GROWTH.
TH» c'jmax of the perfect symphony
ftoufl-ls not at Its lieittniilut;; lone and low
The voices enter, ceaslntr often, so
As younf? birds newly learning melody;
But other voices join the harmony,
And now, from crystal flute, and reed, and
bow,
Ard brazen throat, a full, concurrent flow
Of musla swells in rich sonority.
Soul, fret not it the music of thy life
To tb-e sounds thin and weuk! An nge
remote
Cttered chaotic preludes to these years.
XMaj well thy part,—though with harsh dis
cords rife,
Thy life shall touch a nobler, deeper note,
•and join to swell the mtisi" of the spheres.
—Kobert Ilavn Sobaufller, in Success.
I JDDGE AND JORY. 112
« ►
"I believe they are utterly miser
able and remarltabley brave," said the
feirl who thought she knew life.
"I believe they are absolutely hap
py and have great, self-control,'' said
the girl who thought the did not.
"I believe they are an extremely
ordinary couple who at the bottom
of their hearts do love each other,
und who yet manage to have some
very bad days—meaning rows—like
everybody else," said the girl who
really did.
They were speaking of Mr. and Mrs.
Fanshaw, known among their ac
quaintances as the "Judge and Jury."
Nobody quite knew why they were
so called —or, rather, nobody remem
bered. The name had originally been
a chance remark made by a witty
young barrister, who had an oddly
clever trick of knocking off his ac
quaintances in some little catch
phrase like this one of "Judge and
Jury."
"She's the jury, you know—really
Hetties everything; but he imagines it
all his own doing, and, in any case, he
gets the credit of it, ye know."
And they had been so called ever
since. The judge dearly loved his
wife, but he never told her so. In
hip own mind he had agreed that the
fact of his having chosen her from a
worla of girls—and in hi 3 youth the
judge had been much sought after —
ol having told her, and that more than
oree during his brief engagement, he
did love her —and finally having made
fcer his wife—all this was sufficient.
What necessity for more? So he
lived quietly, undemonstrative on,
&rd —in secret his wife was miserable.
She was rather a passionate and
p'so, in some ways, a very proud
woman. But she had no children,
and above all was sh-3 a woman to
whom not only the mere fact of a
loving word or a little caress was an
absolute pleasure, but, moreover, she
pined—if that word or caress were
hers —that all her world should see
and hear it. It was a species of uncon
scious conceit, very common, did one
only know it, to most women. Often
did she tell her 7riends how the judge
would almost ignore her in front of
people, but when he got her alone —!
Indeed, she had laid some quite pas
sionate love scene at the judge's door.
Her younger friends looked at her
husband with great wonder —at her
self with eDvy and the jury, noting
this, was th(-n happy. She would
move about with a smile on her lips,
cheating herself almost into the be
lief that the Judge really had kissed
her with tears in his eyes after he
had been away for two Jays—when,
In very truth, the two on meeting
had but shaken hands. For though
the Judge did occasionally, and on
such occasions, embrace his wife, if
they met, as they had then done, be- j
fore the servants he always treated j
her in this stranger fashion.
There was one particle of truth in
Mrs. Fanshaw's romances.
As I have before said, her young
friends envied her contemporaries
f.miled, and the old people roftly said, j
'Toor thing!"
And the Judge and Jury went their
ways. She being a clever woman,
luled him in all but the one point !
which would have made her happy. i
There came, one very hot summer, i
to the town this couple lived in that
dread disease—typhoid fever.
And one of the earliest to take it j
was Mrs. Fanshaw.
At first the doctor thought it would
be a slight attack. The Jury herself
was not anxious, and the Judge, as
usual, said nothing.
"Dick," said she to him, when she
bad been ill a few days, "if I were
going to die, and you knew it, what,
would you do?"
"You are not going to die," said
the Judge, dryly.
"But if I were, Dick?" petulantly.
The Jury felt ill.
"I cannot imagine, my dear, such an
unhappy state of things. Don't you I
think you had better goto sleep for
a little?"
"Dick, would you bid me good-bye i
and say you loved me?" the Invalid
esked.
She was worse than ffither of theai
knew, and fever gave her a courage
she would not otherwise have pos
sessed.
"I think—my dear," the Judge re- j
peated, rising from his chair prepar- '
atory to leaving the room— "3 ou had
better —"
Mrs. Fanshaw caught hold of her :
husband's hand as he turned away.
"Any way, Dick," she said, in a j
shriller key than h.*r vont was to '■
speak in,"even if I'm not going to
die —and, of course I'm not" 'as the
Judge made an impatient gesture)— 1
'lt wouldn't hurt you to say you '
loved me now. Dick, do —just once." i
And Bhe pulled at his cool hand and i
pressed her hot cheek against it.
Bts tha Judge did not answer her, 1
ft ltd presently left the room. A
The nest morning the doctor looked
graver, and three days after the poor
Jury was raving in delirium.
And through it all she was having
passionate love scenes with her hus
band—or, worse still —for now *ha
Judge did not leave her night or day
—she was imploring him to say ha
loved her, and could not understand
when he did do so.
And this he did, regardless of nurse
or doctor.
Day after day the Jury grew worse
and worse, and from delirium sho
tank into unconsciousness, and from
unconsciousnes into death.
And the judge was left alone.
"I love yo"—I love you," he sobbed
! continually, ->ut it was into silenco
he spoke.
The court was empty.—The Fre«
i Lance.
NEWFOUNDLAND'S ISOLATION.
Queor Ideas of Some of tile People Abouv
Hip Outside World.
It is probable that no English speak
ing people is at this time EO utterly
isolated from all the tilings of ad
vanced civilization as the folk who
fish from the little harbors which lij
along that stretch of the ea«t coast
harbors between Cape John on the
south and the straits of Belle Isle on
the north. There are no roads, no
paths, leading from harbor to harbor.
The land is a wilderness, dense, track
less, infested with black flies and mos
quitoes, which brave men dare not
challenge for many days in hot
weather for fear of their lives. Shore
fishermen would rather take their lit
tle punts through 40 miles of tossing
sea than suffer the fatigue and terrors
of a two mile tramp inland. Commu
nication, indeed, is only hy punt and
skiff; and so rarely do tha people go
from place to place that a woman who
went from home with her husband to
settle in a harbor five miles distant
did not see her relatives again for
15 years. Moreover, the mail steamer
touches at but two of the more im
portant settlements, and that only at
fortnightly intervals in June, July and
August. The news of the world, in
distorted form, is passed along by word
of mouth, long after it has ceased to
be acutely interesting to the people
of more favored lands.
" 'Tis said," said an old man of
Round Harbor, who had heard of the
first British defeats in South Africa,
"that the English do be beaten. Do
the Boers be after capturing St. John's
yet? Do they be fighting there, tell
me?"
One meets such absurd misconcep
tions upon every hand. To many of
the men of that coast the world, which
is flat and almost circumscribed by
the horizon, is a world of sea and rocks
and punts and fish. Their imagination
carries them no further, and they come
into touch with the things of other
places so rarely that they cannot com
prehend the information which the
new and passing association has
brought to them.
'Does they catch fish with squid or
caplin for bait in New York 'arbor?"
was a boy's question at Englee.
• An attempt to describe a circus to
this lad, a few moments later had to
bo abandoned. It would have taken
the whole afternoon to define the
terms. What was sawdust? What
was a tent? What did a horse loo*
like? WJjat was a uniform? What
was a springboard? What was an ac
robat? What was a band? What was
a horn? Was it like the bait skiif
conch? What was a drum? What
was a chariot? What was a proces
sion? What was a peanut? As for
clowns, lemonade, elephants—these
were incomprehensible. Questions, po
litely put, interrupted every sentence.
The lad was soon in a maze out of
which he could not be led. The at
tempt had, indeed, to be abandoned.
But the writer did succeed in describ
ing a brick, a sidewalk and a plow.
When it came, however, in the even
ing to helping the lad's mother to an
understanding of the lives of the wom
en of New York he was overwhelmed.
"They tells me," she said, "that the
women up there do be good hand
t' eplit fish. Now, how many quintal
can they do in a day?"
She did not doubt that she could
split more than any of them, and she
was proud that she could.
"My daughter Maria," she went on,
as if in challenge, "can lift a barrel of
flour."
Maria, a muscular young woman of
IS, with dark hair, large blue eyes and
fine pink and white complexion,
blushed and admitted that she could.
She had rowed the punt 12 miles that
morning, she said, and could sail it in
a gale like a man.
"That sho can, sir," said her father.
"She can sail it so well as me." —
Ainslee's Magazine.
A Telephone Meter.
A patent for an invention by which
the actual length of the time that a
telephone is used on any occasion can
be measure-, so that the company may
charge the subscriber only for the ac
tual service he has had, has been re
cently obtained by Thomas Baret of
Sydney, New South Wales. A sub
scriber who. in the course of a day.
should use the telephone for an hour I
would pay for that length of time, and
not the same amount as another sub
scriber would pay who would perhaps
ure his telephone several hours each
day. The "telephone meter" consists
of a clockwork mechanism which is
quiet when the telephone is not in use.
but which begins to move the moment
the receiver is lifted from the
and so registers the length of time the
instrument is employed. The appara
tus is so arranged that the up-anrl
down movement of the lever switch
winds up the clockwork. A dial plate
indicates how lor.g the telephone has
been in use.
New York City.—The basque waist,
fitted with smooth under-arm gores
and extending slightly over the skirt
suits many figures and many mate-
BASQUE WAIST.
rials far better than any other sort.
This smart May Manton model in
cludes these desirable features and at
the same time has a fancy front and
sleeves that render it elaborate enough
for occasions of formal dress. As
shown the material is Sapho satin in
pastel blue with front and undersleeves
of cream lace over white and tiny edge
trimming of fancy scrolled braid, but
numberless materialsand combinations
might be suggested both for the odd
waist and the entire costume.
The lining is snugly fitted and in
cludes double darts, under-arm gores
and side backs. The waist proper is
plain and smooth at the back with
smooth under-arm gores, but is slightly
full at the front. The vest or full
SxTLISH SINGLE-BREASTED BLOUSE.
front of lace is gathered at both neck
and waist edges and is stitched into
place at the right side, hooked over
onto the left. The fronts are laid in
three tucks each and arranged in gath
ers at the lielt. At the neck Is a regu
lation stock. The sleeves are novel
and effective. The under portions are
faced into the linings, but the upper
portions are quite separate and fall
freely over the deep cuffs.
To cut this waist in the medium size
four and an eighth yards of material
twenty-one inches wide, two and three
quarter yards tlilrty-two inches wide,
or two yards forty-four inches wide
will be required, wilh two and a half
yards of all-over lace for front and un
dersleeves.
Woman'* Single-Itreasted Bloufte.
No other garment is more popular
than the simple blouse. Young girls
and women alike hold it the most sat
isfactory of all models, both for the
suit and the coat of velvet, velours and
the like. The example shown in the
large drawing has tiie merit of abso
lute simplicity combined with smart
ness. The original is made of broad
cloth in tobacco brown and makes
part of a suit, the extension being
omitted, but all suiting materials are
appropriate as well as those already
mentioned.
The blouse is eminently simple. The
back is plain and smooth, without ful
ness, but the fronts, while plain across
the shoulders have the fulness stylish
ly arranged at the waist line and droop
slightly over the belt. The neck is
finished with a regulation coat collar
nnd notched lapels and a pocket is In
serted in the left front. The sleeves
are in coat style slightly bell-shaped
at the hands. When the basque ex
tension is used It is joined to the blouse
beneath the belt.
To cut ihis blouse for a woman of
medium size three and three-quarter
ya/ds of material twenty-one inches
wide, three and a quarter yards twen
ty-sev>n inches wide, one and three
quarter yards forty-four inches wide,
or one and live-eighth yards fifty-four
inches wide will be required, with one
eighth yard of velvet for collar.
"Pitted" Velvets.
Much in favor are the new velvets
with surface of black, blue or dark
green, "pitted" with white. You see a
chestnut brown velvet pitted with am
ber or buff, and this looks better than
white pitting on browns. Undersleeves,
a vestee or blouse frout or collar and
cuffs are all made of pitted velvet, to
combine with cloth or flannel. An en
tire visiting dress of dark green velvet
"pitted" with white is richly trimmed
with dark furs.
A I'lnk Homespun.
The word "homespun" suggests &
"hackabout" or general utility cos
tume. But this season we have them
in true evening shades. The new year
brings us clear pink and sky blue
homespuns as well as the "water
greens," pearl and oiscuit shades
ranged under the generic name of pas
tel colors. These pretty homespuns
are treated by the dressmaker precise
ly like cloth gowns. They have border
decoration of black relvet or dark fur
and are then worn to afternoon teas.
Chiffon, Pink Bogeg and Lace.
A tea gown of surpassing lovelinesfc
is of fine white chiffon over pink satin,
falling to the feet, where it rests on a
ruche of pink roses. This again is
veiled by a lace overdress, exquisitely
emhroidered with garlands of pink
satin ribbon and chiffon flowers, the
whole hanging from a berthe of pink
roses; a fichu decorated in the same
manner, the lace edged with tiny
bouillonnes of pink chiffon, completes
the costume.
Skirt*.
There has been a great deal of talk
about full skirts, and they certainly
are getting fuller. They are frou frou
ing round the feet, though still keeping
that graceful, clinging appearance
round the hips. We all evince a ten
dency toward shortening the walking
skirt, an extremely sensible one, as
long as it does not interfere with our
best frocks, which for grace and smart
ness should always bo fairly long.
Child'* French Dreg*.
The long-waisted dress known as th 6
French model suits little girls to a
nicety and is the height of present
styles. The very pretty May Manton
example shown is made of nainsook
with yoke and trimming of fine needle
work. and is worn with a ribbon sash,
but all washable materials are equally
appropriate, while cashmere, henriet
ta, albatross and simple silks are all
in vogue for the heavier frocks.
Te waist Is made over a fitted lining
onto which the yoke is faced, but
which can bo cut away to yoke depth
when a transparent effect is desired.
The full portion is gathered at both up
per and lower edges, but the waist and
lining close together at the centre
back. The sleeves are in bishop style
with pointed cuffs, and over the shoul
ders, finishing the edge of the yoke, is
a pointed bertha that suits childish
figures admirably well. At the neck
is a standing collar.
The skirt Is circular and flares freely
and gracefully at the lower portion,
while the upper edge Is joined to the
skirt, the seam being concealed by the
sash.
To cut this dress for a child of eight
years of age five and a half yards of
material twenty-one inches wide, five
yards twenty-seven inches wide, four
and a half yards thirty-two inches
wide, or three and five-eighth yards
forty-four inches wide will be re-
FBByCH DEESS FOR A CHILD.
quired, with one-half yard of all-over
embroidery, three of edging and two
and an eighth yards of insertion to
trim as illustrated.
Renovating; <;llt l r ram«M.
To renovate and brighten the gilt
frames of pictures and mirrors that
have become dirty and dingy simply
wash very gently with a small sponge
moistened with spirits of wine or oil
of turpentine, the spor.ge only to be
sufficiently wet to take eff the dirt, or
fly marks. The frames should not he
wiped, but left to dry of themselves.
• Dofendu Hot
Helen W. Atwater has written for
the agricultural department a bulle
tin in which she takes a position that
will be approved in the great hot
bread belt ot' the south at least. She
says that hot bread in itself is net in
jurious. She argues that it is not
the fact of its being hot which makes
tte bread injurious. Hot bread may
be and tho cause is identical in both
cases. She says:
"The fact that the l,read is hot has
little to do with the matter. New
broad, especially that from a large
loaf, may be readily compressed into
more or less solid masses, and it is
possible that such bread would be
much less finely masticated than
crumbly stale bread, and that, there
! fore, it might offer more resistance)
I to the digestive juices of the stomach.
"However, when such hot bread as
rolls, biscuit or other form in which
the crust is very large in proportion
to the crumb, is eaten, the objection
nas little force. There is little diffi
culty in masticating the crust and it
is doubtless usually finely divided."
Tlio Juice of a I.emon.
The juice of a lemon in hot water
! on awakening in the morning is an
excellent liver corrective. A few
drops of lemon juice in plain water
is an excellent tooth wash. It not
only removes tartar, but sweetens the
breath.
A teaspoonful of the juice in a small
cup of black coffee will almost cer
tainly relieve a bilious headache.
The finest of manicure acids is made
by putting a teaspoonful of lemon
juice in a cupful cf warm water. This
removes most stains from the fingers
and nails and loosens the cuticle more
satisfactorily than can be done by the
use of a sharp instrument.
Lemon juice and salt will remove
rust stains from linen without injury
to the fabric. Wet the siains with the
mixture and put the article in the sun.
Two or three applications may be
necessary if the stain is of long stand
ing, but the remedy never fails.
Lemon juice (outward applications)
will allay the irritation caused by the
bits of gnats or flies.
Lemon peels (and also orange)
should be all saved and dried; it is a
capital substitute for kindling wood. A
handful will revive a dying fire and
at the same time delicately perfume
a room.
s!M!S
Twentieth Century Waffles —Mix to
gether just before time for baking, the
following ingredients: A pint of sweet
milk, half a cup of melted butter, the
well-beaten yolks of two eggs and the
whites well beaten. Use just enough
flour to make a soft batter (about a
pi ut) sifted with two teasponfuls of
baking powder and a saltspoonful
heaping of salt. Beat the batter hard
and fast a few minutes and bake im
mediately. Serve hot with a sirup
or shaved maple sugar.
Vienna Chocolate —Mix five heaping
(ablespoonfuls of grated chocolate
with with enough water to beat it
to a smooth paste, being careful that
no lumps remain. Put It into a choc
olate pot and set the pot in a kettle
cf boiling wafer. Pour in two pints
of new milk and one of cream (or
three pints of new milk), all boiling
hot. Stir until the chocolate paste is
thoroughly incorporated in the boiling
milk, letting it boil two or three mia
ures: remove from fire and briskly
stir in the well-beaten whites of two
or three eggs and serve hot.
Salmon Croquettes—To make cro
quettes from canned salmon, drain,
free from bone and mash the salmon.
Put half pint milk over tho firo: rub
together one tablespoonfui butter and
two of flour, add to milk and cook un
til thick. Take from the fire and add
yolks cf two eggs. Cook for just i
moment longer. To the salmon add
a toaspoonl'ul of salt, tablespoonfui of
cuopped parsley and saltspoonful pep
per. Mix meat and white sauce to- j
gether and turn out to cool. When cold !
form into cylinders, dip in beaten j
egg. then roll in breadcrumbs and fry i
in smoking hot fat.
Stowed l ettuce —Wash the lettuca I
carefully to remove the dust, take off j
the wilted leaves and cut out tho root j
even with the head, tie tho top to
gether, lay the heads side by side in a |
baking pan, add enough stock to cover
the pan one and a half inched deep,
cover and place in a moderate oven to
simmer for one-half hour, or until the
lettuce is soft. Kenew the stock if
necessary. Lift the lettuce out with a
fork, putting it under the middle. Let
it drain and lay it double, as it will
be over the fork in a row on a hot
dish. Season in the gravy in the
pan with butter, salt and pepper,
thicken with a beaten egg and serve
with the lettuce
Her Paean Child.
"There, the task Is done, the baby's
asleep." said a woman friend the other
evening as she entered the sitting room
nnd piled on the table what appeared
to be a very considerable portion of a
toyshop's stock. There was a little
rubber Lord Fauntleroy with his
mouth agape and the end of his nose
worn through; a little doll, red-gowned
and bolted, and with a tin jewel at
her throat, called Betty; a still smaller
object in human form, with one leg
gone, one arm gone, hair gone and a
hole in the top of the head, called
Johnny; a white sawdust-stuffed dog
with one eye missing, aim ta'.l in a
state of collapse from Letpieut pull
ing, called .lip. and a rubber cow
known as Moo.
"I believe that some of my ancestors
must, have been Chinamen," continued
the mother, " and that their dlsposi
; lions, long hidden through successive
generations, are reappearing in my
child."
One Would not suspect it to look at
the child. A little girl of the fairest
complexion and cherubic expression, to
make whose eyes the sky was robbed
of a tiny bit of Its finest blue, and
whose hair was as if It had been spun
from the sunshine.
"But, you see," said the mother,
"when a Chinaman dies and is burled,
they putin the grave- with him cloili-
Ing and food, and perfumes, red torches
nnd horses, to be nt his convenience in
the other land. Well, my baby must
have at her side as she goes to sleep
all the toys with which she is wont
most to play during the day so that she
may have them with her in the laud
of dreams."—Omaha World-Herald.
Ail Important Particular.
"Did you see that article iu the paper
the other morning about the discovery
of a new way to embalm people after
they are dead?" asked the lady who
continues to believe that she doesn't
look a day over thirty.
"No," the one who gave up the strug
gle several years ago, replied, "I didu't
happen to notice it."
"Well it seems that some undertaker
has found out how to make a fluid
that injected into the body will pre
serve it forever—not as Egyptian mum
mies are preserved, but exactly as the
person was in life. There Is no shriv
eling up, no swathing or anything of
that kind. The body simply becomes
petritied, and in spite of being stone
looks just as it did in life. I'm so glad
this wonderful discovery has been
j made. I have always had a horror of
! being put into the ground to decay or
! perhaps to be eaten by worms. The
! old Egyptian way didu't appeal to
me, though. I wouldn't care to be
come a shriveled and blackened mum
my. But to remain just as beautifu'
as In life, that "
"Still are you sure that this en
balmlng fluid you speak of preserv*
the enamel as well as the flpeh? I
It doesn't, think how horrible It will
I be to be preserved forever with only
! your own complexion and "
I At this point the wires crossed anil
j communication was cut off.—Chicago
Record-llerald.
r««l>le live Longer When Married,
Dr. Ziln, the leading German statis
' tlcian, is satisfied, after many years o:
collecting materials, that married per
sons live longer than single persons.
The death rate among married pet
sons between twenty and thirty year
of age is 0.7 per 1000, unmarried 8.4
between thirty ami forty, married !).
unmarried 15.8; between forty ar
fifty, married 14.2, unmarried 20.,
from fifty to sixty, married L' 4, unmar
ried 42; between sixty and sevent;
the proportions are married 45, uu
married 71.
These figures prove that the deaths o
married persons between thirty am
seventy are three-fifths less than tlia
of unmarried. The average life of tin
unmarried persons who passed thirty
one is 58.(>, of the married 04.4.
I gT. JACOBS;
I
I'uril f«r • O Year*.
if
•+: The Great Pain-Killing Remedy.
J Never fails to cure.
* RHEUMATISM, SPRAINS,
* STIFFNESS, SCIATICA,
I NEURALGIA, SORENESS,
* LUMBAGO, CHEST COLDS,
ic
.J And All Bodily Aehcs and Fains.
* There is Hothing bo Good.
£ ACTS LIXE MAGIC.
| Conquers Pain
-* So'.d in 25c. and 90c. Sizes,
*
* ST JAC()M^i)ll.(Ulmlted),
* BALTIMORE.
*************************
mssvax
largest p rovers of
t/r mover, Timothy nnd Z*" „
Grasses. Our northern grown Clover
for vigor, frost and drouth rcslstin
properties, hnsjustly become famous.
[ SUPERIOR CLOVER, Du. SS.CO; ICO lbs. $9.80
Li Crosse Prime Cloter, bu. $5 60; 100 lbs. J9.2C
Samples Clow, Timothy and Grasses and great
Catalog mailed you for §c postage.
weak ere*, ait Thorny son's EytWi