she is. Now what is the
matter with Jack? It is Jack Lewis, your
nephew, I suppose?"
I silently handed him the paper and he
read it without a word of comment. "And
you knew him?" he said to Margaret
She nodded her head. "And you were
engaged to him?"
The color swept up over the face that had
been so drawn and white.
"No," she answered, "I was not engaged
to him." She looked from one to the other,
put her hand to her throat as if she was
choking. Then she spoke:
"I will haveto tell you! It was my fault
because I should have come away sooner. I
met him in the Adirondacks last summer,
and we were in the same party, because I
was visiting the wife of an old college
friend of his, and I thought there was no
harm in it in seeing himso often, I mean
because everyone knew I was engaged to my
cousin. But the night before I leltthere he
begged me to break the engagement, and he
told me what was true, that I didn't love my
cousin. But I did not know then that I
could not marry Ned Mason. Xou see, I
had been, engaged to him ever since I was 18
and I refused to even think of breaking it
Jack said some hard, hard things to me,
and I was angry with him. After I came
home I found I could easier die than marry
Ned. And my uncle was so violently dis
appointed that I had 3 leave the house.
Then I came here."
The shadow of a smile passed over Hale's
face, but I took her hand in mine.
"And you did rightly," I said. "I was the
one to whom you should have come."
"But I came because C had so often
watched you in church and thought there
never was so kind a face, and I heard how
good yon were to the girls you had here, and
of course, I had to earn some money. I
would not take any from my uncle."
"Still you knew I was Jack's nncle."
"les, she said gently.
The Tery Incoherence and simplicity of
her little story touched me' greatly, and I
looked at Hale expecting to read iu his eyes
pity, sympathy. Instead I saw judgment
and disapprobation. I knewhe condemned
her as a coquette who had not known her
own mind. This I greatly resented, .and I
felt he was narrow and prejudiced. And
because he was hard in his thoughts of her,
I became more tender, and I should have
liked to have comforted her as I should my
own daughter. But I said to her that I be
lieved in her, and I should help her, "but I
cannot see," I said, "why now that you are
free, Jack should keep np his resentment
Had I been your lover at his age I should
have flown to you."
Her eyes flashed at this.
"Do you suppose I would send him word
that I was free?"
"Surely you could in some way let him
"No girl would do such a thing as that,"
Bhe promptly answered, and then her lips
trembled, her eyes filled, and she broke into
a bitter weeping. We could not stand this,
old lellows as we were, and Hale jumped up
and walked around the room and cleared
his throat and blew his nose, and ejaculated
all sorts of exclamations, while in broken
words, in ways foreign to me lor many
years, I tried to soothe and quiet her. But
when she ceased her sobbing, it was only to
break into a wailing still more pititnl, until
at last she lay exhausted, her bead against
my shoulder. Hale brought coals aqd what
ever he could find, and he made her a bed
On chairs, and persuaded her to drink wine.
Then we laid her down, and we left her and
went into our own room. We closed the
door and looked at each other.
"This is a pretty piece of work," said
"It is pitiful it is terrible!" I groaned.
"He was a good fellow. I could have loved
"Iremember him well," replied Hale;
"a handsome, impetuous fellow, much too
flni fn Tut wiarla 4 tin vnn4 f i fvivl'a Aa
price." I
"There was no caprice there," and 1
looked up irritated by his persistent mis
understanding; "she has acted as became a
conscientious girL"
"Well, welt," rejoired Hale, "we will
not discuss (hat question; but now how
"I shall go at once to Tiger Hill spot
fltly named! Whether Jack is dead or
alive, I must see after him, Hale; he had
neither father nor motherl"
"Now look here," said he, "haven't you
again and again written to him that you
desired to make his future your care?
Didn't you bring him East and set him to
work in this very office? Didn't yon give
him to understand vou were prepared to
treat him as a son? Xou know all this is
true. And you know Jack declared his
work stupid, the paper poky. Xou know
he was determined to be the maker of his
own destinv. Grieve as much as you choose,
Dan, but don't fall into womanish reproach
of yourself. Jack was a fine fellow, but he
vu niffhpcrirl and T trnlv believe that
when he fell in love with Miss Woolstine1
it was partly because she was out or his'
reach. He is'just the boy to want the m oon
and refuse the green cheese."
"Xou were jealous of Jack," saidl feebly.
"That is stuff. I was not blind."
"And you are at this moment jealous of
the cirl," I added.
What reply Hale would have made to this
accusation I know not for at that moment
the door opened and Margaret came in. Her
face was still pale and her eyes swollen, but
she was perfectly calm, and I noticed that
her hands did not tremble as she held them
together, her fingers lightly clutched.
"Xou are going at once? she said.
I trot up and hunted the time tables and
found my best train left the citv at 10:30 p.
M., bringing me to Tiger Hill the evening
of the next day. This gave me time to go
to Melvin and get what I needed for the
"Well, then," said the girl, "I will be at
the station at 10. I can meet you there."
"But but that is impossible," I ex
claimed. "I cannot take you. It would
not do at all. Not at all. I will telegraph,
write you should hear at once and lully,
but it is impossible to allow you to go."
Never in all my life did I meet a look so
determined, so full of scorn for restraint, as
the one Margaret shot at me! She said not
a word, but going into her office returned
with her hat on, her veil tightly drawn and
so silently left the office.
Hale shrugged his shoulders.
"There was a pair of them!" he said, "I
do not wonder they had tumultuous scenes!"
"She won't go? you do not think she
will go?"
"Not if you wreck all the trains. But
even then she might walk! Yes, Crawford,
she will go."
"But she shall not! What could I do
with her? Suppose she falls to weeping, to
fainting in the traiu? And after we get
there! Why, Hale, I am not sure of my own
safety, and with her to hamper me it is im
possible! She must be locked up tied
not allowed to do it."
"She won't faint nor weep," said Hale,
"still she will be a dreadful burden to you!
I'll go see her, but I have no hope of in
fluencing her."
"Go to her nncle," said I, "surely he has
some authority over her."
"I'll do my best," said he, "but I won't
promise you success."
