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.