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Matinee Hat in Russia.
The matinee hat was bound to
reach Russia, and it has managed to
penetrate into the provinces. The
other evening a lady, an officer’s wife,
sat in the front row of the parterre
of the Novgorod Theatre. The lady
was wearing a hat which measured
fifty-six inches across. Fifteen peo-
ple craned their necks in a vain at-
tempt to catch even a glimpse of the
stage; in vain they besought the lady
to remove the offending hat. At last
a policeman was called in. He told
the lady that she had made herself
‘‘a public nuisance,” and he sum-
moned her to appear next morning at
the local police court. She was fined
a small sum and warned against
wearing such a monstrous hat, at
least in the theatre.—London Globe.
mi
Mind-Loneliness.
To me it is always a very sad ac-
‘knowledgement when a young woman
says she is lonely and has to be
amused. That she possesses no re-
sources within herself is surely a
humiliating confession. To the active
mind loneliness is impossible—one’s
own brain ought to furnish the very
best company in the world. An hour
each day with some good book is a
splendid mental tonic. The more you
read and cultivate your brain by
dwelling in the companionship of
creat authors, the less dependent you
will be on the society of others. As
a great writer once said, “When you
grow so interestong that you like to
be by yourself you will be so interest-
ing that everybody will want you to
be with them.”—New Haven Reg-
ister,
Invalidism.
Incurable illness or disability is
the hardest human fate there is—
except remorse or disgrace—and I
shave perhaps rashly undertaken to
suggest to some attentive sufferer
how to bear it.
But the first word of all which I
would utter is this: Do not bear it!
Do not bear it, if you can help it.
Do not bear it until you have proved.
bilt became the Dutchess of Marlbor-
ough every catalogue for the show
was destroyed and an entire new edi-
tion was printed in which the daugh-
ter of the Vanderbilts was labelled as
the Dutchess. ‘When Mrs. Ogden
Mills’ attention was called to this
change of name in the gallery, the
other day, she remarked by way of
reply, “She was Miss Mills when that
portrait was painted.” The Coyntess,
by the way, does not like the canvas.
She considers it “too truthful.”—
New York Press,
Ideal Minister's Wife.
The following description is from
one of the Methodist papers in Lon-
don: .
‘““The ideal minister’s wife is queen
in her home, ruling her affairs with
discretion and looking well to the
ways of her household. She has a
keen interest in her husband’s peo-
ple and spares no pains to get to
know them. Unselfish as regards
her husband’s company, because of
the many claims made upon him, she
waives what seem to be her rights
and finds her joy in knowing he is
helping others. She practices the
happy art of adapting herself to cir-
cumstances, and is able to converse
easily with the intellectual and the
unlearned. Her manners are per-
fectly natural and entirely free from
any tincture of patronage. Her dress
is becoming, without dowdiness or
loudness. She is not over-sensitive
to criticism. She is discreet with her
lips and thoroughly good in heart and
loves to second her husband’s efforts
in all the church work. She avoids
being the leader of any clique, but
acts in such a way that all feel they
can approach her easily and confide
in her perfectly. She listens to the
sorrows of the people and feels with
them and rejoices in their joys. She
knows how to entertain and how to
be entertained. She keeps abreast of
the times in reading and delights in
self-culture. Knowing for what spec-
ial branch of work in the church she
is gifted, she devotes herself to it
with all her heart. Amiable, bright,
in slices.
Paste in Your Scrap-Book.
Qur Cut-out Recipe |
Okra Soup.—Wash a medium-sized fowl and cut it up
so as‘to be convenient to handle.
pound of salt pork and fry it brown, remove it from the pan
and fry the chicken in this fat until it is brown also, then
put it in the soup kettle.
Slice one-quarter of a
Wash one quart of okra and cut
Cut up one onion fine, put it in the frying pan
for two minutes, then put in the okra slices and after all
has cooked for ten minutes put it in the soup pot.
two tablespoonfuls of butter in the frying pan and sprinkle
in four tablespoonfuls of dry flour, stirring until brown.
Add this to the soup pot after putting in two quarts of boil-
ing water, then season with three teaspoonfuls of salt and
half a teaspoonful of pepper.
simmeér for two hours and a half, remove the bones of the
fowl and serve without straining.
Now put
Cover the pot and let the soup
to your cwn conviction . . . “past
all doubting, truly,” that it must be
borne. There is nothing about which
it is easier to be mistaken than un-
comfortable physical sensations.
“They may, or they may not, mean
what they seem to mean, or what
you think they mean. There are many
slaves in the world that naturally
become tyrants. They are disloyal
and hence deceitful. Do not trust
them too far. Pass them under se-
vere scrutiny.—Elizabeth Stewart
Phelps, in Harper's Bazar.
Beauty Patches.
Beauty patches, which were rare
during the recent Pompadour period,
are reappearing in Paris as the result
of the anticipated revival of Louis
XV. fashions. They are reccived
with great favor because French
women never entirely abandoned the
cunning little devices the ladies at
Louis’ court found so useful. Recent-
ly the patches have been seen mostly
on the stage and at costume balls.
Now the more daring leaders of so-
ciety are laying in supplies. Beauty
patches are made of tiny pieces of
black velvet in the shapes of stars,
moons, and crescents. The patch is
placed on the side of the eye to make
the eye appear larger. It gives vivac-
ity of expression. On the corner of
the under lip it attentuates the face;
if, on the contrary, the woman wishes
to obtain a shortening effect she
places one mouche on the right cheek
and another on the side of the left
eye. In the time of Marie Antoin-
ette some famous beauty, noted for
her extravagance, appeared at court
with patches on her cheek represent-
ing a hearse and a mourning coach,
cut out of black silk court plaster.
Mouche eccentricities went so far in
those days, in fact, that the clergy
interfered and denounced them as
vanitieg.—Chicago Tribune,
Miss, Not Countess.
In permitting an artist to show a
portrait of her daughter, the Coun-
tess of Granard, in a local exhibition
with the name of “Miss Beatrice
Mills’ opposite the number in the
catalogue, Mrs. Ogden Mills does not
follow the precedent set by Mrs. O.
H. P. Belmont in the days when she
was Mrs. William XK. Vanderbilt.
Just before the then Mrs. Vander-
bilt’s daughter Consuelo was married
to the Duke of Marlborough, there
was opened in the old Academy of
Design building, at Fourth avnue and
Twenty-third street, an exhibition of
portraits for a local charity which
was called a “Show of Fair Women.”
Among the portraits was Chartran’s
full-leigth portrait of ‘“Miss Consuelo
Vanderbilt,” as the catalogue an-
nounced. The day that Miss Vander-
patient, tactful, ever striving to un-
lock human hearts with the key of
love that she may lead them to the
divine Lover, she finds the minister’s
wife’s lot though ‘onerous and diffi-
cult,” yet delightful and blessed, and
the ‘heart of her husband (and his
people) doth safely trust in her.”
“Who ds sufficient for these
things?’ and what minister is worthy
of such a wife? There is nothing
said about who takes care of the
children while the minister’s ‘ideal
wife” is doing all these things.
Black or pure white grapss are
especially smart trimming for mourn-
ing hats.
No matter how smart a wrap, no
woman wishes to hide a lovely cor-
sage under its fold.
Venetian bands come in every color
of embroidery on black, cream and
crimson filet net for trimmings new
gowns.
‘Coronets and diadems of gold fili-
gree and tortoise shell harmonize
most charmingly with the draped
gowns.
Very simple gowns are transformed
into things of beauty by girdle and
bretelles of shirred or tucked silk or
lawn, lace-trimmed.
One is getting rather used now to
seeing bugs and butterflies instead of
flowers as motifs in the Irish lace
collars and other pieces.
Various shades of brown, blue,
green and red in checks alternating
with black in the same proportion
are popular for tailored silk waists.
There is no reason why the gradu-
ation toilet may not be made entirely
at home, for the most simple de-
signs are at the same time the smart-
est.
At the races in Paris one of the
most striking of the chapeaux was of
purple straw, trimmed with velvet
and bunches of mauve and purpi=
larkspur.
Whether the coat be long or ex-
tend only a trifle beyond hip length,
it is usually with back so slightly
fitted that to all appearances it is
almost straight.
More thick crepe de chine, failles,
satins of various kinds and velvets
are being used for handsome toil-
lettes than of the long used voiles
and mousselines.
The most fashionable
stick or handle is the one made of
tortoise shell, absolutely unadorned
or trimmed with a jade collar,
umbrella
| rimmed with chased gold.
THE PULPIT.
A BRILLIANT SUNDAY SERMON- BY
THE REV. JOHN WESLEY HILL.
Theme: The Kingship of Patience.
New York City.—The following
impressive discourse was delivered in
the Metropolitan Temple -(M. E.) by
the pastor, the Rev. John Wesley
Hill, who is by far at present the
most progressive of New York's
preachers. The subject of the ser-
mon was “The Kingship of Patience,”
and the text, Revelation 1:9: “I
John, your brother and companion in
tribulation, and in the kingdom and
patience of Jesus Christ.” Mr. Hill
said:
Patience does not appeal to us as
a regal quality. Why should a king
wait? Having power to accomplish
at once, why, should he bear with the
dulness and obdurateness of his sub-
jects? Commanding swift agencies,
why should he delay their execution?
And right here we encounter a seem-
ing contradiction; our text introduces
a divine interpretation. It teaches
that kingship is not divorced from pa-
tience, but bound up with it; that
the divine kingdom is inherited
through patience; and that spiritual
sovereignty is acquired not by a sin-
gle bound, but through the long,
plodding pilgrimage which patience
alone can make. This is a truth
which permeates the entire spiritual,
economy, finding its supreme exem-
plification in the being and nature of
God. :
Christianity is solitary in its rev-
elation of patience as a quality of
God. No pagan god was ever crowned
with this virtue. The coarse mind of
man never evolved a gentle deity.
The gods of human genius are great
in impatience, force and resentment.
This conception of impatience as the
prerogative of deity is not only at the
root of the grotesque forms of pagan-
ism, but it is responsible for many of
the false and monstrous views of
God that have found their way into
the so-called “Christian theology.”
When theologians paint pictures of
God that stamp Him with remorse-
less absolutism; when they say that
God must be just and may be merci-
ful, and set themselves to parceling
out the divine nature into sections,
tracing the boundary lines with
mathematical precision, and then
setting watches upon the frontiers
lest love should encroach upon truth
and mercy supplant justice; then
they forget that all the great moral
qualities are duly proportioned in the
divine nature; that they include each
other in a way that defies triangula-
tion; and that patience is the
guardian of them all.
‘When the sculptor’s vision dis-
closes the angel in the block, he is
‘not discouraged by hardness in the
stone nor defect in the grain. He is
bent on actualizing his ideal. The
greater the difficulties, the more his
patience is called into play. And
dare we think of God as conceiving a
purpose less sharply or bringing it to
perfection with less patience?
We fall into bitter, suspicious, mis-
anthropic frames of mind over the
high-handed insolence of demagogu-
ism, over social laxity and licentious-
ness, over fraud and graft and god-
less luxury; and because’ things are
crooked, we would hew them to the
line of our thinking, lay the scor-
pion scourge on the back of con-
servatism, condemn all who are not
willing to march to our music; yea,
we are tempted to doubt the divine
goodness, because God does not arise
in His might, destroy sin, and usher
in the millennium. But meanwhile,
God waits. He stands in, the midst
of the passing centuries: with out-
stretched hands of entreaty. No
other attitude would be consonant
with His character. Self-existent and
eternal, without beginning or ending,
He cannot take account of time.
Time is an element that does not
enter into His being. Perfection is
the mould in which the divine ideals
are cast; the amount of time is noth-
ing. It is not a question of calendar
but of character. The problem re-
duces itself to perfection. That is
the infinite goal toward which all
things in the universe, seen and un-
seen, are silently, slowly, and patient-
ly moving—the goal of a redeemed,
perfected and glorified humanity.
From this viewpoint, we begin to
understand that there is a divine
philosophy in the expression, the
“kingdora and patience of Jesus
Christ.” In it is hidden the mystery
of redemption; above it is lifted the
blood-stained cross; upon the cross
hangs an innocent Victim, an in-
finite Sacrifice, vicarious and saving,
Ged’'s great love argument to the
world. Time, Providence and Cal-
vary are the forces that conguer the
soul, and therefore God waits to give
them a chance, waits for us to weary
of our rebellion, waits for the fever
of sin to cool, waits for the black
blood of passion to run out, waits
with infinite patience for us to re-
turn, demanding no more than obedi-
ence, and asking only the homage of
our hearts; and then He embraces us
in the rapture of long delayed recon-
ciliation.
Standing thus before Calvary, and
gazing into the tranquil face.of Jesus
Christ, we begin to realize what is
meant by the patience of Jesus
Christ. His patience meant infinitely
more than the popular conception of
patience; more than the power of
physical endurance, more than drift-
ing and dreaming in silence. The
patience of Jesus ‘Christ is a con-
structive force; it inspires a des-
perate, persistent struggle for spirit-
ual manhood. It is a power which
makes a kingly man and not a stoical
petrifaction, insensible to “the slings
and arrows of outrageous fortune.”
Now, there can be no kingship in
the absence of patience. Protracted
discipline is the condition of exalted
character. It is thus that man wins
himself from the wrecking forces of
life; thus that he learns the truth
and feels the power of Christ's im-
mortal maxim, “In your patience ye
shall possess (win) your souls.” It
was thus that John, the author of our
text, won self-mastery. Think of it.
The man who in the early stage of
his Christian life desired that he and
his brother James might sit on the
right hand and on the left hand in
the kingdom of Christ; the man of
dignity and of ambition; the man
who in his unbridlea rage wanted to
call fire down from heaven upon the
inhospitable Samaritans; the man of
pride and resentment; that man,
chastened, subdued and exalted, de-
gpised by the world, persecuted, ex-
iled and everything but martyred,
sits down in the lonely solitude of
that volcanic cinder called Patmos,
and writes familiarly and lovingly
about the “tribulation and kingdom
and patience of Jesus Christ.” What
brought about the change? Patience
was the stern and rugged school-
master that led him from pride and
arrogance and self-assertion to the
heights of a spiritual manhood sweet
and tender and fraternal; a state of
repose and vision enriched by the
gain of loss, and filled with the joy
of tribulation; a kingdom in which
he became a partaker of suffering
with every other sufferer, and could
sign himself with kingly courtesy, “I,
John, your brother in the kingdom
and patience of Jesus Christ.”
Not only does patience thus en-
noble and exalt character, but it im-
parts to life its only true and abiding
perspective. An art student once said
to Titian, “I saw it tn a moment.”
“Oh, you did!” replied the great mas-
ter; “it took me twenty years to see
it.” You cannot stand before a work
of art, every square inch, every color,
every shade of which has been trans-
figured by toil and tears, and gather
its wealth of meaning in a few sec-
onds. You must stand there, sit
there, surrender yourself to the
theme, ‘until you feel like the pilgrim
before Reubens’ “Descent From the
Cross,” who forgot time and comfort
and place, and after standing from
morning until evening and being re-
minded that the time to depart had
arrived, exclaimed, “Wait a moment,
until they get Him down!” Such is
the patience which brings to light the
hidden things of God, discloses the
divine intent in the workings of time
and enables us to hear what the cen-
turies say against the hours, and thus
find deliverance from the “tyranny of
the instant.” It is this spirit of what
has been called “immediateness” that
becomes our greatest peril. We be-
come impatient in awaiting results.
It is the child who to-morrow digs
up the seed he planted yesterday, to
see whether it is growing or not; and
in this respect, many of us are chil-
dren of a larger growth. The effect
of this impatience is disastrous in
many ways.
It produces a distortion of vision,
substitutes a segment of life’s circle
for the whole, measures providence
by a few years of happiness, and
weighs the interests of time against
eternity. “How can these things be?”
we often ask. What things? The
woes of broken health, the agonies by
which human bodies are tortured for
many years, the wrongs of orphanage,
pestilence, fire, flood, famine and
earthquake. How can a merciful God
permit such severities? Patience
comes to the rescue, and becomes the
interpreter of Providence, explains
that they are parts of the “all things”
that “work together for good,”
fomentations to soften the calloused
heart, hammer blows to break the
hardened: will, lightning flashes to
purify the atmosphere, millstones
grinding the hard grain, furnaces re-
fining the gross ore, grim schoolmas-
ters teaching us in God’s great ge
school the lessons of love. O y
friends, let us give these teachers the
right of way. 'Better for us to ask
ourselves, What new lessons do we
need? than all this meaningless talk
about accidents, and how they are
brought about.
Finally, patience means expectancy,
and there is rest in that. It is the
sense of uncertainty-that begets un-
rest. We all feel the power of a man
who can keep still in the storm. His
position is supporied by the facts,
and therefore his argument is final,
and he can afford to wait. Power is
never boisterous. It has no measure
in noise, but rather in silence.
That Jesus Christ, standing speech-
less before Pilate while His accusers
rave in the fury of their passion, is
the one supreme picture of power in
all human history. Calm in the wild
excitement of the infuriated mob,
serene in the fierce overflow of ma-
lignity, with the repose of eternity in
His face, His very silence was the
most searching speech that ever fell
upon a human soul. It crashed down
into the conscience of the heathen
judge, rang the alarm bell in the
camp of his fears, filed his vision with
a thousand menacing terrors, and
transformed him into a cringing
coward. He saw what all the ages
since have 'seen, that this quiet Man
who took up no defense, who meas~
ured all the wrath of His enemies
and understood their worst weapon,
had a foundation in truth that could
not be shaken. He stcod like one in
the midst of eternal realities, sur-
rounded by immortal and invisible
servants, One who knew that all
power was given unto Him, that He
needed only to speak and that all the
forces of the universe would rush to
His defense. This asurance made
Him calm and crowned Him as the
one solitary King of Patience for all
the ages.
Oh, let us gaze anew upon that
silent, serene, expectant face; catch
once more the inspiration of His pa-
tient life, and go forth serene in the
“assurance of faith” and confident
and strong in the expectancy of Jesus
Christ, the' dawn of whose second,
glorious coming, already throws its
gleam: of promise across the werld’s
horizon.
The Sweetest Incense.
“How I wish I had built an altar
when we started our married life!”
a father said to his pastor recently.
Dr. Norman McLeod tells of one
who said the same thing. ‘I shall
never forget the impression made
upon me during the first year of my
ministry by a mechanic whom I had
visited, and on whom I urged the
paramount duty of family prayers.
One day he entered my study, and
burst into tears as he said, ‘You re-
member my girl, sir? She was my
only child. She died suddenly this
morning. She has gone, I hope, to
God; but if so she can tell Him what
now breaks my heart—that she never
heard a prayer in her father’s house
or from her father’s lips. Oh, that
she were with me but for one day
more!’ ”
There is no fragrance that sweet-
ens a whole house like the incense of
prayer.
If we want to be builders of the
spiritual kingdom our spirits must be
purified and refined by the fellowship
of the Holy Ghost.—Rev. J. H.
Jewett, M. A.
© ousehold
4 ==: Vl2tters
YOO0O00C
JOO0VOOA
Oysters in Grape Fruit.
Cut grape fruit so as to form a
handle basket. Scrape out the pulp
and clip edges into points with scis-
sors. Place eight small oysters in
each basket and cover them with a
sauce made of equal portions of
lemon juice, grated horseradish, to-
mato catsup and speck mustard.
Place on shaved ice on plate and
serve.—New York World.
Fricassee of Chicken.
Clean the chickens and cut in neat
pieces. Heat a mixture of lard and
butter in the frying pan and fry the
pieces of chicken, dredged with flour,
to a rich brown. Now place the
chicken in the cooker saucepan, add-
ing one quart tomatoes, one pint boil=-
ing water, one small onion minced
and a little bunch parsley. Cook fif-
teen minutes, seasoning with salt and
pepper, then put into the cooker and
cook from six to eight hours accord-
ing to the age of the chicken. Serve
with rice. If prefrred rice may be
added and cooked with the stew. The
latter should be very moist. If rice
is not used the gravy may be thick-
ened with browned flour and the fric-
assee served on baking powder bis-
cuit split or on toast.—New Haven
Registers
Irish Stew,
Cut about two pounds of mutton
from the neck or ribs into neat pieces
and put them into an iron saucepan
with about half a cup hot water. As
this boils away brown the meat in
its own fat, together with four small
onions sliced. Season’ with salt and
pepper, then add three pints boiling
water, put in the regular cooker
saucepan, bring to a boil and put in
the cooker. Let remain there about
four hours, two hours before serving
remove, bring to the boiling point,
add a half cupful of celery, turnip
and carrot cut in even slices. Cook
ten minutes, add two cupfuls pota-
toes sliced, then return to the cooker
for an hour and a half or two hours.
Take up and thicken with fiour to
the desired consistency and ribbons
of green or parsley minced fine, cook
a moment, season to taste and serve.
—New Haven Register.
Scotch Short Bread.
A real Scotch recipe for its making
is this: Put two pounds of butter in
a basin, warm and beat to a cream
with a wooden spoon. Add slowly a
pound and a quarter of fine granu-
lated or sifted crushed loaf sugar,
stirring well to obtain a white appear-
ance, Add a little grated yellow rind
of lemon and a small quantity of
milk with flour to make a short paste,
taking pains not to have it too stiff.
Divide into pieces, roll out about a
quarter of an inch in thickness, form-
ing them square or oval as desired.
They should be about the size of a
breakfast plate. Pinch the edges all
around with the fingers, dock the
surface with a biscuit docker, sprin-
kle a few caraway comfits on top and
bake in a moderate oven. Some
cooks dredge them with sugar be-
fore baking; in about twenty minutes
dredge again, then bake ten minutes
longer.—New York Telegram,
A little salt thrown into water will
hasten the boiling process.
If the pastry is slow in browning
a little sugar on the oven shelf will
expedite matters.
Sugared tea does not stain; there-
fore people who like unsweetened tea
will do well to put one lump of sugar
in the teapot.
Put your onions into water and
peel them while under it, and you
will not “weep’’ as you do when peel-
ing the usual way.
If curtains are allowed to dry be-
fore being starched, they will remain
clean quite a month longer.
Cornmeal and salt sprinkled on the
carpet before sweeping brightens the
colors and lays the dust.
Cold pies may be warmed by wring-
ing a cloth out of cold water and
spreading on pie before placing in
oven. It will not blister.
When burning refuse in the stove,
add a handful of salt. It will pre-
vent the unpleasant odor.
Butter the kettle in which cereals
are to be cooked to prevent them
from sticking to the pan.
Ink stains may be removed by rub-
bing with soap and covered with
water to which half a cup of kero-
sene has been added and boiled. This
will need repeating before all ink
stains disappear.
When dusting put a tablespoonful
of kerosene on the cloth. It will ab-
sorb the dust, give the woodwork and
furniture a beautiful gloss, and at
the same time remove all dirt.
A few drops of kerosene on a cloth
used for wiping windows will remove
all dust and dirt.
When anything is spilled on the
range, sprinkle a little salt oa it.
This will cause it to quit smoking
and make it come off easily when
cleaning the stove.
When washing windows, put about
a half cup of common coal oil in as
much water and see how much easier
it is.
After frying doughnuts, fry a few
slices of potato in the and this
> it clear so as to be fit for
| Spurgle’s Dog’s Demise.
| By FRED LADD.
“Hannah,” observed Uncle Silas
| Heck, as a horrible sound rent the
| atmosphere, “Hannah, Spurgle’s dog
! is gittin’ t’ be th’ durndest nuisance
we ever had here in Woodville!”
“@Gittin’ t* be?” enquired Aunt
Hannah—*“I ’sh’d say he’d already
become -it!”’ The worthless cur of
the Spurgle place next door now
barked barks number 2222—2322 in-
clusive since dawn that morning.
Grim disgust sets its mark upon Uncle
Heck’s usually placid features.
‘Somethin’ hez got t’ be done,” he
said, laying down the shears; “I can’t
even trim m’ whiskers with thet
cussed sound goin’ on, an’ I ain’t a
nervous man, nuther. Little Jimmy
Green’s sick, an’ his mother’s mos’
crazy tryin’ t’ git him t’ sleep. Th’
durn dog barked all night. Th’
boarders up to Hank Steele's air goin’
t’ leave town; Mis’ Alviry Jones’ nerv-
ous prostration is gittin’ so bad she
ain’t rested but a few minits in a
week. Th’ minister hed t’ go eout
o’ town t’ write his sermon. An’ we,
bein’.the nearest neighbors of all, air
gittin’ intew a condition thet ain’t
becomin’ tew eour time o’ life an’
eour naturally calm disposition an’
heartfelt wish not to murder noth-
in!”
One hundred and ten barks greeted
Uncle Heck’s words.
“Oh, Lord, I’m sick of it!” he said.
“Yeou might speak t’ Mister Spur-
gle,” ventured Aunt Hannah; “he
might be reasonable.”
“Mother,” said Uncle Heck, ‘no
man, woman nor child can be reason-
able thet owns a barkin’ dog. It’s
human nature t’ git’ t’ be like a dog
when yeou’re engaged in upholdin’
an’ perpetuatin’ t° dog nuisance.
Spurgle’d say I wuz treadin’ on his
rights as an American citizen an’ in-
sultin’ him.”
In the still, uncanny night, two fig-
ures approached the kennel of Spur-
gle’s dog. Neither of the persons
stealthily nearing the devoted dog—
now slumbering for the first moments
in many weary hours—was aware of
the other. Uncle Heck, for one of
the persons was none other, bore in
his hand a piece of meat which con-
tained a powerful opiate. And the
other man had something in his.
Each gazed in tense horror at the
other as the moon broke through a
cloud, and disclosed to Unge Heck
the Reverend Mr. Spoak, the Con-
gregational minister of Woodville, in
the act of throwing a large piece of
meat close to the dog kennel. And
the minister saw Uncle Heck as tho’
in a lightning flash. Each gentleman
drew back. Yet each knew. They
were common criminals.
Rapidly Uncle Heck’s footsteps led
him from the yard of Spurgle toward
his own residence. The minister fol-
lowed, and caught up with him,
“D-Don’s say—w—we—we shant say
anything about this?” stammered the
minister, wiping his brow, madly.
“Say,” sald Uncle Heck, “don’t
you worry. There's a time to pray
and a time t’ act—you an’ me had
quit prayin’ and wuz actin’. Thet’s
all.”
“Precisely,”
‘“‘good-night.” :
Morning dawned. No horrible ser-
ies of yelps greeted Woodville. Peace
reigned. The Spurgle family, going
forth to caress their revered Pet
found his mouth open, but incapaci-
tated. It was dead.
Uncle Heck was conversing in a
low tone with the Reverend Mr.
Spoak, the Congregational minister,
in the latter’s study. ‘“Spurgle wuz
tellin’ me there wuz fourteen pieces
of pizen’d meat side o’ the dog-house
—seems ha’f the town hed designs on
that pesky nuisance.”
“We shall be justified in keeping
our secret locked in our bosoms,” re-
marked Mr. Spoak.
‘“Jes’ so,” said Uncle Heck! “I'm
goin’ home an’ trim m’ whiskers!”’—
Puck.
said the minister;
The Y/rong Door.
Charles E. Wells, who has been
called the ground-hog senator of
West Virginia, because he once in-
troduced a bill advocating the chang-
ing of Ground Hog day from Febru-
ary 2 to July 4, was staying over-
night at the Grand Hotel of a‘ bud-
ding West Virginia village not long
since.
He was awakened in the morning
by heavy pounding on his door, and
the voice of the old man night clerk
saying, “Five o'clock! Better get up
or you'll miss your train.”
Mr. Wells didn’t intend to catch a
morning train and hadn’t given any
instructions that he should be called
at the unearthly hour of five o'clock,
so he paid no attention to the old
man’s early morning greeting and
was asleep again almost immediately.
In about fifteen minutes he was
again awakened by the pounding on
his door and heard the voice of the
old man saying apologetically, “Don’t
get up. I rapped on the wrong door.”
Kansan’s Card of Thanks.
We wish to thank the city authori-
ties for quarantining me and my fam-
ily for two weeks recently because
one of my children had smallpox.
During that time my wife caught up
with her sewing, undisturbed by call-
ers. We had three square meals a
day and no one came in and my wife
was not permitted to go out. We en-
joyved two weeks of goed, long nights’
sleep and, best of all, a cousin with
four children arrived to visit with us,
saw the sign on the door and left
town so scared that she will never
come back
the city
again. I wish to thank
authorities and hope they
of our comfort some time
3 A in +1 Tir
der Jones, in the Kin-
uit