I went to Melvin, packed upmyhand
ha.tr. made arrangements with mv house
keeper, and all the time my thoughts dwelt
on Margaret in fear and dismay. My only
hope was that her violent agitation migh't
make her ill, and so prostrate her that she
would be unable to force herself to take the
When I reached the station a few min
utes after 10, 1 found Hah) standing at the
"Well?" said L
He pointed with his thumb over his
shoulder. "She is in the waiting Toom,"
he said, and taking my bag, he added,
"She carries less baggage than vou do."
"Did you see her?'? said L' ."Couldn't
you convince her? Surely you could have
done thatl"
"Could I put the rings of Saturn around
Jupiter? My dear boy, I did not try to
convince her. She would not discuss the
question. She asked me about the mines,
and the strike, but she knows far more
about it all than we do. She has used the
exchanges to advantage. She even knows
the names of the leaders among the strikers.
There is no end to her nerve, I think. She
won't break down again."
"She'll break down as soon as the excite
ment of the starting is over. Surely you, a
married man, know that a woman's calm
ness may be as hysterical as her tears. Good
heavens ." and I stood still. "I will not
go until 7:15 to-morrow morning! I will
not lose much time. I cannot do anything
the night I get there."
"Then she'll go alone. She has her
ticket, and when her train is called she will
be off. She won't wait for you."
"How do you know she has herticket?"
"I bought it for her. I went to her board
ing house and brought her here. Then I
bought her ticket"
"Judas!" said I. "And I do not believe
you saw her uncle."
"There was no use in seeing any one!
Apollyon would not have stopped her. All
I could do was to take a little care of her."
"I briieve in my heart you encouraged
her," I testily cried.
"Don't be unreasonable, Dan," said he.
"Don't quarrel to-night, my boy. It is as
much as I can stand to see you off, and I
declare I will go with you! Or course, I
will! I can look after Margaret, and leaye
you free."
"And who will get this week's number
out? No, no. Hale " and I fell into
line at the ticket office, "it wouldu't be
wise. I'd do better by myself, and three of
ns would be ruin to everything. And I
never did quarrel with you. Begin to
night? Not much, Reuben!"
And so getting my ticket I went into the
waiting room and found Margaret com
posed, alert, and confident
Hale pressed through the gate, carrying
our bags, and when the train ran out of the
station I glanced back out of the window
and saw him trying to look cheery and
hopeful, but a more miserable woebegone
face never did I see. He waved his hat as
much as to say, "I knew you'd do it!" and
turned away.
There was still a dim light iu the sky, but
the lamps were lighted in the car. People
were preparing for the night's journey, men
were reading the evening papers as though
every moment was'a, consideration, and in a
seat opposite a woman was trying to soothe
a baby, while another little one clung to
her begging to be taken into her lap.
"A pleasant lookout for the night," I said
to Margaret, in a voice much too flat and
empty to be natural. .
"They are almost dead with sleep now,"
said she, andinamoment what did she - do
but cross over and take the baby and toss it
in her young, strong arms. The baby felt
the change from the lax, nervous grasp of its
mother, and burst into a crowing laugh,
while the elder child, interested, stopped
whining and joined in the merriment How
did Margaret happen to have a sweet cracker
in the shape of a horse in her pocket? She.
who abhorred "dry flower." I think it
came to her as all her other fairy rifts did.
and it comforted more of us than the baby
and the baby's brother. That horse cantered
and walked. It hid itself, it jumped out of
queer places, and was finally dissected and
doled out in the most minute and everlast
ing particles. To see Margaret so full of
resources did not surprise me. I was much
too used to her fertility and freshness to
wonder at it, but her light laugh, the firm
gentleness with which she managed both
mother and children, as though she had no
other care nor thought, did make me realize
that the unexpected is the woman. I had
fancied I should have to comfort and sus
tain her, bet, behold, she was not only
in good spirits, but she took it for
granted that I shared her resolute pushing
back of fears that would awaken, and before
the porter came to make the beds for the
nigtrt I had ceased to worry. I had not for
gotten nor ignored Jack's tragedy, but I re
served my strength, and being a man
healthy and tired, I slept all night, and
waked in the morning iu good spirits and
well rested. But Margaret was pale, and
the lines around her mouth were drawn and
dejected. Yet she roused herself, and the
rest of the day bore herself cheerfully and
with patience. But neither of us now re
member that day's journey. We gazed out
the window, and talked of what we saw, but
nothing was real to us. I felt as though we
had shut some horrid thing into a closet,
and were holding the door to keep it in.
The day passed, the sun set, the twilight
fell, and Margaret and I sat silent as we
drew near our journey'sind.
Tiger Hill was shrouded in mist and dark
ness when we entered it. By a" lamp in the
station a snrly agent was making up a re
port from which he was loath to separate
himself to do more than mutter that there
was a hotel up the street where we might
find lodgings for the night Having thus
answered, he buried himself again in his
papers, but looking back as we left the
room, I caught his eyes fixed upon us with
a serious, suspicious expression that was
not pleasant to me. J5ut of this I did not
speak to Margaret She took my arm as we
went out into the darkness. "Do you
know," she said, "which is up and which
We stood on the little platform and
looked around us. The clouds had light
ened enough for us to see the great hills
vaguely outlined against the sky. The
wind was rising and rustled in the treetops,
and it seemed to us that we had been put
out into the middle of a woods. 'Suddenly
a light flared up and bnrned steadily away
off in the distance.
"That,-" I said, "must be a lamp, and a
lamp generally betokens a house. Don't
you believcthat direction is 'up?' "
"It came out of the darkness like a sig
nal," answered the girl, "and there is noth
ing for us to do but to go to it We cannot
plunge into darkness without some guide."
So we stepped off the boards and went
warily along a path, which was not difficult
to keep, so well trodden was it We soon
discovered, as our eyes grew accustomed to
the darkness, that we were going through a
small woods, and when after a time we came
out of it we found a pathway of boards so
narrow that we could not walk abreast, bul
it gave us comfort, making ns sure that we
were on the right road. And so after a time
we came to the light, and behold it was the
hotel to which we had been so vaguly di
rected. The house was a small wooden af
fair, not over clean, and smelling of tobacco,
but the only smoker was a woman who sat
by a stove with a pipe in her mouth. When
we entered the open door, she looked up,
stared a moment, and then called "Lib
erty!" Whether this was the goddess or not we
did not know, but there was no answer. The
woman then knocked the ashes out of her
pipe into the sanded box in which the stove
stood, and giving her voice a higher pitch,
screamed again "Liberty!" This invoca
tion was more successful, and a thin, pale-
haired youth strolled into the room, J.ne
woman nodded toward ns. The boy looked
at Margaret, and his whole face flushed, and
indeed I do not believe his eyes had ever
rested on anything so fair as this girl in her
dark dress, tired and silent, standing there.
