louses, iting a Pa. Son, Pha- prices. . Bring in ew. Don’t 11 cost. y ED. II kinds of ‘Sea Foam’ o handle nght in car. Store in ons, Thanking : . queens of the circus. {By giving comfort where we may, By lighting up a mourner’s way; The sum of means that we employ To turn a fellow’s ills to joy— This is the measure of our days, A veteran in the wars of life, ~ A prisoned soldier in the strife Of soul with stingy, envious Time ‘Ise who makes hisactions rhyme "To universal brotherhood. Thotigh long or short hath been his oad, oa 8, when it 1 to him in the sudden hush as if the very heart of the world stopped beating. Then in bad weather he and his mother could shut themselves up in their own little nest, or if it were fine were free {to wander outside the town into the. fields. It was only at such times that {his mother really talked, but alone with her boy she would string out stories { about: the old farm where she had spent 1 her happy, free girlhood. : {| about the old house with its pent-roof i} and gables; the well by its side, with its .} long sweep, which moved with a mourn- ‘{ ful musical creak when the bucket was Ted heard lowered. He was used to lions and tig- ers, and there was satisfaction in the de- ‘Centuries or decadés his abode 3 scriptions of the soft-eyed oxen and cows Among his kind, it matters least So fellows by him have been blest, - His life is measured by his plan Of dealing with his fellow man, This is the measureof hisdays. And much methinks of time he gains, For all his labors, allhis pains, . For reaching outward far and near To succor want and shelter fear; : No stingy paddock’ hems him in To mean desires or groveling sin, A widow's blessing him avails, An orphan’s prayer some good entai’s, ‘While stretching outward over man. He converse holds with Nature's plan, ~ And solving life’s deep mysteries, . Hegrasps eternal verities— This is the measure of his days. —T. C. Rice, in New York Press. _ TED’S LAST TRICK. yr UST about every- thing had seemed _# to come to Ted by 7—- instinct until he was taught the great ‘‘ring trick.” He had been born in the circus, and long before he could walk was fa aR used to riding gound and round the ring on the silearned pony,” swinging his bare legs and crowing with glee every time he —— —— passed the starting post. He climbed © 1adders and poles, holding on by his * chubby little hands, as soon as he could foddle alone, and crept 1nto risky places “ avhere, as the whole troupe used £0 say, ‘watching him with joy and pride, he was obliged to ‘‘hang on by his eyelids.” ‘. When he was five years old he used to « perform regularly with. old Benny, the “ famous ‘‘bare-back” rider,” in the ‘‘wild Indian’ act. All the glitter, color, stir, life of the circus was the [joy of the “Joungster's existence. He was so. used to the sight of expert riders and acrobats _ going through their parts he had no - thoughts of any possible danger attend- “ing their exploits, and all that others . “coul do he felt he could do, and longed to do. His father had been the wonderful . yider, Llewellen, killed, unluckily by a ‘Kick from his favorite horse’s hoof just as he carelessly stooped to feel the fetlock. That was when Ted was but two years old, and Llewellen had been so much beloved that the company adopted the boy, as it. were, and took pride in his cleverness and promise, for there could be no doubt that nature had given him _ the true eye, the steady head, the indomi- . table nerve and the quick sense of the laws of balance which are needed by a . nan whose profession itis to dangle _twizt heaven and earth. His mother was a farmer's daughter, who had made a romantic match by running away with the handsome ILlewellen. She had re- mained in the community after her hus- band’s early death as a sort of ‘‘wardrobe woman.” It was she who refurbished the old costiimes, braiding them with tinsel and ‘sewing on fresh spangles. She was _ called Mrs. Llewellen, and she and her boy lived in a small compartment of the ‘great property van, which, when the show moved from town to town, was drawn by six white horses. Few ex- periences pleased Ted better than this sort of royal progress, which, in spite of its grandeur, was extremely convenient, since his mother could cook their meals or go on with their Sewing while they were in motion, and Ted could eat his ‘bread and butter while he nodded and waved to the boys gathered at every cor- ner to welcome the procession, : Ted had learned to read from the _ great garing hand-bills: ¢‘Greatest Show on the Universe,” ¢‘The Unequaled and * Matchless Troupe,” etc., and his heart had thrilled with a sudden conviction