WE SAT ON THE STOOP. |
s hush of the country’s stillness,
as falling on hill and vale,
B tree, with its dark, green branches,
Seemed to spread a sheltering wing,
MWhen we sat on the stoop in the evening
To hear the brown thrush sing.
“The koneysuckle watted its fragrance
+ From its climb on the south porch door;
And the sweet, rich scent of the new-mown
hay :
+ Came afar—from the hizh barn floor;
“The moon was new, and shining
. Inizsquaint, half-circle ring,
“When sve sab on the stoop in the evening
To hear the brown thrush sing
Fhe light and shallows tremble—
The picture is fading—slow—
anishing quite—into dreamland:
The mystical dong ago,
_A wave of thy wand, good fairy,
at Yor the days when love was kingy)
And we sat on the stoop in the ns
° 0 hear the brown thrush sing!
Anna B. Lowell, in Boston Transcript.
ER XETTY GLADIS CURTIS,
BY MERASB MITCHELL.
41 was thinking of a compliment fo
“pay you, so I have done it.”
-. “*Really! Well, you are one of those
+ frierds who grow: pleazanter and pleas-
~anter till one—"
£ip. a. That means I am to go; it
“wants just ten minutes tn one.’
¢i&g you like; but I did not sayp. a.”
And Gladis ‘Curtis gave he head a
proud little bend that said ‘‘Good-morn-
oy as plain as could be to her compan-
“Ton, who stood leaning lazily against the
railing of the piazza, “watching her with
Aig heart in Lis eyes, and a question on
“the tip of his tongue.
#May J come again at four?”
¢<If you like. I shall not be here, I
am going with Jack Hilton for a paddle
in his new canoe; but Miss H. W. C.
Bacon, of Commonwealth avenue, Bos-
“ton, Massachusetts, will grace this corner
of the piazza at exactly 3 quarter past
“four. 1 heard her say so.’
And Gladis prepared to answer a
: ‘summons from her mother, who sat in
‘the cobl shade of the hotel parlor, where
£he matrons and chaperons were wont
40 spend the mornings in select little
~eircles, each with its own particular
Kind of fancy or charity work and topic
~of conversation. :
Beverly Post escorted Giadis to the
door, and there, with a smileand certain
$ift of the hat that showed him to be a
New Yorker, hie left her without a word,
. for his heart was in a tumult.
What had he said or not said, and
what could she mean by substituting
Miss Bacon for her own dear self?
Now he came to think about it, Gladis
“had not been at all like herself. ~~ What
“was it? -Wis she tired or indifferent?
Eeriaps a little of both, and yet there
“had been times even that morning when
“be felt certain that she cared for him.
‘What was it all about? And, lover-
dike. he began blaming himself in the
most bewildering way for all soris of im-
-aginary faults—his dress, his walk, his
_Anability B) appreciate certain things or
people thay she liked.
She had given him a little book to
~ wead—somebudy’s longings “or con-
sditions; he could not remember the
mame. That was a week ago, and she
was probably waiting for his opinion;
.and he had not looked at it, but had
talked of stocks, elections and a bicycle
.#rip his club had taken. = What did she
Enow or care about such things? = And
yet she had listened to him, and even
pretended to be interested.
He was one of New York’s most
promising young lawyers, and was taking
»a month’s vacation before entering on,
-ghe great duties of life.
A handsome man with dark eyes and
.dhair, and a quick, responsive nature that
was as honest and earnest in all its pur-
“poses as men of Beverly Post’s birth,
- education, and training are sure to be;
~and although the fortunate possesser of
an independent income, he had not only
«chosed a professions but thoroughly
fitted himself to meet ils requirements
He was just twenty-six when be first
met ‘pretty Gladis Curtis,” as every one
«called her; ‘‘and that was only ‘three
‘weeks ago’ he was saying to himself as
he ran up the steps of his hotel, ~¢I will
make a poor lawyer if Ido not”—and
‘here he hesitated, and blushing likke a
«school-girl, ‘win this my frst case.
In the mean time Gladis was listening
@n an impatient sort of way to her
amother’s little lecture abouf always ap-
pearing with Mr. Post. ,
“You know wcll encuzh my dear,
#hat I have decided to take you abroad
mext season, and you do not know what
~chances there are in store for you. Mr.
Post is very nice, but I have great hopes
for you. We Lave been invited to visit
dv. Mildale, and Mrs. Whitney has
n telling me about, them, and how
ily they entertain.’
g mamma, I do not think wou
meed worry about Mr. Post; he is
charmed with Miss Bacon, from Boston;
he told me himself that he admired the
ose of her head, and the intellectual
warve of her lips, and that she had read
Blackstone from begining to end. And
asked him who the author of Black-
stone was, and he’ actually laughed at
. and said I had better ask Miss Bacon
#0 lend me her copy. I wassoprovoked
4hat I assured him I could provide myself
wreading. Oh dear! this dress
er does go on as it ought to. There's
ie lunch bell; and I am not nearly
dv. Do go, mamma? :
er her mother had: gone Gladis had
le cry. Then she rearranged the
g dress, and started down stairs,
sd to ‘be ‘as unlike Miss Bacon
possible to be, which, in truth,
06 be a difficult task,
5 ly child.
ore she could remember.
he who was rich, and
if :
Her father |
Sea,” as the hotel was known to the
folks year after year, which fact she
could prove by the date on her veranda
chair; for all permanent guests provided
themselves with their own veranda
chairs, and asserted their ownership by
neat little cards bearing the owner's
name, and often a date, as in Mrs. Cur-
tis’s case, of old residenceship tied to
the upper right-hand corner on the back
of the chair.
There was the judge’ chair, the ad-
miral’s chair, the docter’s chair and
Mrs. Lewis Longworth Curtis’s chair.
The young people did not affect this
fad, and never satin the ‘‘big bears’
chairs,” as Beverly irreverently named
them; in fact, nothing so surely indi-
'} cated a stranger to Bar Harbor and its
| ways as taking possession of one of these
'§ chairs.
Gladis had been given every oppor-
{ tunity that good schools and a well-filled
purse could provide. She was barely
nineteen, a very handsome girl, with
bright winning ways that made her a
favorite with every one. | And although
not a student as Miss Bacon was, she
was bright and quick, and really knew
and studied a great deal more than she
admitted ; but the well-dressed comforta-
ble out-of-door life of the place charmed
her, and she had given herself over'to
walking, driving, tennis, dancing, ca-
noeing, as completely‘as it was possible,
happier.
But one day 4 little cloud’ sailed in,
and with it came, first, , Beverly Post, and
then Miss Bacon.
Now Gladis would not atknowledze
that she was jealous, that was too mean
a feeling, and yet she was, and she really
had no cause for she had never seen
Beverly speaking to Miss Bacon; he had
only spoken of her, and if she had
stopped to analyze her feelings—as no
done in her place—Gladis. would have
been surprised to find that it was not of
Miss Bacon personally she was jealous,
but of Miss Bacon's accomplishments.
For the little lady had beer through col-
lege, understood perfectly five languages,
had been all over Europe, written a prize
essay on the inheritance of property, and,
it was whispered, was reading law. A
woman can forgive another “for being
badly dressed, but it is hard to forgive
superior knowledge; and so it was that
although Gladis could find all sorts of
excuses for Miss Bacon's plain sensible
dressing, she could not excuse her for
having “read Blackstone. i
She was fretted and unreasonable,
and, like Beverly, felt her imperfections.
It had taken some time for her to ac-
knowledge that she cared for Beverly,
and the fact had not really come to her
until his unfortunate remark cencerning
the Boston girl's cleverness; that was
more than a week age. At first it had
the effect of making hera little thought.
ful; then she had hunted up a package
of books some one had sent her early in
the season, and among which had been
the book she had loaned to Beverly —
Besant's *All Sorts and Conditions of
Men.”
Yes, she had read it, but felt sure not
as carefully as Miss Bacon, would have
done; in fact, she had hurried throngh
with it 50 as to loan it to Beverly, with
an idea of letting him sce that she could
appreciate a good book.
He had taken it because she had asked
him to read it, but had forgotten that
he had it until that ‘morning. Now he
would read it.
dragged, and he summed up his verdict
long before it was time to appear at the
club. Anyway, he would walk down to
the hotel, and perhaps see Gladis, if
only for a moment. He did nos thick
of the time, or of what Gladis had told
him of Miss Bacon, but took his seat
near the front entrance of the hotel office,
and waited.
It was just ten minutes to four when
Jack Hilton, a jolly captivating young
man, drove up to the door in a hand-
some cart,and, running up the steps and
into the office, with a bright and cheery
nod to Beverly, sent his card up to Miss
Curtis.
Beverly knew it was going to be a
trying moment, but he determined not
to run away; so he talked to Jack. ask-
ing him all sorts. of foolish questions.
Both men watched the stairway.
‘There she comes,” came involun-
tarily from Jack's lips, in answer to
Beverly's question if he knew Judge
Dawson, and Jack went for a to meet
the belle of the season.
Gladis never Jooked _lovelier, in a
a dainty white serge costume, with tan-
colored cap, gloves and shoes. She was
drawing on her gloves as she came
toward them, and talking gayly to her
mother. Perhaps she did not know that
Miss Bacon was just behind her, in a
plain Brown gown, her only bit of color
being a soft pale blue ‘‘Liberty handker-
chief” knotted loosely about her shoul-
ders.
Beverly never attempted to put himself
forward, but stood up, bowing as Gladis
passed him. Always before she had
stood a moment and chatted with him,
making some future engagement; but
this time she had shown him at her first
glance that she was going straight on.
And she never had been so bewitch-
ing and gay; and while paddling along
Jack was beginning to think that such a
companion would be delightful through
life, and was half inclined to tell her so,
when Gladis asked:
“What time did you order the cart?
Iam tired. I know I must return.’
afternoon, and it wants a good half-hour
to sunset. Do let us paddle around that
yacht before going in. »
“¢No. You will excuse me. I want
to return.” And Gladis sent the canoe
forward with such strong, swift strokes
that there could be no mistaking her in-
tentions.
The trip home was rather a quiet one,
and it ould have been hard Tor either
have understood | Gladis’s
her heart that Beverly
suite of rooms in. the «House by 16 4 pi
wondering at times if life could be any.
doubt quiet little Miss Bacon would have’
But some way the story
But yon promised me the whole:
full speed everywhere, so that she could
not help being influenced; and then,
too, Beverly might be watching her
from the club » windows, and she certain-
ly was not going to let him see her even
appearing tired. There sat Miss Bacon,
surrounded by a lot of children, to whom
she was reading **Alice in Wonderland,”
but Beverly was nowhere to be seen:
After wandering about a bit she went to
her room; and on her dressing table lay
the book she had loaned Beverly, with a
few sprays of golden rod.
4] did behave shamefully,” she
thought; “and I will” tell him so to-
night.” Then she pinned his flowers,
the flowers he loved best—the golden-
rod—in her belt and hair, and promised
herself a happy evening. But how little
we know of the hidden powers that are
constantly either working for or against
us! Gladis was barely out of sight that
afternoon when a telegram was: put into
Beverly's hand, and he, in the rush of
sudden departure, had only time to
leave the book and golden-rod while
taking a polite farewell of Mrs. Curtis,
who was just starting for an evening en-
tertainment; so that Gladis did not know
of his going, and was not only puzzled
but anxious at his non-appearance, for
she knew now that she loved Beverly,
and had made up her mind to be goed
to him in spite of everything; so,dressed
in her loveliest evening costume and
wearing his flowers, she watched for him
as she never had before; playing the role
of bewitcher to perfection, and capti-
vating every one with her bright smile
and witty sayings.
The next day was one of Mount
Deserts gloomiest days, and well suited
Gladis’s feelings. She pleaded headache,
and kept her room until sheer weariness
of answering inquiries concerning her
health and receiving Sowers and bonbons
made her resolve to face her friends.
Wise grandmothers and matrons shook
their heads when they saw her pale face
and tired look, deciaring that such a
gay life was too much for a first season.
Perhaps no one but little Miss Bacon
guessed the true cause of Gladis’s head-
acke. She had been from the first a
great admirer of Miss Curtis, and had
watched the friendship between Beverly
and Gladis grow and ripen into love.
She had unintentionally been a witness
of their meeting the day before, and
divined there had been a misunderstand-
ing, but she had also seen the great love
in Beverly’ s eyes, and felt sure that he
would come back. Miss Bacon was one
of those ‘loyal girls who never made
gossip, especially of other people’s sor-
row, and therefcre she kept her own
counsel concerning the two, but watched
as faithfully as Gladis did the train and
boat, feeling sure he would come. ;
One never knows how it all happens,
and yet it always will be so as long as the
world lasts, and ic is safe to say and good
to believe that every one has at least once
in his or her life been willing to give up
everything to some other will ‘for love's
sweet sake. ;
Bo thought and felt Gladis as she sat
all alone in a shady nook on the piazza,
just one week after Beverly had left her,
and she longed so to see his bright hand-
some face that it seemed as though he
must come.
It was the first time she had not
watched for him, always standing a little
behind those who were sure of arrivals,
but this afternoon she had been so busy
thinking, instead of watching, that she
did not hear the bustle and confusion at-
tending the coming of new guests, cr the
return of old ones.
But Miss Bacon was there, and a glad
little cry escaped her as she saw Beverly
Post hurry up the steps, and with him
her brother.
“Why, Larry dear, this is a great pleas-
ure!”
‘Yes; I kfew you would be glad. I
was thinking of coming later on, but Bey
here persuaded me to come now.. Oh,
excuse me, Harriet, this is my dear oid
classmate Beverly Post, and this is my
clever little sister, Beverly.” -
It is needless to say that they were de-
lighted to know each other, but Beverly
could scarcely wait before asking:
“Do you know if Mrs. Curtis is still
here?”
“I know where Miss Curtis is. Shall
I take you to her?’ asked Miss Bacon,
the sweet mouth that had been accused
of having lips with an intellectual curve,
Beverly answered with a happy little
nod, and the next moment was holding
both of Gladis’s hands, and saying:
“JI could not stay away, Gladis, I
could not; life is not worth living with-
out you.”
“But—but— Oh, I am so glad to see
you, Beverly!” 2
By far the prettiest wedding of the
season was that of Mr. Beverly Post and
Miss Gladis Curtis. © The church was
profusely decorated with golden-rod, and
golden-rod only; even the . bride’s bou-
quet was of golden-rod, and was the only
bouquet carried. — Harper’ 8. Bazar,
rR te
‘ Born in the White House.
Only two childien have ever been
born in the Presidential mansion—and
neither of them was a Presidential baby.
Strange to say, they arrived under two
consecutive administrations, but, Shan.
ger still, they both now live in Mont-
gomery. One cf them is Miss Letitia
Tyler, a lady of rare accomplishments,
and the other Colonel Hal T. Walker,
a prominent lawyer, who also has large
planting interests.’
As the name of the first indicates, she
was born under the Tyler administration,
and is the granddaughter of President
Tyler. Colonel Walker’s mother was a
niece of Presiflent Polk and his father
the President’s private secretary. How
gloomy the White House must have been
during most of the years of its existencs'
Only two babies for nearly a century is a
poor rerord for any house, and no degree
‘of official spiendor can atone for thi.
| fatal shortcoming. —New York Mail ani
88s
en “they refed the hotel, tio’
plazzas were crowded, and life was at |
with a mischievous smile playing about.
~ BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETOI®:S FROM
‘VARIOUS SOURCES.
An Enthusiastic Mausician—A Soft
Answer—A Horse of Another
Color—Cause for Appre-
hension, Etc. sEte.
There was once a young woman of Chester,
Who was eager to sing when one pressed her:
When she once got a start
She would sing with such art
That it took twenty men to arrest her.
: —Harper's Bazar.
. A SOFT ANSWER.
‘Are you ailing?” babbled the brook.
“Not much,” gurgled the spring.
«Still welling. "— New. York Sun.
IN THE POSTOFFICE. |
‘‘Home again,” said the postmaster to
the returning stamp clerk.
‘Yes, back to my old stamping ground,”
and he took his place at the window, —
Detroit Free Press.
FOSTERING CARE.
Kittie Winslow—¢ Why don’t you let
your moustache grow, Mr. Boysen?”
Mr. Boysen—*‘‘Let it grow! Why, my
dear 'Miss. Winslow, I am offering it
every inducement !”’— Life.
BRAINLESS.
“They say Robinson has water on the
brain.” §
**Where did he get it?” :
¢*What—the water?”
**No—the brain.” — Life.
A HORSE OF ANOTHER COLOR.
Little Johnnie—*‘There's a man at the
door with a bill.”
. Brown—¢“Tell him I’m not at home.”
Little Johnnie—*‘‘But it's a five dollar
bill he says fie: owes you.” — Epoch.
HOW HE LOST IT.
1 angle—¢ “Poor Tableigh lost half of his
fortune by that last failure of his.”
Bangle—*‘So bad as that?”
Jangle—¢*Yes; he was forced to com
promise at fifty ceats on the dollar. ”—
Detroit Free Press.
CAUSE FOR APPREHENSION.
Jack—¢Waat is the matter?
Maud say she’d be a sister to you!”
Tom —‘“No; but after she had
accepted me, we broke the news to the
old folks, and Mrs. Inlaw said she'd be
% mother to me.” —Puck.
FASHION AND FOOD.
Husband—<“Mrs. Tiptop's dinner was
grand, wasn’t it#”
Wife—¢‘I didn’t enjoy it.”
Why not?’
¢*My new dress was so tightI coulda’
eat anything.” New York Wastly.
Did
HE WILL-COLLECT THE INTEREST.
“Now this is an event of interest to
me,” exclaimed Staggers, glancing up
from the newspapsr, »
. “What is it!” asked his wife.
$A company in which Iam a stock-
holder announce a dividend.”— Detroit
Free Press. 3
CONTAGIOUS IN THEIR CASE.
Mc. Noopop—-**‘Doctor,1s insomnia con-
tagious?” -
Dr. Paresis——*¢‘Certainly not, sir. What
makes you ask that?’
Mr. Noopop-—‘‘Bzcause [noticed that
when baby is troubled with insomnia,
my wife and I invariably catea it, too.”
— Life. :
ENCOURAGING HIM,
Brother Jack—*‘I asked Virginia Cooper
0 marry me and she said there was too
great a discrepancy in our ages.”
Bister—¢*How old is Virginia?”
Brother J ack— Twenty-three. n
Sister—¢‘And you're nineteen. So just
wait two yearsand you "Il both be twenty-
one. NJ udge.
UNDECIPHERABLH,
Ejucated Ezyptian—You have mo
‘wonderful hieroglyphicsin youe gountry,
Bir; no mysterious inscriptions, no unde- -
cipherable relics of an ancient literature
whose secrets the wise men of the world
have tried for azes to.discover.”
American Citizen—*No, we haven’t any
of thost things, but Ibrightening up)
we've got our ‘railway guides.’ Ve
Chicago Tribune.
THEN MR. PIKEHAM SCOWLED.
Mr. Pinkham——¢‘How do you do, Mrs.
Willis? You are the last person I ex-
pected to see in Florence.”
Mrs. Willis—*¢Why, if it isn’t Mr.
Pinkham! Yes, we are spending the
winter here. You mustcall on us often.
You know, just how it is---persons we
never think much of while at home seem
like dear friends when we meet them in
a strange place.”---Harper's Buaar,
: WHAT HE HOPED.
Mr. De Brate—‘My wife has a dog
“which knows one hundred différent
tricks. Wouldn't you like to have him?”
Showman—¢‘Indeed I would. Is he
for sale?”
7 ¢ No.”
‘Won't she sell him at any price?”
+No.”?
“Then why | do you speak to ms about
him?”
¢¢] was in oom ‘maybe you would
steal him."—-- Good News.
GEORGE ALL RIGHT.
Anxious Mother—¢‘My dear, I'm afraid
George is getting into bad company. He
is out very late nearly every night.”
‘Observing Father —¢Oh, he's all right.
He goes to see some girl or other.
Shouldn’t ‘wonder if he'd announce an
engagement soon.”
‘$'He hasn't said a word about any
young lady.”
“No; but he’s keeping company with
one all the same. His right wrist i
k
_~ Grocer—*‘I’'m very sorry, I'm sure.’
WHAT VATTING FOR.
“r Nadersticd, Mrs. Sassafras, that
‘| you are the owner of a hen which laid
an ego with afive-cent piece-in it one day
and the day following one eogtaining a
4 dime.” - “
“I am, sir.”
“I represent a dime museum, and 1
would like to buy your hen.”
“No dime museum can touch thal
fowl, sir. I'm. waiting for a British
syndicate to make me an offer, sir
Good Etoraing "e-Hpock,
INDIGNANT AT LAST. :
Customer—*¢‘Mr. Briggs, there seems
to be a good deal of sand in the sugar
this week.’
Customer— And the butter is three.
quarters oleo.”
Grocer! ‘Well,
that.”
-Customer— ‘But what surprises me
the most is that the tea is pure, and
weighs sixteen ounces to the pound.”
Grocer—*‘By gracious, Mr. Snooks,
I'll be more careful in the futura!”— Har-
per’s Bazar.
I must look inte
YE ADVERTISING CLERK.
Fussy Man (hurrying into newspaper
office)—“!Fve lost my spectacles some-
where, and I want to advertise for them
but I can’t see fo write without them, you
know.” :
¢+Advertising Clerk (likely to be busi-
ness manager some day)—*‘I will write
the ad. for you, sir. Any marks on
them?”
Fussy Man—"Yes, yes. Gold-rfimmed,
lenses different focus, and letters L. Q.
C. on inside. Insert it three times.”
Advertising Clerk—**Yes, sir. Five
dollars, please.”
Fussy Man—: ‘Here it is.’
Advertising ee It gives
me, sir, great pleasure, to inform you
sir, that your spectacles are on top of
your head.”
Fussy Man—¢Mystars! So they are.
Why didn’t you say so before!”
Advert'sing Clerk —*‘Business before
pleasure, you know.”—New York Weckly.
Fortunes in the Sale of Flowers.
New York boasts of many industries.
New Yorkers have the faculty of making
a nimble dollar about as rapidly as such
a feat can be accomplished. There are
one or two big florists in this city who
are making fortunes every year by the
sale of flowers. One man on upper
Broadway has an infome of $30,000 a
year from suca a business, aud there are
half a dozen. other men in New York
who make from $5000 to $15,000 a year’
in the same way. These are big figures,
but when the prices charged are recalled
they do not seem so unlikely. For. ex:
ample, the man who does the largest
business in cut flowers in New York very
often has orders for house or church
decorations that cost from $500 to
$5000. This man docs not undertake
any work that does not pay well. If it
is a fashionable wedding he will not
agree to decorate the churgh for less
than $500, and as much more as tha
bride's stern papa will spend. If both/|
the church and residence of the bride's
parents are to be decorated, quite $3000
can be spent, without even the suspicion’
of great extravagance. For elaborate
dinner parties, dances and receptions,
from $250 to $5000 may be expended,
as the purse oi the purchaser may elect.
Every fashionable bride must carry at
least $100. worth of flowers in her gloved
hand to the altar, and sometimes even
more costly ones. Many wealthy people
are supplied with fresh flowers daily,
and the bills for these quickly foot up
into a snug sum, A few of the fashion-
-able men have bouquets for their coats
sent to their clubs or homes daily, and
the ‘charge is never less than $1 a day.
Ladies who entertain a great deal, and
who go out every evening, follow the
same rule, oaly in the latter case tie
price is usually from five to tea times a3
much as for the bouquets for men. Then
there are thousands of men and women,
who are neither rich nor poor, who buy
flowers every day. Roses and violets
and orchids are worth nearly their
weight in, gold in winter, and so it
comes that a few florists reap a rich har-
vest.
The-least surprising part of the Bower
trade of New Yorx is that the work is
not confined to the big city and its
suburbs. Bat residents of Boston,
Philadelphia, Chicazo and other cities
send to New York for flowers for wed-
dings, receptions and dinner parties, and
of course the florists make a handsome’
thing of it all. The towers seat to dis-
tant cities are ‘daintily packed in soft
cotton and paper, and are so arranged
that they may be preserved in all their
‘I freshness for over a week.—New York
Mail and Erpress,
Relic of a Prehistoric Race,
Well diggers at Laconia, Ark., have
made a reaaarxable find. Ata depth of
123 foet the drill penetrated a peculiar,
hard substance, which they declare]
must bs a layer of bricks. There are no
brick houses in the town and people
laughed at them, The drillgrs persisted in-
their assertion. Later, in a mass of
mud brought up by the drill, was found
a piece of money, It is octagonal in
shape and has hiergzlyphics on it which
have not been deciphered, but which
evidently are meant to represent the
value of the piece. It is totally different
from anything ever seen in that heigh-
oorhood, and the piece was taken to
Helena, Ark., where it was shown to
numismatics, but all ‘agreed in pro-
nouncing it as’ something beyond their
knowledge. It is claimed by antiquarians
that the bricks and coins are relics of a
prehistoric race which lived in Arkan.
sas many years before the Indians, and
who built’ the pavementss and roads
which werg discovered ‘at Memphis bn
| the other side of the river above Helena.
The coin will be sent to the Smithsonian
Institute for examination, but the owne
hinks it
"nothing of
says it will taken large amount of money |
| to buy it, as he! i
ih
A properly Boiled ham is
dish. For this purpose
water over night a small ham
about seven pounds. In - the
take it out, wipe it and pu
fire in a saucepan, covering it
cold water.
Let it boil slowly for abou
hours; then remove the ski
kle it "with a little sugar, mak
cisions. on the surface, and cover |
ly with fine bread crumbs, spri
little white pepper over it.
Set it in an oven and ba
browned. It may beserveaa
it is considered by many to be
| condition when it is sliced in deli
slices after it 1s thoroughly cold. —
Globe.
DUSTER BAG AND DUSTER.
A pretty duster bag is of pongee en.
broidered in outline with a spray ©
flowers or a conventional design,
bearing the word **Duster,’’ also
in outline stitch. A simpler. bi
made of a strip of cretonne a’ gaarter
a yard wide by three-quarters long,
One-third of the length is turned up for
the ‘pocket, and the sides stitche
gether, while the remaining third form:
a flap cut to a point and hemmed, the
extremity being adorned with a -
bright ribbon. ir
tached to the back of the bag p
strong and convenient loop by °
hang it up.
A common mistake in making
cloth dusters is that of havin
large. One yard square gat!
more dust than one half that siz
its being more o
handle. Then, too, the general aj
ance of griminess which a duster
assumes seems to be more obviou
the large cloth even atter it has be
service but a short while.—New
Recorder, as
LEFT-OVER MEATS.
A book might well be compiled
numberless dainty dishes which
made of left-over bits of meat, gan
poultry; and yet, “brought down to
ter of fact, they might all be catalo
under the prosaic name of has
Nearly all of the daintiest rechay
dishes of the French are served mine
and seasoned. There are very fe
ple who reaily uaderstand how &
a good dppetizing hash and ser
folded on a napkin, a dainty brown.
on the outside, but delicately se
and soft as soon as the crust is broke:
Scarcely any dish com3son oar brea,
fast tables better than this, wi
well made and well served. = Ab
thirds cold potatoes (not mashe:
one-third cold besf, or corn bsef, ar
quired to make a good beef or cora
hash, A little fat may be puv in
the corn beef, but beef ha
better made of all lean mont.’ Mince’
meat thoroughly, then add the potatoe
.and season more thoroughly thao f
‘most any other dish. If it is a beef
add a large spoonful of bufter to
cups of the chopped mixture. Add,
enough boiling Water to make it mol
but not “salvey.”
pan over the fire.
large tablespoonful of butter, and whe
this is melted pour in the hash, Smoot
it down evenly, and set it a little bao
where 1 it will slowly brown.
ing takes about half an hour.
at the sides of the pan in about twe
minutes to see if it is browning; itn
pull it a little forwacd. Waoen dons fol
one side of the hash over the other with
an omelet-turner, and tura it oa a hot
platter. - Remember that it should b
covered by a crisp brown crust, but be
soft witaiu. —New York Tr ibune.
RECIPES.
Tomato Pie—Slice tomatoes and stow
in syrup of sugarand lemon juice. Wien
transparent lay i in pans eovergd wita r
crust and bake. iy
Bubble and Squeak—Into your chaf-
ing dish put two heaping tablespoon al
of “butter; into this place some thin
slices of cold corn beef, well prepared;
add some cold boiled cabbage, chop
fine, well seasoned with pepper and sall
2 tablespoon(ul ot pickled cucumber di
onion, mixed, and a small teaspooifu
made mustard. Serve hot.
Calf’s Liver—Mince an onion fine
place in your chafing-dish, toge
with two tablespoonfuls of butters. at
half a pound of calf’s liver into slices,
season well, dredge with flour and pa
into the chafing- dish. Cook until
and sarve hot with a sauce made oO
yolk of one era beaten with a tabl
spoonful of butter, a little cayenne
a desertspoonful of lemon j Juice. 7
Chocolate Pudding-<Rub two. ta
spoonfuls bucter to a cream, a
tablespoonfuls flour and pour on sls
one and one-half cupfuls hot milk.
three ounces grated chocolate wi
tablespoonfuls ‘sugar and thre
spoonfuls hot water.” Put the est
ture on to boil in a double boiler
the chocolate and cook eight mi ing
Remove, add the beaten yolks 0
eggs and set away to cool. . Oni
hour before serving add the well:be
whitesand bake in a buttered dish al
one-half hour. Serve with one |
cream sweetened with two tablespoonfuls
powdered Swgar and beaten ill Phe
Rice Croquettes, With J elly—Cow
cupful well washed rice with two
fuls of boiling water; add one-half
spoonful salt, * and steam till ‘ten
Male one cupful thick cream sauce
one-tablespoonful butter and two
spoonfuls flour, one saltspogaful
one cupful’ hot milk; add” the s
beaten yolk of one egg and. the
Cool, shape, roll in crumbs, in
crumbs; fry in hot lard; serve with
he rice must be washed thoro
washed until no starch remains it
water. Pat it on in the doy
and steam until tender. Follo
carefully and the result