"We were told," said I, "that we could
have lodging here, and we should also like
some supper."
"Sit down," said Liberty, and he at once
So we sat down side by side on an old
wooden settle, and it was not many minutes
before Margaret's hand stole into mine. I
looked at her with apprehension, and to my
surprise sne said clearly and boldly : i. am
not afraid. I am only hungry." .
The woman looked at her.
"Is she your daughter?" she asked.
"My niece," I promptly answered.
"She doesn't favor yon," said she, and
there was again silence.
After what seemed to us, a very long
time, a man looking like a Presbyterian
clergyman in a miner's clothes came in and
in his turn stared at us, gave a little nod,
and went out. Then the woman arose, took
two plates from a closet, two cups and sau
cers, and began to prepare a table for us.
She spread no cloth, and she put the bacon
and potatoes which she fried together upon
our plates, dispensing with the formality of
a meet-dish. The coffee pot she pulled for
ward, poured some water on what was al
ready in it, and let it boil, She put bread
and butter and some pickled tripe on
the table, and bade us come and eat And
it was not ill-flavored to us. The coffee was
fiat and bitter, and neither one of us would
have ordered fried bacon from a bill of litre,
but it was all hot, and we were so in need
of food having had nothing to eat since a
hasty noon meal, that the mere nourish
ment was comforting and helpful.
Then when we bad finished, the woman
lighted two candles, and we arose and fol
lowed her to two reasonably clean bed
rooms on the other side of the hall. After
she had left us, we sat down and talked.
Now that we were in Tiger Hill we had
no idea what to do, or where to turn. But
we agreed that we had best be silent and
say nothing of Jack until we knew what we
should say, and to whom we should sav it
"In the morning," said I, "we will see
the place, and learn something of the peo-
Ele. There must be someone in authority
ere, and someone who has some sense of
law. The very gossip may tell us where
Jack is, and just what has happened. In
the meantime, we have come because I am
interested in the mines, and you are my
niece as indeed, dear child, from this mo
ment, you must be."
And Margaret, leaning over, took my
hand and kissed it, but I drew it away, and
laid it on her pretty bead, and prayed to
God that she might in this adventure be
kept from harm and from sorrow.
And indeed it was but a few hours after
that there was need of an instant answer to
this prayer.
I had been asleep about an hour when
suddenly I awakened. It seemed to me
that something had happened to arouse me,
but" everything was perfectly still. The
stars were now shining, I heard an owl hoot,
and the cry of a lonely cricket; I was just
falling off to sleep again when the very skies
seemed rent 'by a woman's scream! The
sound was not in the house, it was far off
and in the open air, but I instantly knew it
was Margaret's voice! Out of bed I sprang
and into her room, which was empty, and
her clothing was gone. On a chair by the
bed stood her little satchel and a few toilet
articles. It took me but a moment to fling
on my clothes and dash out of the silent,
dark house, and here and there I ran trying
to find some token of her, but I did not call,
nor speak. I am not young, but I am
strong. I have been a man of temperate
athletic habits, and I have the use of a body
nearly six feet in height, well-kept, and
when I carried fewer vears I asked nothing
of my strength or endurance which I did
not get. Bat at this moment I thought of
neither strength nor weakness, but I sped
on meaning to find my precious charge. I
fell down, I ran into trees, I plunged into
water, I' tripped over stones, but
nothing baffled me, and mr speed
was little broken. Then as I ran I
became aware of sounds inarticulate, 'al
most inaudible, which were those of the
human being, and I knew I must be near a
camp of some kind. Silently, cautiously,
now I went, listening and following the
sounds which grew more and more djstinct,
and yet not intelligible, when, without ex
pecting it, I suddenly came upon a sight
that made my heart almost stop beating, so
horrified was L There in the light of a fire
stood Margaret in the center' of some 10 or
15 ruffians Her hat was gone, her hair was
down, and a shawl was fastened about her.
pinioning her arms. But never saw I a
girl more thoroughly angry than she, and
never have I heard a more hideous jargon
than these men spoke to each other. I saw
that bhe had been brought to the entrance
of a mine, and that, not far .off, were some
hnts and sheds. Fortunatelyl was back in
the shadow of the rocks, and I stood still
waiting to see what would happen and
what I could do. At the moment I was
powerless to do more than preserve my own
freedom. It was evident that Margaret
understood as little as Idid what the men
said, but she held herself with an erect,
tense air in which there was more temper
than fear.
Just then the clerical gentleman who had
inspected us earlier in the night came out of
the sheds, and when he perceived the plight
into which Margaret bad been brought he
went hastily to her, and, without a second's
delay, unfastened the shawl and freed her.
"l do not icnow wnai wey meant oy tats.
Tetney nun your'
Margaret held out her white, round wrists
on which there were red lines.
"They know so little of American girls,"
said she, "that they thought this would
frighten me."
"You have reason enough for fright," he
reiurned, "without any such treatment"
"I have no expectation of being afraid,"
said she, "and if you command this band
you have, let me tell you, a precious set of
rascals under you."
"You need not be saucy," he replied. "It
will pay you better to be honest and tell me
who sent you here."
"Surely you know all I can tell vou!
Where is the woman of the house in which
we lodged? I suppose she is your accom
plice? When she called me out of my room
and asked me if I had a friend here, I was
frank and told her. Ask her If you want to
"Softer, softer, my dear," he said, "you
look very pretty when you scold, but you'd
better be uglier and wiser."
"Where is the woman?" asked Margaret
"She has gone home to lock your uncle
in his room. To keep him from taking cold
in the night air."
Margaret turned her head away.as though
she meant to say she was done with him.
I adored her tor her courage, hut I ar
dently desired she might not anger him.
