SONG OF THE FOREST RANCER. Oh. to fool the fresh breeze blowing From lone ridges yet untrod ! Oh, to see the fur peak growing Whiter as it climbs to God ! Whore tho silver streamlet rashes I would follow—follow on Till I heard the happy thrushes I'lplug lyrics to the diiwn. 1 would hear the wild rejoicing Of the wind-blown cedar tree; Hear the sturdy hemlock voicing Ancient epics of the sea. —From tho I'oem by Herbert Eashford in 3,eslie's Monthly. ftA * AA.AA.A AAAAA^ 1 IN AN OLD GARDEN, £ ] > w "VV V■ ▼ "A week after you receive this I shall be with you, and then, my dar ling, there need be no more waiting i'or you and me." The letter was dated front Chicago, and signed Sydney. It was a passion ate letter. A cheerful, earnest letter the letter of a man who loved deeply, and saw within his reach at last, the paradise for which he had toiled and striven in exile. And the woman who loved him read it for the twentieth time, with tender eyes, and cheeks aglow with happiness. "A week after you receive this I shall be with you, and then " Eight days had dragged themselves slowly away since the news had reached her. The arrival of his steamer at Queenstown had been re ported yesterday, by this morning's paper the vessel was in dock at Liver pool. From Liverpool to Tlireegates was but a question of hours. H>; might come at any moment. She had been faithful to him in word, and thought, and deed for three years. For three years she had worn his portrait in a locket on her heart, and prayed for him among the roses, where they had spent so many pleas ant hours; where they had parted, and vowed, if all went well, to meet again. It was a sultry summer afternoon, and very quiet and still in the old garden. Scarcely a leaf stirred, and the silence was unbroken save by the droning of tho bees in the rose scented air. The girl sat down on a rustic seat to wait with a book, which she had not the patience to read, her cars j strained to catch the sound of fa miliar footsteps. An hour passed— two hours. The sunlight pierced the j foliage overhead, and fell upon her | cotton gown, and touched her un covered hair with gold. Would he I never come? The book had dropped j on her knees, her nerves were I strained to breaking, and every minute seemed an age. At length a firm trend crunched tbo gravel and she started to her feet with his name upon her lips. "No, it isn't Sydney, my child." An elderly man, whose likeness to the girl betrayed the relationship, ap peared round a curve in the path. His face was pale wit! a great trouble, and he crushed a telegram in h's hand. "No, it isn't Sydney, my child," lie repeated huskily. His eyes wandered lo the grass, the trees, anywhere to avoid her questioning gaze. "In fact, he won't be coming here at all today. ; I've just had news of him." "Father"." The girl went white to ' ti.e lips. "There is something the matter. What is it? Speak." "He is ill —very ill. Agnes, child, don't look at me like that! I —oh! how can I tell you! He will never come, neither today nor any other day. He is dead." "Dead!" "He died on the voyage heme." Then, like a blinding flash of light, her desolation came home to her. "Dead! Oh, father!" she wailed. He caught the slender, swaying figure he held it close against his breast, and smoothed her hair. "Cry. little one; why don't you cry?" But her eyes were wide and dry. Her grief was too terrible for tears. She felt as though the shock had numbed her, and that no trouble would be great enough to make her feel again. Before two days were over the girl was tossing in the delirium of brain fever. For weeks her life hung in the balance, and then youth and a fine constitution proved the conqueror, and she rose, a pallid, little ghost, with sad eyes, to face the long years of loneliness and regret. "She is young, she will forget," her father tried to believe, and lie said it to the man, his nephew, who had loved her since her childhood. But when he suggested as much to tho girl, she shook her head. "I shall never forget," she an swered, "and I shall never marry an other man." She meant her words, but fate was too strong for her. The cousin was so kind to her father and herself, and they told her that her coldness was spoiling his life. "But for his generosity I should be a ruined man today," her father said. "He is a good fellow, he is rich, he worships you. Make him happy! You have had a great loss, but you are too young to sit down and brood over the past for the rest of your days. It is a wrong thing to meditate; you will fcrow morbid, old before you are young. Agnes, believe mo, that I have your welfare at heart when I say that for your own sake, as much as his, you ought to marry Ralph." She was still weak from her ill ness. She thought "she had no interest left in life, no desire save to please those who loved her. So she listened to persuasion, and when her cousin spoke one day, she answered "Yes." "I have no feeling for you," she ex plained, "other than affection and gratitude, my neart iroze when Se died. But if it will make you happy, I will be your wife when the spring conie3." "My unselfish angel, I will teach you to care for me!" he said. "Heat melts ice. The fire of my love shall warm you back to life!" She did not like to damp his ardor, but she knew full well how vain his hopes were. When the day of the wedding dawned, she knew more —knew how culpable she had been in imagining that she cared nothing for what be came of her—recognized in a revul sion of feeling what a mistake she had made. At the last moment the cloak of indifference with which she had enveloped herself fell from her. "I can't marry him, I cannot! I was weak, foolish to consent. Oh, Sydney, my darling, why did you leave me hero alone!'" But she could not retract her word now, it would have been shameful, cruel; she had let matters go too far. Of the events of the next few hours ! she had only a confused recollection. ! She played her part in them mechan ically, and persons and things seemed blurred to the miserable girl, distant as they are in dreams, until, with a shock of reality, she found herself walking up the aisle of the church with her hand on her father's arm. The 'sound of the organ grew tumultu- J ous in her ears; an hysterical long- j ing seized her to tear the veil from her j head, to shriek aloud before all those people, that she couid not, would not r.t?.rry this man, that her heart was in the grave of Sydney—Sydney whom she had lost; and then She awoke! The scent of the roses was in her nostrils, tho soft wind of summer stirred her hair, and her lover had reached home, was bending over her, with his hands on her shoulders and his smiling lips upon her cheek. — Penny Pictorial Magazine. THE SIGNALMAN'S LUCK, He Siivod n Life, tint Hail to l'ajt for It. The night operator in the switch tower of the railroad looked at the clock and seeing that it was five minutes after midnight, heaved a sigh of contentment. Fitteen minutes more and the "theatre train" would pass him. Then there would be a long rest, for, aside from an occasional freight, or wildcat locomotive, the road would bo practically shut down until G a. m. Taking his coffee can he put it on a fixture over the gas jet ro that its contents would be of the right temper ature when he had "cleared" his last train. The "theatre" gone, it was his habit to eat liis lunch, smoke his pipe, giance over the late evening papers purchased on his way to work and take life easy generally. "Oh, tell me, pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you?" The singer was on the track, along side the tower. His voice was harsh, discordant. The operator looked out of a window. Some 50 yards away, walking toward the tunnel mouth, was a man none too steady on his feet. Reaching a low semaphore signal post he stopped and sat down on the west bound rails. Then, slowly and with some difficulty, lie began to remove his shoes. "Hey, get out of there," yelled the signal man. The stranger paid no attention and continued to undress. The signal man believing that the fellow had not heard him, took a megaphone, used to give orders to conductors on passing trains, and bellowed; "Get out of there or you'll get killed, you chump." It was clear that the man was so full of liquor that he could not appreciate his danger. The bell in the tower rang warning the operator that the "thea tre" train was entering the tunnel. The train time through the tunnel was four minutes. Something had to be done quickly. No one was in sight; the track walkers by the usual con trariness of fate were somewhere else. The operator, knowing that the line was open to the westward, set a "clear" signal for the train. The he fairly tumbled down stairs and ran down the track. He seized the man, who had sprawled on the broad of his back, and tried to get him on his feet. But the fellow fought. There was a scullle, but the sober man was just in time, throw ing tne bibulous individual to one side as the train was emerging from the tunnel. Then he went back to his tower. Reaching tho foot of the stairs he heard the telegraph sounder clicking "PX, PX, PX." It was his call. He hurried up, opened his key and re plied, "PX, PX, PX." Then he paused and waited for his message. It read; "Superintendent of division has been calling you up for five minutes. Got no answer. Has ordered your suspen sion for two weeks for neglect of duty."—New York Commercial Adver tiser. At I.ow Ktnco 1810. The Melbourne law courts have then Miss Flite, a character immortalized by Dickens in "Bleak House." An el derly woman may frequently be seen in the corridors, addressing the empty air—sometimes in passionate tones, with outstretched arms, and again in low, threatening mutterings. During the progress of an argument in the county court, before Acting Judge Johnston, some reference was made to the absence of evidence on a cer tain point. Suddenly the court was startled at hearing a female cry out in Irate tones, "I have giren plenty 'if evidence since *SG!" A glance around showed that the interrupter was the old lady of the corridors, who was ad vancing with determination toward the barristers' table.