A NEW YEAR.
Our other years have slipped away, as slips the flowar its sheath.
Once more with hands held out we grasp a gift the Father sends,
And give Him thanks for length of days, for joy that comes with breath
For home and books and happy work, for children and for friends.
All in the midnight and the frost we sped the old year out;
All in the dawnlight and the glow we bid the new year inl =
The King is dead! Long live the King!—’tis aye the clamorous shout;
And ever ’tis with mirth and hope the new-born reigns begin.
What yet may wait of care or grief to-day we cannot tell,
Another year, another start, another chance to do
What lieth closest to our hand; God loves us, all is well.
Disdaining fear, we greet the year, whose first white leaves are new.
—Margaret E. Sangster, in Harper’s Bazar.
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FSIS ISIBISIGIGIICIOIGIBICIOICICK
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% | ROMANCE OF THE CUBAN WAR.
BY HELOISE DURANT ROSE.
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SKSKSCRRCIICRIRR RRR RRR ORR
[The incidents of this story are taken
rom life.—The Author.] ’
T was breakfast time
at Avondale, and
General Higgerson,
for the fifth time,
wondered what
kept his daughter
as he fidgeted with
his paper and
stirred his hot
coffee. Just as his
patience was at an
end the door opened
and admitted a tall,
handsome girl, with
bright blue eyes and a determined
mouth. She held a big bunch of cle-
matis in her hands.
‘“Where have you been, Mona?” in-
quired her father.
“Down at the river; I found the
stone wall near the boathouse ablaze
with these blossoms. I am sorry to
be late, dear.”
‘The Southern mail is in,” ob-
served the General, nodding toward a
small pile of letters at her plate.
She flushed slightly as she laid the
clematis on the sideboard, and took her
seat at the table. A conscious smile
crossed her father’s face as she broke
the seal of the first letter. He turned
to the paper in his hands, and his eyes
caught this heading: ‘‘A Romance in
Real Life.” He glanced at the ar-
ticle casually, and then the smile died
away; his hands tightened on the
paper and his face grew hard and
stern while he read the following
paragraph:
“With the invalided officers return-
ing this week is young Colonel Law-
rence, who was severely hurt in the
char at San Juan. Among the
nurses who went to look after the sick
was a handsome young woman whom
the Colonel formerly admired. Fam-
ily misfortunes had forced her to
adopt nursing as a profession. Their
friendship was renewed, and when
the Colonel came home he was en-
gaged to his old love. Colonel Law-
rence is to be married very shortly.
Report says that he“ had entangled
himself with another lady, who will
now find that she must look else-
where for consolation.”
As be laid down the paper the Gen-
eral glanced at his daughter. She
was sitting with a dazed expression
on her face, gazing at a letter she held.
‘‘Fataer, what does this mean?” she
exclaimed, holding out the letter. He
took it from her, and this 1s what he
read:
‘24 West Fifty—— street,
“NEw Yomrg, September 12, 1898,
“Dear Mona—You may have seen in the
papers an account of my being wounded;
I made light of it in my last letter, fearing
to alarm you, but the truth is I am a wreck,
as the papers have accurately stated. Iam
invalided and crippled, and if it had not
been for devoted nursing I should not be
here to-day. Under the circumstances I
do not feel justified in holding you to your
engagement; notwithstanding the pain it
causes me to do this I want to release you
entirely and leave you free to marry some-
one who is not so shattered as myself; but
believe me, dearest, that whatever my fu-
ture life, you will always be shrined deep
in my heart of hearts. Your faithful friend,
“rT
HENRY LAWRENCE.”
“What does it mean?’ almost shout-
ed the old General. ‘‘It means that
your lover is a scoundrel, Mona; read
this,’”” and he thrust into her hands
the newspaper containing the ‘‘Ro-
mance in Real Life.” ?
‘‘Be brave, child; be brave,” said
her father, as he watched her anx-
iously.
After a moment’s silence, the girl
turned a pale face toward her father;
““I will be brave, but leave me to my-
self fcr a while,” and crushiug the let-
ter in her hand, she hastlly left the
room. °
It was a terrible blow to the Gen-
eral; he had alwaysliked Colonel Liaw-
rence, and consented to the engage-
ment just before the young man was
ordered to Cuba. Pacing the rooms
wrathfully, he gave vent to his feel-
ings. ‘‘The scoundrel! I should like
to horsewhip him myself for a whelp
of a cur if he were not wounded. What
are his hurts to the stab he has given.