But he treated her as though she was a pet
ulant child, and asked her questions from
which I soon gathered that they suspected
us of being spies in the employ of the own
ers of the mines, and that she had come
with me to divert suspicion from our object
It appeared to me that they had founded all
this in some confused story to which the
man constantly alluded, but to which Mar
garet had, of course, no clew. And I also
understood that they had laid a trap of
some kind to get Margaret away by
nerseir, Hoping to wring a comession irom
her, and that the woman of the house
had assisted them. The girl answered
boldly enough, and finally said that we
were friends of Mr. Lewis, and had come
to be of use to him. When this was trans
lated to the men, who never moved their
eyes from the faces of the two speakers,
tney brutally laughed, and she, for the first
time, lost her perfect command of herself.
There was one little man who wore a fur
cap, and he displayed his knowledge of En
glish by occasionally crying out, "Tyrant I
Slave I Push ahead 1" When he heard the
name of Lewis he shrngged his shoulders
and gave an idiotic jump into the air. It
was as much as I could do not to go out and
shake the little monster, but I had sense
enough to keep silent and quiet. Yet.it was
hard work the hardest I ever did. They bul
lied Margaret; they tried to terrify her into a
confession as they "grew more and more con
vinced that she was baffling them. They
mistook her innocence for assurance; her
courage for obstinacy, but they did. not
touch her.
Then Margaret suddenly drew her shawl
closer around her shoulders. "I am cold,"
she said, "and I am tired. I wish you
would have more wood thrown on the lire,
and give me a seat by it" The little man,
when this was translated, made a reply that
was in turn translated to her, and it was
that they would make up the fire and give
her a seat in the middle of it The dread
ful brutality of this made her cheek pale,
yet she said not a word, but turned and
walked to the fire and sat down on the trunk
of a lallen tree, which was evidently drawn
there for a seat For a moment her whole
body relaxed, and she looked as if she could
bear no more. She put out her hands to the
trtnnr 1iw fiM knf in a mnmortt vodaA liaw
bead on her hand like a tired child. Then
she drew herself together, looked np, and
did the most astonishing thing:
She began to sing! To sing in a clear,
sweet, thrilling voice which vibrated with
passionate intention.
If an angel from Heaven had alighted,
and in his dazzling attire had stood in their
midst, the men could not have been more
startled, more electrified. They stood stock
still, gazing at her. But she gave no heed
to them, bnt sang louder, and clearer until
her voice seemed to.fill the air, making it
pulsate with enchantment "For what was
she singiuje? Ah, for what was she not
singing. For 'lite, for help, for freedom,
and though she knew it not, for love! Her
song went soaring to the skies and prayed, to
be saved from these cruel men; and'it came
back to earth and begged them to behuman,
and not be as 'the beasts hungry for prey.
She sang like one inspired, and her whole
heart went out in the cry, "Angels ever
bright and fair, take, oh take me to your
care!" and the song seemed born of the
night and of peril! And then, behold from
one of the huts there was a great cry, and
out there rushed a man, torn, weak,
bandaged, and he looked wildly about him,
and seeing her, he ran to her aiid fell prone
on the ground at her side. And she lifted
him up, and held him in her arms, and I I
came out from my hiding place and hurried
to them and I took Jack from her and laid
him down, thinking he was dead, but he
opened his eyes and feebly smiled. So I
sat down on the grass and held him. and
Margaret knelt by him, and they looked
each into the eyes of the other.
But around us there was a hubbub of con
fusion and quarreling, and knives flashed,
and the leader pushed back one, and
threatened another,, and the noise grew
greater and more fierce, but Margaret and
Jack were like people safe in a lacoon, care
less of the raging storm outside. But the
leader turned, holding one man by the
throat, and he cried: "Sing! If you val
ue your lives, letthe girl sing!"
For a moment Margaret faltered. She
feared for us as she never had for herself,
and she gasped as though her breath was
gone, putting her hand to her throat. Then
she sprang to her feet and she sang. It was
a wild, fierce song like a battle cry, and she
now and then clapped her hands together
with a ringing souud, and she flung out her
.rms, looking Jike a prophetess calling her
people to follow her to war. And then all
these men struct in with a solemn, slow
measure that was like the tramp of feet,
and their eyes flashed as they drew close to
gether and nearer to her. When she ended.
they crowded around her, and the little
man dropped on his knees and kissed the
hem of her gown, and from that moment we
were safe. For the soug was one of their
own, and an outcry against the oppressors
of their country, and Margaret, who studied
the songs of" the peoples ' of the earth as
others do the language, knew it, and knew
how to sing it
And so she sang through the night, sitting
on the log, with her hand in Jack's as he
rested against me. She sang everything.
Gay songs and doleful, ballads, opera arias,
hvmns and dances. The men sat around the
blazing fire, and their eyes were soft, and
sometimes they laughed, and every now and
then they would burst into a chorus of
their own. And the leader lay close to the
fire and slept. Never in their lives had
these men, I fancy, been more innocently
happy" and never had they heard singing
that so delighted them. When the morn
ing dawned we stood up, we men wondering
in our hearts, whether now that the spell
was broken we would be allowed to go, but
Margaret smiled and held out berhand, and
they each kissed it, and then went through
the woods with us.
When we parted the little man plucked a
bunch of gold-rod and giving it to Mar
garet, said with a friendly smile, "Push
We took his advice, and knowing there
was an early train away, although it was
going in the wrong direction, we went at
once to the station, and when it came we
took it and all went into the baggage car,
because Jack looked only like a hero of the
prize-ring, but a most forlorn and neglected
And now need I tell now we stopped at
the first town and rested, and made Jack
presentable, and then traveled home in bliss
and. content; but that Jack and I did all the
talking, while Margaret smiled at us? She
was not too hoarse for that And need I
say how I got my son and lost my assistant
editor and my niece, but had a daugbterin
stead? And how Margaret paid lor our
lives with her singing voice, which had sot
yet come back to her? As for this story
howften Hale had heard it! Ask him!
the end.
Copyright 1889. All rights reserved.
A Chepd'ceutke in the artof perfumery
t tho nmnn1rtnn nf A npv flnfl rllfln(ftva
bouquet as in the ' case- of J. & E. Atkin
son's Eng adine.
ev. George Hodges Speaks of That
Last Sad, Sacred Supper.
Given to the Disciples Who Followed Him
and Lored Him.
The Master and the disciples sit together
at the table. It is the night of the betrayal.
It is the eve of the crucifixion. He knows
that plainly; and they, in a vague way,
which ii more perhaps of the nature of fore
boding than of knowledge, know it, too. A
sense of impending danger, of approaching
crisis, is in the hearts of all the company.
Something is to happen. That loving com
panionship which 'has meant so much and
been so precious to them, at least is some
how to be interrupted.
The words of the Master have a note of
sadness in them. He is going away. He
tells them that distinctly. And as they sit
together at the homely supper which sym
bolizes their fellowship and union. He
looks ahead into the future. He has that
longing which everyone of strong character
and deep affection has, to be remembered aft
er he is gone. He has loved these men. He
doesnt want them to forget Him. He has
taken a bit of bread from the table, and
pours a cup of the common wine, and passes
these about among these friends of His, giv
ing a taste to each, and says, So this after I
am gone away,
So began the sacrament of remembrance.
I want you to think about it this morning
just in that wav as the sacrament of re
membrance. It Is more than that It is the
sacrament of grace; it is the sacrament of
worship. But of these meanings of it I say
nothing now. I desire to emphasize only
this first, most natural, most simple signifi
cation. I choose this because it is the first and the
simplest meaning of this sacrament And
because I believe that it is a sufficient mean
ing. The need of the Christian church in
this day is a definition of the minimum.
What is essential? Tell us that; let us agree
upon that; let us unite in that Let us be
gin there, and go on learning all the truth
of God we can. Let us welcome everybody
into the Christian church, into the privi
leges ot tne (Jbristian sacraments, who has
learned as much as that
"This do is remembrance of Me." Can
you imagineanything more entirely natural,
homely, and simple?
Here is an act and a reason for it: do this
in remembrance. And both the act and
the reason are as simple as simplicity itself.
It is not as if the Lord had asked us to do
some very hard thing in remembrance of
Him; to leave our homes and preach the
gospel in the islands of Samoa, in remem
brance of Him; to give all our goods to feed
the poor, in remembrance of Him; to hang
a heavy chain about our neck, or to take up
our abode upon the top of some narrow,
wind-swept pillar, in remembrance of Him.
The act He asked is one of the easiest and
simplest things that we can do. It is one
whose counterpart enters into every day or
every life. It is but our ordinary eating
and drinking, consecrated by
It is trne that the bread and wine of the
supper are served to-day in vessels of gold
and silver. The homely table is lifted high
in chancels, cut in stoneand carved in costly
woods, covered with fair linen, and decked
with rich embroidery.- And the Lord's
words are recited in the midst of a service
of commemoration, the most beautilul and
impressive of all the ceremonies of the
church. And it Is no wonder that the real
homely simplicity of the act is hidden from
many observers beneath all these adorn
ments and solemnities. But we must not
let these embellishments mislead us. These
are not the sacrament, These are
only what loving hands have wrought,
and rightly wrought, to make
whatever is associated with our
Lord, as worthy as our needs and means,
can make it The homely supper is in the
midst of them, like that jutting of rough
rock in the midst of the marble pavement
of the temple. It is just ashoinely and
natural and simple to-day as it was when
the Lord ordained it In spite of all the
ceremonial and all the priests and doctors ;
in spite of all that has been falsely taught
and foolishly believed and unadvisedly
done, at the heart of the most intricate and
elaborate of liturgies is still this homely,
common meal, this entirely
The act is perfectly simple, and the rea
son for it is as simple as the act "In re
membrance ot me." That is what it means.
You see how entirely.within everybody's
mental and spiritual reach that is. It is
not as if He bad asked us to do this in com
memoration of some doctrine about Him iu
membrance of His incarnation, or of His
atonement, or even of the truth of His di
vinity, for then we mnst needs have been
theologians; but "in remembrance of Me,"
He said. And that is something which any
child can do.
Those men who sat about the table atthat
first communion and received the sacrament,
the Lord himself being the celebrant, they
knew no doctrines. It is doubtful if they
had ever heard the storv of our Lord's na
tivity. It is certain that of the atonement,
as accomplished by Him, they had no notion
at all. They did not eyen 'believe in His
divinity, as we understand that word. The
whole history of the men, and no part of it
more evidently than their behavior on that
very night, shows that of these exceedingly
important Christian doctrines they knew
nothing. The men to whom our Lord ad
ministered this sacrament were
There was only one qualification which
these men had, and our Lord was quite con
tent with that, asked nothing more than that
did not even set down any stricter qualifi
cation for the future than that They loved
Him. They could not have stated their
affection in the praise language of the di
vinity schools, but they loved Him never
theless. They were very much mistaken
about Him, had quite inadequate "views"
concerning Him; nevertheless they loved
Him. And that was all He asked. They
were doing their best, and even that was not
a very excellent best, to follow Him. He
was satisfied with that.
If you had awakened them an hour after
ward, as they lay asleep upon the ground in
the Garden of Gethsemane, and asked them
what that scene in the supper room meant,
they could not have answered you co
herently. Of transubstantiation, of con
substantiation, of the questions which hav6
perplexed the theologica doctors, and di
vided ecclesiastical converts, and disturbed
churches, they were altogether and most
happily ignorant
So, too, I believe, were the simple people
into whose bouses the apostles went, break
ing bread, in the earliest days of the
churcbs history. The act 'and the reason
for it were alike perfectly simple. They
loved Christ, and they broke their home
made bread and poured out their Common
wine, sitting at their common table, re
membering Him,
Gradually, as they came to dwell upon
the words with which He had appointed
this memorial, two truths would come more
distinctly into their minds as they broke
the bread and poured the wine.
They would see how the remembrance
touched both the cross and the crown; both
Christ's pain, and Christ's promise; and so
looked both back and forward.
This, He hachsaid. is My body which is
given for you. This is My blood, whieh is
shed loryou. Thus they would remember
the cross. It is not very likely that at first
these words suggested anything more
than the -feet .of our - Lord's .lor
ing self-sacrifice. The bread was not
the literal body; the blood was not
the literal blood. Their eyes and lips told
them that But they could not break that
bread and pour that wine without behold
ing that scene of the cross plain before their
eyes. The broken body, the shed blood, we
may believe as much about them as we
please, this, at the least, the bread and wine
were meant for, to bring these to remem
brance,. But there were other words than these: "I
will not eat any more thereof until it be ful
filled in the kingdom of God. I wilNnot
drink of the fruit of the vine until the king
dom ot God shall come." And so St Paul
said: "As often as ye eat this bread and
drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord's death,
till He come." So the servant which looks
back to the cross,
The remembrance is not only a memory of
pain but of promise. Somehow the Lord
who loved them would come again and take
them unto Himself. They remembered
that when they remembered Him. After
the resurrection and ascension this
memory of promise would become increas
ingly precious. The feast would be the sym
bol of the joy of heaven. The sadness would
be lost in gladness. They would go
straight on in thought, as we do, from the
"sacrifices of the death of Christ," to "the
benefits which we receive thereby." The first
idea of the sacrament as the memorial of
some one dead, would pass away altogether
intthe reminder which it brought of some
one living forever more, and waiting to
welcome them. Thus the supper which
they who sat first at the table ate in tears,
has been transformed into a feat of triumph
and rejoicing.
These two circles of association then
gather about this word "remembrance."
We remember the cross and the crown, we
remember the pain and the promise.
in just what spirit of mind the Lord would
have men come to this sacrament Who
ever honestly remembers the pain of the
cross and the promise of the crown, cannot
For if we really remember what -our
Saviour suffered for our sake, we will love
Him. We cannot help it. We will not
need to be taught the duty of loving Him.
Love cannot be taueht as duty. Love comes
by loving. Men love Christ when they
learn how Christ loves us. And the cross
teaches that The broken bread and the
poured wine teach that
And if we really remember bow our Lord
has promised to receive us into His presence
we will hate sin. Because sin bars that
blessed door. We will daily endeavor so to
live that that promise maybe possible to us.
And these are the only essential qualifica
tions for approach to this sacrament: true
loving and right living. And not perfection
in either of these, remember, but only a
longing after perfection. Whoever honestly
desires perfectly to love God. whoever
steadfastly purposes rightly to live accord
ing to the laws of God,
There is a German proverb to the effect
that the best is often the enemy of the cood.
lam afraidthat some are staying away from
holy communion because they have not yet
attained the best. They have not reached
their ideal of what a communicant should
believe and be. There is this and
that about the sacrament which they do not
understand. There is this and that article
in their own personal theology which does
not quite square with what somebody else
says is orthodox-, in this and that respect
they fall short of saintliness. And what I
want to say to all such souls is this: If you
are willing to do just this single thing which
the Lord naked might be done in His mem
ory, if you honor and revere Him, if you
love Him, if you honestly desire to follow
more closely than you have been following
in His blessed steps, if when you "examine
yourself," as St Paul advised, you find so
much as this in your heart, there is no rea
son why you should not come.
Come only in this spirit of remembrance,
do the will of God so far as you can see it,
and Me will show you, utepby step, as you
grow in grace and in the knowledge and this
love of Him, all the other truth you need.
1 Geobge Hodges.
Tho National Gnmo Proves Too Dfnch for lbs
French Lanqnngr.
English Edition of the Paris lllnstre.3
But if these clubs and five or six more
which might be named lead joyous lives
and, above all, joyous nights, several others
appear to vegetate. That they do so is
owing to America. The United States that
send their sons over to France, that have
caused a fall in farm-rent, have also im
ported a new game, the poker, which re
duces the receipts of our clubs. Shades of
La Fayette and Rochambeau hide their
faces! Why did you not leave Washington's
compatriots disembroil themselves as best
they could with their mother country?
lhe poker is indeed a plague for the
coffers-of the clubs and solefy because it is
about to supersede baccarat. Impositions
were easily levied on this last game. Cer
taip sums were charged for holding the bank
at such a rate, for the rack nf nanta
kburned during the deal. etc. It was the
very ideal of the impost and at the same
time asure and copious source of yield,
something analogous to tobacco relatively
to duty in France. In the cae of "poker"
it becomes monstrously hard to raise a tax
and to fix upon the moment for raising it.
The players continue at the game for a long
time. When the cafjse has levied a duty
it has nothing to do bat to look at the
"pokerrites" who remain Seated for hours
speaking a language intelligible to most
people "Je suis blind. Vous m'avez bluffe.
Faisons-nous un pot" (pronounced poh).
At tho Aire of 90 Ho Will Welcome
Preoldcnt at His Home.
"Washington l'ost.3
The Grand Army of the Republic is to
hold a convention next month in Orange,
N. J. President Harrison has been invited
to be present and says he does not know
of anything to prevent his acceptance of
the invitation.
Orange is known as the city of the Har
risons. He will see a greater number of
them there'than he ever saw before. There
is Uncle Ira Harrison, 93 years of age, the
oldest living Harrison born in Orange, still
active and going around attending to busi
ness. He voted for William Henrv Harri
son in 1836 and again in 1840, and' walked
a mile in November last to the voting pre
cinct and voted for Benjamin Harrison and
Levi P. Morton. He never voted a Demo
cratic ticket in his life.
Uncle Ira has seven unmarried grand
daughters living with him, and proposes if
the President honors Orange with his
presence at the meeting of the G. A. B.,
to meet him with his granddaughters at
the hall and strew the walk with flowers' for
No Fool.
Mr. Bubinose (referring to his pipe)
Getting a beautiful color, isri'l it? And
who would ever believe that smoke would,
Mrs. Bubinose (mistaking his reference)
Smoke?' Nonsensef jjou can't aeol me
wun wy, vriu auu w outer ui-ih-vmii
And Have No Time to Sympathize
. With Sorrowful Friends.
Starring Families Must Wait Until the Offi
cials Hare Lunched.
iwbittew Ton thi disfatcii.3
Some one the other day was lamenting the
decline of anything like friendly intimacy.
"We have no more correspondence like that
which furnished the choicest memoirs and
finest thought of the last century and this.
People can't waste time and esprit on mere
personal friends, they must save a bright
idea and work it into an article for a club
reading, or to use in conversation at a din
ner party with a distinguished stranger or
to crush a possible rival. When I go to see
a friend, wanting a quiet hour or two of
sympathetic talk, I find her parlors are en
gaged in 15 minutes for a committee meet
ing of the shop girls' patronesses or the
Educational Improvers' Association, and of
course a single person with a heartache has
no chance before such collective interests of
such importance. I write to another, long
ing to hear some pleasant thing about her
life, and she regales me with what this so
ciety and that club did and said at their
last meeting and rehashes the details of petty
feminine politics."
One thinks sadly of Horace Walpole's
saying that the only use of nine-tenths of
the world is to make one wish himself with
the other tenth. In their insatiable ambi
tion to prove themselves the superior half
of the human race, women are playing with
the sweetest interests of human life. Even
the culture of the time Interferes with the
real pleasures of society, but this is the
penalty for neglect of early opportunities
and the time holds more for middle aged
women than it has done for a century, for
never was the way so onen for the continn-
'anceof health and influence if they have
the courage to hold their own.
A lady of the highest position said lately
that never jn her knowledge was there any
thing like the number of women classes lor
study in language, in belles lettres,in musio
and art. She said she could hardly make a
call without trenching on some appoint
ment, with a master or some ladies' class go
ing on an excursion, photographing or
sketching or studying some new importa
tion of archaeological interest. And it was
not the young ladies who were doing"this,
but their mothers, women over SO with
gray hair.
The zeal for study among: those who feel
that they have not their whole lives before
them, does not allow of leaving the subject
during summer rest. The summer schools
ot languages at Amherst, Mass., and else
where, and the schools of natural science
are evidences of the growing taste for study
among older people. The most fashionable
school of languages in New York and Bos
ton, takes rooms at some quiet, pleasant
country hotel for its pupils, who havf the
advantage ot conversation, and the practice
which could, only be found othorwise by
living in a foreign family. Music teachers
of repute are glad to take their best pupils
with them to country homes, where they
give the early hours tc roaming and the
noons to practice ot a most devoted sort.
The delicate daughter of artistic tastes in
one family I know of goes off to the Cats
kills with a ci-devant newspaper woman,
clever, educated and practical, who takes
care 6f tne girl's health, orders her baths,
diet and exercise strictly, reads and studies
with her, puts her to sleep by magnetic
treatment, and is in every way her friend,
companion and guide. For this she re
ceives her expenses for the summer and is
in every way treated as one who confers the
favor. The same woman had just before
gone to Mr. Ballard Smith, of the New
York World, with a view to securing a good
position on the city press, when his reply to
her substantially was that he should advise
her to walk off the dock first if she had to
depend on her pen for a living. What we
are to do when all the women are educated
to earn their own living and to want that
living a good one, is a quandary. But so
many mothers are desirous to delegate the
care "of their daughters to some one else that
this mode of being companion to a young
lady may offer advantages to both sides.
and church boards have been holding their
'annual meetings with much display of ex
pensive dress and well phrased gratulation.
Apropos of nothing at all in this connection,
what is the name of the pastor who, called
to confer with his brethren about bringing
outsiders into the churches, responded that
he wanted to see his church members hope
fully converted from their practical heathen
ism 'before he brought any more into their
company and influence. For his part he
had rather undertake to reform a Magdelen
from- the lowest ward than to bring one
well-placed woman to sincerity of life and
good feeling. Apropos of this again is the
story ot a city missionary who went to an
officer of one ot the charitable boards with
the report of a family of four children and a
sick, mother, without a morsel of food or
money. "I can't help it," said the official;
"I can't do anything about it, for I am
going out to lunch."
"But what shall I do?" asked the mission
ary. "Those people must have something
to eat I can't leave them to starve."
"I can't help it" repeated thelady officer,
with a salary of over 51,600 a year for attend
ing to such cases. "If you had come in 15
minutes ago 1 could have seen to them, but I
can't do anything about it now; I'm going
out to lunch.
It really never occurred to the woman
that she could possibly put off her' own
lunch 15 minutes longer that these five
persons might not go starving another day.
The city missionary said no more, but bor
rowed a basket and went around herself to
bakers and grocers asking aid, and carried
supplies to the hungry children. Her lunch
eon may have been delayed, but it must
have been relished with the thought of
other hearts lightened.
There must be room for improvement in
women's charities and sympathies, or such a
story never could have been told as that of
the missionary mother from Syria, going
with her four children, one a baby, to visit
her relatives beyond Chicago. Supposed to
be in charge of the Mission Board, they
were suffered to start West from New York
without any provision for lunch for the
little brood, who were forced to go 24 hours
without food, the train making no stop long
enough for the mother to provide lor them
out ot her scanty means. It is easy for such
a thing to happen to one who is t virtually a
stranger in her own land. These stories do
not appear in the reports of women's meet
ings, but they ought to, and are told on the
authority of women in charge ot church
charities who see these things done and left
undone, by Fnflnential women whom they
are powerless to resist
Pieasanter is the story of a busy editorial
woman who found herself obliged to go
down Bleecker street late one evening oh
some errand of help, I doubt not Passing
one of the missions lately established in that
crowded quarter, a hymn sung by cultivated
voices rang sweetly on the air. Opposite
were basement drinking places with a dozen
bummers leaning against the railings, lis
tening thoughtfully to the music, not one of
whom stirred from his place or uttered- a
word till it ended. Perhaps the missions
may sing the liquor shops sh uL The m usic
in these Bleecker street meetings is said to
be very fine. A youn man from the same
number in) our block felt put out about
something H the family circle one Sunday
night, and tbipupish the rest went off to the
mission out ocUriastty. ' He came home In
a much subdUd'huisor, declaring that the
Lk-LisSf' 11 - vrr i mi miitmin V fti- fatMswfiiLLWiLMl
heard, and as there has been a marked im
provement in his spirit from that time,-,I
am led, to the opinion that these mission
are a good thing for the better classes, at
It is comfortable in the city mornings,
while the Jersey freshness is in the air, to
go around to the Twenty-third street rooms
tp have one's hands dressed by clever
manipulators. The value of these nice per
sonal cares can hardly be exaggerated for
tired persons, nervous women and brain
workers. The surroundings are adapted
for pleasantness, the long parlor, taking up
the entire depth of the house, lets in all thet
air going, with its three long windows at
each end bung with fine lace, the carpets
are handsome, the walls in ivory, rose and
gold decorations like that of Carlsbad
china, and the whole in scrupulous keep
ing, agreeable to tired senses.
In tront near the lace-shrouded windows
are little polished tables,set out each with its
gobelin blue plush cushion, with its dainty
napkin and the toilette of silver repousse.
