LOVE.
Ob, Love Is not a gammer mood, «
Nor flying phantom of the brain.
Nor youthful fever of the blood.
Nor dream, nor fate, nor circumstance.
JiOve is not born of blinded ohance,
Nor bred in simple ignorance.
But Love bath winter In her blood,
And love is fruit of holy pain,
And perfect flower of maidenhood.
True love is steadfast as the skies,
And. once alight, she never flies;
And love is strong and still and wise.
—liiohard Watson Gilder.
j FACULTY. \
There was a great commotion in
FoxvjJle when old Parson Fox died.
It was not only because he was the
pioneer of the place, having come
there when the woods were one pri
meval mass of green,and himself hav
ing erected the old stone parsonage,
around which the thriving village had
grown with almost incredible rapidity,
[t was not that he had preached the
gospel to them for four-and-forty years;
it was not that his footsteps had been
instant on every threshold where sick
ness came or sorrow brooded.
All this had been received as a mat
ter of course, and forgotten as soon
as the necessities were past. But it
was because Foxville curiosity was ou
the qui vive about Joanna, his grand
child, the sole remaining blossom on
the gnarled old family tree, who was
left quite unprovided for.
"I declare to goodness," said Mrs.
Emmons, "I don't know what is to
become of that gill!"
"She hain't no faculty,"said Sabina
Sexton, the village dressmaker; "and
never had."
"Books possessed no charms for
her!" sighed Miss Dodge, who taught
the Foxville district school. "She al
ways cried over her parsing and rhe
toric, and I never could make her
understand cube root."
"There's no denyin' that the old
minister was as near a saint as we
often see in this world," said Mrs.
Luke Lockedge, piously. "But he
hadn't ought to let Joanna run loose
in the woods and fields the way she
did. Why, I don't s'pose she ever
made a shirt or fried a batch o' fritters
in her life!"
"Is it true," saiil Miss Dodge,peer
ing inquisitively up under her spec
tacle glasses, "that she is engaged to
your Simon, Mrs. Lockedge?"
Mrs. Lockedge closed her mouth,
shook her head and knitted away until
her needles shone like forked light
ning.
"Simon's like all other young men.
Miss Dodge," said she—"took by a
pretty face and a pair o' bright eyes.
And they sat on the same beuch at
school. And as long as we s'posed
Parson Fox had left property, why,
there wasn't no objection. But there
wasn't nothing—not even a life insur
ance. So I've talked to Simon, and
made him hear reason. There can't
nobody live 011 air!"
"But that's ruther hard 011 Joanua,
ain't it?" said Mrs. Emmons, with a
little sympathetic wheeze.
"Reason is reason!" Mrs. Lock
edge answered. "My Simon will have
property, and the girl he marries must
have sutliin' to match it."
So that Joanna Fox, sitting listlessly
in her black ' J ress by the window,
where the scent of June honeysuckles
floated sweetly in, and trying to real
ize that she was alone in the world,
had divers aud sundry visitors that day.
The lirst was Simon Lockedge, look
ing as if his errand were somewhat
connected with grand larceny.
Joanna started up, her wan face
brightening. She was only sixteen
a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl.
"Oh, Simon," she cried, "I knew
you would come when you heard!"
Simon Lockedge wriggled uneaf.ilv
into 11 seat, instead of advancing to
clasp her outstretched hand.
"Yes," said he."Of course it's
very sail, Joanna, and I'm awfully
sorry for you. But—"
Joanna stood still, her face harden
ing into a cold, white mask, her bauds
falling to her side.
"Yes," said she. "You were say
ing—"
"It's mother!" guiltily confessed
Simon. "A fellow can't go against liis
own mother, you know. She says it's
all nonsense, our engagement and we
shouldn't have anything to live on!
And so," with a final twist, "we'd bet
ter consider it all over. 'flint's the
sense of the matter—now ain't it,
Joanna?" t
She did not answer.
"I'm awfully sorry,"stuttered Simon.
"I always set a deal of store by you,
Joanna."
"Did you?" she said bitterly. "One
would scarcely have thought it."
"And you know, Joanna," he added
awkwardly, mindful of his mother's
drill, "when poverty comes in at the
door, love flies out at the window!"
Joanna smiled scornfully.
"It seems," said she, "that love
does not always wait for that."
And she turned and walked into the
adjoining apartment; while Simon,
slinking out of the door, muttered to
himself:
"It's the hardest job o' work that
ever I did in my life. Splitting stumps
is nothing to it. **ut mother says it
must be done—and mother rules the
roost in our house!"
Next came Mrs. Emmons.