Mona—ah! when Gilbert hears this—"’
and then the General remembered that
his son was coming home that week.
It was a satisfaction to have a man
around to whom he could give vent to
his outraged feelings.
As though in answer to his thoughts,
the butler at that moment brought in
a telegram. ‘‘Yes, Gilbert was com-
ing, and, fortunately, a day earlier
than expected, bringing a friend with
him for the ball. Just as well to dis-
tract her attention,” thought her father,
as Mona joined him with her hat on
and a letter in her hand.
“I have written a few lines to say
that his views upon the subject of our
engagement entirely coincide
mine.”
“My brave girl.”
ed, rather jovial specimen of his pro
fession, loving outdoor life and always
stealing off for a day at Avondale when
he could manage to escape the routine
of his office. He arrived in high spir-
its with his friend, a Major Laurie,
just returned from Porto Rico. The
two men had not met for nearly ten
years, and each seemed equally glad
to renew his college friendship. As
soon as they were alone the General
poured out his indignation and woe to
his son, who was naturally much in-
censed at the behavior of Mona's
| fiance.
‘Pity that your friend is an officer
and just home from the war; it will
keep the wound open,” added his
father.
‘‘Confound it, so it will; I am deuc-
edly sorry for Mona. No wonder she
is cub up, but as Laurie is sure to know
Lawrence, we must be careful not to
show him that Lawrence has hurt us.
Mona is plucky enough and must force
herself to be jolly for a couple of days
till Laurie takes his departure.”
‘‘Jolly! Poor girl, how can she be?”
sighed the General.
sv‘ ‘I should like to wring that rascal’s
neck,” exclaimed Gilbert, impetuous-
ly, ‘‘and he of all men, whom we all
liked so much.”
“That is just where it hurts so,”
answered his father.
“By George,” exclaimed Major
Laurie, (after excusing herself early
in the evening, Mona had left the
three men in the billiard room smok-
ing,) ‘but Miss Mona is stunning. If
I were not engaged to the dearest girl
in the world, I should lose my heart
to your sister.” :
“I did not know we had to congrat-
ulate you, old fellow.”
‘“When does the happy event eome
off?”
‘“Very soon; you'll be invited.”
“Who is she?” asked Gilbert, inter-
ested.
‘A Miss Sterling, whose nature
verifies her name; have known her
since she was a girl.”
‘‘Rather anxious time for her when
you were wounded,” suggested the
General, :
‘Oh, but Iwas not jn much danger,
you know; now some fellows got so
cut up you would hardly recognize
them. There was poor Lawrence—
(both his listeners started)—one leg
clean gone, the other up to the knee,
one arm off; and a scar across his face
—and the plucky chap just smiled
through it all.”
Father and son exchanged glances.
‘‘He pulled through, thanks to the
devoted nursing he got,” continued
Laurie, unconscious of the interest
his words aroused. ‘I never saw
that man down until yesterday, when
he collapsed as though shot.”
‘How was that?” asked Gilbert, in
a constrained voice.
“Well, you see, it was this way; he’s
very reticent, still, we all knew he was
devoted to some girl at home, though
he never mentioned her name or spoke
about her; couldn’t get him into the
slightest flirtation with any one. ‘When
we came back together he spoke for
the first time to me about his affair.
‘You see, Laurie, I am such a wreck;
should I marry a girl when she might
have to nurse me? and then, at best,
I’m not a whole man; will have but
one sound arm and only part of one
leg to ofter her.” By George, I felt
for the poor devil when he talked like
that. Well, I suggested to try her
and see what she thought about it.
Write and offer to release her. He
caught at the idea. ‘But I wouldn’t
write as though pleading with her; I
would not want to be married out of
pity, but would just state the facts
aud leave her free to decide,’ said he.
‘And what do you think she’ll write?
I .asked him. ‘I think she is too
faithful to give me up,’ he answered,
and, ’pon my word—scar or no scar—
he looked so proud and handsome as
he spoke, ITonly wished his sweetheart
could have seen him.”
‘And then?” asked Gilbert, as Lau-
rie paused in his narrative.
“Oh, then he wrote, alluding to his
being a wreck, and referring to the ac-
count in the papers, and yesterday her
answer came; I was in his 10ooms when
he got her note—just a short one, but
he turned white, and said bitterly,
‘She writes that my views upon the
subject of our engagement ending
meet her own; she releases me, evi-
dently without regret, thankful to be
free from what might have been a bur-
den to her.” I tried to cheer him up;
he gave me one look, such as you see
in a hunted beast as you shoot it down,
and, by Jove, he keeled right cver. I
: was in a fearful funk, and called his
| man.
with !
“again.”
He came round presently and
begged me not to mention the subject
“‘Laurie, for God’s sake explain
“Don’t say a word more, now, father; | matters a little more,” cried Gilbert,
I can’t bear it.”
“Gilbert is coming to-morrow at 5
with an. old college friend, who, it
seems, has just turned up in New
York.”
“Iam glad,” said Mona, quietly,
end then calling to her dogs, she
walked quickly away.
Gilbert Higgerson was a good-heart-
who had risen from his chair in great
excitement.
‘Yes, sir,” cried the General, equally
roused, ‘‘you don’t know how much
depends upon what you have been
telling. Colonel Lawrence is engaged
to my danghter Mona.”
*‘The mischief!” and the eyeglass
! dropped from its habitual place.
9
»
“And here’s news of his engage-
ment to another woman?” echoed
Laurie, evidently in hopeless amaze-
ment,
“The nurse who took care of him.
There is a flaring account of it in to-
day’s Reporter.”
‘‘Confound the newspapers; it’s all
a lie,” cried Laurie, fumbling for his
eyeglass and almost dropping his lisp.
“They havemixed our names up; it is
I that am engaged to the nurse Miss
Sterling, whom I just mentioned;
Lawrence has never looked at anyother
woman nor had a thought except for
his fiancee; I can swear to that.”
‘‘But his letter,” began the General.
“All his confounded chivalry; wish-
ing to give Miss Mona a chance to be
free of an invalid; why, he’s more a
man now, with legs and an arm off,
than half the whipper-snappers one
meets every day.”
“What is to be done?” cried Gil-
bert. ‘‘My sister is nearly broken-
hearted ”
‘By thunder, sir, if what you say is
the true explanation of the situation,
then you have made three people very
happy to-night,” added the General. |
“Tell your sister that I am off for!
New York, and get a note from her.
‘What time does the train leave?”
‘“There is one at 11.45, if you really
mean to go.”
“If you will kindly order a trap for
me, I'll get ready now,’ said Laurie,
looking at his watch and relapsing into |
his lisp and drawl.
The next morning when Major
Laurie walked into the adjoining bed- |
room his friend started up in bed and
tried to ask a question, but Mona’s
note was in his hand before he had
time to frame the words.
“My darling.” she wrote, “forgive me for
misunderstanding your letter. I cannot
free you from our engagement as long as I
realize that you love me and that I can be
of use to you. What matters to me a loss
of an arm or a leg, as long as you have
body enough left to hold your soul to-
gether. I am yours till God calls thatsoul
home to Himself, Your LoviNG MoNA.”
Toward noon of that day Major
Laurie had a vision of Mona with her
arms around her lover's neck,
heard her joyful ery, and from Law-
rence a murmured ‘My darling—at
last;” and he hastily left to themselves
two of the happiest hearts in New
York.
As he turned to Mona’s brother in
the next room; ~wiping his eyeglass,
which had suddenly become misty, he
said below his breath, “By Jove, I
rather think I’ve done a good day's
work,”—New York Times.
|
|
|
|
A Story of General Grant.
Stuart Robson tells the following
story in which the late President
Grant occupies a prominent place: ‘I
was playing some years ago in a well-
known theatre outside of New York.
The first act was over and I was chat-
ting in the wings with my manager
when a boy rushed in on the stage to
tell us that General Grant and his
family were in one of the boxes. A
flush of gratified pride mounted to the
manager’s face, followed by a look of
agonized doubt, as he evidently re-
flected that perhaps the General had
‘dead-headed’ into the box. ‘Did you
send him a box?’ he asked me, and on
my replying in the negative he pulled
a card from his pocket and, scribbling
a line on it, told the boy to take it fo
the box office and bring back an an-
swer. The boy rushed off, his head
full of the General, and returned in a
few minutgs with the card, which he
handed to Mr. Manager. A ghastly
look crossed his face as he read it,
and without a word he handed it to
me. The first line read, in a rather
shaky managerial chirography; ‘Did
General Grant pay for his box?’ while
underneath appeared: ‘No, but my
son, Fred Grant, did—U. S. Grant.” ”
—New Orleans Times-Democrat.
Matrimonial Inhibitions. :
Don’t marry ‘a polished girl—she
might reflect too much.
Don’t marry a tennis girl- she’ll be
on to all your rackets.
Don’t marry a girl who plays pool—
she knows too much about pockets.”
Don’t marry a musical girl—she
knows too much about notes and bars.
Don’t marry a bright girl—she |
might go out when you most needed |
her.
Don’t marry a grass widow—you
might have to cure her of hay fever.
Don’t marry a melancholy girl—her
sighs might prove a heaviness to you.
Don’t marry a girl who cries—damp
powder is awfully disappointing.
Don’t marry a ‘‘peach’”—she might
not be easily preserved.
Don’t marry a lazy girl, unless you
are in the tire-repair business.
Don’t marry an industrious girl—it
might prove too great a temptation for
you.
Don’t marry avain girl, unless you
are anticipating breezy times and will
want ;to know which way the wind
blows.
Her Pet Parrot.
A woman came out 6f a tailor’s es-
tablishment on G sfreet Wednesday
morning and I could not but turn to
stare at her. On her left forefinger
sat an imperturbable green parrot.
There was a faint suggestion of frosty
sting in the sunny air and Master
Parrot was fortified against it. He
wore a coat, or a blanket, or
whatever you like to call it, of green
velvet, made of two pieces, just the
shape of a turtle’s shell. One piece
hung over his chest. The other pro-
tected his back, and the two pieces
were joined to a kind of collar. A
bicycle stood at the curbstone. The
lady placed the utterly self-possessed
bird on the handle bar, mounted and
rode away. I said to myself that ob-
viously there was a woman who was—
well, who had been having ‘‘Miss”
on her visiting cards since hoop skirts
were in fashion, but when I asked
the very next woman I met about it,
she told me that the parrot’s mistress
not only has a husband, but a real
live baby, too.—Washington Post.
{ Mr. Michael Padgen, of Texas.
| up and commenced coming down.
| came down like
| ach.
| the bull, who,
| was quietly eating
TALES OF PLUCK
AND ADVENTURE.
COOOREO®
DOO00000 000,
Mr. Cougle’s Bullfight.
Mr. Charles Cougle, a resident of
Texas, Baltimore County, recently
fought two rounds with a bull in an
open field, a short distance from the
Northern Central Railroad tracks, re-
lates the Baltimore Sun. Mr. Cougle
isnow in bed, while two doctors are
using their best efforts to keep him
from passing to a far-away. The bull,
since the fight, hasbeen working over-
time eating grass and generally em- |
ploying himself. Cougle is a mass of
and unnatural looking,
pristine beauty of the bull is un-
marred.
According to the statements of wit-
nesses, chief among whom is Mrs. An-
nie Cougle, mother of Charles, the
great [fight came about in this way.
, Mr. Cougle had not been working for
some days, and in hisleisure time had
had his eye on the bull belonging to
He
was irritated by the serene life led hy
the animal, and his ‘“monarch of all
survey’ attitude. = Mr. Cougle is a
fighter and disliked the strut of the
animal. So on Saturday he picked
out a heavy hickory club and started
for the field, having fortified himself
previcusly with sundry drinks. On
his way he informed Mr. Howard
Lindsay, who met him, that he was
‘going to lick that bull or die in the
attempt.” Club in hand, he climbed
the fence and advanced toward the
bull, who had taken his stand in the
far corner. Mrs. Cougle, looking out
the window of her house, assumed
the office of referee, There was no
timekeeper.
ougle started the fighting with a
terrific right-hander on the bull’s jaw.
The bull ducked and cross-stepped
just in time to catch a stiff punch in the
nose, followed quickly by a right and
left in the face. Cougle appeared to
be doing all the fighting and things
looked squally for the bull, The
spectators, consisting of Mrs. Cougle
and a small boy at the watchbox, held
their breath. Cougle led with his
left again, landing on the bull’s jaw.
The bull countered and rushed,
missed and ran into an upper cut full
in the teeth. Time was up, and the
bull and Cougle retired to their cor-
ners. Both were blown, but all the
honors were with the man.
Man and beast glared at each other
during the rest, but both stepped into
the ring for the second round, de-
termined to makeit the last. For afew
moments both sparred for an opening,
and Cougle got in a right-hand jab
that dazed the bull for a second. The
man followed his advantage with a biff
in the jaw, but received a blow in the
side that jolted him considerably.
The bull began to wake up and get in
the game. He snorted a couple of
times and led with his left horn for
Cougle stomach. Cougle dodged and
fouled the bull across the knees.
There were no riag officials present
to see fair play and it made the
bull very mad. He braced himself and
insinuated that he had taken about all
the punishment he wanted. Cougle
never stopped, but rushed and landed
time and again on the bull’s head,
nose and meck. The bull became
groggy, but on Cougle’s. next rush he
got in his only blow. Mrs. Cougle,
in describing the bull’s method of
driving his blow home, said:
‘‘Charley was beating him right and
left and the bull sort o’ turned around.
Charley ran around in front again and
hit him with the club. Then the bull
set himself, put his head down and
rushed. His head struck Charley in
the stomach and he threw him up in
the air. Honestly, he went so high up
that he didn’t look any bigger than
that. (Mrs. Cougle here measured
off with her hands a distance of about
[ two feet.)
“His hat fell off,” she continued,
‘and he went right straight up with
his arms out. Then he stopped going
He
a busted balloon and
hit the ground with his face and stom-
He fell some distance behind
when 1 looked at film,
grass. Charley
lay there for a long time and the hull
i never touched him, but went along
| eating.
I thought my son was dead
at first and sent his brother out after
him, but after a while he got up and
staggered about a little. Then he
picked up a big stone, and, going up
to the bull, hit him in the face with
it. I thought then he certainly would
be killed when I saw the bull set him-
self again. But Charlie started for
the fence and got over before the bull
reached him. He came on to the
house and when I asked him if he was
hurt Ig said no, but his pants were
torn a little. I saw the blood and saw
that he could hardly stand, so I sent
right off for the doctor and put him to
bed. When the doctor came he found
Charley in a pretty bad way and he
says he is not out of danger yet.”
oug.e’s injuries, besides: many
brusies, consist of a terrible gash in the
right leg near the!thigh, where he
was gored by the bull. Itis thought
be is injured internally. His mother
says he was drunk when he fought
the bull.
Saved Train With Red Petticoat.
His name is ‘‘Ned” Anthony, and
he is only ten years old, but he is a
hero.z‘‘Ned” did not think he was do-
ing a heroic act in swinging his sis-
ter’s red petticoat to stop a train, but
the four score passengers reshized it
when, with blanched faces, they saw
the disaster they had escaped.
The train which ‘‘Ned” Anthony
saved was made up of cars of the New
York and Susquehanna Railroad, and
‘| Blairstown,N. J., to Delaware.
y : ] {the boy.
bruises and cuts, and his face is pale |
while the |
{ arguments!
was on a branch line, running from
The
line is built along the mountain side, |
and there is a sheer fall of nearly a!
hundred feet to the Delaware River af!
the point where the boy flagged the
train. |
Among the passengerswere the Cen.
tenary Collegiate Institute football,
team, from Hackettstown, which had |
been to Blairstown to playa game with
the Blair Hall team. The lads were
singing and dancing in the baggage
car, when the train stopped so sud:
denly that they were piled up in a
heap in one end of the car. The pas-
sengers jumped through doors and
windows, and by the side of the track
they found a ten-year-old boy with a
red petticoat. He had flagged the
train.
There was no need of questioning
Not twenty-five yards in
front of the engine lay a great rock on
the rails, weighing probably two tons,
which had tumbled down from the
mountain. Owing to the curve, the
enzine driver could not have seen the
obstruction in time to stop the train, |
which would have gone crashing down
into the river, a hundred feet below.
Every one ran forward to view the
obstruction and help remove it. The
football team thought it would be an
easy thing to tackle, but it required
the strength of four men besides the
team to roll the rock off the rail.
Some one suggested a subscription
for the boy, and a shower of silver and
bank notes fell into the hat, but the
boy could not be seen. Finally he was
found hiding on the tender of the en- |
gine. He was too modest to listen to
the praises that were heaped upon
him. It was only after considerable
persuasion that he could beinduced to
take the money.
With breathlessinterest the passen-
gers listened to the boy’s story. He,
said hie lived in the valley, and was |
strolling along the railroad track, when
suddenly he heard a greatcrash. Run- |
ning around the curve, he saw thats
big rock had fallen the track. / |
There were only two trains a day on
the road, and he knew that one would
soon be due. He had seenthe brake-
men swing a red flag to stop a train,
and happened to thing of his sister’s
red petticoat. He ran home as fast]
as he could, got the garment and!
dashed back just in time.
{
Under Fire of Savage Army.
The magnificent charge of the Twen-
ty-first Lancers at Omdurman affords
perhaps the best illustration of the
British soldier’s love of fighting for
fighting’s sake to be found in the:
whole annals of war. It was a con-|
spicuous exhibition of pure bravery
on a day which gave the honors, sc
far as courage alone is considered, to
the barbarians.
The Dervishes lost 15,000 in dead,
and for five hours they had charged
upon death itself.
The orders to Col. Lenox Martin, !
who commanded the regiment, were to!
prevent the Dervishes from returning
to the city.
By some mistake they concentrated
their attention upon a small detach: |
ment of 300 Dervishes, overlooking |
3000 more hidden in a ravine, and,
riding ahead, they rode straight into
an ambush.
It was no longer a question of turn- |
ing the Dervishes back. They must
get back themselves—somehow, any-
how. And they did— plunging, slash- |
ing, thrusting until lances broke; |
shooting, employing all tricks of
horsemanship, using every weapon, |
laying about them with bent sword or |
stump of lance, until, torn, wounded, |
broken and ragged, they forced them. |
selves through. |
And then, when it was all over, the |
men wanted to go back and through |
once again—‘‘Just for the sake
of the divarshun,” as an Irish ser!
geant, with tears of entreaty in his
eyes, explained to the Colonel.
And the Colonel, convulsed with!
laughter, was compelled tc threaten |
death and murder and court-martial
for every one in the regiment before
he could induce the men to keep still.
Coolness in Danger.
‘hen the natives of the Gold Coast |
hinterland captured Lieutenunt Hen-
derson, an English army officer, they
got into a wordy discussion as to how
they would kill him. The victim
listened anxiously but with outward
calmness.
“Oh, well,” said the lieutenant at
last, “I cannot be bothered with your
I'm very sleepy. Let
me know when you have decided;
and off to sleep he apparently went.
The unexpected performance saved
his life, His calm indifference per-
suaded Samory’s men that they were
dealing with some one of immense
importance. Unwilling to take on
themselves the responsibility for his
death, they sent him unharmed to
Samory’s court, in the Jimini country.
Once again Lieutenant Henderson
saved himself by a like exhibition of
courage. He found Samory on a
throne, surrounded by many warriors,
yet when motioned to do homage on
his hands and kneés he did nothing of
the sort. He sat down on the throne
beside Samory, and shook that monarch
warmly by the hand.
Thanks to his coolness and assur-
ance he was accepted as the represen-
tative of a great sovereign instead of a
captive doomed to death. He talked
to Samory of the Queen, and Samory
talked to him.
Thus a mission which might have
ended, as so many African missions
have ended, in a terrible silence and
a suspicion of unspeakable horror,
may end in a valuable basis of future
relations between Great Britain and
the Mohammedans of Western Africa.
Edwin Lord Weeks, the American
painter, who is now a chevalier of the
Legion of Honor of France, is a Bos-
tonian, but has spent much of his life
in travel, except for twenty years,
whan he lived in Paris,
. amateurs has
| if there are fly specks
| will remove
sired.
| too high on the
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
A Golf Corner,
The latest craze among young wom-
en who devote a great portion of their
time to the popular sport is the golf
corner. One cornerjof the room oc-
cupied by the fair enthusiastis entirely
filled with sticks and other implements
employed in the game. If the young
| woman is an expert and has been for-
tunate enough to win several medals
| and other trophies, these are tastefully
arranged upon a three-cornered table
which sets closely into a wall. Dang-
ling from the gas jet are the balls used
in the victorious games and the wall is
decorated with photos of famous golf-
ers. Those who are fond of extremes
have golf sticks shortened and inserted
in the spoke holes of small reception
chairs as backs. Thesticks are firmly
glued to the foundation and the crooked
ends show off very prettily when
gilded and turned in different direc-
tions in imitation of the different posi-
tions in which they are held to strike
the ball.
Home Decorating.
It would seem that with each wvear
! our ideas change in regard to what is
decorative in the home. It is not
long since photographs were banished
, from all but private rooms; clocks like-
wise fell into disrepute. "But to-day a
timepiece is part of the furnishing,
while photographs are plentiful, says
the Delinesior. Frames are not so
well liked as formerly. The cards are
set up on mantels, book cases, against
vases and wherever they may stand
upright, and they add much to the
homelike atmosphere. The impetus
photography has received from the
been responsible for
many attractive souvenirs for the li-
brary. For the safe keeping of those
pleasant reminders picture albums are
now procurable. three pictures being
slipped into each leaf. Only recently
has a photograph album been shown
any respect, but now it is among the
most prized of the belongings. The
maiden’s own den is decorated with
photographs tacked to the walls, the
screen, if there is one, and even the
panels of the door, the pictures being
arranged in groups.
An Easy Way to Wash Windows.
The wood work is first cleaned, and
warm water
them much better than
what may be termed hot water. Fly
specks yield readily to lukewarm water
. in almost anything, whereas if boiling
; or very hot water is put on them,
when they are on cotton fabrics they
are almost sure to be hard to remove,
if not stamped indelibly there.
When the wood work is'washed and
wiped, then take a cup and putin it
a taklespoonful of coal oil. Fill the
cup two thirds full of hot water, take
asmall, clean cloth, dip in this water
and rub the glass surface of the win-
dow with it. Do this rapidly, and
then with a clean cloth or towel, rub
well, and polish with another clean
cloth or chamois skin as may be de-
This work is dome quickly,
{ with no slop, no heavy lifting of win-
dows, and the glass shines like aclean
cut diamond. Tf the windows are not
outside, one may
stand upon something to wash them,
and it is so swiftly, and easily done,
that one would hardly try any other
way after once using this one. The
kerosene solution is excellent for any
glass surface, mirrors take on anadded
clearness and lustre, lamp chimneys
never look as well as when finished
with kerosene polish. But they must
be rubbed until there is no hint of
streakiness. :
Recipes.
Vanilla Tafly—One. cupful of vine-
gar, three cupfuls of sugar, butter the
size of a walnutand one-half teaspcon-
ful of vanilla. Boil about fifteen min-
utes and pour in buttered tins, after
| which put in a place to cool.
Stufling Cakes—The old-fashioned
stuffing, made of light bread, a beaten
egg, plenty of butter, salt and a little
pepper, well deserves a dish of its own
in addition to what is used in the
chicken. Make into small, flat eakes
and put in the roasting pau half an
hour before the dinner hour.
Cranberry Pyramid—Make a biscuit
dough with a pint of flour, a teaspoon-
ful of baking powder, two tablespoon-
fuls of butter and milk to make a soft
dough. Roll and cut into four circles
varying from two to six inches. Pat
the largest circle on a greased plate,
spread with thick eranberry sauce,
cover with the next smallest cirele,
and so on to the top. Steam for three-
quarters of an hour, and serve with
hard sauce.
To Make Sausage—Sausage is made
from the lean trimmings cf pork.
There should be a ‘‘meat chopper”
and careful supervision of the prepar-
ation, that absolute cleanliness be
secured. For every ten pounds of
finely chopped meat, add three ounces
of salt, one-half ounce black pepper,
one and one-half ounces of sage. Mix
thoroughly and pack in sweet stone
jars, covering with melted fresh lard
one-half inch. When needed for use,
remove lard, make the top even and
solid, and cover again. It will keep
for months in a cool cellar.
Apple Biscuits—In spite of their
name these do not belong to the bread
family at all, as neither flour nor yeast
enters into their composition. Peel
and core some ripe apples, and reduce
them to pulp; flavor with essence of
lemon, and mix while warm with their
weight of powdered sugar; drop on
plates, or into paper cases, and dry in
a slow oven for several days. The heat
should never be sufficient to bake,
only to dry them. When thoroughly
dried they should be packed in glass
or tin for winter ule. Apricots, pears,
raspberries, strawberries, plums, etc.,
may be done in the same way.
The Paris Exposition of 1900 is to
have a theatre which will seat 15,000
persons.