These silver services are made expressly for
the establishment and look temDtincr. the
big coffer of salmon tinted pumice, slightly
perfumed, and the tiny vases of amber and
carmine pomades, with dainty little ivory
brashes, one brush dipped in crimson as if
it bad been used for coloring a Lady Wash
ington geranium over night There is a
table of home and foreign periodicals and a
shelf of late books for those who wait,, but
we are early and there is only a gentleman
having his hands cared for by a nice girl,
chatting leisurely with her as if he enjoyed
the process. '
with smooth complexion and fresh em
broidered white apron, comes with a silver
bowl of wan periumed snds and tells vou,
to soak your right hand a few minutes. Thia
is to soften the nails. Presently she seats
herself at the other side of the little table,
brines from the drawer a set of dainty im
plements and fine emery paper slips and
polishers. Your hand is tenderly dried on
a son towel and laid on the plush cushion,
The little round blade loosens the skin at
the base of the nail till the wh!te,crescent
shows, the fine curved scissors pare away
every line of superfluous skin and the ag
nails are cut close. The nice girl chats
pleasantly and says she knows no method of
treating agnails but to keep them cut as
toon as they appear. The acidulated water
cleanses the hands, for few people
she says ever have clean hands or face with
out more care than most of them think
necessary. The little wooden skewer is
dipped in acid to cleanse and whiten ths
nails after they are trimmed, they are pol
ished with finest emery, tinted with the
little red brush and polished, till they coma
out like the pink and white shells you find
on the Mexican coast, and one realizes what
a finish well-cared-for nails put on a respect
able hand. The nice girl says that nails
crack most in cold weather and it is quite
clear that soaking them in hot oil tends to
soften them and prevent breakage. -A. good
scrub of the hands in warm water and soap
in one of the painted basins at the side ot
the room, your hands are carefully wiped
dry and you are at leisure to admire the im
There is one simple way of keeping hands
nice while making them useful, and that is
by rubbing them with cocoabutter or cold
cream, and wearing Iong-wristed kid or cas
tor gloves with the fingertips cut off while
at work. We put gloves on for dress, when
we ought to wear them at business. Men
should take more care of their hauds,even car
penters, who would find leather gloves with
the tips off convenient to handle nails, whila
saving a thousand bruises by work. A man
is just as comfortable if he sits down to read
bis paper with a smooth pair of hands free
from grime or callus or blood bruises, and
he is just as honest and manly for being in
trim so that no stripling counterjumper
noias any advantage ot mm in good loots.
A Boston firm of fashionable outfitters
keep a regular supply of kid gloves for
housekeeping at 15 cents a pair, and smooth
hands are worth a dollar or twb a year to
sew and tend sick folks with. 1 No other
way of keeping hands from being freckled
has been revealed than wearing gloves , in
summer, not kid gloves to be ruined by
perspiration, but cool, serviceable thread,
gloves with long wrists, which keep the
hands from dust and snnburn. The silk
and linen tafetta gloves which the dealers
insist upon providing exclusively for us
this season are insufferable, for they heat
and draw the hands and a week's wear
spoils tbem. Nothing is so good for the
skin in warm weather as the smooth thread
glove or the real lisle, finished like bal
briggan nnderwear. They keep the hands
cool, and can be washed often, for who
wants to put on a pair of gloves or stock
ings a second time withont washing in warm
weather. One's gloves shonld be as fresh
and clean as the hand within it.
When asked what was the leading com
plaint of correspondents making cosmetic in
quiries, I had to answer "Coarse open pores
and greasy faces." Consulting the first der
matologist in America, a specialist so de
voted to his profession that he refuses to
make money outside ot it by writing for the
newspapers, he said that the trouble with
such faces amounted to a disease, an en
largement of the fat glands of the skin, and
needed a thorough course of treatment It
is impossible to prescribe any treatment, as
constitutions vary greatly. The bei ad
vice to be given is purify the blood by char
coal and laxatives, reform diet, and treat
the skin with drying lotions, not the pastes
and creams which suit a delicatj skin.
What ii best in each case can only be found
by experiment Alcohol, resourcin, cam
phor spirit, castile soap, carbolic dilutions
may all be tried with safety for a few days
till the right thing approves itself. Borax
is useful, bnt in some skins brings on ecze
ma. The course of sulphur treatment in
which zealous persons indulge in hopes of a
fair skin, must be condemned as unsafe.
The sulphur poisoning brought on by free
use of sulphur internally is difficult to heal
and disfiguring. The idea of taking a table
spoonful of sulphur three times a day, as
some persons do, is enough to make a phy.
sician's hair gray by the risks involved. A
teaspoonful of sulphnr each morning-for
three mornings, and a teaspooniui each third
morning thereafter for a fortnight is as much
it not purgatives, should follow the third
dose, so that all tne impurities need not be
thrown off by the skin alone.
In answer to many inquiries, the direc
tions for charcoal and taraxacum treatment .
are given lor the last time, this year at any
rate. The first dose of powdere'd charcoal
may be a dessert spoonful, freshly mixed in
water, milk or syrup, taken on rising, as
soon as the teeth are brushed, which should
be one of the first operations of the toilet
This gives the charcoal time to absorb im
purities from the stomach before eating.
After this a teaspoonful of taraxacum ex
tract after meals, till the face is clear and
the digestion good. A pint of taraxacum
extract is not too much for the system, but
it is advisable to leave it off every fourth
week and then resume. One dessert spoon
ful of mandrake extract may be added to
the pint of taraxacum with good effect,
pouring it into the same bottle and shaking
well. Taraxacum is the extract of dandelion
root, a standard medicine of old practice and
highly esteemed now by very careful physi
cians for its effects on the skin, liver and
kidneys. The inquiry after its use for a
fortnight usually is "what have you been
taking to make your skin so fair." Bnt the
coarse bread and wheat must go with any i
treatment to have lasting effects. The $
parched wheat is not to be cooked,but thor- -i
oughly ground in chewing, when it will be $
fonnd a regulating and strengthening food. r
The prescription quoted to keep the hair
in crimp, of three ounces of gum Arabic to"'1.
half a pint ot rosewater, is preposterous.
Three ouncs is six tablespoonfuls, and thattrtjar
amonntofgnmin half a pint of liqnid f
would simply transform the hair to threads
of stiff isinglass and ruin it Cosmetiaj '
receipts fn general do not seem to be given,
with the slightest idea of the proportions or
fjfupefuca vi cuicuw. x
Shirley. DasxT
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