WHEN OUR BY CLARENCS OU8LET. The year is young, tut its lineage run To the duvn of the fur first (lay, When the sun burst forth and the earth was flung On its splendid Btarlit way. 'And o with the love we feel but now It began in the earlier time, Ere the souls of men were garmented In the ilesh of an earthly clime. Twos there in the morn of the primal state, Tn the world of the truly real, Our love was born, ouv Bouls were joined In a union fast nml leal. .We know it not in the sentient way Of the passionate embrace. For we had no ken of mortal things Nor the form of mortal grace. Eliza was tired of talcing care of David. Eliza was eight and David was two. In the morning before she went to school Eliza washed and dressed him and gave him his break fast. When she came home at noon she gave him his dinner; when school was over tit night Eliza took entire care of David till his bed time. i Eliza's mother was a very busy woman with little money and seven children to clothe nnd feed. There was a baby younger than David; there were three children older than he and younger than Eliza, and only Eliza and Mary, a girl of twelve, to help the mother. Eliza should have been grateful that she was required to take care of David only. But Eliza sometimes got very tired of David, very; though of course sho was fond of him. This afternoon she was more than usually cross as she . trundled him down the street In the cart her father had made out of a soap hot on four squeaking, wrig gling wheels. Eliza tugged resentfully at the rope fastened through a hole In the box. David grinned delightedly at the sun shine, and enjoyed the squeak. Not bo Eliza. Amy Winters had invited the girls to her house that afternoon to make candy. She had told Eliza Bhe could not come if she must bring David. This was not so unkind of Amy as seems at first, for the girls were fond of David, who was the best natured baby In the world; but at the last candy pull David had attended, he had upset on his head a cup of molasses just ready for the stove. So, while the other girls had pulled the candy, Eliza had to wash Davld'B face and hair. Eliza went fast past Amy's house, beating up a cloud of dust about her downcast eyes. Sho walked on to ward the postofllce. Here some boys were playing marbles. One of them stopped and greeted Eliza, i "Hullo, how's your kid to-day?" ' The boys all called David "Eliza's kid." Eliza did not deign to answer; she tossed her head and the wagon wheels creaked ominously. "Kid for sale, kid for sale," called another, smiling good naturedly at David's happy face. The silent Eliza went on faster than ever. When she had turned the corner, and was out of sight of the boys, she looked back at David. She wished he was for sale; she wished somebody would buy him. With his soft red curls and round blue eyes, he was pretty enough for anybody to buy. Now she remem bered she had heard her mother say that very morning she wasn't rich in anything but children, and she wished somebody would buy some of them. Eliza's mother was so busy moving about that a speech begun in one room was likely to end In another, so that Eliza frequently did not hear the end of her mother's remarks. Eliza did not hear her mother add that there wasn't a child she part with for less than ten million dol lars. Eliza thought that perhaps her mother would be glad to sell David. "I'll find him a good place," said Eliza, "with a kind, rich old lady, and she'd pay a good deal, and I wouldn't have to take care of him. I'd want him to have a nice big house." The cart, the baby and the little girl went up the hill, where were some of the pleasantest homes In the town. Eliza stopped in front of one of these. On the Bide piazza Bat a pretty lady dressed in black. Squeak ing, squeaking, the fart came up the path. The diplomatic Eliza left Dav id at the front and went around the side path toward the lady. David did not cry; David seldom cried. "Are you the lady that lives here?" asked Eliza. The lady took a moist handker chief down from her eyes and looked with a start at the small Eliza stand ing at the foot of the side steps. She nodded. 7 "Would you like to buy a baby?" "A what?" asked the lady In a trange voice. ' "A baby. I have one to sell." The lady sat up very straight. How much Is it worth?" "I don't know; I'll let you see him and then perhaps you can tell." Eliza trotted around to the front, gave David's red curls a rub In the right direction, sighed at his dirty hands, then pulled the cart around to the side. "So that Is the baby," said the lady. "Take him out and let me look at him." Eliza pulled David out of the box tnd tugged him, limply Indifferent, $T$lie Sale 0 0 4 epsss LOVE BEGAN. With the sweet nnd fleet bewilderment Of a first bentitude We touched and passed In the whirling throng Of the spirit multitude, Then Bpcd our ways in the wilderness Of a human destiny, With only the feel of a faint caress And a mystic memory. But ever we heard a mating call, And ever we sang the note Till the good Hod brought us eye to eye And we spoke from throat to throat. Now nothing matters of time or place In a mere mortality, For a twain that loved in the Soul's estate Are one for eternity. Uncle Kemus's Magazine. By FRANCES BENT DILLINGHAM. up the steps. The lady looked at him. She held out her hand and David caught at her finger; then, with a gurgle of pleasure, fell against her knee. The lady bent over him. "This baby is worth a great deal," she said. "Why do you want to sell him?" "Because there's six more like him not exactly like him 'cause I'm one; but we've got a good many ba bies and not much money, and I thought I I have to take care of him all the time and the girls don't always like to have him 'round." "Do you think he's worth a hun dred dollars?" asked the lady. A hundred dollars! Why, of course, no baby in the world could be worth that! "I I think ten would be enough," said Eliza tremulously. "I can't pay you all at once," said the lady. She stooped and lifted the baby into her lap and he leaned against her, laughing contentedly. "But I'll pay by Installments." Q'9-r91s-9-9-z9-9.99'9,9-9-99r9-99 "SOME GOOD THINGS SAID ABOUT FARMING." ee The withered leaf Is not dead and lost, there are Forces In it and around it, though working in Inverse order; else how could it rot? Thomas Carlyle. And this our life, exemot from public haunt, Finds tongues In trees, books In the running brooks. Sermons in stones, and good in everything. William Shakespeare. The great cities grow like creeping paralysis over freedom, and the man from the country is walking into them all the time because the poor, restless fellow believes wealth awaits him on their pavements. Owen Wlster. Flowers are tho sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into. Henry Ward Beecher. Farmers may well be congratulated on the interests of farmers in economic and political affairs and on their independent thinking and independent voting. John M. Stahl. If we can not find God in your house and mine, upon the roadside or the margin of the sea, in the bursting seed or opening flower, in the day duly and the night musing, I do not think we Bhould discern Him any more on the grass of ijden or beneath the moonlight of Gethsc-mane. James Martineau. Suppose you sit down and tell us of any industry that will not be helped along with any help given to agriculture. Henry Ward Eeecher once said: "The best fertilizer for any soil is a spirit of industry, enterprise and intelligence; without these lime and gypsum, bones and green manure, marl and guano will be of little use." ' The man who stanch upon his own soil, who feels that by the law of the land he is the rightful and exclusive owner of the land which he tills, feels more strongly than another, the character of a man as the lord of an inanimate world. Of this great and won derful sphere, which fashioned by the hand of God, and upheld by His power, is rolling through the heavens, a part is his from the centre to the sky. Edward Everett. 3 9 4 4 4 n 4 n 4 fi 4 t) 4 4 4 f 4 4 4 V 4 9 e 4 9 9 "What's that?" asked Eliza with dread. "Why little by little, you know. If he suits me, I'll pay it all; but meantime I'll give you how much shall I give you till we get acquaint ed?" "Ten cents would do for to-night," said Eliza. The lady took up a dangling silver purse and, holding It out of reach of the baby's fingers, she extracted a dime. "I suppose you'll give this to your mother," she said gravely. "Yes, ma'am," answered Eliza with greater gravity. "And here's one cent, for you to spend. And here's my card to show your mother who's bought the baby." Eliza stood looking at the lady. "Good-by," said the lady. "What's his name?" "David," answered Eliza. "David and I are going Into the house," said the lady. She gathered the baby up in her arms, and he, playing with the silver puree, never looked at Eliza. "Do you do you" asked Eliza, "know how to take care of babies?" The lady's lips quivered. "Very well indeed," she said, and then she went Into tho house and shut the door. "I'll leave the cart," shouted Eliza; "you may need it." Nobody answered, and Eliza walked slowly away. She tied the card and the dime in the corner of her pocket handkerchief, but she held the penny in her hand. When she reached the postofflce the boys were gone, so she went In and bought ten candy mar bles for a cent. Then Bhe went on to Amy's house. The candy was deli cious and sticky and Eliza's marbles were delightfully hard. The little girls kindly inquired about David, but did not follow up Eliza's evasive an swers. Eliza ought to have had a beautiful time; but she did not. "I'll walk home with you," she said to Catharine Whitney, who lived at the other end of the village. "It's out of your way," said Cath- arlne, with more truth than polite ness. "I don't care," said Eliza; but she walked so slowly that Catharine pro tested: "You act dreadful queer, Eliza; are you sick or anything?" "No," answered Eliza. She said good-by to Catharine nt the gate, and then she waited some time before she began to walk toward home. The sun was sslting and pour ing n golden glory over the world, but It all seemed dark to Eliza. She walked more nnd more slowly. Her head was hanging low, so thnt thoBB who passed should not see the tears In h?r eyes. What was the matter? She took out her handkerchief and felt the ten cents In the corner. She was coming to the postofllce now. Up that street she had trundled Dav id to his new home. Eliza stopped and threw up her head. "Davld!"-Bhe called; then went up the road like a deer. The maid of the lady who had pur chased David had Just said at the door of an upstairs room: "A little girl to see you, mum," wh'm Eliza pushed past her. Eliza was breathless; there were tear streaks on her cheeks; she threw herself on a baby sitting In sweet placidity on the floor. "Oh, David, David," she cried, "don't you know sister, don't you love Eliza?" - David gurgled and thrust' the nose of a woolly lamb in Eliza's face. Then the lady who was sitting very, very near David said: "What do you want, little girl?" This is my baby, I bought him to day." "Oh, no, he isn't, he Isn't, he's mine." Eliza caught David around his fat shoulders and dragged him toward the door. "I'll give you back your ten cents and your penny when I earn another, but you can't, you can't have him." "Wait, little girl, wait, you are hurting him," for David had begun to whimper. "Let me speak to you for a moment, dear." Something In the lady's eyes made 4 4 9 4 9 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 9 4 9 Eliza let her take David into her lap, though Eliza stood close by. "Once I had a baby something like David," the lady put her lips against David's curls. "And God took him away and and I can't have him back. You can have David back but don't try to give away or Bell or lose anything that loves you. Some day there won't be bo many and you'll want to remember that you always loved everybody God gave you to love. You should be very happy to have so many people." "Yes'm," said Eliza. "Here's your ten cents." "Thank you," said the lady. "Dav id is going to take the woolly lamb home with him and has he a pretty coat and hat? It's cool now the sun is down." "Mother is going to make him a nice coat when she has time," said Eliza. "I have one that will just fit him," said the lady. As they went creaking down the driveway a little later David had on a pretty coat and hat and the woolly lamb in his arms. The lady walked beside Eliza to the gate. Then she said good-by. "Bring David to see me some times." "Yes'm," answered Eliza. "Good by." Eliza flew toward home with now and then a careful backward eye on David and the cart. Near her own house Mary came running toward her. "Oh, Eliza, where've you been so long? Mother's most crazy. She's afraid something happened to you or David." "There hasn't," Eliza nodded hap pily. "She might have known I wouldn't let anything happen to Dav id." Congregatlonalist and Chris tian World. Intelligent Advice. Intelligent Rescuer (to skater who has fallen through) "Steady, old man, steady! Keep cool!" The Bystander. MtyjuMin 1 I ) Jmlr, -M-,ir -ILHiaw --- " T'KtH' New York City. The over blouses that give a guimpe effect are in the height of style, and this one is sus ceptible of great variation, while it is both novel and chic. In the illustra tion loulsine silk Is piped with velvet and worn over a guimpe of thin lace, but for the blouse itself everything seasonable is appropriate, while the guimpe can bo made of lace, embroid ery or of the still simpler lingerie material or of chiffon as liked. . It is entirely separate from the blouse and consequently it can be varied as often as may be liked, so that really with very little labor the one blouse -can be made to take on two or throe quite different shapes. Again, the model is just as well suited to the odd waist as to the entire gown and conse quently is an exceedingly valuable acquisition to the possibilities of the wardrobe. In this case the guimpe is made with the new long sleeves, but it can be made quite sleeveless, and those of the blouse only worn if liked. The blouse Is made with fronts and back, which are tucked on becoming lines, and to which the pretty three quarter sleeves are attached. These sleeves are finished with oddly shaped cuffs and to the lower edge of the blouse is joined a basque portion, which keeps it perfectly in place. The guimpe Is made with front and backs and plain fitted sleeves that are made with upper and under portions. It is closed invisibly at the back and the neck Is finished with one of the new stock collars that rounds up back of the ears. Close, Short Coat. The woman with large hips may think a close, short coat is most becoming to her figure, but there Is a possibility that the coat which falls just over the hips will call less at tention to them. Lace and Gold. When the lace is set together with gold or silver thread and a fold of gold or silver tissue Is set at the top of the collar, oae has an excellent ef fect Holt Worn Straight. Belts are worn straight around the waist. Shirt Wnlst or Blouse. Every fresh variation of the shirt waist meots its welcome. Here Is