[Th^Aimosltl
| Tragic Tale of
| An Easter Hat j
$ By MARION C. SMITH \
\ Copyright. tOOS, by M. C. Smith
Mn. ARTHUR AVERY was In a
bad liumur. lie glared suspi
ciously at his coffee, tasted it
as if he suspected it of being
poisoned, scowled viciously at his
boiled egg and pushed It from him.
"Hard as a brickbat," he snepped
"Can't you Ret a cook who can read
the clock?"
He was one of those tnen who are
always in a bad humor when their
consciences are out of order. He had
just refus<>d his wife the money for an
Easter hat, and she had borne the dis
appointment with becoming meekness
She did not know the reason for the
refusal, but tie did. and that was the
trouble. He wanted to join another
club.
Jlrs. Avery surmised that his con
science was uneasy and took heart
She hoped ili.it he would come around
There were still four days to spare,
and even if he did not > ome around
until after Easter she conkl bear iii
only the one hat she wanted had not
been sold in the interval, it was a
hat worth waiting for.and it matched
her new spring suit to perfection.
Nothing else would do. The hats
that year were monstrosities. Mrs
Avery was a woman of excellent taste
and knew what she wanted. She also
knew that her husband was very much
in love with her Surely he would
come around:
He did not come entirely around that
<tay, however. He went so far as to
telephone to his friend in the new
club, asking him not to propose his
name Just yet There was a little un
certainty. He would let him know in
a day or two. The next day at lunch
time he went uptown and flattened his
noee—figuratively—against one of the
show windows at Mercer •& Mliner's
He couldn't remember the price she
bad mentioned. Was it sls or S2O? Ai>
nurd, of course, but not extravagantly
high, as hats go. He would just go In
and price them.
"It must be blue, because she said it
matched her suit, and I know that's
blue," he said helplessly to the snles
woman
"Blue? Oh, we have a model hat In
Woe," said that astute young person.
112
| u
fe V
(PI
is' ?\
"AND TUI.Y DON'T UXCJIA.NGU JIAISl"
going up to one of the many huge
Klass cases which were dazzling the
bewildered eyes of Mr. Avery.
"This is a l'arisiau hat," she said,
with a grand manner that disarmed
criticism. "And a wonderful bargain,
only £25:"
Twenty-five! Well, the dues aud
initiation fee of the club would amount
to more than that. If Edith liked It—
"lsn't it—rather large?" he faltered.
"I'm sure this Is the right thing,
she said, with increased couiidence
"I think I remember a lady of that
description admiring this hat and say
tug she might come back and buy i
If her husband was willing."
That didn't sound like Edith, but i:
furnished c clew, and Mr. Arthur
Avery was tired and felt very helpless
There really seemed nothing to do but
to order the hat sent home.
Mrs. Avery came in with a friend
that afternoon and saw the box, which
the uiaiii bad placed in the middle of
the bed.
"Laura, look at that'" she exclaimed
apprehensively. "He's bought me a
hat -bought it himself:"
"Oh. how lovely:" cried the friend
"I don't know about that: I—l'm
afraiil to look at it. There was Just
one hit i wanted, and I never allow
any one, not even Arthur, to choose
for n:
"Oh. Edith, hurry and open It! I'm
sure i;'s all right. It's so good of him
I wish my But she stopped short
as Edith suddenly opened the box and
Btood transfixed In horror.
"l*aura Glenn, will you look at that:
And they don't—exchange—hats!"
She slowly drew it from its tissue
paper wrappings and held it up in a'
its blue and pink radiance.
w hy, Edith," faltered I.aura, "It
isn't so very bad. It's In the very lot
ort style."
"I wouldn't be found dead in It:"
broke ont Edith "Latest style! Till*
Opinion of an Actress.
Miss Ellen Terry at a reception ouci
talked übout the innumerable women
who ask her to help them get on the
stage. "The fact is," she said, "every
woman under thirty believes she la au
actress. "And every actress," she add
ed, "believes she is under thirty."
The Uses of Scenery.
He (looking through his glass) -
There s a glorious glacier which we
shall soon reach. Sbe-Oh, won't it
make a lovely background to my bine
frock!—Meggendorfer Blatter.
bine will fairly shriek at my new
suit. My hut was a toque with the
most exquisitely delicate flowers, uuil
only sls! What poor Arthur musi
have paid for this horror! What shall
1 do? I can't tell him his gift didn't
suit me. lie'll never forgive me, and
It was a sacrifice on his part too. Poor
dear Arthur! O-o-oh!"
Meanwhile Mrs. Glenn had been try
ing on the hat. She was short and
dark, nnd the effect upon her was ap
palling
j " There, you see!" exclaimed Mrs.
Avery. "No one could wear Itf It's n
monstrosity."
I "But, my dear," said Mrs. Glenn
calmly, "the hats this year are iuon
strosities. I've got one myself."
"Well, I don't care what you've got
I won't wear a monstrosity! The onr
I chose was a dear, and they don't ex
change hats!"
"Perhaps they will this time. I cae
testify that you didn't try It on. The.v
will never think of my having tried it
on."
"Oh. do you think I can persuade
them? Come with me at once!"
"Very well," said Mrs. Glenn resign
edly. "1 suppose I'll have to see yon
through."
Suddenly Edith dropped Into a chair,
with a tragic gesture.
"I can't, Laura!" she exclaimed. "1
can't change Arthur's choice! lie will
be wounded. Ile'll think I don't love
] him."
"My dear, don't be any more foolish
j than you absolutely have to be. Men
are not like that—only women. Arthur
I won't care a button if only you're
I pleased."
"You don't know Arthur."
"I know men, nnd I don't mind say-
I lng that I'm older than you, for you
know it already. You can trust me."
"And you think he won't be hurt?"
"I know he won't."
"But I'm not sure!"
"Oh, well, wear the hat, then. It's
the only alternative."
Edith shuddered.
"Unless," pursued Mrs. Glenn, "you
can make htm think they sent the oth
er by mistake."
"What, deceive him? How can l'l
And yet better deceive him than hurt
him. How can I tell him I despised
his choice?"
"Oh, come along. Edith; there's no
time to waste. Telephone for a cab."
Indue course of time Edith was re
lieving her feelings by reproaching the
head saleswoman In the millinery de
partment at Mercer & Milner's for
having persuaded Mr. Avery to buy
such a hat. The girl looked abashed
She had not believed that the gentle
man wanted It for any one like Edith.
But she sulkily persisted that It was
j a Parisian model!
"It's a Parisian horror!" cried Edith.
The head of the department was
called, and, with a man's susceptibility
to a pretty woman's distress and upon
Mrs. Glenn's testimony that Mrs. Av
ery had not ever tried It on, be con
sented to effect the change, provided
that the difference in price was not re
funded by the firm. Edith accepted
the condition and joyously carried off
her first choice.
| "Thank goodness that's over!" cried
Laura as they dismissed the cab and
guiltily brought In the box.
i "It's over, but I've deceived hint,
i and I'm miserable," bewailed Edith,
j "Tell him all about it, then!"
"Never! I must suffer In silence!"
That night upon Arthur's return
Edith flung her arms about him and
with her face buried In his coat collar,
thanked him almost tearfully for the
loveliest hat she had ever had.
"The very oue I chose!" she gasped
"Good! Let's see It on."
U ith trembling hands she drew from
the box a hat of moderate proportions
and graceful arrangement a ver
symphony In blue and wUite—and set
It upon iter golden locks. The effect
was magical.
"But—but." stammered Arthur, "it'
not the one I bought!"
Edith turned her back and busied
herself with the hatpins.
"N-noc the one you bought?" she
faltered.
"No; that was much larger and more
expensive, I'm sure. This won't do ai
all! They've sent the wrong one, and
they must give me the other or refund
the money. It was much handsomer!'
I "Oh. Arthur. I want this one! I must
i keep It! You see yourself"—
"But It isn't worth $25."
"Twenty-five dollars! Dear, did you
pay all that? llow extravagant, but
how lovely of you!"
"I'll go tomorrow morning"—
"No, no! Leave It to me. Men a!
ways muddle such things. I'll—l'll set
tle It. Arthur, please! I'm afraid of
losing this hat"
"Very well, but they must refund the
difference. Stupid fools! It's lucky
they hit upon the hat you liked, but
the other was so much handsomer."
"This is ideal," said Edith, but iter
voice trembled.
"I must get the $lO out of my sav
lngs bank fund," she thought. "Oh
what a tangle of deceit! He'll find It
all out and never love me again!"
The next day was Good Friday, and
Edith went to church, but she came
home with a headache. On Saturda
morniTT she could not get up. II •
was seriously troubled about her.
"I'll ; end up I>r. Moore, dear," he
said. "You must get well and wear
that Easter hat tomorrow. I've set mv
heart on it."
Upon that, to the poor man's utter
amazement, she burst Into a torrent of
tears and sobs.
"I'll never, never wear it!" she cried
"Oh, I'm a wicked, wicked woman!"
"Edith, rny love! For heaven's sakt '
Wicked? Absurd! You're nervous
and worn out I told you yoy wer>-
going to church too much this Lent
and working too hard over Deedy's
hew clothes. Darling, don't cry so
I've got to leave you—business ap
Economical.
"I'd ruther waltz than eat," confided
the sweet girl.
"Then we'll have another dance In
stead of going to that fashionable res
taurant," remarked Hie thrifty swain.
And," lie added mentally, "that's $G
saved."—Kausus City Journal.
i tie sum tauen out ot an eggsneii w
a simple but good remedy for sore
eyes. Just put on top of lid and band
age over it, and you will be surprised
how soon the swelling will go down
•nd the pain will leave the eye.
1 polntinent at 9 o'clock. I can't put It
off, and I can't bear to leave you like
tills. That's right! Try to smile and
tell me It's all nonsense."
"It's—lt's all nonsense," she qua
vered plteously.
But after he left her he was not so
sure of the nonsense theory. Why
should Edith call herself wicked? Was
It only the effect of religious excite
ment or was It anything tangible? He
recalled the fact (hat John Dent had
talkqd to Edith quite a Rood deal of
late whenever they had been out to
gether. Could It be that her fancy
• had turned that way? Arthur turned
I cold with horror.
j As ill luck would have it he met
j John Dent in the street,
i "Hello! Changed your tiilnd about
I the club?" called out the unconscious
[ object of his wrath.
"No. confound it, and I won't change
it!" snapped Arthur. "Can't you take
a man's word for it that he knows his
I own mind?"
j "Whew—ee— ee!" whistled Dent
j "What's the matter with you, old
| man? Want to take my head off?"
Hut Arthur was off. muttering in
audibly, "I'd do It for 5 cents!"
| Meanwhile Edith knew that she had
[ made disclosure inevitable, and she
despairingly prepared herself for the
"AND BO AIIK VOC!"
sacrifice. Arthur came home in the
evening, pale and ferocious of mood,
to find her sitting in an armchair
i looking equally pale, clad In a long
i white tea gown, her hair parted over
j her ears, lier eyes strained and wist
-1 ful.
j She looked up piteously, but Arthur
| did not smile. He set his teeth hard,
drew up a chair and sat down in front
of her with stern and tragic mien.
"Edith," he said, "what Is the mean
ing of all this despair, of your self ac
: cusatlon? I have been thinking of it
I all day. I have been a wretched man
j I am determined now to sift this thing
| to the bottom!"
I She broke down and sobbed, but he
j did not waver.
"You have railed yourself a wicked
woman," he proceeded sternly, "and
here and now you must tell me why!"
She clasped her hands hard together
j and drew in her breath. The moment
| had come.
| "I—l—have—deceived you!" she gasp
ed.
Ills fare whitened, and a terrible look
I came into his eyes.
| "Deceived me?" he repeated median
j ically.
t "Yes. Oh. you'll never forgive me!
You bought the hat. You made a sac
rifice. That horrid John Dent said
you wouldn't Join the club."
Ilat! Horrid! What was this? A
strange revulsion of feeling came ovei
hitn.
"Yon don't like John Dent?" he In
terrupted, with seeming irrelevance
"I never liked him! 1 don't see wlij
you do. He doesn't like me, I know-
He talks to me, but he makes fun <■
me. I deceived you about the bat. I
changed tile one you bought for me'
"You did' So the mistake wbm-'i
theirs? Rut what does that matter''
Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you that I had rejected yoti>-
choice! Oh, Arthur, when you thought
you were pleasing me! Hut 1 couldn't
I—lt didn't match my suit. And :i
smaller one seemed better. You know
the hats this year are— But, oh. I
deceived you! I've destroyed your
love for me!"
Arthur had been walking up and
down, trying to control a feeling of
mingled anger and relief. To think
that he had suffered so all day for
nothing! And she had made herself
ill for nothing! But now, at her Inst
words, he turned and took her in his
arms.
"Oh. Edith, you dear, foolish little
girl!" he cried. "You don't know what
you've put mo through, accusing your
self for nothing"—
"For nothing!" Her tone was tragic,
but thrills of bliss were running all
over her.
"As if 1 cared abuut the hat. only so
you were pleased," he said. "If you'd
iold me I would have had It ex
changed gladly. I didn't like It much
myself, but the girl said it was just
the thing. ;ind I supposed the hats tips
year were all monstrosities and it
couldn't be helped. Was this all your
trouble?"
"I should think it was enough! 1
did deceive you. I thought"—
"I know what you thought, foolish
child. Rut you don't know what—
Well, never mind. Now you'll sleep
well tonight and wear the hat tomor
row—eh !"
"Of course I will." she nnswered
happily. "I don't deserve It, but—lt
really Is n perfect dear, yon know.
Arthur And so are you!"
Found Him Guilty.
Counsel (to the Jury)-Tho principal
fault of the prisoner has l>een his un
fortunate characteristic of puttln-'
faith in thieves and .-voir drcls of the
basest description. I have done. The
unhapy man In the dock puts Implicit
• aith In you, gentlemen of the jury!
Quite a Difference.
A man spends two hours trying t«
discover what is the matter with hi;
motor and two minutes trying to fin<
out what Is the matter with his wife.
London Telegraph.
Aunt Cynthia's
Easter.
By FRANK H. SWEET.
@3 nS"""™"*© N minister
M had come to slow
moving, out of
JUL the way Spruce
IBBSSkS Hill, and with
B con,ln B ,la( l
StiSp appeared a spirit
of change and lm-
provement. He
K was fresli from
_ I a,, his theological
jjsfiV 7 course and eager
£cf( - v "s with youth and
w_ \afflt\tj*' 112 love for the
fj *Hitherto the
U church had been
to Spruce XIIU a
! place of solemnity, only to be visited
at required intervals and as a duty.
Now, under the ministrations of this
young zealot. It gradually came about
| that duty could be approached from
i many directions and not all of them
were necessarily thorny or narrow,
i Among other innovations were the
I Easter sermon and church decoration.
The new minister made the announce-
V r a. n—. « «■—
"I DON'T THINK I'VE HAD THR PLEASURE
OP MKKTI.NU MIW. I>KA¥."
| ment one Thursday evening after pray
er meeting and added that he hoped
all would be p»esent and that the la
dies of the church would arrange for a
; tasteful and appropriate decoration.
I After service the women stood about
; irresolutely, looking at each other with
[ blank, questioning faces.
"I guess you'll have to excuse ine.
Mr. Kent," one of them said at last
bluntly. "I ain't got any flowers, an',
besides, I don't know anything about
! decoratln'."
"Nor me," "Nor me," "Nor me,"
came In rapid succession and lu evi
dent relief from the other women.
| " 'Taln't time yet for tlowers to bloom."
"Can't we find a few callas nnd Eas
ter lilies and narcissuses and perhaps
some other white flowers?" asked the
minister, with less confidence In his
voice.
"All the bouses in the neighborhood
can't sea re up white posies enough for
a buttonhole bouquet," declared one
woman aggressively. "As for Easter
lilies. I ain't never seen one, an' narcis
sus 1 ain't even beard of. The Idea o'
decoratln' a whole church at this time
o' year!"
"I've heard Mis' Bray speak o' nar
cissus," said a woman reflectively,
"she that was the florist's wife, you
know. An', come to think, she's likely
a master hand at this decoratln* busi
ness."
"Who Is Mrs. Bray?" asked tlie min
ister quickly. "Perhaps she can help
me out with this. Curious I have not
heard of her before."
"Oh, 1 don't know," dryly; "folks sort
o' die away from the world after they
go Into the poorhouse. Mis' nray's
husband was for gettin' on, so he went
to the city an' learned the florist's
trade. For a time he done well. Then
his busln«ss broke, an' he died. An'
his wife come back here an' lived u,i
what little she had. After that there
was nothin' but the poorhouse."
"Well, we will find her," eagerly.
"Will you go with me, Mrs. Perry?"
"Why, yes: I don't mind if I do.
Cynthia Bray was as much of a lady
as anybody round."
The next afternoon the minister's
buekboaril stopped in front of the
poorhouse, and he and Mrs. Perry
alighted. Several men and boys wero
slouching about the yard, and on a
bench near the door were four or five
old women. Mrs. Perry looked them
over critically.
"Not there," she declared concisely.
"Cynthia wouldn't grow to look like J
that. We'll go in."
In answer to their knock a hard fea
tured woman came to the door.
"Mis' Bray?" she repeated. "Oh,
Aunt Cynthia, as we call tier, is a good
worker, so we keep her lu the kitchen.
I don't s'pose she's had a visitor afore
in five years. Won't you come in?"
They entered. Five minutes passed;
then a llttlo old woman, with a depre
catory manner, stole softly into the
room.
"Old—did yon wish to see me?" shi
asked tremulously.
Mrs. Perry sprang forward In quid
forget fulness of the Immeasurable dls
Just Goes Out.
"Mother, when the fire goen oct
where does it go?" asked a child ol
ber parent.
"I don't know, dear," replied tbi
mother. "You might Just as well «sk
uie where your father goes when h°
goes out!"
His Genius.
"Why do people think he's a genius?
Nobody can understand what he's talk
Ing about"
"No, but he can make people bclicfn
that he does."—Exchange.
tance which lay Ifefween her social p<v
Kit lon and the poorhouse.
"Why, yon poor soul," she cried sym
pathetically, "how old you've grown!
My lmlr ain't begun to turn yet, an'
here your'n 1b perfectly white."
"It's been a long time since you and
I were young," answered the old wo
man gently. Then she colored with
sudden remembrance and drew herself
up stiflly.
"Is there anything J can do for you?"
she asked.
"Come, Cynthia; don't talk that
way," remonstrated Mrs. Terry. "You
know farmers' wives are always work-
In', an'—an* It's a good piece from our
place to the"—
"Poorhouse," said the old woman
calmly.
"Well, yes, poorhouse," dcprecatlng
ly. "But never mind all that. I've
brung the minister."
"I don't think I'vo hnd the pleasure
of meeting Mrs. Bray before," said the
minister, rising, "and yet I've called
here several times."
"No; we haven't met," acquiesced
the old woman. "I generally stay In
the kitchen."
"I must acknowledge this visit is
mostly a business one, Mrs. Bray," he
said, resuming bis seat. "You see, I
tun planning to have the church deco
rated for Easter, but the ladles of my
congregation assure me that such a
thing Is utterly impossible. I have
come to you as a last resort. Can you
help me?"
The old woman looked from one tn
the other with a sudden yearning in
her eyes. Then a soft flush began to
steal over her face.
"It Isn't easy to decorate without
anything to decorate with," she said
tremulously. "In the city wo used to
have palms and Raster lilies and no
end of ferns and delicate things to
bank with."
"Hut there are the woods," suggest
«d the minister desperately. "I notice
lots of pretty things on my walks."
"Do you mean for me to take charge
of the decorating?" she asked.
"Yes, but of course with plenty of
help."
He turned hastily and glanced
through the window. Something rap
turous In the expression on the old
woman's face made him lose command
of himself for a moment.
"Well, I shall need help In gathering
the decorations," she was saying as
he turned back. "There will be things
to cut and bring home and boxes and
boards to build up for the banking.
There are some bushes along the
creek that I can fix up to look very
much like palms at a little distance,
and that dark moss below the ledge
will make a beautiful bank on which
we can arrange the early white flow
ers.
"Hut, there." breaking Into a low,
joyous laugh, which apparently fright
ened her, for she stopped suddenly and
looked about in a scared, tremulous
sort of way
"1 was only going to say." she went
on deprecatingly, "that I haven't seen
the church yet. I ought togo there
first and look around."
"Of course. We will take you there
this afternoon." volunteered the minis
ter, beaming.
"And you can have my horse and
wagon every afternoon If you like,"
added Mrs. Perry warmly. "Then
there Is my boy Tommy. Yoti ran
have him to drive you."
The old woman's face was now ab
solutely radiant.
She was not thinking of the decora
tion now, but of the beautiful thing o»
not being forgotten. "(Jod Is good to
have remembered me so lovingly."
The minister gazed at her a moment,
then turned again to the window.
"There will be no failure In the church
decoration," he remarked to Mrs. Per
ry
Nor was there, nor in the beautiful
thing that had come to the little old
woman. During the decorating she
"I CANNOT TF.LL VOTT HOW MUCU YOU HAVH
HKU'ED MP."
was like a different creature. When it
was all over the minister went to het
Impulsive!} and grasped both het
bands.
"I cannot tell you how much yoc
have helped me," he said earnestly
"The decoration has been a perfect
success, and it is ail owing to you
Hut there 's another thing I wish *t
speak about. My housekeeper Is about
to leave, and I need some one to takt
her place. Will you come and look
after the parsonage—and txie, too, foi
that matter?"
Bo the beautiful thlug which hai
come to her was uot of a day, but wai
to last through all the remainder a
her years.
Digging For Money.
Tho honest workman was engageit
in excavating operations—L e., he was
digging. The stray wayfarer of the
inquisitive turn of mind stopped for a
moment to look on.
"My man," saia the S. W. at length,
"whut are you digging for?"
The 11. W. looked up.
"Money," he replied.
"Money?" ejaculated the amazed
S. W. "And when do you expect to
strike It?"
"Saturday," replied the H. W. and
resumed oDeration*
TRICKS 111 SMUGGLING
The Way Uncle Sam Is Swindled
Through the Mails.
WATCHES IN WEDDING CAKE.
A Scheme That Was Disclosed by a
Gleeful Girl Who Could Not Hold
Her Tongue—Gloves That Came One
at a Time and Corsets In Sections.
Too few people think It a crime to
swindle the customs. For that reason
many bright and brainy persons think
hard how to get goods from abroad
without paying toll to Uncle Sam. As
most of the successful operators in
this line are women, who have more
time to think about such things than
men, It can be imagined that the cus
toms officers have to be eternally alert
to protect the government.
Tli» avenues through the steamship
passenger route are pretty carefully
guarded, and as comparatively few
people go abroad the great mass of
dwellers in this protected land are de
barred from sharing in tho humorous
little game of hide the diamond or
smuggle the silk. But there is an
other avenue that is being used enthusi
astically by the anti-duty aggregation.
It is the United States mail.
With the immense volume of foreign
mail delivered to this country it is
manifestly impossible to open and ex
amine every package that seems to
contain newspapers or merely a bulky
letter to see whether or not some duti
able article is concealed therein. So
far as it is possible, however, it is
done, and the addressee has togo to
the postoffice and pay duty on the
amount at which the dutiable article
is appraised.
The custom house experts at the
postoffice have their hands full check
mating the clever moves of those who
are constantly devising new ways to
disguise dutiable things as innocent
looking parcels.
"We used to pass cakes through
without question," said one of the ex
aminers. "It seemed too bad to lay
hands on a Christmas pudding sent by
relatives in England to some exile in
this country. It also disturbed the sen
timental side of a customs officer to
demolish a section of wedding cake
that had been sent from the old home
in Germany to Fritz in America. So
we let these sacred things pass
through. But one day we had ati
awakening. One of the customs men
heard that a neighbor had obtained a
new watch from abroad. It had come
through duty free, and the gleeful girl
who was wearing It could not keep
quiet about the clever way the post
office had been deluded. It seems the
watch had been baked right into the
cake and had come through without
discovery. Now, this forced us to take
some step to prevent a repetition of
such smartness, and ever after that
we held onto all cakes or puddings
that came In packages through the
mall. A letter is sent to the person to
whom the package is addressed, an''
this person (It Is almost always a wo
man) has to come to the postoffice ami
cut the cake or slice the pudding
In front of the customs officer. Do we
catch a Tartar occasionally? Well, you
may take It for granted that any one
who would try this trick is a Tarttu
to begin with, and so we don't get off
without a scene when the cutting time
comes.
"A trick that fooled us for a time
was the sending through the mall of
one glove a trltie creased to give the
idea that It was merely a worn glove
that had been left In Kurope by a tour
ist With the glove would come a let
ter to that effect. 'You went away
without one of your gloves,' etc. Of
course we passed It through unsuspect
ingly. But we got so many of those
that It began to look suspicious. So
we held onto one of them, and by the
next mall there came another glove
from the same address to the same
person. The glove was the fellow to
the other. Then we got another left
hand glove and later the right hand
glove to match it. The trick was sim
ple and admirable In Its simplicity.
Gloves were being sent through in
quantities, one at a time.
"But the queerest trick we exposed
the other day. A woman was aecuniu
latlng a large stock of fancy corsets
without troubling about the duty that
should have been paid on them. The
trick was to send half a corset through
the mall. We knew of no rule about
paving duty on half a corset It ap
peared to us to be a mere remnant of
the up to date woman's attire and not
important enough to consider as duti
able.
"So we passed the half corset along
and thought no more of it But half
corsets began to drop in with all too
great frequency. It looked as though
corset remnants had suddenly attained
considerable Importance in some one's
estimation. So one of the men put it
up to his wife, and she took some
thing loss than a fraction of a second
to puncture the scheme. The half cor
set was useless in Itself, but when the i
other half arrived there was a French
corset ready for wearing.
"We Qnd fine silks done up In pack
ages of herbs, watches, diamond rings
and bracelets concealed In the leaves
of books in holes cut for the purpo-e
and separate diamonds hidden away i:i
bottles of transparent liquid where the J
gem Is scarcely visible. No doubt
many dutiable articles escape us. but
ve are getting wiser every day to the
tricks of the mall smugglers."—New
York Tribune.
Keep your face always to the sun
shine and the shadows will fall be
hind you.
Chicken Cheese.
801 l two chickens until tender, take
oat all bones and chop the meat fine.
Season to taate with salt pepper and
butter, pour In enough of the liquid to
make It moist, then put into a mold.
When cold turn out and cut In slices.—
Boston Post
An Old Timer.
"He's an old newspaper man."
u Abont how old?"
"Well, he can remember when lliey
only Issued extras when something
happened."—i/oulsvllle Courier-Journal.
Europe 1* less than one-fourth &J
large as Aala.
A HOTEL DINNER.
The Husband Ordered !t, and His Wife
Criticised It.
On the midnight train ride from
town, where he nn<l his wife had been
entertaining one of his best patients
at dinner nnd the theater, the subur
ban doctor spoke bitterly:
"What a dinner! And it eost sls.
The cooking In these big hotels Is atro
cious. They smear s?.uees over every
thing. I suppose it is to hide poor ma
terials."
"It isn't the fault of the cooking that
our dinner was a failure. It was its
selection that doomed it."
"What was the matter with the se
lection?"
"You should not have done the or
dering You have your meals chosen
for you almost every day In the year.
It Is the women of people In our cir
cumstanccs who ought to arrange the
menus at restaurants. I.ook what you
ordered! Bisque of lobster—a soup>
with a body of thick white sauce.
Sweetbreads—cooked, as usual, with a
cream dressing. Virginia ham with
champagne sauce—a brown sauce as
thick as molasses. Then for dessert
you took a chance on pudding l'elne
Victoria—candled fruit and lady fin
gers swimming in soft custard "
"Well, how is a follow to know?
Lobster soup, sweetbreads, Virginia
ham and pudding Reine Victoria ir.
sounds fine."
"Rut n woman knows that It Is a
wretched combination of splendid
dishes. It Is the woman's dull duty
to choose menus for 305 days in tho
year. She learns a good deal about
select ion. Yet when a sum of money,
equal to a week's food expenses. Is to
be squandered on one dinner at a
hotel it Is the man who seizes the
menu and tries to look capable. He
makes a failure frequently, as you did
tonight. It would have been a pleas
ure for me to order a fifteen dollar din
ner—a change from manipulating din
ner for four on sl. Rut men feel to<*
Important In a restaurant to submit
the menu to their wives for assist
ance."—Exchange.
Ho Came Back Hard.
"That boy," said the Billvllle farm
er, "beats my time! Jest now when I
quoted Scrlpter to him he come back
at me hard!"
"You don't say!"
"Shore! I told him to git a hoe an"
foller the furrow. Thar's gold in th»
land,' I said. An' what do you reckon
he made answer?"
"You tell it."
" 'Father,' he says, 'I don't keer fer
the gold o' this here world. I've laid
i up treasure in heaven!' "—Atlanta Con
stitution.
Fair Warning.
Year after year an old farmer had
listened in grim silence to the trains
thundering by his land. Finally one
day, his patience at an end, he drop
ped his plow and shook his fist at the
passing express.
"Ye can puff an' blow all ye like, got
durn ye." be cried, "but I'm goln' to
ride ye Saturday!"— Everybody's.
The Zones.
Teacher—How many zones are there*
Small Boy— Six. Teacher—No; tbert*
are but five. However, you may name
six if you can. Small Boy—Torrid,
north temperate, south temperate,
north frigid, south frigid and ozone.—
Chicago News.
His Belief.
A drunken carter came into a car
riage of the Greenock train and sat
opposite a clergyman who was read
ing his paper. Recognizing the pro
fession of his vls-a-vls, the carter in
a little while leaned forward nnd in a
maudlin way remarked, "I don't be.
lieve there's ony heaven."
The clergyman paid no heed.
"Do ye hear me?" persisted th»
carter. "I don't believe there's ony
heaven."
Still the clergyman remained silent
behind his newspaper.
The carter, 'shouting his confession
this time loudly, said, "1 tell ye to
your face, and you're a minister, that
X don't believe there's ony heaven."
"Very well," said the clergyman, "if
you do not believe there Is a heavea
go elsewhere, but please go quietly."—-
London Graphic.
Not Misplaced.
Hotel Clerk-I found the "Not to Re
Used Except In Case of Fire" placard
those college boys stole out of the cor
ridor. Manager—Where? Clerk—They'd
nailed it up over the coal bin.—Bosto*
Transcript.
Gritty.
"Fifty miles an hour! Are yon
brave?" She (swallowing another pint
of dust)— Yes. dear; I'm full of grit.—
Chicago News.
A Deserter.
Hewitt—Green has been arrested for
being a deserter. Jewett Wife or
army?— New York Press.
We do nf>i ltnow how cheap tin
•eeds of happiness are or we shoulf
•carter them oftener.—Lowell.
siiii El" i
A Rolla bl®
TO SHOP
r©r all kind of Tin Roofing*
Spoutlne nnd Conoral
Job Work.
Stoves, Hoators. Ran«M,
Furnaces. «to.
PRICES THE LOWEST!
ABILITY THE BEST.'
JOHN IIIX SON
HO. 11» & FRONT ST.