—London CA»-'v>. New York City.—Collarettes of every sort are demanded by fashion and muffs are apt to be a requisite of com fort as well as of style. These ex cellent models are cut in the latest style, and are well adapted to the re modeling of last season's furs, and to making from Persian lamb cloth and seal plush. As shown the material tip# s ' COXIiAP.ETTH AND MITrF. is Astrakan with a finish of fox tails. The collarette is shaped to give a cape effect at the back, with stoic fronts that can be cut higher or short er as preferred. At the front edges are stylish revers which can, however, be omitted when a plain finish is pre ferred. At the neck is a storm collar, fitted in sections, that rolls over ut the upper edge. The muff is round and drawn in io fit the hands by means of elastics in serted in the lining. To cut this collarette and muff for a woman of medium size two and three-fourth yards of material twenty inches wide or one and three-eighth yards fifty inches wide will be re quired. Woman'* Theatre Clonk. The long cloak that covers and con ceals the gown fills many needs and makes one of the essentials of the sea- SM A RT\ LO AK. i sou. The smart, yet practical May Mantou model, shown In tlu> large j drawing, is suited to a variety of ma terials, and becomes appropriate for evening or street wear as it is made In lighter or darker colors. As shown. It is of tan-colored kersey cloth, lined with white satin and is trimmed with appliques of lace on the rovers and j collar. When thrown open it is an elaborate wrap fitted to opera, theatre and reception wear, but when closed becomes sufficiently plain to allow of wearing In the street, or in the cars en route for entertainments of various sorts. The same cloth in sage green, brown and black is much liked for the latter purpose, while white, pale col ors and such materials as panne, peau de sole and the like are in vogue for j evening carriage use. The cloak is loose fitting but in- i eludes lines that render it graceful I ind chic. The fronts hang straight i from the shoulders and can bo rolled i back to form revers or closed in j double-breasted style. The back is j laid in inverted pleats, at the centre, j which flare as they approach the floor, | and give a tapering effect to the figure. The sleeves are in bell shape and the neck is finished with a storm cqllr.r in Bonaparte style. To cut this cloak for a woman of medium size nine and one-half yards i t material twenty-one inches wide, or three and three-fourth yards fifty-four inches wide will be required. r.uttoiiH CiininnU. Quite the latest thing in shirt waist j buttons is an arrangement for the! frout fastening. Fastidious fair ones ' will desire the rest of the buttons to I match, and they can easily find them. 1 The part of the scheme, which is new, is just this: Ou a straight gold chain of moderate size and the length of a shirt waist front are mounted live stones which serve as buttons. Tur quoise, topaz, garnets, opals, ame thysts and the rest all figure. The chain Is, of course, on the under side, the buttons being put through the double set of buttonholes. This scheme not only keeps the buttons firm, but makes losing them next to Impossible. On Mndame's Hack. Makers of high-class imitation jew elry were Quick to note tlie broad belt pieces which decked the back of the belt of many of the Imported evening dresses and to copy them. These im posing things are In (iligree antique silver, and are closely set with rhine stones, the effect being simply tre mendous. These pieces fit into the back perfectly, and, while of irregular shape, average iive or six inches in length by from two to four iu depth. A Pretty Litt)n Konnet. Blue is combined with the chinchilla in one of the prettiest of little bon nets. The entire crown of the bonnet is of pale blue resettes of silk, edged with fine blue roses, each rose with a brilliant cut steel centre. Around the face is the broad band of the chin chilla. indented a little at one side of the front, where an aigrette is placed rising from a small feathery pompon of blue, the tips of which are tiny steel pendants. Diamond Horseshoes. There is a bit across the horseshoe which forms the head of a hat p!n. Diamond horseshoes galore aw to be seen for ordinary pins. Girl's KierclKf Suit. The value of gymnastics is too well realized to require urging. This up-to date suit enables them to be taken at their best and provides ample freedom and comfort. As shown it is made of French flannel in marine blue, with trimming of black braid, but serge, liiillinntine and taffeta are correct, both iu black and dark colors. The divided skirt is full, gatheml at the waist and again below the knees, where it droops over the bands. ! The blouse is simple in the extreme, plain across the shoulders and ar ranged in gathers at the waist by means of an elastic run through the hem. At the neck is a sailor collar with pointed front edges that Hare apart to show the soft-knotted tie ot j silk. The sleeves are in bishop style, with straight narrow cults. To cut this suit for a girl of ten years of age seven yards of material ; p •« GIRL'S EXERCISE SUIT. twenty-one inches wide, five and I seven-eighth yards twenty-seven inches I wide or three and ouo-haif yards forty -1 four inches - ;ide will be required. The Kange When Nol in U«e. In discontinuing the coal range for the summer some care is needed for its proper preservation. It seems almost trite to say that the last fire should be dumped, and the ashes and dust entirely removed, but experience has shown that this caution is needed. The ovens should be taken out and Mio spaces in which they fit thoroughly cleaned and greased. Grease the ovens also and the range implements, shak er, shovel, poker, etc., together with the iron grates and such other parts of the range as are liable to rust. These trifling precautions will save time and money when the range is to be put into commission again, and should be observed whether the house is to be closed or not. Milky Water Ton. Milky water is one of the hardest, things to manage. Even a small quantity daily fouls pipes and sets up a most evil smell unless the milky water is followed by a flushing of soda water moderately strong, with a lime water flush about every three days. The lime water is made more effec tive by adding salt to it. Sea salt is best. Put a lump as big as the fist in an earthern or wooden vessel along with twice its bulk of quicklime, and cover with four gallons of not water. Stir well and let settle. Pour the clear liquid down the pipes and follow it in half on hour with a flush of clear water boiling hot. Thus every kind of a sink may be kept sweet and fresh. —Washington Star. Decorative Hanging Lampi, Among the latest novelties in hang ing ornaments are the Damascus lan terns now seen in shops where ori ental bric-a-brac is displayed. These dainty things are extremely curious, and decorated with chains and jewels. Another attractive bit of eastern art is the hanging doran, which is adorned with shells and mirrors. These may be used to frame electric lights if preferred, and even such a modern addition will not mar their thorough ly Oriental effect. Russian candle sticks, too, are most effective, and have great originality of design. They are less commonly seen than soma of the Turkish ornaments, and there fore prove more attractive to those who desire greater individuality in their homes. Time for Cooking Vegetable*. Much depends on the age and con dition of the vegetables, and also the manner in which they are cooked., fresh young vegetables requiring, of course, much less time. A table can give you only the approximate length of time. Use judgment and common sense, and w~en the vegetables are tender do not cook them longer. Bake potatoes 30 to 45 minute 3. Steam potatoes, 20 to 440 minutes. Boil potatoes (in their skins) 20 to 30 minutes. Boil potatoes (pared), 25 to •15 minutes. Asparagus (young), 15 to 30 minutes. Beets (young), 45 min utes. Corn (green), 12 to 20 minutes. Cauliflower, 20 to 40 minutes. Cab bage (young), 35 to 60 minutes. Cel ery, 20 to 30 minutes. Carrots, 1 to 2 hours. Lima or shell beans, 45 min utes to 1 1-4 hours. Onions, 30 to 00 minutes. Oyster plant, 45 to 60 min utes. Peas, 20 to CO minutes. Pars nips (young), 30 to 45 minutes. Spin ach, 20 to CO minutes. String beans, 30 to GO minutes. Summer squash, 20 to GO minutes. Turnips (young), 46 minutes. Tomatoes (stewed), 45 to 60 minutes. When vegetables are served with boiled salt meat they must be cookked in the liquor from the meat after it has been removed. IrJ Wonders —Beat one egg, add a pinch of salt and enough flour to make a stiff dough. Roll out on a floured board until as thin as a wafer. Cut with a large round cutter. Drop into hot fat. Drain on paper and dust with powedered sugar. Serve with syrup or any delicate pudding sauce. Tomato Force—Put a layer of canned tomatoes in a baking dish. Season with salt and pepper, then sprinkle with bread crumbs. Then pour over more tomatoes, and contin ue until the dish is full. ?.lix some bread crumbs in a little melted but ter and spread over the tomatoes. Bake in the oven 35 minutes. Almond Cuts —Cream one-half cup of butter; add one cupful of granula ted sugar, two ounces of finely chop ped almonds, rind and juice of half a lemon, one cup of sifted flour and two eggs; mix well, and roil out on a floured board; roll one-half inch thick; buiter a pan; cut the dough in strips and lay them in the pan; brush with of egg and sprinkle almonds, cut very fine, over the top, and sprin kle sugar over the top. Pone —Pour enough boiling water over one pint of Indian meal 'o scald it; when cool rub in it one tablespoon ful of butter and one-half teaspoonful of salt. Beat, two eggs until light, add them to the meal, then add cup of sour milk and beat until the mixture is smooth. Dissolve one tea spoonful of soda in one tablespoon fill of water; add it to the batter. Turn it into a greased pan and bake in a moderate oven 40 minutes. A Revolutionary Mailbox. Among the treasures held by the An tiquarian .Society in Portsmouth, N. 11., there is an ol