"Joanna," said she, "I'm deeply
grieved at this 'ere affliction that's be
fell you!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Emmons!" said
the girl, mechanically.
"I've come to ask you about your
plans, "added the plump widow. "He
cause, if you have no other intentions,
I'll be glad to have you help me with
the housework. I'm goin' to have a
house full o' summer boarders, and
there'll be a deul more work than nio
■kii t Elviry can manage. Of course
yon won't expect no pay, but a good
home is what you need most."
"Stop a minute!" said Joanna. "Am
I to understand that you expect me to
assume the position and duties of a
servant, without servant's wages?"
"You'll be a member of the family,"
said Mrs. Emmons; "and you'll set at
the same table with me and Elviry."
"I am much obliged to you," said
Joanna, "but I must decline your kind
offer."
And Mrs. Emmons departed in
wrath, audibly declaring her convic
tion that pride was certain, sooner or
later, to have a fall.
"I have plenty of friends," said
Joanna, courageously, or rather dear
grandpapa had. lam sure to be pro
vided for."
But Squire Barton looked harder
than any flint when the orphan came
to him.
"Something to do, Miss Fox?" said
he. "Well, that's the very problem
of the age—woman's work, you know;
and I ain't smart enough to solve it.
.Copying? No, our Arm don't need
that sort of work. Do I know of any
one that does? N-no, I can't say I do;
but if I should hear of an opening,
I'll be sure to let you know. Ahem!
—l'm a little busy this morning, Miss
Fox; sorry I can't devote more time
to you. John, the door. Good morn
ing, my dear Miss Fox! I assure you,
yon have mine and Mrs. Barton's
prayers in this sad visitation of an in
scrutable Providence."
Old Miss Gringe, who had fifty
thousand dollars at interest, and who
had always declared that she loved
dear Joanna Fox like a daughter, sent
down word that she wasn't very well,
and couldn't see company.
Doctor Wentworth, in visiting
whose invalid daughter poor old Par
son Fox had contracted the illness
which carried him to his grave, was
brusque and short. The doctor was
sorry for Miss Joanna, of course, but
he didn't know of any way in which
he could be useful. He understood
there was a kid-glove factory to be
opened 011 Walling River soon.
"No doubt Miss Fox could get a
place there; or there could be no ob
jection to her going out to domestic
service. There was a great deal of
false sentiment on this subject,aud he
thought—"
But Joanua, without waiting for the
result of his cogitations, excused her
self. She would detain him no longer,
she said; aud she went away, with
flaming cheeks aud resolutely re
pressed tears.
When she got home, she found one
of the trustees of the church awaitiug
her. He didn't wish to hurry her, he
said, but the clergyman didn't want'to
live in such a ruinous old place; and
it w as their calculation, as the parson
age was mortgaged much beyond its
real value, to sell it out, and buy a
new frame house, near the railroad
station, with all the modern conveni
ences, for the use of the Rev. Silas
Speakwell.
"Am Ito be turned out of my
home?" said Joanna, indignantly.
Deacon Blydeuburg hemmed and
hawed. He didn't want to hurt 110
oue's feelings; but as to her home, it
was well known that to all intents aud
purposes the old place had long ago
passed out of Parson Fox's owner
ship; aud they were willing to accord
her any reasonable length of time to
pack up and take leave ol' her friends
say a week.
So Joanna, who could think of no
remaining friend but her old gover
ness, who had long ago gone to New
York to fight the great world for her
self, went down to the city, and ap
pealed to Miss Woodiu in her extrem
ity; and Miss Woodiu cried over her,
aud kissed her and caressed her, like
an old maiden aunt.
"What am I to do?" said poor, pale
Joanua. "I cannot starve!"
"There's no necessity for any one
starving in this great, busy world,"
said Miss Woodiu, cheerfully. "All
one wants is faculty!"
Joanna shrank a little from the hard,
stereotyped word, which she had so
often heard from the lips of Mrs.
Emmons, Miss Sabina Sexton, and
that sisterhood.
"But how do you live?" said she.
"Do you see that thing there iu the
corner?" said Miss Woodin.
"Yes," answered Joanna. "It is a
sewing machine?"
"It's a typewriter,"anuounced Miss
Woodin. "And I earn my living on
it."
"But what do you write?" said
Joauna.
"Anything I can get," said Miss
Woodin.
And thus, in the heart of the great
wilderness of New York, Joauna Fox
commenced her pilgrimage of toil.
First on the typewriter, then pro
moted to a compiler's desk iu the
"Fashion Departmeuf'of a prominent
weekly journal; then, by means of a
striking, original sketch, slipped into
the letter box of the Ladies' Weekly
with fear and trembliug, to a place on
the contributor's list; then gradually
rising to the rank of a spirited young
novelist; until she had her pretty
"flat," furnished like a miniature
palace, with Miss Woodin and her
typewriter snugly installed iuone cor
ner.
"Because I owe everything to her,"
said the young authoress, gratefully.
And, one day, glancing over the ex
changes in the sanctum of the Ladies'
Weekly, to whose columns she still
contributed,she came across a copy of
the Foxville Gazette.
"Hester," she said, hurrying home
to Miss Woodin, "the old parsonage
is to be sold at auction tomorrow, and
I mean togo up and buy it. For I an.
(piite—quite sure that I could write
there better than anywhere else in the
world."
Miss Woodin agreed with Joanua,
Miss Woodin believed more firmly iu
! whatever Joanua believed. In her
loving eyes, the successful young
writer was always right.
So Joanna Fox and Miss Woodin,
dressed in black and closely veiled,
went up to Foxville to attend the auc
tion sale.
Everybody was there. They didn't
have an auction sale at Foxville every
day in the week.
Squire Barton -was there, with a
vague idea of purchasing the old place
for a publio garden.
"It would be attractive," said the
squire. "These open-air concert-gar
dens are making no end of money in
the cities. I don't see why the Ger
mans need pocket all the money that
there is going."
Mrs. Emmons came because every
body else did. Miss Dodge, who had
saved a little money, thought that if
the place went cheap, she would pay
down a part and give a moatgage for
the remainder.
"And my sister could keep board
ers," she considered, "and I could
always have a home there."
But Simon Lockedge was most de
termined of all to have the old parson
age for his own.
"I could fix it up," said he to him
self, "and live there real comfortable.
It's a dreadful pretty location, and I'm
bound to have it—especially since
mother's investments have turned out
bad, and since we've got to sell the
farm. Nothing hasn't gone right with
us since I broke off with the old par
son's grand-daughter. It wasn'J; quite
the square thiiig to do, but there
seemed no other way. But, let mother
say what she will, it brought bad luck
to us."
And the rustic crowd surged in and
out, and the auctioneer mounted to his
platform on an old kitchen table, and
the bidding began at five hundred dol
lars, and "hung fire" for some time.
"Six!" said cautious Simon Lock
edge, as last.
"Seven !"peeped Miss Dodge faintly. ]
"Eight!" said Simon, resolutely.
"A thousand!" uttered the voice of
a quiet, veiled lady, in the corner.
Every one stared in that direction.
" 'Taint worth that, "said the squire,
iu an undertone. "All run down — j
fences gone to nothing."
But Simon Lockedge wanted it very
much.
"E—le—ven hundred!" said he,
slowly and unwillingly.
"Fifteen hundred!" spoke the soft
voice, decidedly.
"Fifteen hundred!" bawled the auc- j
tioneer. "I'm offered fifteen hundred j
dollars for this very desirable prop- !
erty. Fifteen hundred, once —fifteen !
hundred,twice—fifteen hundred.three
times and gone! What name, ma'am, :
if you please?"
And the lady, throwing aside her
veil, answered calmly:
"Joanna Fox!"
The old parsonage was rebuilt, and i
studded with bay windows and medi
eval porches. Laurels and rhodo
dendrons were set out in the grounds;
the little brook was bridged over with
rustic cedarwood; and Joanna Fox j
and Miss Woodin came there to live,iu
modest comfort.
But Mrs. Lockedge and her son :
Simon moved out of Foxville when
the mortgage on their old place was
foreclosed, and the places that had
known thein once knew them 110
more.
And Mrs. Emmons said:
"She's done real well, Joanna lias. :
I always knew there was something ;
in her!"
And Mrs. Went worth and the Misses
Barton tried desperately to become in
timate with the young authoress, but
without avail.
For there is nothing in all the wide
world so successful as success, and it j
is a fetich which has mauy worshipers. 1
—Saturday Night.
The Destructive Kitglisli Sparrow.
I once saw a single pugnacious lit- j
tie house wren engage a whole flock j
of English sparrows. He was more i
than a match for three or four of
them; but in the end, I regret to say,
he was killed outright before my eyes.
This is the only instance of the kind I
have ever seen. A lady friend tells
me that a Baltimore oriole started to
build his wonderful, pensile nest last
season in an apple tree near her home
and that the English' sparrows made
bitter war upon him and his house.
She watched the struggle one evening,
and the next morning the oriole not
appearing she went into her garden
and found him lying dead under the
apple tree with his head pecked open.
I have often been witness to the vio
lent interferences by them iu the
nest-building of robins and orioles,
and, outnumbered as our native birds
are, tliey always relinquish their task.
Here is a problem: A report pre
sented to us by the department of ag
riculture shows that a single pair of
English sparrows may,in a single dec
ade, bring into existence 275,710,983, -
698 descendants. What is to become
of our beautiful native song-birds
when the English sparrow swarms
over the land? As yet, except imme
diately around the farmhouses, this
offensive bird is not often seen in the
country districts,--Lyun T. Sprague,
in Outing.
Outwitting a Creditor.
Saint Foix, the French poet, who
was always in debt, sat one day in a
barber's sho]> waiting to be shaved.
He was lathered when the door
opened and a tradesman entered who
happened to be one of the poet's
creditors, and angrily demauded his
money. The poet composedly begged
him not to make a scene. "Won't
you wait for the money until lam
shaved?" "Certainly," said theother,
pleased at the prospect. Saint ?oix
then made the barber a witness of the
agreement and immediately took a
towel, wiped the lather from his face
and left the shop. He wore a beard
to the end of his days.—San Francis
co Argonaut.
THE REALM •
OK FASHION.
Serviceable Morning Gown.
No material makes a more service
able morning gown that is tasteful at
the same time than does French flan
nel, either striped or figured, writes
LADIES' PRINCESS WRAPPER.
May Manton. The plain princess
wrapper shown in the illustration is
made from the material in soft shades
of gray, with lines of black and is
trimmed with black bands. The ad
justment is accomplished by means
of double bust-darts in front, under
arm and side-back gores, with a curv
ing center seam at the back. Each
portion is shaped below the waist line
to produce the ripples at the back and
the necessary width at the f«et. The
sleeves are two-seamed and fit snugly,
there being only a slight fulness at the
LADIES' KHIHT WAIST SLEEVE.
arm's-eye. At the neck is a turn-over
collar and at the wrists are worn frills
of lace.
To make this wrapper for a lady in
the medium size will require 6J yards
of forty-four-incli material.
Fads and Fancies of Dress.
Perhaps the very newest trimmings
for gowns and wraps are of jet aud
steel, many of them being made more
youthful-looking with a dash of color
here and there. Something very new
among the embroideries on net and
chiffon is a combination of raised
flowers inlace'and jet on steel sequins,
which form the stems and leaves.
Bretelles are one of the features of the
new gowns, and are made quite plain,
or may be trimmed as elaborately as
one may wish. They follow the line
of the sloping shoulder, which must
be cultivated, as it is the comiug af
fliction.
The newest feather boas have six
ends, three on a side, and fasten at
the neck with a jeweled ornament,
which is usually rhinestones. Hosiery
grows more startlingly loud in colors
each day. As sleeves grow longer
gloves grow shorter, and now the one
button glove is again having its day.—
Woman's Home Companion.
Evolution of Cl ifton.
Chiffon baa many fresh develop
ments, by means of steaming aud hot
irons it has been tortured into flounc
ings and frillings of all kinds. This
simple, graceful nntrimmed skirt is
gradually going out of date, to be
succeeded by graduated flounces, or
bouillonnes, either carried all round
or up the front breadth. To effect
this the Paris shops are now full of
graduated trimmings with satin edges,
the center apparently drawn on
threads, which have disappeared, aud
wide headings left on both sides, or
the soft fabric has been crimped aud
bouillonned into ruffles for the neck or
into narrower edgings for any frills
that may be used.
The New Wrap*.
The new wraps, so far as they have
been displayed, are very dressy ex
pensive confections of colored silk or
brocade, covered with lace and chiffon
ruffles edged with tiny ruches. In
shape they are either round and short,
flaring out over the shoulders, or long
at the back and rounding up in front
in a quaint, old-time manner. These
novel garments are made of colored
chiffon, shirred around the shoulders
and finished with three or four ruche
edged ruffles at the bottom, which
taper to a point where they meet the
shoulder shirring.
Ladies* Shirt Watat Sleeves*
Many of last season's shirt waists
are quite up to date with the sole ex
ception of the sleeves. The pattern
shown in the large engraving is espe
cially designed to remedy just such de
fects and includes the latest styles,
one sleeve showing pleats, the other
gathers at the arms' edges. Both are
one-seamed. Both are in regulation
shirt style and with them are included
the two prevailing cuffs, one straight,
the other rolled over and rounded at
the outer edges.
To make either these sleeves for a
lady of medium size 1J yards of ma
terial thirty inches wide will be re
quired.
Stylish Street Dresses.
Stylish street dresses are made of
black and white checked tweed, with
a green glace silk blouse vest for a
note of color and an inner vest of
white corduroy peeping out on either
side.
Nurse's Apron.
A generous apron that is tasteful
the same time.is as completely essen
tial to the nurse's outfit as is the neat
and simple gown. The model shown
is in the latest style and amply fulfills
all requirements. While especially de
signed for the nurse's needs it is also
well suited to general home wear, be
ing adapted to both the kitchen and
the sewing room. It may be of plain
or plaid nainsook, cambric or lawn, as
preferred, but as illustrated is of the
lawn trimmed with bands and frills of
needle work.
The skirt is straight and full, simply
gathered at the top and stitched to the
band. The bib is gathered at the
lower edge and arranged to form a
narrow frill at the top, but is straight
and simple as are the epaulettes. The
bauds are all double, both the edges
of the bib aud those of the epaulettes
being iucluded in the seam in order
that 110 rough edges may be found.
After passing over the shoulders they
cross at the back and are attached to
the waist band, which in turn is finished
A OENEROUS APRON/
with bow and sash ends of ihe mate
rial, which in turn are finished with
bands and frills of embroidery.
To cut this apron for ti lady of
medium size 3} yards of nyaterial 30
inches wide will be required.
Chew Stnr Tobacoo—The Best.
Smoke Sledge Cigarettes.
Birmingham, England, turns out Ave tons
of hairpins every week.
Feeling^' Goto your druggist and get
a bottle of Hood's Sarsaparilla and be
gin to take it today, and realize at ones
the great good it Is sure to do you.
Hood's Sarsaparilla
Is America's Greatest Spring Medicine.
Pegglmifttlc I'lillosopliy.
A man's friends are never as sincere
as his enemies.
It is easier to work than it is to be
always looking for n job.
A girl of sixteen is as prodigal with
her aft'eetion as a woman with company
is with her jam.
This getting married is like renting a
door for the purpose of keeping a wolf
from it.
Notice to those who have babies
named after them: Mothers refuse to
be grateful this year for a baby buggy
that hasn't rubber tires.
It takes so much to repair a bicycle
and run a kodak that no one owning
either can hope to save enough for the
Paris Exposition.
The young college man who makes
his hair look fluffy and looks sternly at
the audience gathered to see him
graduate thinks he has solved the
problem of life.—Atchison Globe.
A Jewish technical school for girls
has been founded in Winnitza.Eusjio.
YOUNG AT SIXTY.
Serene comfort and happiness in ad
vanced years are realized by compara
tively few wom»"n.
Their hard lives, their liability to se
rious troubles on account of their pecu
liar organism and their profound igno
rance concerning themselves, all com
bine to shorten the period of usefulness
and fill their lateryears with suffering.
Mrs. Pinkham hasdone much to make
women strong. She has given advice
to many that has shown them how to
guard against disease and retain vigor
ous health in old age. From every cor
ner of the earth there is constantly com
ing the most convineiug statements
from women, showing the eflicacy of
Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com
pound in overcoming female ills. Ilere
is a letter from Mrs. J. C. Orms, of 220
Horner St., Johnstown, Pa., which is
earnest and straight to the point:
'• DEAR MRS. PINKHAM: —I feel it my
duty to tell all suffering women that I
think your remedies are wonderful. I
had trouble with my head, dizzy spells
and hot flashes. Feet and hands were
cold, was very nervous, could not sleep
well, had kidney trouble, pain in
ovaries and congestion of the womb.
Since taking your remedies I am better
every way My head trouble is all
gone, have no pain in ovaries, and am
cured of womb trouble. I can eat and
sleep well and am gaining in flesh. I
consider your medicine the best to ba
had for female troubles."
The present Mrs. Pinkham's experi
ence in treating female ills is unparal
lelled, for years she worked side by
side with Mrs. Lydia E. Pinkham, and
for sometime past has had sole charge
of the correspondence department of
her great business, treating by letter
as many as a hundred thousand ailing
women during a single year.
Mg Goto your grocer to-day
[JL and get a 15c. package of
I Grain-0
ILL ta^cs t ' ic pl ace c°f
fee at £ the cost.
***> Made from pure grains it
is nourishing and health-
Insist that yonr jrrocsr gives you GRAIN O
Accept no imitation.
HM | IK M and Llqoor Habit cared in
IIUI I|U 10 to >0 d»j». No pi)- till
111 11IHPI cured. Dr. J. L. Stephen*,
Wl IVI vl Dept. A, Lebanon, Ohio.
at Cough Syrup. "Tastes Good. Use Q
In time. Sold by druggist*. El—
rAMMiiymi