AT THE POOR.
•h, what care I (or wealth or dune I Oh, what care I for clashing creeds.
They vanish as a dream, Or hostile schools of art,
When night is drawn through gates at Dawn It I may wear through smile and tear
On Slumber's ebbing stream! The ermine of the heart!
Let others sing of Death and War, Let others sing of Death and War,
©r Sorrow's tragic lore; Or Sorrow's tragic lore;
But Love has come and calls me hom* But Love has come and calls me horn*
To meet him at the door! To meet him at the door!
Oh, what care I to weave my Fate Ob, what care I for houseless winds,
On Life's mysterious loom, With rain and darkness blent.
Its warp and woof from peace aloof— II through the blight on me may light
The gllttter and the gloom! The shy dove of content!
Let others sing of Death and War, Let others sing of Death and War,
Or Sorrow's tragio lore; Or Sorrow's tragic lore;
Bnt Love has oome and calls me home But Love has come and calls me home
To meet him at the door! To meet him at the door!
—Harper's Bazar.
Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa&AAAA&aaa
r THE CONVENIENT TIGER. I
1 Adrentar* of aI» Who Pound Hlmaelf in an Eaat Indian Jungle tilth a Bag of Bupeea F
and a Dlsbenrst Servant,
j BT J. C. POWTON, X. C. 8.
"I don't know that 1 have ever met ;
ft full-blosomed yogi in all my years in !
India. One has to come to America I
to find out the wonders and mysteries
ftf theosophy. But I have seen per
formances of Indian fakirs quite as in
explicable as anything I have heard
of the Mahatmas. There was one in
particular in which I was concerned—
■ matter of some 20 years ago. It had
ft tragedy in it and some things which
neither you nor I can explain. You
understand, no doubt, what an In lion
fakir is—a man of the Brahmiuical
faith who devotes his life to commun
ion with the Hindoo gods. Through
prayer and contemplation and the
leading of an ascetic life the fakirs at
tain powers that seem miraculous to
the Western mind.
"The fakir that I am to tell you j
About came one afternoon to Archie
Bedvon's bungalow, near Charpore, j
where I had been staying for a few
days during a round of inspection. He
was an old, brown-skinned man, with
ft long, intellectual face and hair and j
beard snowy white. A waist cloth, :
turban and sandals were all he wore, {
and the rest of his visible belongings
consisted of a prayer mat, a hubble- :
bubble, or native water pipe, and an
earthen bowl from which he ate his
food. He spread his mat in the mid- .
die of the compound, seated himself
cross-leged upon it and began to take
tinsel balls from somewhere—from the
mat, it seemed, although none could
be seen upon it—and to throw them
one by one up into the air. Each one,
as he threw it, went sailing up, up,
until it was out of sight, and none of
them came down. Then he did the
boy and ladder and the mango tree
trick in a mauner that showed that he
was a fakir of no common order.
"Theu he took a hollow reed, fash
ioned it into a sort of pipe and went
rouud in the compound aud oil the
outside of the bungalow, playing a
weird tune. Presently a cobra poked
its head out from a hole in the wall,its
body followed, and the serpent came
to the ground aud glided along after
the fakir. Soon another cobra crawled
out of the grass and followed the
sound of the pipe. When the fakir
stayed his steps the snakes stopped, !
and as he played on the reed they
reared their hooded heads from the
ground, aud their bodies swayed to
and fro as if they were keeping time
with his piping. He called for a bas
ket. A house servant brought him
one, and the fakir, with his bare
hands, took the snakes each by the
neck aud body, placed them in the
basket, pressed their heads down aud
tied a cloth above them.
"This ended his performance. Red
von gave him a rupee, and 1 handed j
him five, for I had never seen any
thing to compare with what he had
done. He gravely took the coins,after
the mauner of the Brahmins, without
a thank or salaam. But as he dropped ,
them somewhere in his waist cloth his j
eye fell on my servant Nagho,standing
at my shoulder, and he looked at him
with a strange in teutness, then turned
to me with a gaze as searching. Have
jou ever chanced to notice a Hindoo's
eye—so sombre black, so keen to see
aud comprehend and revealing no
more than a pool of ink might the
thought behind it. But I noted in
the fakir's eye what seemed to me to
be a Wash of perception, of discovery,
as his look rested on Nagho and then
on me. It was the episode of a mo
ment. He said nothing, but picked
up his mat and pipe, put the basket
aud snakes on his shoulder and went
his way, taking the direction of Char
pore, three miles away.
"On the next day I had togo to
Baghra to meet the deputy collector
there. To save distance I decided to
travel in a palanquin over a bullock
trail too rough for a carriage, instead
of going twice as far rouud by the
highway. I made my start in the
middle of the afternoon, expecting to
arrive in Baghra in the early eveuiug.
In my traveling satchel were notes
aud coin to the value of 12,000 rupees,
which I was taking to the deputy col
lector. At the last hour Redvon
•bowed some anxiety about my taking
the route I had chosen.
" 'Once your start is made, don't
waste any time in getting through to
Baghra,' he said. 'Beyond Charpore
the road is through jungle all the way.
There's a chance of dacoits—and then
if your palanquin bearers should run
upon them or get a tiger scare, they
would think of setting down
the palanquin and leaving you in the
jungle. Of course, you have your re
volver by you in wording order?'
"I had cleaned and oiled and re
loaded my revolver that morning and
told Redvon so. But he had still
another caution to give me. He looked
at Nagho, who was filling a water ves
sel from a chatty at the further end of
the veranda.
" 'That servant of yours—have you
had him long?' ho asked. 'My stew
ard tells me that he is a hill man by
birth, that he talks the argot of the
Indian thieves' guilds, and he carries
a tulwar. Do you know that you can
trust him?'
"This was news to me about Nagho.
I had hired him two months before in
Calcutta. He had come well recom
ineuded and had proved a capable ser
vant. I did not like the idea that he
should have carried a tulwar unknown
to me. The tulwar, let me explain, is
the wide-bladed knife which the men
of the hill tribes use so effectively in
fighting, wielding it at close quarters
or throwing it. With his tulwar, a hill
man can cut off the branch of a tree
20 paces away or lop a man's arm from
his body. I made up my mind that I
would find out more about Nagho be
fore I took him with me on another
trip, but today there was nothing I
could well do in the matter.
" 'I think the Hindoo is all right,'
I said to Redvon. 'l'll have my eye
on him, though. Good bye. Hope
I'll see you at Baghra next week.'
"We shook bauds, and the four
bearers of the palanquin trotted away
with me at a four-mile-nn-hour gait,
with Nagho and two relay bearers fol
lowing. At Charpore, where we
stopped a few minutes to rest, the
bearers got hold of a report about a
tiger, which was said to have killed a
man or two lately on the road to
Baghra, and when they started on it
was with little of the willingness that
they had shown in the beginning.
We had got about four mile* beyond
Charpore when we met a crowd of
grass cutters coming on the run for
the village, and they shouted 'Tiger!
Tiger!' as they came near us. I man
aged to find out from them that no
one had been hurt, • but that one of
them thought that lie had seen a tiger.
That was enough for my six palanquin
bearers. They set the palanquin
down and joined the grass cutters in
their run for the village, leaving me
with Nagho in the jungle.
"1 reckoned that it was about ten
miles further to Baghra and decided
that I would walk there rather than
turn back. I spread my umbrella to
protect me from the sun and started
along the path,with Nagho following, j
carrying the satchel. It was a rough
road, miry in places. I had to stop
often to rest, so as not to be overcome
by heat, and darkness fell before we
had made a third of the remaining dis
tance to Baghra. But I plodded on in
the darkness, feeling rather than see
ing my way, and hoping that nearer
Baghra the road would improve. I
was beginning pretty thoroughly to |
distrust Nagho. There had come an
unpleasant change of expression in
his face since the palanquin men had ,
left us, and I did not like the furtive
look in his eyes which I had caught
several times in turning suddenly
toward him. Now that darkness had
fallen I-carried my revolver in my
hand, quite as much on his account !
as on the chance of falling in with a
tiger or leopard.
"I had ordered him to walk ahead,
which commaud he obeyed sulkily.
He was walking about 30 fset in ad
vauce of me when he turned suddenly
rouud just as my foot tripped against
a tree root, sending me sprawling to
the ground. As I fell something
whizzed above my head, and I heard
leaves and twigs falling far back of
me down the road. It was Nagho's
tulwar, aud bnt for my lucky tumble
it would have split my skull as neatly
as you please. The Hindoo ran as
soon as he saw that his knife had
missed, taking the satchel with him.
I sent three shots after him from the
ground, then got up and started on at
an easy pace, for there was no hope
of my overtaking the Hindoo, for,
leaving the davkness out of the ques
tion, lie could have outstripped me on
such a road two to one. My only
hope of recovering the satchel and
money and bringing him to punish
ment was in getting to Baghra and
setting the native police on his trail.
"It soon became clear to me that I
should not get to Baghra that night.
The air was horribly hot and humid,
and the road got worse as I went on.
I could feel the jungle fever clutching
at me in the miasma that rose from
the moist ground, but it was better
to ( hance that than risk falling from
heat and fatigue. I had rested myself
under a tree by the roadside and had
begun to nod with drowsiness, when
the roar of a tiger somewhere off in
the jungle gave a new turn to my
thoughts, and I got up and stumbled
on. Just as the tiger roared again
I saw a smouldering fire in the clear
ing off to the right. It was an even
chance whether it meant a camp of
woodcutters or a rendezvous of da
coits, but I turned off the road and
approached it. Only one man was
by the fire —an old white-bearded man
seated cross-legged on a mat —and I
saw that it was the fakir who had been
at Redvon's bungalow the day befere.
Here in the juugle he was sitting, ab
sorbed in contemplation, as calmly as
if each things M tigers or jnngls fsvei
did not exist. Two cobras in a basket
by his side reared their heads and
hissed as I came near, bat the fakir
did not raise his eyes until I stood be
fore him. Then he looked at me with
out the slightest sign of surprise and
motioned that I should seat myself
opposite him.
" 'I expected you,' he said, in Hin
dostanee. 'You will remain here until
the morrow.'
"He returned to his contemplation
and spoke not another word through
the night. The tiger's roar came
nearer, and I clutched my revolver as
it changed into the low, eager,purring
cry that tells he has scented bis prey
—but the old man gave no sign that
he had so much as heard it. I
watched the misty darkness around
for an hour or more, but there was no
more roaring, and no tiger appeared,
and I laid my pistol across my lap and
prepared to pass the night us comfort
ably as I could. In searching my
pockets for cigars I found a package
of quinine. I took 50 grains of it be
fore morning and thus saved myself
from jungle fever. Hour after hour I
sat on the ground smoking cheroots,
with the old man sitting opposite me.
"Part of the time his eyes were
closed, but he did not nod or change
his position, and whether he slept or
not I could not tell. From time to
time be fed the fire from a little heap
of dry branches at his side, and two or
three times he lighted his hubble
bubble, but he did not once rise to
his feet or leave the mat. Toward
morning sleep overcame me, and I
woke to find myself on my back on
the ground with the beams of the ris
ing sun streaming into my face and
one of the cobras crawliug across my
legs. I kept still, and the snake crept
away in the grass hunting his break
fast.
"The old fakir, who was smoking,
presently laid aside his pipe, collected
his snakes and other luggage together,
told me with a look that we were to
move, and we left the clearing and
turned into the road toward Baghra.
In the dust, and more plainly in the mii j
places, we could see the tracks of Nagho.
Presently there were other footprints
above the man's aud takiug the same
course-the tracks of a tiger which
had come into the road from the jun
gle. I had not said a word to the
fakir of what had occurred the night
before, but he pointed to the tiger's
tracks and said gravely, the tirst
words he had spoken that morning:
" 'These are bringing you to your
property.'
"We kept aloug the road until we
came to a place where the tracks
showed that the swinging trot of the
tiger had changed to a succession of
long bounds, which ended at a spot
where the dust had beeu stirred by
marks of a struggle and caked with
drops of red. The bushes and long
grass crushed and bent to left aud
right," showed where the tiger leaped
back into the jungle,and there was no
track of man or beast in the road be
yond. But iu the tiger's path at a
few paces from the roadside, strung
along the bushes, was the unwound
turban of Nagho with a long smear of
red upon its white.
" 'lt was so appointed, 1 said the
fakir. 'He was weaving the plan of
his own death wlieu he thought he was
compassing yours. Now, tnke your
own, restored to you, aud we will go
on into Baghra.'
"He pointed to my satchel, which
I had not seen, in the grass by the
roadside. It was unopened, aud all
its contents were safe. We went on
to Baghra, where the fakir left 1110 at
the outskirts of the town, taking his
way, I suppose, to the hou3e of some
person of his religious order. I gave
him a bag of rupees at parting, which
he accepted without thanks or com
ment—to him it came by appointment
of the gods, aud 1 feel sure he would
have received a sentence of immediate
execution with the same calm fatalism.
I saw him once more, when he was
called before the magistrate to give his
testimony as to the manner of Nagho'a
death, but he gave me no sign of rec
ognition. To one like him, wrapped
in communion with diety,a mere man,
whatever his degree, was worthy of
nothing more than a passing notice.
"My story of the fakir is told, and
you may explain it if you can to your
satisfaction. His tricks at the bunga
low were incomprehensible to the
Western mind. Beyond these, what
do you thiuk of his reading of the hu
man soul,as when his glance at Nagho
revealed my servant's thought of
murder and robbery against me? Of
his knowledge of the events occurring
iu his case beyond the perceptions of
the recognized senses of see ng aud
hearing? Was it the reading of Nagho's
mind at the bungalow and of mine by
the fire iu the jungle? Let that ex
plain it if you will. But what u gen
uine and lofty order of mind readiug.
Compare it with the jugglery that
passes by that name among people of
the Western hemisphere."—New York
Sun.
I,otterien in Old Havana.
"Life and Society in Old Cuba," is
the title of an article in the Century,
made up of extracts from the jouruals
of Jonathan S. Jenkins, written in
1859. Mr. Jenkins says:
In Havana the stranger's attention
is arrested by the venders of lottery
tickets, who stand on the street cor
ners with a pair of shears in oue hand
and sheets of lottery tickets in the
other, ready to cut off any number for
buyers. They are very adroit, and
are apt to persuade the credulous that
they will draw a fortune in the
scheme. These licensed lotteries are
one of the great evils there, especially
to the Spanish people, who seem to
be born gamblers, and for whom the
chauces of dice, cards and lottery
tickets appear to have an irresistible
charm, all classes iu Havanp dealing
in them habitually.
$ THE REALM OF FASHION. X'
tC9?
A Drelay Waist.
This dressy waist, of fancy flgnred
green taffeta, is stylishly combined
with cream-eolored satin and mous
seline de soie. The fronts roll back
in pretty pointed lapels from the neck
WOMAN'S WAIST. * .
to waist-line, which are faced with the
sijtin and edged with ruching of mous
seline. The full front, of moutseline,
Is arranged over satin in evenly spaced
rows of tucked shirring at the top and
blouses prettily at the waist-line.
The collar is of cream satin, shaped
with stylish points under the ears.
The waist is supported by fitted lin-
> r se s a. i i i rr.
ings that close in centre front, the full
front closing under the left revers.
The comfort-two-seamed sleeves
save stylish fulness arranged in
{athers at the top, and at the wrists
points of the white satin stand out
fashionably. The waist may be part
of a costume or made separately to
wear with different contrasting skirts.
Combinations of material and coloring
may be artistically arranged, and the
cvaiat can be made in silk, cotton or
light woolen fabrics. Velvet made in
this way, with revers and front of
latin, and decoration of point applique
is especially handsome.
To make the waist for a woman of
medium size will require two yards of
forty-four-inch material.
A Patriotic Idea.
Our glorious victory has been cele
brated in the fashion world by model
ling many of the new season garments
according to the patriotic idea, so in
sompliment to our heroes on water the
"Admiral" jacket, shown in Jthe large
illustration, is a favored style for
misses.
Naval blue faced cloth, brnid and
brass buttons with anchor design are
incorporated in the stylish coat which
is correctly fitted with a centre-back
seam, side-back and under-arm gores.
The fulness below the waist is laid in
soat plaits which are flatly pressed and
finished at the top by buttons, a deep
coap lap completing the centre seam.
The double-breasted fronts lap widely
in reefer style, the neck fitting closely
by a short-dart in the centre.
Square laps cover pockets that are
inserted in the fronts, and the neck is
finished by a military looking collar
closely fitted and trimmed with braid.
Shoulder straps cover the shoulder
seams coming forward, brass buttons
decorating each end. (These may be
omitted if not desired.)
The fashionable two-seamed coat
sleeves are finished at the wrists by
the braid put onto simulate cuffs, and
the slight fuiuess at top is collected in
gathers, whioh is the newest style.
Jackets in this style are natty and
■mart, and can be made of auy eloak-
ing fabric or of material to match tha
skirt.
The collar and shoulder straps are
sometimes made of red, white, or pale
blue cloth, edged with the braid, which
enhances the military eflfect.
The skirt has all the prevailing
graduated flounce, that is so fashion
able this season, joined to a five-gored
upper portion that fits closely the be
coming fulness at the back, falling in
pretty fold. Serge, cheviot, covert or
broad cloth, and other weaves in plain
colors or fancy mixtures are suitable
for skirts or whole costumes by the
mode.
To make the jacket for a miss of
fourteen years will require one and
one-half yards of fifty-four-inch mate
rial. To make the skirt in the medium
size will require three and one-half
yards of forty-four-inch material.
The Hobson Tie.
The Hobson tie is a pretty finishing
for the neck of a silk waist or woolen
gown with which linen collars are
worn. The Hobson tie consists of a
satin strip with a slip-knot of accor
dion pleated chiffon worn in front and
fastened by a clasp like the four-in
hand.
Colors For Erenlnt Dreeees.
Several shades •of one color will be
worn on evening dreßses.
A Favorite Style For ISoya.
The Norfolk jacket is a favorite
style for boys, and when made <jn.
heavy tweed or cheviot may be worn
throughout the whole winter. Brown
cheviot is the material here delineated,
machine stitching giving the correct
tailor finish. The jacket is shaped by
shoulder and under-arm seams, the
plaits being folded and applied on
front and back. The fronts are re
versed at the top to form narrow
lapels that meet the rolling collar in
notches, bone buttons closing the
fronts in center and the belt that is
worn at the waist. The two-seamed
NORFOLK JAfKET.
sleeves are of correct tailor cut, ma
chine stitching simulating cuffs at the
wrists.
Knickerbockers are here shown in
conjunction with this jacket, but tba
regular knee trousers can be substi
tuted. Brown felt sailor hat, brown
stockings and shoes completes this
stylish suit.
A Bright Bnatnefis Woman*
The oleotric light plant in Long
Beach, Cal., is managed by a woman,
Mrs. Iva E. who is Superin
tendent and principal owner as well.
FOLK SONG.
This la the lore the old wife know*
Who sees the storm draw nigh,
Anil wiDd and cloud together cloM
The windows of the sky:
"The north wind Is man's wind,
Entangled with his fate;
Id that he joyed, in that he sinned,
It chants his love and hate.
"The west wind is the angels' wind,
He sweeps their lyre strings;
And where the gray storm alouds in
thinned,
We see their rushing wings.
'•The east wind is the devil's wind,
And stings with Ore and ice;
But the south wind is God's wind,
And blows from paradise.
•'And whence they go none mortal knows
Who hears thein riding by;
We cun but watch them as they close
The windows of the sky."
HUMOROUS.
My friend, don't put your oar inta
* general conversation of sensible
tolls, unless you Lave a good skull.
Spain's map is not mounted on the
right kind of cloth. It shrinks dur
ing the reign of every one of ita
rulers.
"My grandparents married in
haßte." "And did they repent at lei
sure?" "Oh, yes, both lived to be
over ninety."
"What can equal the warmth of a
true woman's love?" asked the Dear
est Girl. "Her temper," replied the
savage bachelor.
Hurry—How very dull it was at the
Cutlers' party last night. Vera—Yea,
in the early part ot the evening; but
it was blighter after you left.
'"Would you please help me?" said
the poor beggar to the pedestrian; "I
huve a wife and live children at Lome,
and an installment to pay on my bicy
cle tomorrow."
Stranger—That man is evidently
cr.a/jy. Why is he not putin an asy
lum? Native—llis property is so
heavily movtgaged that noue of his
relatives want it.
Yeast—Jesse tells me that he is
practicing in the courts; Ididn't know
that he had been admitted U> the bar?
Crimsonbeak—He hasn't. It's the
tennis courts he means.
Bumps (sadly)— You are not tftat
you used to be, Viola. Mrs. Bump&
(sharply)—Of course I'm not. I used
to be your best girl, but now I'm your
wife, and it makes ail the difference.
Mother-How did pa] a s new book
get in this condition? Bobby—Why,
mamma, I heard papa say last night
that the book was too dry for him, ao
I put it in the bath and let the water
run.
A Michigan farmer abused his moth
er-in-law, und then asked her to lower
him down tbe well to recover the lost
dipper. The coroner decided that the
rope broke, though others thought 'it
had been cut.
He—lt seems to be generally ac
knowledged as a fact that nearly all
women admire a soldier. She—l don't
know as to the married ladies, but
none of the single ones would object
to a good offer-sir.
Elsie was trying to eat a dessert of
gelatine, and had some difficulty in
conveying the quivering spoonful to
her mouth. "Mamma," she said at
length, "I don't b'lieve I like such
aervous desserts."
"Yes," remarked the WidowTacum,
"before we were married I used to
Admire John because I thought he
was so noble. I continued to admire
him afterwards; but it was because he
was such a splendid humbug!"
She —Do you know, that kitten
there reminds me of you? He—l'd
like to know where the connection is?
She—lt seems to have just about as
much success in catching its tail as
you do in tinding your moustache.
"Madam, you've already overdrawn
your account." "What's that?" "YOB
haveu't any more money in the bank."
"The idea. A tine bank, I think, to
be out of money because of the little
I've drawn! Well, I'll go somewhere
else."
Freshman (to dentist) — I wouldn't
pay nothing extra for gas. Just yank
her out, if it does hurt. Dentist
You are plucky, sir. Let me see the
tooth. Freshman—Oh, 'tain't me
that's got the toothache; it's my wife.
She'll be here in a minute.
She had been arrested for shoplift
ing. "Do you wish to make any state
ment before sentence is passed on
you?" asked the judge. "I huve
nothing to say," was the response.
Those few words were her uudiiug.
Everyone knew theu that the prisouet
was a man masquerading as a woman.
Meeks—My wife is nothing if not
original. Now, what do you suppose
she said when I asked her to marry
me? Weeks—Oh, something about
its being so suddeu,! suppose. Meeks
—No, indeed! She said, "Well, 1
think it's about time; I've been ex
pecting you to make a break for three
months."
Gillings—You said that kerosene
was perfectly safe, and that it could
be used without the least danger. I
took your word, and what is the re
sult? The stuff has exploded and
made a ruin of our kitchen. Dealer—
I said the oil was not dangerous. I
did not say anything at all about the
servant girl.
flattering the TCnclUh,
It does not require a thorough
knowledge of the English language
to discover how frequently it is bruised
and mangled by adults. A few mid
utes' ride on the street car or standing
in a public place is sufficient to cause
cold shivers to chase up and down the
back of a person who holds the Eng
lish language in esteem. On every
hand one hears "I seen," "He don't,"
"I done," "They was," "laiu't," and
similar deadly assaults. Chicago
News.