AI I § af = ean dain Beer i OFF TO THE FISHING GROUND, ——— BY L. M. MONTGOMERY. There’s a piping wind from a sunrise shore Blowing over a silver sea There’s a joyous voice in the lapsing tide That calls enticingly. The mist of dawn has taken flight 0 the dim horizon’s bound, ‘And with wide sails set and eager hearts We're off to the fishing ground. Ho, comrades mine, how that brave wind sings Like a great sea-harp afar! We whistle its wild notes back to it As we cross the harbor bar. Behind us there are homes we love And hearts that are fond and true. And. before us beckons a strong young ay On leagues of glorious blue. Comrades, a song as the fleet goes out, A song of the Orient sea! We are the heirs of its tingling strife, Its courage and liberty. Sing as the white sails cream and fill And the foam in our wake is long, Sing till the headlands black and grim Echo us back our song! Oh, ’tis a glad and heartsome thing To wake ere the night be done And steer the course that our fathers steered In the path of the rising sun. The wind and welkin and wave are ours Wherever our bourne is found, And we envy no landsman his dream and sleep When we're off to the fishing ground! —Youth’s Companion. COUSIN KATE. HAD just arrived in Eng- land after ten years’ serv- ice abroad, and was now Br speeding by train to my too, before I was expected, in order to spy out the land and take my cousin Kate unawares, and the reason for this was to be found in a letter I had that day received from my father. I took it out of my pocket and read it again for the twentieth time. There was no mis- taking its import, and that was dis- quieting enough, “My dear Jack,” it said, *I have re- frained till now to broach a subject upon which I have set my heart. Since your mother's death I have led a lone- ly life, and it is now my wish that you should cut the service, take to yourself a wife and settle down here as my nearest neighbor on as fine an estate as there is in the whole County of Kent. I will come to the point at once. Your cousin, Kate Fielding, upon her attaining her majority last month came into the entire Selcombe property and £15,000 a year. Now, I do not know what your predilections may be in the matter, or, indeed, whether you are still heart whole or not. But Kate isa dear, good, sensible, level headed girl —a wild sort of a creature once, as you may remember, but sedate enough now —and if you could bring yourself to liking her—and persuade her, if per- suasion be necessary, to like you, and make a match of it, I should be the happiest of men, feeling it to be an ad- equate recompense for your long ab- sence, and a guarantee that I should never lose sight of you again for long. I am sending this letter to your agents so as to give you twenty-four hours of reflection before your arrival here on Thursday.—Yours affectionately, John Hamilton.” “Just so,” I said, thrusting the letter once more into my pocket. ‘The dear old governor is in dead earnest, but he is the worst matchmaker outside of petticoats in the three kingdoms. What! Marry that harum-scarum, tree-climb- ing, bareback riding tomboy, Xate Fielding! Not if I know it. I don’t want to offend the old boy, but he must be a bit reasonable in this mat- ter. We must argue it out together. . Why, if I remember aright, she had red hair and a squint, and no girl can ever recover from red hair and a gquint. Sedate enough now, is she? She myust have changed, indeed. Why, mber her once fighting a boy 3 little maid. Ged! that was " I did like that. Why, hello! What is this? Here already?” I jumped out upon the platform. The old station master touched his cap. “?Artily glad to see you back again, Capt'n. Are you expecting the car- riage down?” “No, Briggs. Glad to see you looking younger than ever. Send up my dress- ing case to the butler, and let the rest of the luggage follow to-morrow.” “Right, sir. Then you don't wish a fiy 7’ “No; I shall take a short cut afoot acéross the meadows.” And with that I strolled down the fa- miliar village street until I came to the hedgerows, and, mounting a stile, caught a glimpse of the old home. Be- yond some two miles of intervening meadows lay a broad belt of woodland, and above it a square church tower, with gables and clustered chimney tops, russet colored in the slant rays of the setting sun. It wanted an hour and a half to dinner time, as I ascer- tained .y my watch, and leaping from the stile I proceeded down the footway between the high hedgerows, leisurely swinging my umbrella and thinking al- ways of that little hoyden Kate and of what the immediate future had in store for me in that direction. Suddenly I became conscious of an alarming change in the weather. The tops of the hedgerows bent all aslant, and the larger twigs beat the air like avhips. A great pall of darkness spread overhead, threaded now and then by lines of fire, and at last a loud smack right overhead brought my reflections to a full stop. “By Jove!” said I, “I am caught in a thunderstorm and a mile yet to go.” Quickening my pace and rounding a sharp turn in the pathway I perceived barely twenty paces in advance of me an adorable little figure, with skirts fluttering in the wind and flossy kL all blown awry, who was struggling wildly with a red parasol that refused to be closed. Just in front of her was a stile; the rain now began to come down in great splashes, a flurry of wind caught her as she was ne: over the stile, and the went careering away in midair li parachute. This was an opportunity rot to be fost, and before she was aware of my presence I had leaped over the and was banding her down on old home in Kent, a day, | stile | the | other side, with my umbrella unfurled and ready. “Pardon me,” I said, in my very best manner. “As you appear to be going my way will you permit me to offer you the hospitality of my gamp?”’ She turned up the loveliest face in all the wide world, with the rosiest cheeks and the prettiest of dimples coming and going in them, and her white teeth showed deliciously as she laughed and said— “Circumstances would compel me in any case, and I thank you very much,” and without further ado she put her head under the umbrella in very near proximity to my own. I never knew such rain as followed outside of the tropics. It came down in unbroken liquid spines as thick as your finger, and an umbrella, even of the widest capacity, was a very small providence -indeed under such circumstances. Hap- pily, however, before we had time to exchange a dozen further words a sharp bend in the path brought us to an outbuilding, the door of which stood invitingly open. At that moment the sky opened wide with flame and belched with thunder, and with a com- mon impulse we sought the opportune shelter. There was then an awkward pause and a sense of embarrassment in which we had an equal share. At last I said: “Are you living in this neighbor- hood?” “For the present, yes,” she answered. “Perhaps, then, we shall be neigh- bors. My people live at the Grange.” “You, then, are Captain Hamilton.” I was somewhat surprised at this, but gave no sign of it, only as I re- moved my hat. “At your service.” “I know your father, and have often heard him speak of you. I don’t think he expects you to-day, however.” Again I wondered, but hoping to ob- tain information, and, feeling, some- how, that I had an honest girl to deal with, I at once blurted out the truth. “Can I trust you?’ I said, quickly adding, “Indeed, I know I can.” She laughed the merriest of all pos- sible laughs—I have never known such a merry laugh as that girl had. “Yes,” she answered, “I think I may be trusted. But why the question?” “It is this. I have a cousin living down here—her name is Kate Field- ing.” “I know her very well.” “That simplifies matters. I have not seen her for ten years, and I thought I would run down to-day and have a peep at her unawares.” “You have a motive in doing so, of course?” “Well, yes, but I must not carry my confidences too far.” “Don’t; I have not invited them.” “Quite so. Well, I always detested this cousin of mine.” “Indeed! And why? I like her very much myself, although, speaking can- didly, she has certain faults.” “There you are,” I answered, trium- phantly; “the chief of which is ugli- ness.” “She certainly is no beauty.” “Beauty! I can see her now—a red- headed, squint-eyed, madcap creature, climbing trees and fighting boys.” “Fighting boys! How shocking!” “Yes. I saw her once lick a boy as big as two of her; he had been maul- ing his little baby sister. But I liked her for that, and took her up in my arms and kissed her.” “Did she like it?” “I think not, for she simply smacked my face and said, ‘How dare you, sir? That's what the little spitfire did. I suppose her hair is as red astever?”’ “Red! No; it is mouse color.” ‘Mouse color! That's odd; I never knew red hair to go mouse color.” “Oh! it does sometimes.” ‘What about the squint?” “Her spectacles hide that.” “Spectacles! You don’t mean to tell me that—" “I do, but, poor thing, that is no fault of hers.” “Certainly: not, but hang it all! a cousin in spectacles. Who—"" “Who what?” “Oh, nothing in particular. She has come into a lot of money, hasn’t she?” “Heaps of it. Some girls seem to have all the luck.” “Pooh!” said I, looking her over ad- miringly, “what is money without—" “What? “Beauty,” 1 brass; “beauty such as She made a sudden bolt for the door. “The rain is over,” she said. ‘Look, there is the sun again. I must hurry away home or I shall be late.” And then, to the very gates of the Grange, there was nothing but com- monplaces exchanged between us. Not answered, as bold as | another word would she utter about | my cousin Kate. At the gates we | parted, and I watched her until she disappeared at a sharp bend in the road, and with a sigh I said, “No cou- | i nor—we shall have a bad quarter of an : hour over this.” Then I sneaked round : to the back of the house and furtively interviewed Simpson, our old butler, and soon after was dressing for dine ner. On my way down I once more encountered Simpson. “Is Miss Fielding in the drawing room, Simpson?’ I asked. “Yes, sir, and Mr, Dobbins, the cur- ate. He dines here to-night, too, sir.” I thanked him, and girding up my loins for whatever might befall, entered the drawing room, where my worst fears were at once realized. She was sitting alone at a little table turning over the leaves of a book. Mouse colored hair, spectacles, a straight up and down figure clad in black with a triangle of Honiton lace down the front, and se- dateness enough in all conscience, Nothing was lacking in the picture my imagination had painted. I can just remember introducing myself to her, and being introduced by her in turn to Mr. Dobbins. All the rest is a disor- dered dream — my father making a great ado over my premature coming; my taking this dreadful cousin Kate of mine into dinner at the very mo- ment the loveliest of apparitions ape peared upon the threshold, and, with a glance of withering scorn at me, pla cidly taking Mr. Dobbins’ arm and bee ing led by him to her seat at the table. And to drive me further mad was this awful cousin of mine with the mouse colored hair nodding gravely to mine, but never saying a word herself be- yond an occasional “yes” or “no,” or “oh! indeed!” while the radiant being opposite was beaming upon a delighted curate and driving me to the very depths of despair. I held my peace, I remember, with the governor when the ladies had retired, thinking to have it out with him afterward, and it was with a sense of relief when I entered the drawing room to find my cousin Kate at the piano trolling forth a lugu- brious ditty. All this I recall dimly, but remembrance clears as I see that radiant vision suddenly advance and seat itself by my side. “Ah 1 said, “at Inst”? . “Captain Hamilton,” came the as- tounding reply. “I am afraid you are an imposter. You told me you came down here to—well—to be, at least, po- lite to your cousin Kate.” “Hang it all,” I said, somewhat test- ily, “I am afraid I have done my best to be polite, but it has nearly killed me all the same.” “I don’t believe, indeed, I know that you have not said one pleasant word to her this evening.” “Well,” I replied, pointing toward the piano, “there she is. Ask her.” “Ask her! Why should I ask her? I am not speaking of her, but of your cousin Kate.” My breath began to come quick and fast as I again pointed to the piano. “Pray,” I asked, “who, then, is that blessed woman?” 5 “Why, the curate’s wife, Mrs. Dob- bins, of course. Who else?” Then a glorious light dawned upon me. “Oh! you little wretch,” I said, “it is you, then, who climbed trees and thrashed a boy and smacked a rude man’s face for Kissing her without per- mission 7” “Alas! good sir, I must admit the soft impeachment,” and the peal of merry laughter that burst from her lips at suddenly that moment, even drowning Mrs. Dobbins’ lugubrious ditty, I shall never forget to my dying day. x * * * * x @ Some little time afterward my father had his dearest wish. I did not think it worth my while, after all, to argue the point out with him.—Boston Culti- vator. Wire Fences as Conductors, The number of cattle killed each year by lightning has become considerably larger since wire fences have come into use in the West. The use of wire fences has become extensive, and there is practically little land now that is not fenced in. Many cattle are killed in open fields surrounded by fences, where there is not a tree or anything else to attract the lightning, Most of them are found near the fences, and it is said that the farmers’ insurance companies are considering a raise in their rates on this account. The rems- edy has been suggested of running wires into the ground every few yards, and where this has been tried it seems to have proved quite successful.—Mil- waukee Sentinel. Full and Empty Cotton Sheds. “As I came down the Southern to- day,” said T. J. Howard, “I saw many places along the line where cotton was piled up under roofs. That's a pretty good indication, if my observation is worth anything. I have been traveling the South for a number of years, and a long time ago I learned that cotton on hand meant a planter without debt. Whenever I see a cotton shed or gin house empty I take it for granted that the farmer is behind, and that he has been forced to sell in order to pay his obligations. But when I see the cotton piled up as I saw it to-day and yester- day, I take it for granted that the planter is at home, and that he owes mighty little, if anything.”—Atlanta Constitution. When Fushimi Feared Bullets. I hear a story of Prince Fushimi and Justice Holmes of the United States Supreme Court. When they met in Washington the Judge said, jokingly: “I suppose the Emperor sent you over here because he was afraid you would get killled unless he prevented you from fighting any more?’ The famous fighter replied, serious- ly: “Well, in the Chinese War I was really apprehensive of getting a bul- let, because I wanted to live to achieve something; but now I am ready; I do not care;! I felt no apprehension.’ sin Kate now for me. Poor old govy { Boston Record. SYMPATHY. All men, as well as women, like to be understood. Sympathy is their greatest help, and no woman who is self-centered, will gain the highest re- gard of man. She may be exquisitely beautiful, having a crowd of admirers at her feet, but she cannot bestow that wonderful happiness a plain little woman full of sympathy gives to her husband.—The Farmer's Guide. ONE MOTHER'S WAY. I desire to have all of my children’s meals served at the family table, so that I may give attention to the kind and quantity of food which they eat, and also to their manners at table, writes Inez Redding in the Eptiomist. As we have so many guests I particu- larly wish my children to appear well bred, and for the same reason I do not wish to be obliged 'to be continually talking to them at the table. My chil dren coax for pennies like other chil- dren, and I teach them the value of a penny while they are very young, in this way. When we go into the dining room I place in front of my plate a penny for each child. At the close of the meal the child who has not been corrected in any way is given a penny. They are encouraged to talk, but not to interrupt. They are taught to eat properly, to ask properly for anything they may wish. Any misdemeanor which they understand to be such, re- sults in the loss of the penny. Some- times they are fined a penny beside for any particularly unpleasant act. For any disrespectful word to the waitress they are at once sent from the table. It may not be the best way, but one thing certain, the meal hour is the pleasantest in the day, to chil- dren, guests and myself. CHILDREN AND BIRDS. The average American boy is inclined to be a savage. With a gun on shoul- der, he would as lief shoot a sleek robin as a gray squirrel. Why? Be- cause his untamed spirit covets any- thing which attracts his attention. If he sees a cluster of trailing arbutus in his path, he tears the waxlike flowers of early spring from the bosom of mother earth. The fragrance of his spoils pleases his sense of smell. But a robin calls from the meadow. The arbutus falls unnoticed to the ground. A stone startles the sgongster from southern climes, and the flower is crushed under foot. However, the little creatures who make vocal our fields and groves are not forgotten. Miss Helen AM. Gould, now devoting her life to good deeds, believes that the children should be- come more familiar with the birds. It is her idea that should boys and girls be made to understand that God has placed the beautiful creatures in this world for the purpose of performing a mission, they might give more thought to the good that is being done by the birds. Furthermore, Miss Gould is as- sured that a knowledge of bird life has a humanizing effect upon chil- dren. Acting upon her belief this ex- cellent lady has enlisted the services of Colonel Isaac W. Brown, of Indiana, in a campaign for the conquest of the children by birds. Colonel Brown is one of the best informed men in the world on the life and habits of I¥irds and bees. He knows more about the conduct of a brown thrasher than many a father knows about his son. WAISTS FOR EVENING WEAR. In a fashion fastidious and quaintly old-time ig a point Marie Antoinette bodice in ivory mousseline velours., A tight swathing of the soft material over a closely fitted lining, and short sleeves which are feats of millinery, are delightful features of this waist, which is worn with a skirt in the same material. The yoke is of lace draped with a fichu of Indian mull, and the bodice fastens slightly at the left front under three bows of coral pink taffeta. Another equally pretty bodice is of orange lace net. The wrist-length sleeves are shirred down the outside the fulness falling in a puff above the tight cuff piece. In soft contrast of coloring is a lace yoke in pure white, over which the net blouse opens in a long V outlined with folds of orange velvet. Three rosettes of same, held down with topaz buttons, finish the front of the waist. A third corsage is made quaintly charming through a sash and fichu drapery of embroidered India muslin. French gray silk, in a trellised vine pattern, composes the gown itself, which accords admirably with a de- mure crown of braids. Another waist which is also part of a smart combination of mauve and pale blue, as well as the puffings so univers- ally employed. The gown is of the blue silk and the trimmings of mauve chiffon and velours mousseline com- bined, while the skirt front depicts the old robe treatment French makers delight to exploit, Other charming details of the eve- ning get-up are some new French gloves, whose wrinkling arm pieces are ornamented with miniature lace rosettes or insets. These, incongru- ously enough are of suede, and the or- namentation comes from the fact that sleeves are so much shorter than formerly. Then they may, in a way, be called gloves de style, for they are | the designed especially for e pointed, high-busted bodices whicowe their inspiration to the courtlyld models. With such bodices and gles, 4 black velvet band about the parthroat and velvet bracelets are said toe worn in the evening by chic wom in Paris. Magnificent gem broochefasten the bands and a unique ornamt is some- times worn in the highly essed coif- fure. This is a large flarosette of yellowish white lace, plad against the pincushion of puff to ok like a tiny cap set slightly sideve.—Phila- delphia Telegraph. —iins WOMEN AND RECETIONS. “My, but I do wish the reotion was over,” said the debutante toer friend. “Just imagine the amoun of work there is connected. We hav{jeen pre=- paring for the affair for ateast two months, and to think that iwill only last three or four hours. 1 one but a hostess realizes the amouj of work there is to be done for a r¢ption in honor of a debutante.” “I think it depends a gre} deal on the experience one has,’ said jr friend. “1 should imagine that the hfess who is accustomed to the arraifiment of such affairs does not find §a great deal of trouble.” “Qh, she must,” argued + debut- ante. “Why, if she gives ception, tea or supper in honor of a butane, she always has the worry ¢ having the right kind of amusementiand the appropriate decorations. Aga rule, the debutante is the daught{ of the hostess, which also includes |e plan~ ning of a dress and its accesjries.” “The other day I met a younjwoman who is to have an engagemej} recep- tion,” said the other society gi} “She was overcome with the attenddt cares of having the affair. It was Db} dress, the friends to assist in receivjg, and a hundred other details whichfe had to care for. I think it is muc] better to have someone else arrangjit for you.” “Yes, but you can't find anyg it for you,” said the excitellyoung woman. “Wouldn't it be fin could get some woman who range everything in accorda your wishes and money. It lieve one from a great deal of] and would be a good paying pr I suppose the woman would b to go beyond one’s means, an not be able to carry out every one would wish. J and do almost anything for + you haven't time for. But would really make society wor}, if they had no worries at all. = the most care-free individuals came across. The only thing. By do ever think about is dress, a, §then only not to forget to wear tl: Rame dress more than two or three ifes a season. 1 “Even though I am going tf fake my bow to society this season,| fjon’t more care of myself now than ¢ fore. No more than two or tk fairs for me in one week. Son# will be devoted to reading, ser rest, and part of it to healthy, off air exercise. Look at some of ciety girls, they look perfect } Sallow complexions, poor appetit thinness is a general complaint. \ “Most of these young women of things. They go to teas, theate ties and dances in quick succes and barely have time to sleep. Iif morning there is always some shop or making arrangements for som fair to be held in the near fu When they reach the age of tw three they look as old as their i sensible mothers. 1 “I think that the coming society @8® man will reduce the number of r | tions and affairs, and be more ca |§ of her health. She will be wiser|§ will attain her intelligence in thef rection through the mistakes of older sister.”—Newark Advertise Hats of lace or fur look well wil velvet dress. | Full skirts, if properly manipuli| | are not clumsy. | Strawberry red shows magnifice| in chiffon velvet. | All the deep green shades are 1 with beautiful results. i | Metal embroidery trims many ve! costumes to perfection. i A red and white checked velvei much richer than it sounds. 1° Green and blue is liked in check well as in other combinations. i An all-brown velvet costume had {wv one light note, and that a shaded § ber plume. : BOLD FELLOW. i #You dare!” she cried. An angry glow '¥ Across her features'flamed. & He dared, and then she whispered lows “You ought to be ashamed.” =~ —Philadelphia Press. THE ONLY WAY. Mrs. Plainly—“Of course, I expect you will make my pictures look like that of a beautiful woman. ; What pose would you suggest?’ Photographer—“Did you ever try a back view ?”—Detroit Free Press.’ HIS BRIEF PLEASURE. Neighbor—*How long did you stay at the club yesterday, Jones?’ iad Jones—*“Oh, the best part of ‘the evening.” i Mrs. Jones—‘“Why, John, you came home in half an hour!” Jones—*“Well 7’—Cleveland Leader. WOULD LIKE TO REPEAT. Hungry Henry (as he reaches the point of satiation)—“I was starvin’, lady, before I begun on this beautiful meal.” Mrs. Handoutte—“And how do you ° feel now, poor man?’ Hungry Harry (equivocally)—‘I feel as if I'd like ter be starvin’ all over ag’in, lady.”—Judge. FEMININE AMENITIES. Visitor—“Your governess seems very good natured.” ms Lady of the House—“Yes, poor thing, her father lost a lot of money, so I took her as governess for the chil« dren.” Visitor—“Poor, poor thing! Isn’t it terrible: how unfortunate some people are?’—London’ Punch. PROBABLY. ~> - Discharged Prisoner—*lI owe everye thing to you. What would I have done without you?” Lawyer Smartcuss— “Time, most likely.’—Hartford (Conn.) Courant. KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Mr. Subbubs—“Here it is nearly 8 o'clock and breakfast rot ready yet. Doesn’t Bridget know I must have it by 7.307? Mrs. Subbubs—*I judge so, dear.” - Mr. Subbubs—“You judge so?’ Mrs. Subbubs—“Yes, I judge she must know we want it at 7.30, other- wise we might have it at that hour.” —Philadelphia Press. DISSECTING SUBJECT. Teacher of Physiology— ‘Now we will dissect this odd little animal. But what we have here?” Jimmy—*“It’'s a bat, sir.” Teacher—“Very well. Now, how many kinds of bats are there?’ Jimmy—*“There are five. The black bat, the red bat, the acrobat, the cricket ant and the brickbat, sir.’— London Tit-Bits. ILLUSTRATING HIS POINT. “I can’t do my best unless I have a big audience.” “Can’t you? Sometimes a big audi- ence is a drawback.” “How do you prove that?” “Why, a New York man made his appearance in a crowded hall the oth- er night and yelled ‘Fire!’ and the Judge fined him $20. If the hall had been empty it wouldn't have cost him a cent.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. HORNS OF A DILEMMA. “Colonel Waxem will be banqueted to-night after his wedding, and I am to respond to the toast, ‘None but the brave deserve the fair’ "What shall I say?’ The Major—“I hardly know how to advise you. After you've seen the bride you'll have to turn your speech into an argument to prove either that Waxem isn’t brave or else that he isn’t getting his desserts.”—London Tit-Bits, THE HOUSE OF LORDS UPHELD. “Say, pa,” said little Henry, who had Tiny little frills of velvet Val coq: tishly finished the elbow sleeves oi hunter’s green velvet. \ One magnificent velvet princess dn with a deep lace yoke and sleeves fitted with a bolero of the velvet. . : A stunning black velvet dress show a cream lace stock and shallow yoke vet. This is sumptuous, with an empiecement of sapphire ig been listening to his mother and the is minister as they had discussed one of 1 j the great questions that are always Bo! up for the ! — donsideration of the Eng- lish people, ‘““do you think it's ‘wrong to marry a deceased wife's sister?” “lI do, my child, I do,” replied Mr. Henpack. “Even if there were no le- gal complications to be risked, I'd ad- vise trying some other family.””—Chi- cogo Record-Herald. first, Jimmy Phalig, will you tell me" gt Onl XY Be That The Folk Deci Secu Such Such Well Till It or vi Thot Tis Bew: New WI have Dun Wil lived moun The ¢ green every the bc fancy Eve over j at the sidew peopl to hel; On and J. of his “He celeb: ping a hand ever I thank shout] bus w “T'n Willie “So’ there’]
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers