UTILITY. Tour toiler may not overtake His proud iimbition's goal. But by a word or deed may wake Some strouger, worthier soul. And though in tales of peace and war Obscurely he must rest, There is no real failure for The man who does his best. fiTral — A BY a. MACKENZIE. "What have you got to say to me?'" "Nothing." "Why did you send for me?" A flush of reel rose to her face. "I thought, yesterday, when I wrote, that I had something to say, but now —" "You have changed your mind, Miss Austin? That is a woman's privilege and you have used it ruthlessly." "Yes, I know. Forgive me. I meant to do my best." He frowned and his expression was not good to see. "Her best." And this is what she had dona Last spring he had thought himself one of the happiest men alive, engaged to be married to this girl, Eva Aus tin; he loved her passionately and be lieved her to be the ideal type of womanhood, high principled, truthful, gentle—in fact, almost faultless. One day, a few months ago. she had written to break off her engage ment, a short letter which was a mas terpiece of polite reserve and femi nine cruelty. She regretted if she bad caused him any pain—Oh, yes. re grets cost nothing—she was conscious of the honor that he had paid her * * * she wished to remain his friend * * * she returned his ring. Captain Humphrey traveled many miles to demand an explanation of his affianced wife. He was refused admit tance, his letters were returned un opened by her sister —Eva was ill and could not write. The truth stared him In the face; in plain English he had been hopelessly jilted. Then he vowed to forget Eva Austin's existence and congratulated himself upon his free dom from domestic ties. Today, as he stood in the parlor of the hotel to which she had summoned him, he had so far overlooked his determination to forget her existence lhat his anger was waxing fierce against her. Why had she brought i him here? To be made a fool of a second time? No, and a thousand times no. "If you did your best. Mies Austin, may I ask what your worst would lia\ e been?" She moved quickly, almost ns 11 he had struck her. "I cannot explain. If you knew how j it all happened you would perhaps believe —you might perhaps think a lit tle better of me." He stood bolt upright, speechless. He was struggling with his pride; in his heart of hearts he was longing to take her in his arms, to tell her that for him she was the only woman in the world, with all her faults. Her faults. They were unpardona ble. "I should be glad to think well of any lady," he said at last, lightly, "more especially of a lady who once honored me with her friendship." "Yes," she said gently, "it was he cause of that friendship that I wrote. I had a favor to ask you. Now—it is not necessary. I am sorry." There was a brief silence, then she said: "There are changes in our family. Ella is going to be married; the en gagement is very sudden, it was only settled this morning." (Ella was the younger sister of whom he had so often been jealous .in those forgotten days.) "Allow me to congratulate." He bowed and turned togo; the in terview was a farce. At the door she stopped him. "Do you start—tomorrow?" "Yes." "Goodby. We, that is Ella and 1, wish you a happy return." Considering their former intimacy, fhis was barely the farewell that good manners demanded, nothing more. His hand was on the lock. Some thing else she said, her voice was al most inaudible, "I will pray for you." He shut the door quietly, there should be no melodramatic display of Semper on his part. Arrived at the iottom of the stairs, he missed his fiat. Had he left his purse or his *atch in that room, no power on earth r.'ould have sent him back —but his iat. He ran back hastily and knocked, /"here was no answer. So much the better. He entered the room and seized his property. Turning togo, he heard the rustle of draperies. She was there, standing on the spot where he had left her, with her hands clasped to her face. • • » • Under the cold star lit sky he had lain for hours. The fight was over. In the distance he could discern the figures of the wounded and the dead. The victory war. with his men—so much he knew before he fell. And now, patience. They would find him by and by. If not, then the end could not be far off, not very far. Patience. The stars flickered and faded. He saw a room, with pale pink walls, flowers, a work basket on the table —nothing escaped his notice. Eva was there, she had on a gray dress and a gold chain round her neck. Were there tears In her eyes? There were tears in his. "I will pray for you." That is what she said at parting, And he had protended not to hear. He saw her again praying for the man who had not condescended to accept her good wishes. In the old days he had often smiled at her earnestness, and called her a little Puritan; in later times he had raged at her as a hypocrite. Do hypocrites look like that? What did it matter what he called her? His one wish now was that she should know that he died blessing her. With infinite difficulty he found his pocketbook and wrote her name on the flyleaf. His hand trembled; before the pencil slipped from his grasp he scrawled fec-bly, "God bless you, Eva.*' • * * * The orderly brought a bundle of let ters into the shed which had been hastily converted into a hospital. The men crowded eagerly round him; even Captain Humphrey, who was "danger ously" wounded, turned an anxious face toward the messenger. The captain recognized the shape and color of the envelope that was brought to his bedside; the handwrit ing, too, was familiar. It was Eva Austin's. "Now that I am happily married 1 must l'ree my conscience and tell you our secret. Think as badly of me as as you can. Eva sacrificed herself for me. I told her that I cared for you, that is why she wrote that letter. Af terward, when she was ill, I sent back your letters without her knowledge." The lines jumped up and down be fore the sick man's eyes; he read on: "Eva wanted to put things right be tween you and me; that is why she sent for me before you left. Didn't you guess? She found out her mis take before you came and took all the blame on herself to shield me. You will never forgive me, I shouldn't, but I can't, bear to think that you are still misjudging her." • • • •■ "Will he pull through, doctor?* asked a young officer that night. He it was who had found the captain and brought him into shelter. "Pull through? Yes, now his mind's at rest." "What's he been worrying about?" "What do we all worry about, eh?" The officer did not answer—he wasn't going to tell his secrets to the wily doctor. "The first night he wanted to risk his life writing or dictating letters home. Now. I think he's satisfied with the news that today's mail brought him. Look at him." "He's asleep," said the other in a whisper; "and say, doctor, he's got a letter tucked away under his pillow " —American Queen. RIDING IN A MOTOR VEHICLE. How It reels to Ghzh Thronch Goi;i;lr» on a LnnU«rn|)e That Kimlio* at You. Until the other day my experiences of motor riding had not been worth mentioning. I had been on a motor, of course, both here and over the way, and I had seen something of its capa bilities of upsetting, not merely my self and other people, but the idea 1 had entertained of the relations of time and space. Still, the most I had seen a motor do in the vicinity of Paris had been done at the rate oi two-something miles an hour, while, in Ivondon, where, as yet, its per formances are viewed with a less in dulgent eye, one-something per hour had been about its record. However, 1 had been offered the opportunity of seeing the veteran fairly "extended," as one used to say of a horse; and, as 1 am still fond of new experiences, I clo:;ed with the offer. The first thing I learned was that you cannot ride a motor, when exten sion is contemplated, without a cer tain prescribed mode of habiliment: and thus, I presently found myself in goggles aad a flapped cap, constructed to tie under the chin, and a water proof jumper. In this guise I was pro nounced ready for the road and we took it. It is unnecessary to recount what the particular road was that we took to. Suffice it that at that ma tutinal hour we had it pretty well to ourselves and that its condition was not unfavorable to free and easy loco motion. So, from one-something the motor got into two-something, and that, process of extension was gradu ally continued, until, from the indica tion afforded by the milestones. I con cluded she must be doing nearer four something than three. I have an idea that somebody else, who looked like a mounted county po liceman, arrived at much the same conclusion, and was rather inclined to tell us so. However, he thought better of it.for we certainly left him, as who should say, standing still. We seemed to leave a good many people like that. And yet trees and houses rather rushed at us, and the landscape generally took to be having in the way you will find re corded in the late laureate's "Amphi on." The use of goggles, a cap, a wa terproof jumper and apron were now quite satisfactorily explained to me. The use of tobacco had even earlier become first inadvisable, then impos sible. Any exchange of remarks was attended with the inconvenience which arises from abnormal pressure cn the respiratory organs; and there was present to a marked degree that titilation of the spinal cord which sometimes has the effect of making people seasick. I observed my autcmedon cock his eye at me. inquiringly, now and again, but his expectations, if he had any, were not realized. Mine were. I had expected a certain amount of ex (ltement, and when we reached our destination a few minutes before ou." scheduled time, I was free to confess that I had it. All the same, I doubt whether I am likely to find my ideal of motion In a motor, yet awhile. — Pall Mall Gazette. Larje Muflfa to Be tlie Style Again. This coming season brown furs will rank first, then black, gray and white. Longhaired furs will be most used. I.ong boas with stole ends, and large muffs, will be much inevidence.— Ladies' Home Journal. Interested in Foreatrv. Miss Myra L. Dock, of Harrisburg, Penn., who has been identified with the forestry movement in that sitate for many years has received an ap pointment from Governor Stone to membership in the State Forestry commission. The "Give Axrny" Sleeve. A good judge of lady's dress says she can tell by a glance whether a gown be a true tailor-made or whether it has been fashioned by feminine fingers. The sleeves are supposed to give the information. Tailors, as we all know, cling to the masculine ideal of a coat sleeve, not tight, indeed, but sufficiently close fitting. On the other hand the dressmaker. French, Irish, English or American, is strongly prej udiced in favor of flowing sleeves, un dersleeves, balloon puffs on shoulder ar elbow —in short, of every possible vagary in the name of a sleeve. For tli« "Muddv Skin." Of the many remedies for skin blemishes the one that Is simple, easily obtained and efficacious, with out tedious waiting for a cure, is the one sure to be appreciated. Nothing frets a woman like a rough, muddy skin, but with this simple cure-all re lief may be obtained at short notice. Wash the face in very saltv sweet milk every night, and let it dry with out wiping. A mixture made of one small tablespoonful of milk and a tea spoonful of salt applied to the most obstinate blemish of the skin will cure it almost like magic. This is the remedy prescribed by one of the best authorities in England, and it is said that the use of milk and salt is i half the secret of the Englishwoman's j smooth, beautiful skin. Th- Wintwr'. Wrnpn. From Paris comes the intimation that pelerines are to be the mode next winter. Some are to be long and 1 draped, having one end thrown over > the shoulder and fastened with a gold | buckle. They may be lined with j white or black taffetas and be cascad- ' ed to show the lining. Some of these ! mantles will have no collar, but will be bordered with a shaped strapping of black and gold embroidery or vel vet around the throat. Hell-shaped sleeves will be worn or the mantle i may have a cascaded drapery from the ! shoulders. Then there will he fichu- j like wraps which will cross in front and fasten behind with sashes of moussellne. To bridge the chasm be tween such radical departures from the present mode of wraps there will be jacket mantlettes in white or colored taffetas incrustcd with lace. Individuality in I>re««. It is difficult to resist putting in a plea for a little more individuality in dress, yet the tendency toward an irritating sameness seems more ap parent than ever. Taking an average assembly at the present moment, the backs of the heads of nine women >ut of ten look almost, identical, the hat tilted back to the same angle, with the black velvet bow assuming the same droop on the hair. And every neck that is not dressed plain and low has the inevitable ruff of black and white tulle, with long ends, which leads one to believe these articles are turned out by the gross. Yet just now there is an endless variety in pretty ruflles, and nimble fingers might achieve excellent results by manufacturing one somewhat out of the common instead of accepting a hard and monotonous pattern.—Pitts burg Dispatch. Qu«en Alexandra'* Knrmnr CnTprnrii. Queen Alexandra, in her early days, in her royal father's home in Copen hagen. was instructed in and care fully taught English by a Danish West Indian lady. That lady, Miss Math ilde Knudsen, was born 70 summers ago in one of King Christian's lovely West Indian colonies, the island of St. Croix, where her father was a planter. Miss Knudsen, though not English by birth, speaks that language with perfect ease, and on the recommend ation of the late Admiral Zarthman's wife, whose husband belonged to the Danish navy, she was selected to teach the English language, not only to tho present Queen of England, but also to the Dowager Empress of Russia, the Duchess of Cumberland, Prince Waldemar, and four of the crown prince's children, a very distinguished and highly agreeable task, in which she acquitted herself in the most cred itable manner, and the tokens of es teem which have since been bestowed upon her by her royal and imperial pupils have been numerous. On her frequent, visits to England she has always been honored as a guest at the Princess of Wales's table. Miss Knudsen, now in the evening of her life, still resides in the fashionable quarter of Copenhagen, near the royal palace of Amalienborg. —Leslie's Weekly. Rome Pretty Tea Gown*. A beautiful tea gown is of wing accordion-pleated crepe de chine, with its shaped flounce, deep collar and elbow sleeves, worked with soft silk in harmonizing shades. Ribbon of t?a colore inches wi Is placed siife. . - alternately plain and poln.*. ecru silk mull. The hem is finished with a very deep band of spotted mull, featherstitched on, and the same fin ish appears on the wide bell sleeves. The gown is worn over a slip of pale lilac oriental satin. There are three collars to the tea gown. They are like the triple capes of an Empire coat and are made of the two kinds of muslin nnd lace, featherstitched with pale lilac silk. A third gown is of ecru spotted net on deep cream colored chiffon, edged with Cluny lace. The oversleeves and lining are of soft silk. There is a fichu edged with the lace, and a black chiffon scarf passes under the arms and is fastened with a green enamelled buckle, the long ends of the sash reaching to the ground. A tea gown of gray satin is decorated with clus ters of crushed roses in panne and chiffon and the undersleeves and chou are of black chiffon. Tea gowns should have a low neck, but long sleeves. I The AriVHntnces of Snmlnl*. Sandals are being worn by English women and children to some extent a fact which calls forth the following communication to the London Daily Mail: I can speak with 10 years' experi ence of sandals. The chief objection | I have seen urged against them is that they will enlarge the feet. Now, I do not believe that any footwear, short of such as has inflicted cruelty in infancy, can possibly alter the size of the foot, which necessarily depends on the bone structure of the individual. It will invariably be found that the person with neat, well shaped hands has feet to correspond. If allowing the feet to have the free play that, nature intended them to have is apt to make them large and ungainly, then sailors, who spend most of their time and do most of the