of his own pre-eminence when he spelled out *Master Edward Llewellen, the Re- matkable Infant Rider and Acrobat.” But his pride was in the fact of his belonging to the circus, and not in him: ‘self. For all the members of the troupe were so interesting, so superior. = There was old Benny—not that he was old but so-called to distingmsh him from young Benny, the lion tamer. Actually there vas nothing that old Benny could not do; it was he who performed the famous bumpkin trick, at which Ted was ‘never tired of gazing; in the first place mount- ‘ing the horse on the wrong side, and holding on by the mane as if he were going to fall off; then, after committing every possible blunder, suddenly show- “ing his real powers and going through a series of dazzling transformations, until he emerged the inimitable Benny, the “King of the Circus... Then there were the clown, a great friend of Ted's; a «quiet melanchaly fellow who played the banjo, and the lady riders, chiéf of whom svere. Mrs. Bill and Miss Fanny, rivat All were so ac- complished, so splendid in their attire (at least on occasions), and so kind and tender to Ted, 1t was little wonder if he thought it the finest life in the world. ; times when his mother sighed over ent of his life, ting, balancing, and above all thi ‘wh leaned forw: ] = —all the tender, patient creatures of the | farm, besides the fierce turkey gobblers, { hens, and fluffy, downy chickens. Close 4 by the farm ran a little river, where the | geese and ducks paddled, and on the { other side was' the wood, where there were always rustles and murmurs, where nuts pattered down in the autumn and squirrels whisked their tails and chat- tered in defiance of the intruders who poached on their winter stores. The garden and the orchard, tog, were some- thing to hear about. Ted knew epery ‘| flower which grew in the borders, and his mouth watered at the account of the ap- -{ ples, white and red, which ripened on the hillside. It is a great deal to know as much about the world as Ted did, so he used to tell old Benny about the farm which was to him such: a wonderful fairy tale. Tus «Pity now your mother couldn’t go home and take you to see her folks,” said Benny. ¢Go home and take me,” said Ted. ¢ Why, could she?’ ¢“Why not?” said Benny. This new and startling idea dawning on Ted’s mind took his breath away. «Mother,” he cried, running to her, ttwhy don’t you take me down to see grandfather and grandmother and the flowers and the apples?” s¢Ah, why not?’ burst out the home- sick woman with a bitter cry. ¢‘Be- cause I gave all that up when I ranaway with your father. Because they woulda’t my knees to them.” “Why wouldn't they speak to you?” said Ted, aghast. «Because I belong to a circus,” she replied. Ted comprehended the pain behind his mother’s words, although he did not understand the words themselves. He was indeed really amazed that anybody should not be proud to know the distin- guished people he was used to. But he realized now that the reason that his mother sighed sometimes was that she felt shut out from the old paradise, and he began to sigh, too. Perhaps'he was tired; perhaps he had in hi8 young energy gone a little beyond his childish, streiipth, but he began ‘to feel fretted by the noise of the circus, and a curious homesickness grew in him for the whispers of the forest, the early morning rush of the birds, and the sight of ‘animals not trained and kept in cages, but playing about the fields. He longed to climb the hill £nd meet the wind, ready to buffet him when he reached the top, and to dabble his feet in the cool stream where his mother's brothers used to swim on summer af- ternoons. nights when the animals were restless, when the lions roared and lashed the bars with their tails, and the tiger snarl- ng paced their cages, and the hyenas yelled and the elephant trumpeted, and the horses frightened, snorted and stamped in their stalls, Ted could not sleep. There was no air to breathe, and the ‘many scents made him long for the fields of clover and the garden with iis beds of mignonstte. ««Mother,” he burst out over, ‘why don’t they like the circus?” : ¢Who?" said his mother, startled. She sat late on her sewing as usual, but she had supposed the boy was fast asleep. ! «Why, grandfather and grandmother and the rest of them.” - «:Some people don’t like a circus, Ted,” she said gently. ‘It's just a feel- ing.” «But it’s the greatest show on earth!” «J know it's a great thing in its way,” said Mrs. Llewellen, ‘‘but you see, Ted, my family are quiet people and their way is different. I suppose it is partly the spangles, and the crowds, the gaudy, make-believe, which made father feel that nothing is modest and honest and real about anybody who belongs to a circus. But if father knew old Benny, if he knew him as you and Ido, he would say he was a good man. And if he knew how everybody had to work, to go over every part again and again he would . see that no good performer could be dissipated or lazy.” It was just at this time that Ted was learning the ‘ring trick” and certainly there was plenty of hard work about that. It was, as we have said, the firet thing that Ted did not take to by natural in- igtinct, as a duck. to. water. Never be- fore had he shrunk back from what he was bidden to do, giving way to a fit of trembling. As old Benny said the new trick was no harder than the trapeze, and Ted liked of all things to go flying from rope to rope to the topmost ring, loving the idea that the heart of tho spectators somotimes sank into their boots at the conviction that he was in danger. Now he suffered nameless terrors; he felt clumsy, he had lost faith in himself. The truth was up to the present he had gone on doing everything that came 1n his way without a thought of what might happen if he failed. Now he was like a Som- nambulist who awakens to find himself in a position of danger. It was as if he had to learn his tricks all over again, gaining again piece by piece by hard trial and proof instead of heretofore swiftly and inerringly by instinct. Old Benny was patient and tender with the little Ie | fellow. seal you have to do is to catch hold of the ring and turn round on it, said speak to me; no, not if 1 went down on. The season was hot, and on | don't like it.” : “You have not got used to it, and it’s there that the fun comes in,” said Benny. | You never had a stumble yet, not even a balk; you're like a bird.” Ted hung his head and confessed to himself that he no longer felt like a bird. He was so weary. There was a gray haze over all this narrow world of his, and each day it settled closer and closer. He felt dull, inert, as if he. longed to sleep; at least to sit down aimlessly and dream wide awake about the hill and the river and the cool, quiet nights in the old place. *‘I myself have hated to do things that I grew mighty proud of when I had got at the knack of them,” said Benny. ¢‘Come, now try again, Ted.” Ted braced himself up and went through the rehearsal, but when it was all over he burst out crying and sat” down all in a tremble. “It’s a safe sign to be a little afraid,” said Mrs. Bill. “It isn’t the tricks one is afraid of that one trips in, but” those one feels sure of.” They all flattered and encouraged him, and Ted felt ashamed of his faint- heartedness. A regular salary was promised him by the manager as soon as he had made a success of the ring trick, and this was what he and his mother had been looking forward to ever since he was ten years old. 4 It was odd how he dislik ed the ring trick, when it was simply a matter of swinging himself up to the topof a high, tall framework on rings which hung on horizontal bars. The supports below were twelve feet apart, but met with another transom beam and ring on the apex. The way was to catch the lower ring, swing round on if, then with the impetus gained to leap the gap, seize the opposite ring a little higher up, and so on from right and left and leit and right to the top ring and down again. It was a pretty feat, and, per- haps, no harder than any other of the flying tricks, but it needed a clear head, | and the trouble was that Ted had got into a dreamy mood. He was so home- sick nowadays for the farm and for the different life. He liked better to brood over the idea of the bees humming over the flower beds and the doves and mar- tins calling for the cows than to give his whole heart and mind to the actual ‘things he saw and touched. . : However, practice makes perfect, and | by the time the new season opened in Brightown Ted had mastered the ring trick. There was a famous programme, and Ted had six different parts; in the Indian act, the buffalo hunt, the chariot race, and so on, finally to the wonderful ring trick, now eshibited for the first time. The excitement was good for Ted. The dull, weary feelings he had suffered from of late vanished, his blood warmed to his wish, he liked the mad gl op, he felt the joy of his own youth and strength and was ¥eady to take wings and float in air. The tent was packed with admir- ing spectators, and all the performers were in high spirits. © The ringmaster and clown cracked fresh jokes, at which even the members of the company could laugh. = The horses were like the wind, the performing dogs and elephants and bears all seemed singularly intelligent, ane altogether it was one of the great days of the greatest show in the universe, and the *‘ring trick” was to be the grand climax. : On the other hand there are men and women so constituted as to be fitted as ib were by nature for the duty of taking care of invalid wives or husbands. I have known a man to marry three times and on each occasion to select a bed- ridden spouse. There was in him evi. dently an exaggerated impulse to provide for and take care of a mate. every one hears frequently of women who marry drunkards for the purpose of re- forming them, Their impulse may be a similar one, arising from the desire to Lact the part at once of wife and rescuer.” What the Blind Have Done. lk “The blind have done more for the ad- vancement of the world than one has ‘any idea of at first thought” said Pro- fessor Herman Amann, at the South ern. ¢‘Have you ever thought of how many of our greas men have been deprived of the privilege of sight? Homer got his name- from. the Greek word meaning blind man, yet he wrote the greatest epic poems that have ever been given to the world. The fact of John Milton’s blind- ness is well known. Then there was Huber, the blind naturalist. It seems astonishing that a man totally deprived of the use of visual organs shoula be able to outstrip every scientist of his day in the pursuit of minute examinations ito insect life, yet Huber did this; He pro- vided himself with fine optical instru- ments, and an intelligent, keen-eyed as- sistant, and in this way he discovered more about the organic structure and minute physiology of the bee than all’ the savants who preceded him had done together. = His treaties on the respira- tion of this insect, how it makes its of the scientific world before it was known that their author was blind. John Gough was another blind natural- ist who achieved a great deal. Not be- Jing able to use his eyes, he used the tip of his tongue, themost sensitive part of the body, in examining the minute structure of plants. There was once a blind sailor who could climb the tallest mast pick his way with ease through the intricacies of the rigging. On land he was an organ-builder, and did marvelous work.”—8t. Louis Star-Sayings. rE —— ee, The Most Powerfal Explosive. Chloride of nitrogen is the most wonderful, as well as the most powerful explosive known. For seventy-seven years, from 1811 to 1888, the secret of the composition of this terrible explosive was a mystery. Dulong, who lost one eye and three fingers in the year 1812 in a vain effort to determine its component parts, was the first man of scieatific at- tainments to give the stuff thought and study. Later on Faraday and Sir Hum- phrey Davy devoted a great deal of time and attention to it. Before entering the laboratory .both Davy and Faraday always provided them- selves with thick glass masks to protect their eyes from flying pieces of glass, which were most sure to start on a tour of the room whenevera drop of the dan- gerous stuff was exposed. Faraday once narrowly escaped death as a result of making an experiment with two drops of the yellow, oily agent of death which he had dropped into a small silver thimble prior to making an experiment, and at another time had his table ruined and the glass mask on his face broken into bits by less than one grain of if. In 1887, as above hinted, Dr. Gafter- mann of Gottingen, Germany, succeeded in analyzing the mysterious compound. It is the only known substance that will with a bright beam of light, whether the beam be from an electric lamp or the sun.—8t. Louis Republic. | Immense flocks of crows have exterm. of California, Of course honey, wax, etc., excited the admiration instantly explode on coming 1n contact inated the grasshopper pestin some parts SUEDE IS SERVICEABLE. Of all the many materials which have enriched the recent range of choice, both for personal and home adornment, suede is, perhaps, susceptible of the widest range of treatment. Tt makes the softest of pillows, the dawntest of book covers, the most unique of bonnets, and the smartest of waistcoats. It is servi- ceable, it is beautiful, and it can be found in a variety ot colors, so that its uses need really be limited only by the ingenuity of womankind.—New Orleans Picayune. A HELYFUL VIRGINIA GIRL. In the family of George Munday, liv- ing between Waterford and Wheatland, the father, mother, a son, and daughter were all down with the grip, leaving only the youngest daughter, Florence, about eighteen years of age, to aid the rest. She attended to the household duties and the sick, and for two or three days fed and curried six horses, fed and milked six cows, and also walked through the snow about a quarter of a mile car- rying corn, and when she reached them, feeding it with straw and fodder to thir- ty head of cattle. Having to go toa neighbor to send for a ductor for one of her sick; their condition was discovered, and of course there was plenty of help afterward.—Richmond Dispatch, NEW MATERIAL FOR PETTICOATS, There is a fabric for petticoats which on the surface is soft like lamb’s wool, bt the back shows it to be of a stock- inet manufacture. It is admirably warm and soft,and is made in pure white,light pink and light blue and sometimes striped. Others of the more expensive flannel petticoats are worked nearly all over in an open guipure pattern in siik; but beauty is thought of before utility, as the warmth of the petticoat is con- siderably diminished." The petticoats for wearing next the dresses are sufficiently beautiful to take the place of dresses altogether, for they are often made of the richest black silk, shot and brocaded with flowers and edged with black lace over a color and headed by ruchings.—8t. Louis Republic. : FASHIONS IN MOURNING. Deep mourning has but little to do with fashion and is subject to few changes. We have, therefore,not much to say about it, except that heavy KEng- lish crepe is worn in larger quantities than ever, the whole front of the dress being frequently covered with it, while a very deep border goes around the foot, and that crepe veils are so long and ample they fall almost like a mantle at the back, nearly to the foot of the skirt. But in slight mourning many pretty nov- elties are to be noticed this season. A dress of black silk or woolen material may be rendered very elegant by a Gretchen belt and necklet of black vel- vet, studded all over with jet. The belt is peaked top. and bottom and finished with a handsome jet fringe, deeper in front and at the back than at the sides. The necklet is a plain band of velvet, studded with jet and trimmed with a fringe like that of the belt. = The two combined make any black dress look very stylish.—New York Herald. TREND OF FEMALE THOUGHTS. The latest index of the British Museum furnishes some interesting data as show— ing that while women, as a subject of interest, as a problem to be solved, as a possible outcome, was never of more im- portance than: during the past ten years, the aspect of her case changed materially in that time. These indexes are issued every five years and include the subjects of all books published ‘in every civilized country during the pre- vious five years. ‘A comparison of the two indexes issued during the past de- cade shows that works on the social po- sition of women increased in the last half of the decade, as compared with the first, from fifty-tour to seventy-two; on education of woman, from eighteen to twenty-five; on employments of women, from nineteen to twenty-seven; on wo- men’s clubs, from three to ten. . Dress reform, on the contrary, decreased from seventeen to four, and works on dress, dressmaking, needlework and embroid- | ery, seventy-eight to sixty-four. These figures are more significant from the fact that books on tailoring in its” higher as- pects, as indicated by such a title as ‘:‘Philosophical Work of F. Pickle on Cutting Gentlemen’s. Dress,” increased from twelve to twenty-three. ' Perhaps the most significant decrease is that from 116 to seventy in works on marriage. From this it may be argued that women of to-day are much more interested in questions of education and employment and of making for themselves a place in the world than they are in dress, fashion or any feminine vanities, and that mar- riage alas! difficult as it is to believe, is having less place in their thoughts than of yore. ANGLO-SAXON GIRLS. Few things are more noticeable at as- semblies in these islands ‘of fair women and brave men,” as the poet says, than | the improving physique of the Anglo Saxon girls. Whatever class may be the subject of observation in this regard, the same feature seems to prevail throughout. If Lord's cricket ground, for example, be visited at the time of a great gather- ing of the aristocracy, as on the Oxford and Cambridge cricket match, or the Eton and Harrow match, the one thing which cannot fail to attract attention is | throughout all classes. the remarkable predominance of tall and" divinely fair girls who are to be seem gracefully strolling over the grounds . during ‘the intervals between the im-- nings. Then if the scene be changed and the observer makes his way into the: parlor of middle-class persons, the same prevailing ¢‘tallness” of the fair attend- ants will again meet his gaze. Thus: abundant evidence is forthcoming that this is by no means an isolated feature of the maidens ot the United Kingdom, but that it prevails, on the contrary, Judging, how- ever, from the prominence, which it has gained during the past three years, there is quite the possibility that it will de-. velop in time into a racial characterisie. The women of ancient Lacedemon, we are told, were speciallyinstructed to ** on” as much muscle and as little cloth- ing as possible. Each of these instrue- tions, however, was given, so to speak, as a matter of business, in view of the warlike virtues which were required to. be fostered by the race. But England: is not Sparta, and the tallness and good physique of the girls in this country are teatures which are not wooed as the result. of commands, from the Secretary of State for the War Department, but merely as the outcome of healthy exercise,indulged in for the sake of amusement. Thus lawn tennis and other outdoor games im this country are producing an effect upon. our race which could scarcely have been anticipated.— British Medical Press and Circular. : FASHION NOTES. It is no longer good form to wear: black underclothing. : a Sleeves and collar of Persian lamb are seen with dresses of black cloth. The fashionable muff is very small indeed, no larger than is absolutely nee- essary. hr : Some very handsone sleeves and coll- lars of sealskin are made for tailor cos-- tumes. ht . Lace garniture and embroidery effects. will not relax their hold upon public: favor.! } A For evening, wide strings of chiffon, = tulle or crepe lisse are tied beneath the chin in a great fluffy bow. Tailors will again make astand in f8- vor of short skirls that escape the ground for all walking dresses. i Long military capes of mink are very fashionable. They are made plain, or finished with a deep border of mini tails, a Sealskin and Persian are very popula in conbination. : The sleeves and collar are made of one material,the body of the: garment of another. - : : ~ A white enamel apple blossom, with: the edge of the petals overlapped with = frosted gold and a jeweled centre, isa new and pretty broach. Ti . Pretty dresses of gray stuff are trimmed with shoulder frills, cuffs and.collar of red chiffon. Chiffon is still the favorite. material for bodice vests. The striped mores are still in demand, ‘but for rich visiting and reception toilets uncut velvet is being depended upom more than for years back. A caprice of the mode is a walking dress, half cloth, half velvet, which, if the materials are bothin the same shade, or in rare harmony, may pass with taste. : The bowknot grows more and more coquettish. Burmounting a stickpim, with a jewel in one of its fluttering folds, it adds the last touch to the: toilet. ! Yellow velvet pastiles and Van Dyke: panels are on white tulle. This desigh is duplicated in black and in scarlet Sapphires and pearls are diamonded over. a white net. si A buttertly screen for a chandlier globe or small lamp is made with a gilded clothespin. The rounded top serves fox the head, and through the pin are crin— kled two wide, printed wings of tissue paper, flecked with gilt spots. It is ex tremely simple to make, and is useful and pretty. : The very nearly tight-fitting jackets of seal, in three-quarter length, are the most popular garments for young ladies. They may be either all seal, or with Per- gian lamb sleeves and collar. The for— mer is more favored by the ladies of: quiet taste, while the latter is by many. thought to be more dressy. Crepe-finished Indias are soft, and the shading .rich. = The bengaline weaves are numerous this winter. The all-silk ‘bengaline is' pliable and very lustrous, having much the effect of sicilienne. Victoria and cable cord bengaline are as silk counters for many a day. 10 The close-clinging skirts still hold! their own, especially for young women with good figures; a few add some rib-. bon streamers, or beaded waisth: with falling fringe of the same on the hips. They are still made with the cross wise seam at the back, and thus form the plaits gathered close togethar at the tops . the skirt widens in descending into the | fan-like form. a It is seldom, indeed, that there is of- | fered so pretty a fabric for so little money | ag the Yeddo crepe shown this seasom. The colors are varied and are all well produced. Even the black is not bad, i and the white is prettier than any other white goods of like grade. The pink and blue are each excellent. This material makes pretty evening gowns house wear, and will be a dainty ad: to the list of simple Summer dresses, artistic fabrics as have been seen on the: :