one, thnt while It is made in tailored style; departs somewhat from the regulation model and is exceedingly chic and smart. In the illustration it is made of white linen and the lit tle chemisette is of the material tucked, while the band is of the same trimmed with pearl buttons, but there are a great many possibilities in tho design, simple as it Is. It can be made of washable material and left unllned, or it can be made of silk or of wool and used with or without tho lining as liked, while the little chemisette can be of embroidery In place of the tucking, or can be treated in any way that may be liked. Again the plain front affords exceptional op portunity for embroidery and can be elaborated in a variety of ways. The waist Is made with the fitted lining, which can be used or omitted as liked, the centre front, the tucked side fronts and the backs. The chem isette portion is applied over the plain front and if liked the material beneath can be cut away. A collar finishes the neck and there are regu- lation shirt waist sleeves with over laps and straight cuffs. The quantity of material required for tho medium size is four and a half yards twenty-four, three and an eighth yards thirty-two or two and an eighth yards forty-four Inches wide, with a quarter yard of tucking for the chemisette. Colored Satin Linings. White satin linings, either for muffs or Jackets or cloaks, have be come entirely ancien jeu they are replaced by rlcb colored liberty silks in Contrast to the garment, reseda green lining purple or gray garments, royal blue lining khaki color, while maroon ft lined with faming gera nium, and aubergine with verdigris. For evening cloaks this vlvIA lining Is of chiffon, full, detached from tho garment, so that It blows from the open fronts like Inner scarfs. 1 9 3 err ide of kife. AN EPITAPH. This epitaph has been suggested for a dentist's monument: "View this gravestone with all gravity; Below I'm filling my last cavity." I Judge. """" THE 'NEW DISEASE. :J First Boy "My papa's sick." Second Boy "What's the matter?" First Boy "He's got Insolvency." Harper's Weekly. ,.j ' " '& '''''''. THE COST. " "Do you find your automobile ex pensive?" "Rather. I can get oil and repairs on credit, but there are tho fines and the Interest on the mortgage on my, house. They call for cash." Phila delphia Ledger. KNEW IT BY THE REACTION. Baldwin "Had a fine time last night, hadn't yo"u?" Rambo (bathing his aching head). "Best ever!" Baldwin "What did you do?" Rambo "I" haven't the slightest Idea." Chicago News. HER WEATHER MAN. "Oh, Alois, If only we have decent weather on Sunday for our garden party! What does your rheumatism indicate?" "For the present warm and fair; then the wind will turn east, tog and rain. Fliegende Blaetter. DID IT FOR THE FAMILY. Hicks "You look worried, old man." Wicks "Why shouldn't I look worried? My wife and three daugh ters nave all gone into Christian Science, and now I have to do the worrying for tho whole family." Somervllle Journal. ..i.'TJ PREFERENCE. ' "Which do you like best," asked the man who Is fond of animals, "dogs or horses?" "Dogs," answered youg Mrs. Tor kins promptly. "They don't lend themselves to the schemes of the bookmakers to get Charley's money." Washington Star. .' ' GALLANTRY, "Thank you very much," said the ltfdy, smilingly accepting the prof fered seat. "Madam," said tho man, tipping his hat, "you surprise and pain me." "I. do not understand you." "Well, you've, lost me a bet." Philadelphia Ledger iH THE DISADVANTAGES. Tom "Don't you dread a pr posal?" -.., Dick "Some parts of It." Tom "What parts, for Instance?" Dick "Well, it Is easy enough popping the question, but the trouble Is when It comes to questioning the 'pop.' "Baltimore American. SPEEDING THE PARTING. near;. l Bupposa 1 ve Siaia 100 late?" "Oh, better late than never,- you know!" New York Telegram. "THREE WEEKS ELAPSE." "Just a little touch of realism," re marked the dramatist with pardona ble pride. "It's a wonder nobody ever thought of it before." "What is it?" "Why, my heroine is a brunette in Act I. and a blonde in Act II." Courier-Journal. WHY HE WAS POLITICAL. "Your father Is In politics," said the stranger, "is he not?" "Yeh," replied the boy, "bu mom thinks he's getting cured of it." "How do you mean?" "Why, his stummlck has gone back on him an' he can't drink like he uster." Cathollo Standard and Times. PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. "What your husband needs most," said the family physician, "is com plete rest." "Where would you advise us to go?" queried Mrs. Gabbleton. "I'd advise him to stay right here at home," replied the M. D. "That Is, If you can arrange to go away for a few weeks." Chicago News. , ' HARDLY. . ' Miss D. "Angelina, why don't you marry Lieutenant Y.?" Miss A. "First, because he has no brains, and he can't ride, dance or play tennis. What could we do wUb him?" "But he swims beautifully." "Oh, yes. But one can't keep one's Bnnhftnil In An Armarium, vrttt know. London Tit-Bits. in 2 v V- 4 m
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers