FLCWERS. ft)* flowers of hope that, budding, fade and die. And uevor gruoe tbo gardens of our years, ihall surely bloom the fairer, by ami by, Vur having here been watered by our tears. —Josephine Masou Leslie, iu New York ndepenuent. ; Getting; M > 112 DY \T. PETT RIDOE. "Why!" declared Miss Gale; "it's i splendid exercise." "Of course," said old Colonel Dain .ree. "It's recommended by all the doc :ors," insisted Miss Gale, pinching the :ire of the back wheel. "Naturally," said Colonel Daintree. "It enables you to see the country," vent on the young lady argumentative y. "It makes you hungry, it is the oest thing for the temper that was jver invented." "I wonder how any young people lave the impudence not to cycle," igreed the colonel. "I am glad you agree with me, Col inel Daintree." "My dear young lady, you're so ab solutely in the right. What do you ■ay, Di?" The two walked through the gates jf the park, and Di, the terrier, bark ing agreement, followed. The indig aant young woman wheeled her ma -hine near to the pavement slowly, so that the old gentleman could keep lp with her without inconvenience. She was flushed —this partly because of a brisk spin in the park; mainly Deeause she was reviewing a griev tnce of imperial gravity. "Fact of the matter is," said the old gentleman as they went down the hill, "my nephew is a fool." "In regard to this question of cy cling," she agreed cautiously. "None of the other Daintrees were ever like him. In the years gone by no Daintree would ever have dreamt of becoming assistant professor at the College of Science." "It requires brains." "And brains," said the colonel proudly, "were never a strong point with the Daintrees." "Before Frank." "Exactly! They've been storing it •ip through generations apparently for bis benefit." "At the same time," urged Miss Gale, fingering the buttons at the side of her skirt, "that gives him no right to dictate to me in regard to cycling." "Exactly my opinion. Eh, Di?" The terrier barked approval. "And although, of course. I like him," said the young lady, glancing at the ground shyly, "and all that. I cannot permit him for a single mo ment to say that I shall not do this or that I shall do that." "I should have felt very much in clined to tell him so. "I did," said the young woman firm ly. The colonel bent to dust his shoes. "These young professors," he re marked, "get a didactic manner that is at times highly ridiculous. I'm afraid I shall have to get Frank mar ried in order to—" "Married!" The bicycle was stopped suddenly. "To whom?" "Yon won't speak of this," said the old gentleman, returning. "I don't want it to get about." "You can rely on me." "Don't happen by chance to know a Mine. Van Oppen?" "I don't know her," said the girl quickly, "and I do not want to. She wrote a ridiculous article on 'Unwom anly Sports' that appeared in the—" "Rather a pleasing sort of widow," said the colonel. "Fine figure of a woman, too; and I happen to know that she thinks very highly of my nephew." "Nothing clever in that." "And I rather think that with a lit tle management, a word in season, if you understand me, my dear young lady—" "I think, Colonel Daintree." said Miss Gale, almost tearfully, "that you ought not to interfere in matters that concern other people." "She has property and she would be an excellent match for him." She laughed rather uneasily. "Good by, Colonel Daintree. I must go home and work." "You won't let this that I've told you CO any further?" "No," promised Miss Gale, decidedly wheeling off; "I'll see that it doesn't go any further." Colonel Daintree went carefully down the steps to the Terrace walk, chuckling so much that infants who wero exercising their dolls stared at him amazedly, and in their astonish ment allowed their tow-haired, star ing-eyed charges to assume an upside down position that was almost undig nified. The old gentleman talked to his dog, as. leaning on the parapet, lie looked at the lily-shaped fountain, sparkling in the sunlight, and watched the foil: coming up the pathways from the riverside. He lighted a cigar, but his thoughts were so absorbing that he allowed it togo out. Presently he saw among the people who wero com ing up the gardens a serious young man, wearing glasses. He waved his walking stick and the young man hast ened his thoughtful pace. "My boy," cried the colonel, cheer fully, "how are you! How are you? How are you?" "Not very well uncle." "That confounded business—" "It's not that. sir. said Mr. Frank Daintree. "I —I have bad some little dispute with Miss Gale." The colonel mus much astonished. "Rather wor ried over it." "Tell me," said the colonel. And he listened to an account of the dispute with all the attention of one receiving news of perfect freshness. "And I must say," concluded the young man, "that I consider there is no necessity for a girl to cycle, and that there are many other exercises open to her of a gentler and —er — more womanly character." "I quite agree with you," said the old gentleman emphatically. "I may be wrong"—the colonel would not hear of it—"but it seems to me that collecting autographs, for in stance —" "You have taken the words from my mouth," said the colonel. "Or croquet—" "I was going to suggest croquet." "Or —" Mr. Frank Daintree seemed, after a moment's thought, to be unable to expand the list. "Well, there are plenty of things besides this craze for cycling." "I call it unwomanly." saidthe col onel. "Worst of it is, they don't seem to know where to stop." "And il' they don't know, sir, we must tell them," urged the younger man hotly. "It's a duty that we owe to society at large." "And yet. when I ventured to hint to Miss Gale that I looked upon cycling with disfavor, my remarks were re ceived with —well, almost contempt." "1 don't know what girls are think ing of," said the colonel despairingly. -•Fact of the matter is, I expect, you don't go quite the right way to work. Frank. You are too deferential, too courteous, too submissive. Now a girl like Miss Gale requires the hand of steel more than the glove of velvet." "Not sure that I quite follow you, sir." said the other, doubtfully. "Fact, of the matter is. strictly be tween ourselves. Miss Gale wants a lord and master; some one who will simply make her obey his commands." "That was not the impression that I gained from her." "What I mean to say is that's the kind of man she ought to marry." "Marry," stammered Mr. Frank Daintree. "I know just the Tery man," de clared the colonel, jubilantly. "As it happens. I've got him in my mind's eye at the present moment." "I think you'd better keep him there, sir," said Mr. Daintree, warmly. "This is not a matter that calls for the in terference of any third person." "You leave it to me, my boy," said the old gentleman, cheerily; "I'll see what I can do." "I should be sorry to show any want of respact for you, sir, but I must say—" "He won't allow her to rove all over the place, cycling," said the old gentleman, confidently. "He'll soon let her know that the proper place for a woman is the fireside." "Not on a summer's day like this." "All the year 'round," snapped the colonel, '"all the year 'round. That's my dog barking. I must be going.' "Before you go, sir—" "Goodby," said the colonel. Colonel Daintree was a man who read his newspaper carefully and com pletely, and he flattered himself that he missed little or nothing. In read ing his local journal at the bow win dow of his rooms at the end of that week he came across two advertise ments which gave him great content. The terrier on the colonel's knee was also scanning the journal closely, with a view apparently of ascertaining the latest news in regard to the muzzling order. "For Sale —Lady's bicycle. Cost SIOO. A bargain. Address Miss E. G., 900 Fifth St., New York." Further down was the second adver tisement; "Wanted, to Purchaso at once— Safety bicycle, with latest improve ments, for learner. Address Profes sor Dpintree, The Grove, 4 Madison Ave., New York." The old gentleman slapped his knee with satisfaction, making the terrier jump, and the dog, a little annoyed, went to the window, and presently commenced to show signs of recogni tion. The colonel put down the news paper to ascertain the cause of Di's excitement, and saw Miss Ella Gale walking toward the Park in company with his nephew, the two being quite obviously on the best of terms with each other. "Now that, Di," explained Colonel Daintree, rubbing the interested ter rier behind the ear, "that is the result of what we call strategy."—American Queen. No More lioyal Wtttermnn. Among other economics his majes ty has determined to fill up no more vacancies in the ancient body of Royal Watermen, who have been gradually driven out of existence by the multi plication of bridges and by more rap id means of transport on the water In the days when Thomas Doggett "the famous comedian," gave his coat and badge to perpetuate his loyalty to the first prince of the house of Han over. the watermen were still in fill force, and their connection with th< actors (a point seldom understood hitherto) is explained by a petitior which they sent into the privy coun cil in the early 17th century prayinp that the playhouses (Shakespeare's among others) might be reopened again after their long silence during the plague, as the custom they lost when no one went to the theatre was a very considerable fraction of theii total income. In those days some thousands of them were able seamer in the fleet, and for many years after wards they formed a reserve scarcelj less valuable than the fishing fleet:- of Newfoundland to the modern navj o£ France. —London Telegraph. New York City. Shallow round yokes are very generally becoming, and are among the latest designs shown. The May Manton model illus WOMAN'S BLOUSE. tratcd is made of sky blue louisiue silk with the yoke of cream lace, over white, trimming of black and blue cording, which is attached beneath the edges of the tucks and finishes the round neck and buttons of turquoise matrix. The design is eminently sim ple, yet effective, and in the lieighi of style, both for the odd waist worn to the theatre, informal dinners and Un like, and for the entire costume. Silks of various sorts and all light weight wools are appropriate, and the cording can be varied by the substitution of contrasting pipings or the tucks left plain as preferred. The lining tits snugly and closes at FANCY WAIST. the centre front and on it are arranged the yoke and the waist. The back is smooth across the shoulders but drawn down in slight gathers at the waist line. The front is tucked in groups of three each and with the yoke closes at the left side. The sleeves are in bishop style, the cuffs stitched and edged with cording and the belt of the mate rial is similarly finished aud held by an ornamental clasp. To cut this waist for a woman of medium size three and five-eighth yards of material twenty-one inches wide, three and one-eighth yards twen ty-seven inches wide, two and seven eighth yards thirty-two inches wide or two yards forty-four inches wide will be required, with three-eighth yards of all-over lace l'or yoke and col lar and six and a half yards of cording to trim as illustrated. Woman's Fancy Waist. The fancy waist, with soft tucked front and bishop sleeves, is shown among the latest models, and can be relied upon as correct for the coming as well as the present season. The smart May Manton example illus trated in the large drawing Includes the newest features and is eminently well suited to the odd waist, as well as to the entire costume. As shown the material is white crepe de chene, with cream guipure over white silk, but all soft clinging materials are appropriate, louisine silk, taffeta mousseline, challie, cashmere, albatross aud the like with lace, velvet or applique as trimming. The foundation, or lining, is snugly fitted and closes at the centre Tront. The back proper is plain and seamless, but the right front is tucked aud ex tends well over the left, the closing being effected beneath the left bre telle. The yoke and bretelles are care fully shaped and give a most satisfac tory effect, while actually Involving little labor. The sleeves include the latest novelty in the deep pointed euffs. but can be made with the sim ple straight ones tflien preferred. To cut this waist for a woman of medium size three and three-eighth yards of material, twenty-one inches wide, two and three-quarter yards twenty-seven inches wide, two aud a half yards thirty-two inches wide or two yards forty-four inches wide will « bo required, with one ami a half yards of all-over lace for yoke, bretclles and cuffs. The Place For the Braid. If you are having a frock braided by a home dressmaker, and are in need of suggestions, remember the regulation for this season is to em broider or applique a dress skirt six inches above the bottom line. It is easy to bear this in mind, otherwise your home-made braided frock may have its applications set too low, and so lose the cachet of an exclusively autumnal style. The mixed braids of black and silver are "well worn," as the dressmakers say, and if you do not care for even this slight admixture with tinsel the all-black braids— "military," mohair or silk, arc always stylish and extremely well looking. Soui« Pretty Petticoat!. A petticoat of tine white alpaca, much frilled, makes a nice change from silk or muslin skirts. It washes well and will outwear three silk skirts. Petticoats in colored cambric are use ful. Those sold in the shops are apt to be coarse and heavy. But when the materials are carefully selected, the ruffles made with the daintiest care and the fitting properly done, the re sult will be a very satisfactory gar ment. which will have the added rec ommendation that, it will wash. Glove* For Elbow Sleeve*. Gloves for the elbow-sleeved gown are shown with lacing of gold or sil ver cord from waist to elbow on the outer seam. The same thing is seen in shoulder length gloves and the lac ing is not only decorative hut also useful in fitting the glove to the arm and keeping it in place. Up-to-Date Collar-*. It hardly seems credible now that any one ever wore high, stiff collars, canvas-lined niul of the most unyield ing description. It" a collar Is used at all nowadays It must be soft and transparent. Child's l>rt-»s. Pointed yokes, with bretelles falling over the shoulders, are exceedingly be coming to the little folk, and make a charming effect. This dainty frock, designed by May Manton, is made of sheer Persian lawn, with all-over tuck ing and trimming of Valenciennes lace, but the design is suited to all fabrics used for woe children, white for occa sions of dress, colors for the limes of play and frolic. The yoke is square at the lower edge, and to it is attached the full skirt portion. The bretelles are shaped and slightly full, falling in soft folds. The sleeves are in guimpe style, with frills falling over the hands, and the neck is finished with a straight baud or narrow collar. To cut this dress for a child of two years of age two aud a half yards of material thirty-two inches wide will CHILD'S DRESS. be required with a quarter yard of bucking aud three and seven-eighth yards of insertion to trim as illus trated. A Wonderful Feat. A mouse of merit watched u boy Wbo stood upon his ho,id. "Now. ttint's a clever tiling to The mouse of merit suid. "But If I train my muscles well, And stick to what I'm at, I think in time I may perform A trick worth two of that." So he began to practice hard— It's lazy mice who fall— And he was able, in the end, To stand upon his tall! Spelling a Cow's Moo. Some years ago, when Lucy was a little girl, learning to write, the teacher gave her this to copy, "M-o-o, moo." "What is it?" asked Lucy, looking puzzled. "That is 'Moo,' the noise a cow makes, Lucy." Then Lucy began to copy "Moo." But she did it in a queer way. She made an M at the beginning of each line, and followed each M with a whole string of o's all across the slate, like this, Mooooo. "But that isn't right. Lucy," said the teacher, when the little girl showed her the slate. "You must copy the word as I have written it. So—'Moo.' " Lucy looked at the teacher's copy and then at her own attempts, and then she shook her head decidedly. "Well, I think mine is right, Miss Jones," she said; "for I never saw a cow that gave such a short 'Moo' as you wrote down."—Harper's Round Table. Utile Keel Men ami Women. An Indian baby's first year is spent strapped up in a tight little cradle, such as you have seen in pictures. When the little feet get out of the cradle they will soon learn to run about. Then the little red man will mount, on a cornstalk and take such rides as you take on a cane or broom. He would say that his horse is much better, because it makes such a dust. As soon as the little red woman is out of her cradle she begins to carry a doll or puppy on her back, just as her mamma used to carry her. She makes cunning little wigwams, too, and plays "keep house" while her lit tle brother plays at hunting and fish ing. But the little red boys and girls do not play all the time. They learn to help their mothers, and a good Indian mother takes great pains to teach her children to be polite. She teaches them that they must never ask a per son his name. They must never pass between an older person and the fire, and they must never, never speak to older people while they are talking. When a little red man forgets these very good rules and is rude, what do you suppose his mother says to him? I am sure you can never guess. She says: "Why will you act like a little white child?" Can it be that these little red men can teach us lessons in politeness? All Interview with a lllifl. Adelinta Pleasants contributes to the Sunday magazine of the Los Angeles Times a little sketch of "Jacob the Carpenter," a west coast bird, in which lacob is represented as saying of him self: "My name is Jacob and I am the red headed woodpecker. Some call me the California woodpecker, and some call me the Carpenter, but the children call me Jacob, and I like that best of all, as I can say it quite plain. I am called a carpenter bacause I have a habit of chiseling holes in dead limbs and the thick bark of some trees, to store up acorns in for my winter food. I am the only one of my family who does this, and people all over the world think I am a wonderful bird. "The Woodpecker family is quite large and useful, but I am the only carpenter. My chisel bill is also very handy in drilling holes in the outer bark of trees to find little insects that I hear working just underneath. I lay my ear against a tree, and if Mr. In sect is at work I can hear him. Then I chisel into where he lives and catch him with my spearlike tongue. It is very handy to always carry your tools about with you. It is easy for me to stand on the side of a tree or post. In fact, I prefer to stand that way. Some bird people cannot do that, but it is because they have not the right kind of tail feathers. My tail feath ers are stiff, and I turn them down and use them for a prop. Watch me, and I will show you how I do it. "When I want togo down a tree I go down backward. One time I had an accident in doing this. My wife and I live in a canyon, and last sum mer we built our nest in a hole in a live oak tree near a ranch house. The people who live there move their stove out under the trees in summer, and live out doors all day just like the birds. After the people eat their breakfast they make a great kettle of mush for the dogs and chickens. The bluejay and I tasted this mush one day, and it was very good. After that I used to back down the oak limb back of the stove every morning after the nmsh was cool ami eat my breakfast. One morning I backed down a black thing over the back of the stove that looked like a limb—and. oh, how it burned my feet. Nellie, the little girl who wears a pink sunbonnet, laughed and said: "Oh, mamma, Ja cob has backed down the stovepipe." Oninc of I'liflT and Dart. This is a fine out of door game from Prance, although there are parts of the world where great grown 'men use giant puff and darts for real weapons of warfare to do battle with and to chase their game in the wilderness The puff and dart is a cousin to thi pea shooter and is just a little large: and played with darts instead of peaj or pellets. In Paris the toy shopi keep the tubes on sale, all sorts anc varieties, made simply of metal, 01 very elegant looking objects out ol bamboo with an inner copper tube running through the centre and 3 screw top and ferrule to guard it when it is not in use, something after the fashion of the better makes of fishing rods which look exactly like walking sticks when they are folded up to put away. A clever boy can make a tube for himself or he can buy the largest size pea shooter to be had and then he is ready to make the dart. For this take a few penholder sticks and cut them into lengths of two inches. Next get some worsted and strong waxed thread. Fill one end of each stick with the worsted and let a series of loops project beyond. Bind it around with the thread. Just how much you will need you will have to ascertain by experiment. For the spike take a good sized nail, file up the sharp end into a good point not too fine; dip the point into the grease of a candle, hold it in the fame until it becomes nearly red hot. Then plunge it into cold water; this will harden it. Now file off the pro jecting end piece or' the metal at the end; bore a hole somewhat too small at the end of the stick, force the blunt end of the nail into it, and then bind it round firmly with waxed thread. Now trim off the ends of the worsted and your dart is complete. With a three foot tube this dart will pierce an almost limitless number of sheets of papal' at 10 or 12 feet dis tance and, if painstakingly made, will fly with wonderful accuracy. To take aim hold both hands close together. Be quick and decided or your tube will be certain to wabble. Shooting with a puff and dart is quite unlike rifle shooting and rather more resembles the shot anu aim of the bow and ar row. Fasten your target on a tree and you are ready for an afternoon's sport. In the wilds of Borneo or on the pampas of South America the rough little natives makes these tubes as long as 10 and 12 feet and use tiny things of darts feathered at one end and at the other finished with tips which have been dipped into a terri ble poison. The merest flesh wound in any part of a man or a tiger, a jack al or any other living thing is quite enough to cause immediate death. — Chicago Record-Herald. Peter's Fairy Story. "If there's anything I hate to do it is to work," wailed Peter, one bright morning early in August. Mamma Rust looked stern. "You must pick those berries before noon," she said. "And you must get your pail and go directly." "It's always pick berries," saicl the boy, as he went to find his hat. "It's work, work, work. An' nobody has to work but me." As he walked slowly down the nar row lane his cross and discontented face was not a pleasant sight. It was an attractive place, this berry pasture back of the house, where the birds sang as they got their babies' breakfast and the big yellow bumble bees buzzed cheerfully as they hurried from flower to flower. The ants were busy, too, running back and forth, laying up food in the sandy anthills, and a great berry spi der was spinning into his web as fast as ever he could. Peter noted all these things as he walked along, and it made him think a great deal. "I wonder if bugs an' birds an' fishes an' snakes have to work?" he thought, as he looked as his bright tin pail. It didn't seem nearly so large now, and he say the blueberries peeping out from beneath their green leaves ev erywhere, all over the pasture. Peter know away down in his heart that he could pick two quarts of ber ries in less than an hour. In a small half hour, if he only tried. "I wonder if everything has to work," he exclaimed soberly, as he commenced to pick the berries with a will. Tumety-tum they went faster and faster into Ills pail. The shining bot tom was covered ia a hurry. Very soon the pail was half full and then it was full to overflowing almost be fore Peter realized that he had been picking at all. Back he trudged to the house. Up over the stairs he hurried to his moth er's room, and then he sat down. "I'm going to tell you a fairy story, mamma," he said. "Once upon a time there was a boy, an' he was lazy. He 'most believed that nobody had to work, only just himself. One day he went to pick some berries, an' he didn't want to one bit. When he got to the field he saw that birds were working, an' the ants were working, an' the spiders were spinning, an' he was so s'prised that he forgot all about being lazy an' picked his berries just ever so fast." Peter stopped and looked up into mamma's face with his big, brown eyes. "An' he's never goin to be lazy again." he said, solemnly, " 'cause all those bugs an' things taught him a lesson. An' he was hanpy ever after," he continued slowly, " 'cause that's the way fairy stories always end, mamma. I")o you know who that lazy boy was in my fairy story?" he asked, eagerly. "I shouldn't wonder if his name was Peter," answered mamma, smiling. "I shouldn't wonder Is it was, too," said Peter.—Youths' Companion. Elks' teeth are scarce and valua ble in the Indian Territory.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers