A PROVIDENTI
AIL DISCOVERY,
When the Circle's fair was Ende we had forty doll
n’ the members of the Circle had
To agree on how to spend it for ti
An’ agreeable to custom &n’ the Circle’s rules an’
ars net,
d an’ met
cause,
laws.
been duly
1e glory of the
Sister Sarai Newton Tarbox thou ght it orto to go to pay
n the minister’s back salary,
Until Sister Mary Colby piinted 0
an’ Sarah had her say
ut it.wouidn’t do
Under sub-division sixty-six of chapter twenty-two.
Sister Sarah, squelched, set silent an’
she wouldn't say a word
Save thet now an’ then. sarcastic, to the Circle she referred
To the heathen, fat an’ lazy,
in a far-off furrin clime,
An’ the preacher outen flour more’
n half the mortal time.
Sister Prudence Wilson Connors humbly ventured to suggest
Thet the minister was needin’ of a
An’ we argyed on it, prayerfull, ti
By a leetle p’int of order raised by
Sunday coat an’ vest,
Il the whole plan was knocked out
Sister Susan Stout.
Sister Prudence set there thoughtful through the follerin’ debate,
With her Christian sperrit ruffled,
Fer the clearin’ of her conscience thet she wouldn’t oncet demur
If we threw it in the river, it was
Sister Amy Ellen Droppers thought
an’ allowed she orto state
all the same to her.
the money sh’u’d be lent
o some needy soul an’ honest at a moderate per cent.,
But the by-laws of the Circle, so said Sister Sophy Squeer,
On the plan of lendin’ money wa’n’
Sister Amy Ellen hinted she had nothin’
On the plan thet she suggested ef t
’t exactly plain an’ clear.
more t’ say
the law stood in the way,
But she said it was a pity the committee on expense
Hadn’t framed the Circle’s by-laws
Sister Evalina Spriggins said she t
W hat a Furrin Mission Circle’s bou
‘An’ she couldn’t see how preacl
in accord with common sense.
hought it plain to see
nden duty orto be,
ers of the Sperrit was to roam
With the Furrin Mission Circles spendin’ money here at home.
At which Sister Phoebe Lucy Brown arose, an’,
she knew her duty,
Said she guessed
summat het,
an’ she didn’t choose to set
An’ to hear a sister hintin’ in a most onchrist ian way
Thet the Furrin Mission Circle was a-goin’ fur astray!
An’ then Sister Spriggins told her t
On the Furrin Mission Circle an’, 1
Said she knew that Sister Phoebe
An’ she'd heerd she knew most eve
het she hadn’t meant no slur
eastwise % all, at her,
knew her business, it was true,
rybody else’s business, too.
Then good Sister Patience Hite! cock said the Circle better burn
Every cent of it than quarrel, and
At which Sister Ellen Jackson riz
An’ declared there was an error in
’Stid o’ havin’ forty dollars over all
she motioned to adjourn,
up slowly on her feet
the Circle’s balance-sheet.
the fair’s expense
She had found we had a deficit of sixty-seven cents
She had got her figgers crosswise w
An’ had put expended items in the
So with harmony prevailin’ Sister
An’ Sister Phoebe Lucy Brown observed to
mortal creeters,
Thet we're. all poor,
How the good lord holds us, helple
hen she added up her sheets
column o’ receipts!
Spriggins led in prayer,
Sister Blair
who dor’ t seem to understand
in the holler of His hand!
—J Foley, in the Century Magazine.
LL
+ IN LOVE WI
By MAE
ROR FRR
The Casino des Fleurs was ablaze
with light. As you came up the hill
you could see through the orange trees
and cypresses of its garden the flash
and glitter of its many colored lamps
slung from bough to bough. Along the
terraces and balconies gleamed rows
of brilliant tinted lights, and the soft,
mellow glow of shaded lanterns swung
and flickered in the charmed April air.
Carriage after carriage stopped at
the steps to set down its burden of
cloaked and masked figures. Within,
the rooms were already crowded, yet
still more and more guests politely
shouldered their way into the big hall,
for it was the night of the White
Redoute, and all Cannes and half of
Nice and Monte Carlo were there.
“One has to go, you know,” said a
stout Englishman in a white Turkish
dress trimmed with gold embroidery.
“though I don’t suppose it will be
much fun.”
His companion put his hands into
the pockets of his silk breeches—he
was dressed as a Breton peasant.
“One seems to be making an awful
fool of one’s self,” he said, “but they
tell me I must go, and Duval sent me
inthis dress. I suppose it’s all right.”
And they passed on.
In the ballroom dancing had already
begun.
A young man dressed in the costume |
of a cavalier stood dangling his white-
feathered hat by the decor. Below the
golden lovelocks a touch of shadow
round the ear betrayed his com-
plexjon, and a long, drooping mous-
tache marked strikingly that portion
of a pale face which the black velvet i
mask had left visible,
It presently became evident that he
was waiting for some one.
A murmur of admiration ran along |
the double rows of spectators who
stocd at the door watching the new ar-
rivals.
red-carpeted steps,
of course.
on a’ man’s arm,
and walked forward alone.
This woman was clothed in
flowing white draperies,
sparkling as with dew or
Long ribbons of golden waterseed and
great glistening white water
formed a wreath that fell from her
shoulder across her bosom,
down to the bem of her skirt.
long.
diamonds.
“Undine!” said voice after voice, as |
she went along.
She went by the waiting cavalier
with the black moustache, turned her
head, smiled and passed on. But that
half-turn was eneugh. He follewed
her.
“You witch!” he said, offering his
arm as he gained her side. “How is
one to recognize you? Thank Fate, the
mask does not cover the mouth, or I
should never have known you.”
“Thank me, . rather” she :saig.
known me if
“Would you have li
at the pains to smile |
hadn't been
your way?’
“No,” he answered,
Jeast not at once.”
They canced, many a clown, many
a punch and peasant watched the cav-
frankly, ‘at
alier enviously as he swung his part- |
ner around to the smooth step of the |
waltz.
But when the last notes died away |
she leaned heavily on his arm.
“I am tired,” she said, rather weari-
ly; “let us rest; unless you have any
other name on your programme for
the next dance?”
“¥ou know,” he answered directly.
“that I only came here to see you. 1
want to talk to you. You have mever
given me anything but dances—never |
————D © @—
At the top of the steps]
she dropped her hand from his sleeve, |
crinkly and |
lilies |
and so |
TERR,
TH A MASK. 03
MARTIN.
FOREFORHHE = is
| your name, or a rose from your dress,
or even leave to spend a moment with
you except in the dancing room. Give
me something to-night. Give me an
hour to talk to you in.”
They passed through the
through the room with the green
| tables, where the “little horses” had
just ceased to spin around to the tune
of rising or falling fortune. He pushed
back a bright embroidered curtain, and
opened the long window that led on
to the balcony.
There was no one there, for the air
of April nights is chilly even in the
Mediterranean.
They stepped out, and he closed the
window after them. The gardens lay
stretched before them, bathed in moon-
light. In an angle of the balcony he
set a chair for her, sat down beside
her, and spoke.
“I have thought of nothing but you
ever since I saw you last, and I have
made up my mind to tell you every-
thing, and to ask you—but first I want
to tell you ir the plainest words what
you know already—that I love you,
and I want you to tell me in your
darling voice what I shculd insult you
if I doubted—that you love me.”
Undine fluttered her fan nervously.
“Three meetings at public dances,
{ monsieur,” she said, with a light
laugh that had a little discord in it.
“Oh! don’t trifie with me any more,”
he broke in. “This is not play now; it
is deadly earnest. I love you. I am
going to show you my whole life, my
whole heart. Have you nothing to
say—nothing real? I can’t speak un-
less you tell me you love me.”
| She held cut her hand, from which
she had taken the white glove, and
| clasped his brown fingers with a
strong, soft pressure,
“Speak,” she said.
“To-night when we waltzed together
crowd,
A woman was coming up the! i knew that you loved me, and that
we must say good-by to-night, and
never see each other again.”
She drew a short, startled breath.
“And why?’
“That is what I am going to tell you.
If I were free, I should now be asking
| you to be my wife.”
She turned her face to him.
“You would ask me—me, a strange
| woman, whom you have only met
amusing herself at public dances, a
woman whose very name you don’t
know, whose past you are ignorant of
{| —you would ask me to be your wife?”
“I would,” he said. ‘‘Heaven knows
with what a humble heart hoping for
a good answer. But I am not free. 1
| am married.”
“And do you love your wife?’ she
asked, quickly.
“No,” he answered, “I don't love my
wife. Be patient with me, and let me
tell you the whole miserable story—
no concealments,” he added, half to
himself. “When I was a young man
I was a fool. I got into debt. I gam-
bled. I lost’”—his voice trembled, and
he set his teeth hard. “I gambled and
lost,” he went on, in a firmer voice,
“and I forged the name in whose office
i I was to pay my debts. I meant to
| pay it back if I won on the next race.
| 1t was Ascot. I could not pay the
money back. My employer behaved
| admirably, told me that he knew my
secret, and allowed me to pay the sum
| out of my salary. That cured me of
gambling, once for all. When I came
into the baronetcy and the estates, of
course, I left his office, and for some
years I saw nothing of him. But I
heard with regret that his firm had
failed, and that he himself was living
in what I feared was pinched retire-
ment, no one knew where. Two years
1
|
{
|
|
{
|
t
ago he sent for me. He was living at
Boulogne. When I reached him he
was dying, and when I saw him lying
there in that poor room, and remem-
bered that, but for him, I should have
been a branded man, cut off from any
society that I could ever care for, a
sort of rush of gratitude came over
me. I felt that there was nothing that
I would not do for him in chat hour. |
“ ‘What is it you want? 1 asked. ‘Be-
lieve me, you can count on me for
everything.’
‘*Take care of my daughter’ he
said. ‘I leave her to you.
“She was at the other side of the
bed, in a shabby grey gown, her eyes
red with weeping.”
Very plain, I suppose,”
dine.
He frowned a little,
“It wasn't her fault that she looked
like that,” he said; “she had been cry-
ing till she could hardly see out of her
eyes.
‘‘But what am 1 to do. with your
daughter? I asked, and I saw in a
minute what a position hers would be
as the ward of a young unmarried
man. I cared for no one else. I was
a fool; but at that moment nothing
seemed to me to matter except that
he should die with his mind at rest.
So I said:
“If your daughter will marry me,
I will make her a good husband. I
will take care of her.”
“What did the girl say?” asked Un-
dine.
“She said ‘No,” with obvious and un-
flattering sincerity,” he answered,
with a hard laugh.
“But the old man raised himself in
bed and said:
* ‘Celia, this is a chance that will
never come to you again. This is a
good man’—God bless him for saying
that—‘and if you marry him I shall
die easy and rest in my grave. Let
me rest in my grave, Celia, and know
that you are well cared for.
“So we were married—and the next
day he died.”
‘And what did you do?
your wife home?
aig?’
“No. That's what I ought to have
done. She would not see me after her
father's death, and I left her there
while I went home to make arrange-
ments for her reception at Everson
put in Un-
Did you take
Was that what you
Court. When I came back she was
gone. She bad left me a letter—here
it is, have never seen her since.”
Undine took the letter, and spread it
out with hands that trembled a little.
It ran thus:
“Dear Sir Albert Everson—Your
goodness and generosity in marrying
me to please my poor father have con-
ferred an obligation on me that I can
never forget. The least return I can
make to you is to leave’ you all the
freedom our unfortunate situation per-
mits. Forget me and forgive me, if
you can, for having brought thid
trouble into your life.
“CBL1A.”
‘“YWhat a stupid girl,” said Undine.
“Not at all,” Everson answered. “I
didn’t see what else she coud have
done.”
“Have you never heard fron her
again?”
“Yes, she writes to me every three
months, and says she is doing well,”
Everson answered. “Oh, ‘what a
ghastly farce life is! Heré I am tied
to her. She does not want me. And
I want you, and all the tune of life
rings backwards.”
“The old man was right,” she said,
‘you are very good.”
“And is that all you have to say?
Oh! give me some word of piy—some
word of comfort!”
“What can I say or do?”
“You can say ‘Good-by and God ‘bless
you!” You can take off your mask, and
tet me just this once see your dear
face. Tell me your name, and tell me
you forgive me for having loved you,
and for having told you so.”
“Take off your mask first,” she said,
He broke the string, and it fell beside
him on the floor.
“Forgive me,” she said for having
made you love me.”
“I have nothing to forgive,” he an-
swered. “Show me your face before
we say good-bye forever.”
She had loosened the mask, and was
holding it in its place with her hand.
“Why should we say ‘Good-by? *
“He looked at her doubtfully.
“Why? Have I not told you why?”
She spoke sharply, resolutely.
“I have made it the business of my
life to see you, to talk with you, to
make you love me, so that we need
never part again. You love the masked
lady. Will it kill your love to know,”
she asked as she dropped the mask on
Ler knee, “that the masked lady is
your wife?’—New York News.
Don’t Stoop.
The whole secret of standing and
walking erect consists in keeping the
chin well away from the breast. This
throws theheadupwardand backward,
and the shoulders will naturally set-
tle backward and in their true position.
Those who stoop in walking generally
look downward. The proper way is to
look straight ahead, upon the same
level with the eyes, or, if inclined tc
.| steop, until that tendency is overcome
look rather above than below the
level. ;
Mountaineers are said to be as
“straight as an arrow,” and the rea-
son is because they are obliged to
look upward so much. It is simply im-
possible to stoop in walking if this
rule is practiced.
All round-shouldered persons carry
the chin near the breast and pointed
downward. Take warning in time, and
heed this advice, for a bad habit id
more easily prevented than cured.
The bha.it of stooping when one
walks or stands is a bad habit and es-
pecially Lard to cure.
During the life time of a healthy hen
she will lay from 300 to 500 eggs. Her
best laying capacity is during her seo
ond year.
(EYSTONE STRTE COLLINGS
WILL SUE FORMER TREASURER
City of New Castle Will Seek to Re-
cover a Large Sum from Alex-
ander C. Hanna.
New Castle councils ordered City
Solicitor Gardner to enter suit
against ex-City Treasurer Alexander
C. Hanna and his bondsmen to re-
cover the $3,600 shortage discovered
last year in his accounts. Hanna in
April of last year ended his second
three-year term as city treasurer and
was found facing a large deficit. A
councilmanic investigation followed,
Hanna alleging he had been robbed
by unknown people. The nvestiga-
tors decided he had been careless in
his bookkeeping. He is bonded by
the United States Fidelity and Guar-
antee Company of Baltimore in the
sum of $60,000.
It was decided by the Luzerne
county court it is illegal for the chil-
dren of a citizen of Pennsylvania to
attend any school where the common
branches are not taught in English.
Judge Ferris said this provision was
the clear intent of the law and can-
not be legally avoided. The decision
was in the case of A. D. Snyder, who
was arrested on the charge of viola-
tion of the compulsory education law
in sending his children to a Polish
school. The court ordered he be fin-
ed. : :
John Chambers of Amwell
ship, Washington county, has .discov-
ered a new cure for rheumatism.
While cutting weeds he ran across a
black ‘snake six feet in length. The
reptile darted several times at his
foot, and although he felt a stinging
sensation at the time nothing further
resulted. Since then Mr. Chambers
says rheumatism, which troubled him
has completely disappeared, and he
believes the snake did it.
Adams county Republicans in con-
vention indorsed State Senator D. P.
McPherson for the gubernatorial
nomination and instructed the dele-
gates chosen to vote for him in the
State convention. F. M. Brunner of
Gettysburg and Frank M. Miller of
New Oxford were elected delegates
to the State convention. Congress-
man D. F. Lefean was endorsed for
renomination.
John H. Fulford, a voung man form-
erly connected with the Beech Creek
Coal and Coke Company, has been
appointed general superintendent of
the Northwestern Mining and Ex-
change Company's bitumnous coal
operations, wth general offices at
Du Bois. The position was made va-
cant by the recent death of Joseph
Bailey.
The banking and brokerage firm of
William H. Hurley & Co., one of the
oldest in its line in the city of Phil-
adelphia made an assignment for the
benefit of its creditors. Accompany-
ing the announcement of the failure
was a report that the firm was forced
to suspend business because of dis-
crepancies in the accounts of one or
more employes of the concern.
After being without a board of
health since the first of last January,
Freeport, again has a board com-
posed wholly of physicians. The
members of the old board resigned.
The new board, which was appointed
by President of the Council G. M.
Hill, consists of Drs. McCurdy,
Schnatterly, Rogers, McCafferty and
McGlaughlin.
This is the ticket nominated by
the Lincoln party state convention at
Philadelphia: Governor, Lewis Em-
ry, Jr.,, MeKean county. Lieutenant
governor, Rudolph Blankenburg, Phil-
adelphia. Auditor general, Maj.
George W. Merrick, Tioga county.
Secretary of internal affairs, Elisha
A. Coray, Jr., Luzern2 county.
The Board of Trustees of Washing-
ton and Jeffersin Co’lege has an-
nounced the appointment of Prof. R
G. Wright, D. D.,, of Columbia Uni-
versity, to the chair of chem’stry at
the lccal institution to» succeed Prof.
Roert K. Duncan, who his accepted
a profeszorship a® the University of
Kansas.
Nine men were burned, two s2rious-
ly, in an exp! sin cf foul gas at the
mine of the Braziell Gas Coal Com-
p ny near Bentleyville. T.e mine
caught fire and was ficoded. The ac-
cident involv:s a 1lcss of several
thous nd dollars.
W. A. Seaton, flagman, was k lled
and five seriously irjired in a head-
on collision between a light engine
and a freight train on the Buffalo and
Allegheny Valley divisicn of the
P:nusylvania Raircad near West
Mont:rey.
Methodist day will be cbserved at
Cascade park, near New Castle, June
20 and more than 10,000 Methodists
are expected. State Treasurer W. H.
Berry and the Rev. Dr. Robert Forbes
lof Philadelphia will be the prin-
cipal speakers.
The Greensburg Business Men's
association has secured the location
there of the B. S. Lottermilch short
factory of Reading. The plant will
employ 260 women and girls, besides
a large force of skilled workmen.
Fire destroyed the main building of
the Hawthorn Pottery Company at
Hawthorn, including all the machin-
ery. Loss about $20,000, partly in-
sured. The warehouses were all
saved.
Edward Bishop of Beaver Falls was
killed by a trolley car in Mt. Pleasant
last evening. Bishop, while running
to catch a car, fell under the truck.
Bert Wolf, aged 25 years, was
killed at Frezport, by a shifting en-
gine, which struck his horse and bug-
gy which he was driving across the
Schenley crossing of the Buffalo and
Allegheny divisicn of the Pennsyl-
vania Railroad. The horse was killed
instantly and Wolf’s body was found
under the dead horse. Wolf was
taken out unconscious, but died short-
ly afterward.
Burgess A. D. Soisson of Connells-
ville sent $1,530.47 for the relief of
the San Francisco sufferers. It was
raised by popular subscription and by
the Elks.
town-
DRESSING FOR FOWLS.
To haif a cupful of crackers rolled
quite fine add a tablespoon of butter,
a saltspoon of salt, a few grains of
pepper and a pinch of poultry season-
ing. Moisten with four tablespoons of
hot milk.
NEW COAT HANGER.
A new coat hanger, which, it is de-
clared, will keep garments in shape
better than any of its predecessors, is
made of inch-wide spirals of wire. The
flexibility of these permits of more ac-
curate shaping, hence the merit
claimed for it.
FOR NEAT ZMBROIDERY.
Sharp scissors and an emery are al-
ways kept at hand by the woman
who does the neatest embroidery. Her
threads are clipped clean and her
needle never sticks. If these are at:
tached to a cord about the neck they
cannot fall on the ficor or get lost.
BLACK KID GLOVES.
‘When a piece is rubbed or torn from
the outer surface of a black kid glove
or kid shoe, take a few drops of sweet
oil and mix it with equal parts of
black ink. Apply this mixture to the
white spot, or any part that may be
rubbed, and the spot will hardly be
noticeable. This treatment will also
freshen an old pair of kid gloves.
EOILED AND STEAMED LETTUCE.
Have you ever tasted boiled or
steamed lettuce? It is a fair dish and
a dainty. Wash well firm heads of
sound, fresh lettuce and cut the stalks
close to the lowest leaves. Tie each
head separately with a piece of tape or
soft string and lay close together in a
wide saucepan. Cover with consomme
and cook slowly for half an hour or
until the heads may be pierced by a
straw. Take out carefully and drain
each head separately in a colander,
taking pains not to bruise. Place on
a hot platter. Keep hot while you stir
a white roux into the pan gravy and
boil up once. Pour over the lettuce
when you have clipped and removed
the strings.
Steamed lettuce is picked apart first
and the loose leaves are placed in a
steamer over a kettle of hot water.
Lay a folded cloth upon the lid to keep
in the steam. Boil hard for half an
hour, then lay the lettuce leaves upon
a hot plate; sprinkle with pepper and
salt and pour over it a sauce piquante. _
VINES FOR THE VERANDA.
Every possessor of a house with a
porch, whether in the city or suburb, or
country, should realize the opportuni:
ty he has, with the help of nature to
make it a delicious and beautiful, cool,
green, shady retreat in summer. In
winter it matters little what it is. Vines
will transform any porch into a bower.
To have vigorous vines, plenty or rich
soil is needed, and it is best to insure
this by adding plenty of cow manure
or bone meal to make it rich. Good
drainage, as in any flower garden, ig
also essential, says the Philadelphia
Bulletin.
In the woods, many wild vines may
later be found. There are the Dutch:
man’s pipes, the wild grape, the moon-
seed vine, the trumpet vine and others.
The wild grape vine is especially use¢
ful and easily obtained. Its luxurianf
foliage, rapid growth and delightful
fragrance makes it delightful for sum-
mer houses and similar structures.
The trumpet vine, with its scarlet
orange flowers, is very easily grown
and not at all sensitive to rough treat-
ment. It is found in many parts of the
country wild.
The silk vine is very fine, with dark
green, luxuriant foliage or neat habit.
It belongs to the milk weed family of
plants, and derives its name from the
silky contents of its seed pods. It is
excellent for the veranda, and is used’
to cover many famous sld ruins.
Apple Frosting — White of one egg,
one cup powdered sugar and one good
medium sized Baldwin apple, grated.
Beat all together and season with
vanilla. Will fill and cover two com-
mon size Washington pie plates very
suice.
Tomato Bisque—Allow one pint of
milk to come to boiling point, stir in
one-half tablespoonful of cornstrach
which has been moistened with milk;
add small lump butter, one-half can
tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste and
a small half-teaspoonful of soda.
Strain and serve with small squares of
bread.
Venetian Eggs—Butter size of a wal:
nue, small onion chopped fine, one pint
tomatoes strained, one-fourth pound
cheese (mild), three eggs, salt and pep-
‘per. Place butter in dish, add onion,
cook till soft, add tomato, let come to a
boil, add cheese grated, stir till smooth;
break in eggs, one at a time, let white
set, then break yolk. Serve on toasted
rackers.
Mutton Pies With Tomatoes—Spread
the bottom of a baking dish with
crumbs. Fill with alternate layers of
cold roast mutton cut in thin sliced
and tomatoes peeled and sliced. Sea,
son each layer with pepper, sgit and
butter. The last layer should be to!
matoes spread with bread crumbs
Bake forty-five minutes Serve im:
mediately.
Buying Paint.
Springtime — after the weather has
become well settled—is painting time.
There is no dust flying, no insects are
fu the air at that time ready to commit
suicide by suffocation in the coat of
fresh paint. The atinosphberic condi=
tions are also favorable at that season
for proper drying and increased life of
the paint.
It should be a habit with every prop-
erty owner every spring to look over
his buildings, etc., and see if they need
repainting, not merely to see if they
“will zo another year.” hut whether the
time Las not come for putting in the
proverbial “siitch in time” which shall
eventually “save nine.” For one coat
of paint appiied just a little before it is
actually needed will often save most of
the paint on the building by preventing
it from letting go and causing endless
trouble and expense.
Paint lets go because linseed oil,
which is the “cement” that holds all
good paint together. gradually decays
or oxidizes, just as iron exposed to air
and dampness will slowly decay or oxi-
dize. The water and oxygen in the aie
are the cause of the trouble in both
cases, and the only reason, outside of
its beautifying effect, that we apply]
paint to wood or iron is because we
want to keep water and air away from
them. Live paint, that is, paint in
which the linseed oil is still oily, does
this very effectually, but dead paint,
that is, paint in which the oil is no
longer oily, is no more impervious to
air and water than a single thickuess
of cheesecloth would be. If then we
apply a fresh coat of oily paint before
the old paint is dead. the oil from the
new coat will penetrate the old coat,
and the whoie coating will once more
become alive, and this method of reno-
vation may go on indefinitely.
This explains why it is better econo-
my to repaint a little before it beccmes
absolutely necassary than a little after.
When the paint is once dead the fresh
coal will pull the whole coating off.
In the days when repainting meant a
general turning of things upside down,
a two-weeks’' “cluttering up” of the
place with kegs, cans and pails, a lot
of inflammable and ill-smelling mater.
jals standing around, ete., the dread of
painting time was natural. So was thd
dread of soap-making time. of shirti
making time, of candle-moulding time
and the like. But we live in an ag
when soap comes from the store bet:
ter and cheaper than we can make it;
when shirts are sold ready made foi
Jess than we can buy the materials,
when we can burn coal oil or gas
cheaper than we can make tallow-can-
dles, and when all we have to do when
mve want to repaint is to pick out our
colors from the card at the store and
pay the painter for putting on tha
paint.
When it comes to picking out the
paint it is not necessary that one
should be a paint chemist any more
than one should be an oil chemist when
buying kerosene, or a department store
buyer when selecting shirts, or a soap
chemist when buying soap. All that
is necessary to insure a fair show is
some knowledge of the character of
our paint dealer and the reputation
and standing of the maker of the paint
offered. Nor must cne 2xpect to buy
a pure linseed oil paint for the price
of linseed oil alone. It can be taken
for granted when any one offers ta
sell dollar bills at a discount. he is bait
ing a hook for ‘suckers.” So it can
be taken for granted when any one—
whether mail order house, paint man
ufacturer or dealer—offers paint to
cheap, he is bidding for the trade of
“suckers,” no matter what his prom-
ises.
But paints sold in responsible stored
under the brands of reputable manu-
facturers are all good products, differ
ing from one another in the less im-
portant matter of the solid pigments con-
tained, but practically alike in having
their liquid portions composed essens
tially of pure linseed oii. The com-<
petition of the better class of paints
has driven inferior goods practically
out of the market, and no manufac-
turer of standing now puts out a poor
) paint, under his own name at least.
As to guarantees on paint, they can
be taken for what they are worth.
Any reputable manufacturer will make
good any defect actually traceable to
the paint itself and not to improper
use or treatment of it. The really im-
portant guarantee which the paint
buyer should exact from his dealer is
that the paint is made by a manu-
facturer that knows his business und
that the paint itself Las a record. If
he secures this guarantee he can af-
ford to chance the rest of it—the paint
will undoubtedly give good service if
properly applied according to direc-
tions.
Puzzling Question.
Sleep is the state of rest and recu-
peration of the bodily and mental
voluntary powers. So much is under-
stood in a general sense. Now, what
has long agitated my mind is this—
what functional disturbance of bodily
or mental voluntary powers awakens
a sleeping person? Leave out of con-
sideration all noises, odors, physical
disturbances. Have the sleeper in a
cozy roomi where all is silence and
comfort, let his digestion be perfect,
let him have a sane mind in a sane
body; what revolution within him
throws off his coma and arouses him
to life? What brings him back in
consciousness? What mysterious in-
fluence resurrects him?—New York
Press.
Chinese Yellow Snow.
It is reported in a Peking message,
dated March 30, that ‘‘yellow snow,”
due to th dust in the atmosphere,
has fallen for several days, causing
much superstitious talk among the
Chinese. They recall the ominous
tradition that yellow rain fell at the
time of the downfall of the Ming
dynasty, and wild rumors are pre-
valent, one being that several assas-
sins have recently found their way
into the imperial palace.—Korean
Daily News. ?
Whelps or Cubs.
Infant lions and bears are now gen-
erally spoken of as ‘‘cubs,” but in
former times the word ‘whelps”
would have been used. Every edition
of the English Bible from Wyeclif’s
time to 1611 gives ‘““whelps’’ for the
young of the lion or bear. A ‘cub’
meant originally, in English, only a
young fox. But by Shakespeare’s
time it was possible to talk of the
‘young suckling cubs’ of a she bear,
and Waller even applied ‘‘cub” to a
young whale, now known as a ‘‘calf.”
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