WESTWARD.
Brvond the murky rim of hills
tyhen fading; city sunsets slow,
Tonight a roliin rwIiiks and trills
In one tnll cottonwood I know;
The shadows (limp: from branch and item
Along a yellow sand-bar rest
s' shut my eyes to .dream of them.
Here In my window, looking west.
The shadows lengthen on the sand;
The log-built barn across the way
Throws wide Its doors on either hand
Beneath the rafters plied with hay;
The palings of the gray corral
Glimmer and waver In that light
Above the sleepy brown canal,
Out yonder on the ranch tonight
Wit off that sunset glory sleeps
On level bench-latids golden brown,
Where browsing slow along the steep
One after one the cows come down;
And on their honu'ward pilgrimage
Each trampling hoof and homy crest
hakes perfume from the tufted sage
Oh, far faint Incense of the west!
Tonight, ! know, beyond the rim
Where all my pralife sunsets fade,
Ood's far white mountains look to Him
Clad In His glory, unafraid;
The solemn liifht on peak and scaur,
The clear, still depths of cloudles air.
The trembling silver of a star
What would I give to see them there?
The mountains coll me back, to lay
My weakness on their boundless might;
The canons call me home to pray
In stlnt sninle9S shrines tonight;
Tt hero m dusty mart and street
I shut virf cars against their call
Content to find my exile sweet
With love tint recompenses oil.
Mabel Earle, In Touth's Companion.
Aunt Margaret's U
Story. ji
E; Miss Prlso'lla Campbell. A
o
!
; f
Janet always thought her Aunt Mar
garet a cold, heartless woman; but
the day she showed her the betrothal
ting on her finger and told her that
he was the happiest girl in the world
the barrier of reserve which had sep
arated them broke down and her aunt
tenderly put her arms about her and
whispered how she hoped that sorrow
would never come Into her life the
ame as It had Into her own and that
her happiness would always last.
"Would you like to hear the story
of my life?" she asked, gently.
"I should like to hear It, auntie,"
replied the girl, "but not If the tell
ing will make you more unhappy."
"It will not make me more unhappy
to tell It," was the answer. "It will per
haps ease my heartache a little to
confide in some one who will under
stand. It was when I was your age,
carcely 20, that love came into my
life. I shall never cease to remember
the day I went to my mother and
showed her the ring on my finger, the
ame as you, dear, have Just shown
me the seal of your betrothal. For
three months there was not a hap
pier girl in the world than I, and then
my happiness turned into sorrow and
t became the cold, proud woman that
you have hitherto known, Janet. I
was singing around our home one
morning, wondering when my dear
laddie would return from the foreign
city to which hta business had neces
sitated his going. I had been very lone
ly without him, but I was forcing my
self to be brave and to think of the
nappy future for us both.
"A cry from my mother brought
me to her side. The look on her face
drove the song from my Hps.
"'What has happened, maromar I
asked. My first thought was of my lad
die. " 'You can never bear to hear It,
Margaret,' she replied. 'Don't read It
now, dear. Walt a moment.' But I,
knowing well enough that something
terrible had happened and wanting
to learn the worst at once, took the
foreign paper that she had been read
ing from her hands.
"It did not take me long to find what
caused her agitation. Glaring head
lines concerning a fashionable wed
ding In Rome danced before my vision.
I had never heard the bride's name be
fore, but the name of the bridegroom
was Ellis Richards.
" 'Mamma,' I cried, 'this Is terrible!
It cannot be true.'
"I saw her face turned towards me
with the deepest love and pity In it,
as if through a mist. I made an effort
to get to her, to feel her loving arms
about me in the moment of my great
sorrow, but I staggered and fell, and
before she could reach me I had lost
all consciousness. For weeks I knew
nothing of what was going on around
me.
"When I awoke one afternoon In my
right mind my dear mother was bend
ing over me. I had never seen such a
look of joy before in any face as I
beheld In her's when she knew that I
was spared to her.
"I took up my life again, and for my
mother's Bake made the best of my
on iw, but I was never the girl I was
before the blow fell.
")' had hardly recovered when moth
er vecelved a letter from your father,
asking her to come to live with him.
We came at once; and since mother
. died and I have had the care of you
and watcheS you as you grew older
develop a love for Robert Lane, my
heart has lost most of its bitterness
and sorrow, and now my prayer is
that you may have sunshine and Joy,
as I have had shadows and sadness."
"That is a sad story," said Janet,
smoothing her aunfs hair lovlnirly,
"but who knows but It may end hap
pily even yet?"
She said the words to comfort her
Aunt Margaret and did not dream
that her prediction would be fulfilled
before two months.
Tbey were sitting In the library one
afternoon, each occupied with a book,
when the maid entered and, going
over to Janet's Aunt Margnrrt, told
her that a gentlemnn was wafting In
the drawing room to nee her.
"He said it wasn't necessary to sena
In his card," said the girl, "as he was
an old friend."
"Who can It be, Janet?" wondered
her Aunt Margaret "I. can't imagine,
but I will see him."
She left her niece to her book and
her thoughts. An hour passed, then
two hours, and finally Janet began to
wonder at her absence. She was Just
thinking of going to see what de
tained her when she entered the
room.
Janet stared at her in astonishment,
for her face was beaming wlCh Joy.
She had never seen her aunt look like
that before.
"What has happened, auntie?" she
cried. "Tell me quickly."
"Can't you guess, Janet, who It was
to see me?" she asked.
"I don't believe I can."
"It was he, dear Ellis Richards, and
I'm so happy."
She then went on to tell how he
came to the place Just by chance; how
he met an old friend who told him
where she lived, and how he thought
all these years that she was married.
"I can toll, of course, that he Isn't
married," Interrupted Janet, excitedly.
"But how came tlat notice to be put
in the paper, and who told him that
wicked falsehood about you?"
"It was a man who I thought was
my friend," replied the aunt. "I be
lieve I have never mentioned Phil
Foster to you. He cared a great deal
for me, and I remember now how
strangely he acted when I first met
him after my great sorrow. For a while
he was persistent in his attentions, but
finally he saw that It was no use and
he left for some western city. To think
that he should be the cause of all our
misunderstanding and sorrow, but it's
all over now, dear, and I'm so hap
py.''
"Yoti know I told you, auntie, that
the story of your life would have a
happy ending," smiled Janet.
"I know you did, and it bids fair to
now," very softly answerea Aunt Mar
garet. Boston Post.
MR. ZWOZZLETON'S DISCOVERY.
He Finds That in Some Circumstances
It Pays to Throw Things Away.
"Any waste of material or destruc
tion of property is repugnant to my
feelings," said Mr. Zwozzleton, "but
I find by experience that there are
times when we may make more by
throwing something of value away
than we would make by keeping it and
bringing It into use. You take for in
stance postage stamps stuck on let
ters that you don't mail. I used al
ways laboriously to soak off such
stamps, taking much time for the oper
ation, and then use such stamps again,
but now I find that I can make money
throwing these stamps away.
"Werktng eight hours I am able to
earn about $5 a day, or a shade over a
cent a minute. For purposes of fig
uring we will call it an even cent
Now:
"To soak off from the envelope the
uncancelled stamp of a letter not sent
used to take me about five minutes;
and then such a stamp had to be spe
cially smeared with mucilage before
it could be Btuck again. I figured that
to bring such a stamp Into use cost
me altogether about six minutes of
time. By this expenditure to time and
labor did recover a stamp of the
value of two cents; and yet, as in
that time I could have earned six
cents, on the whole operation I sus
tained an actual loss of four cents.
"So now when I have a stamp on a
letter that finally I don't send I just
throw that good, unused stamp In the
wastebasket and keep on with my
work.
"It never pays to spend more on re
pairs than a new thing would cost"
New York Sun.
Sensitive Man!
A poor foreign musician was dog
gedly wrestling with his trombone
outside a village Inn. He knew "The
Lost Chord" was somewhere In that
instrument, but the latter seemed
loath to part with it. At length the
landlord appeared at the door. The
poor musician bowed, and doffing his
cap, said: "Music hath jarms," and
smiled.
The innkeeper smiled also, and
kindly.
"Well, not always," he said. "But
try that tune outside that red brick
house' and I'll give you sixpence."
Three minutes later the trombon
ist was back again, mud bespattered
and forlorn.
"You voa right," he said slowly and
sadly, "muslg bath jarms not always
no. A mad vellow out of dat bouse
came und me mlt a brlgg he knocked
down yes. He not like that tune
no," and he turned the back of his
head.
"I thought he wouldn't" said the
landlord. "He's just done a month's
hard labor for stealing a clothesline
from a back garden." Dundee Ad
vertiser. Executed for Witchcraft
The number who perished In the
period of the witchcraft delusion will
never be known. In every country,
through IS centuries, the superstition
went on piling up Its victims. In Gen
eva COO were execute! in three
months, 7000 were burned at Treves,
600 by a single bishop of Bamberg,
and 800 In a single year at Wurtzburg.
At Toulouse 400 perished at one exe
cution. A Judge at Renny boasted
that he had put to death 800 witches
in sixteen years, A thouKnnd were ex
ecuted in a single year In the prov
ince of Como. "Witches' were exe
cuted in Spain as late as 1780. New
York American.
Sicily lost sixty thousand inhabi
tants by earthquake In 1603,
New York City. The blouse waist
which includes a chemisette Is a pret
ty one and will be much worn this
season. Here Is a model that can be
utlllted both for the gown and for
the separate blouse, and which allows
a choice of the new fancy sleeves and
of plain onc3. In the Illustration it is
made of crepe de Chine with trim
ming of banding, and is combined
with tucked meBsallne. It will be
found charming for cashmere, how-
ever, and also for the silks that prom
ise to be so extensive'y worn, while
for the chemsiette, the deep cuffs and
the trimming of the sleeves any con
trasting amtertal Is appropriate. If an
elaborate blouse Is to be made, all
over lace or Jotted net would be ap
propriate, for the simpler one tucked
silk is always pretty.
The blouse Is made over a fitted
lining, and consists of fronts, backs
and chemisette portions. The fronts
and backs are tucked becomingly and
the waist Is closed Invisibly at the
back. When the fancy sleeves ,re
used they are arranged over linings.
The plain ones can be finished in any
way that may suit the fancy.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size Is three yards
twenty-ope or twenty-four, two and
three-eighth yards thirty-two or one
and five-eighth yards forty-four
Inches wide, with one and five-eighth
yards of tucked silk and five and one
half yards of banding.
Ankle Straps Now.
Although ankle straps have been
seen all along on low shoes for chil
dren, it Is not until lately that they
have come into general use for
grown-ups.
Modified Kimono.
The modified kimono, which Is the
eld wrapper with a Japanese touch In
the sleeve and banded edge around,
the neck and downward, remains a
fuvorlte for bedroom wear.
New Girdles.
Elastic girdles seem to have taken
a firm stand in fashion, and they are
a rather becoming adjunct to any cos
tume. Formerly they were made in
only a few colors, r.nd were much
beaded, but this year they nre called
chiffon elustic, to suit the desires of
fashion, and are finished with really
very handsome buckles.
Fewer Tan Shoes,
Fashionable women are not wear
ing tan shoes for the street.
Huge Aigrettes. ''
The advices as to hats are that they
will be very large, with trimmings of
huge aigrettes and enormous flowers.
Empire Fan.
The fashionable fan for the boudoir
to the small Empire style, with band
paintings of Empire scenes, and pearl
handle sticks set with vanity mirrors,
says Dress. For evening use the very
large fan Is not considered smart at
present; the medium size Is preferred.
The long, narrow, oval fan Is out of
date.
Seven Gored Walking Skirt.
The skirt that is plain at Its upper
portion and laid In pleats at the lower
Is the very latest to have appeared
This one is smart In the extreme, pro
vides fulness enough for grace In
walking, yet is narrow and straight in
effect, as the pleats aro designed to
be pressed flat. In the Illustration It
Is made of the hop sacking that will
be so much worn during the coming
season, but it is appropriate for all
skirting materials, those of the pres
ent as well as those of the future, and
It will also be found a most satisfac
tory model for the entire gown and
for the coat suit. The lines are all
desirable ones and the skirt can be
relied upon to be smart and satisfac
tory in every way.
The skirt Is cut In seven gores.
There Is an extension at the back
edge of each gore below the scallops,
and these extensions form the pleats.
The scallops are designed to be under-faced
or finished In any way that
may be preferred and afford excellent
opportunity for the use of the fash
lopahle buttons. The fulness at the
back is laid In Inverted pleats.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size Is six and one
half yards twenty-seven, four and
three-quarter yards fifty-two Inches
wide; width of skirt at lower edge
four and one-half yards.
IJuUcrfly Row on Tint.
Ono of the artistic oddities in mil
linery and an oddity that is pretty
should bo chronicled Is the butterfly
bow perched In front, at top of crown.
These aro made of ribbon, of jet, of
rainbow gauze and of jet. They are
used on a hat that Is plainly trimmed
with a wrapped senrfband.
Novel Neckpieces.
For slim-throated wearers some
novel neckpieces show little bows ar
ranged, at the top of the stock.
Woman's
Only Beautif ul as a Faint Expression of the
Wearer's Loveliness
By Lizette Shielt
siasssa HB Reverend Father Sullivan, the Jesuit professor of phil
osophy at St Louis has a philosophy about modern women
Tand their dress that is not even skin deep. "They like to
be admired," he Is quoted as saying, "not for what Is hi
them, but for what Is on them." But does not the admira
tion all depend on who Is In the clothes? It Is the woman,
lovely woman, that lends beauty to the drees rather than
sBBssaSBBssssi the dress to the woman. Dress Is not the ornament of wom
an; It merely Indicates and symbolizes her loveliness,
which the Creator exhibits to m m as the most perfect Image on earth of
u . ,. '
Clothes may make the man; they do not make the woman. Every day
we may Bee highly dressed women whom no Inspiration of sartorial genius
can make lovely. On the contrary, woman does make the clothes admirable.
When you see a pretty dress on a wax figure you admire the skill of the ar
tist, but when you see It on a pretty woman Its beauty Is increased a thou
sandfold. You admire the dress, you delight in Its beauty, but you delight
chiefly In the woman whose beauty It clothes. The reverend father then Is
greatly mistaken If he imagines that a woman rejoices because her dress Is
admired; she rejoices because her own beauty has found a feeble expression
and won a faint recognition.
I dare -to submit and cheerfully Impart these reflections to the learned
professor of philosophy In the hope that his young philosophers may learn the
true philosophy of woman's dress, and I leave to more competent hands to
deal with the deeper problems of how much woman likes to be admired for
what Is In her. '
Frivolous Wives
By tert
FEEL that woman Is
the shelf as lone as
15 The woman who continues to hammer the typewriter and
i finds herself drifting toward single blessedness will find her
blood at the boiling point every time she hears the cry of
an Infant. Why can't women busy themselves at - home,
making the domain of life cheerful and sweet for those
that call on them? What Is more sacred and beautiful
than a woman living in harmony with her nature, caring
for her "castle," her offspring and her husband? This alone Is happiness, and
she finds her husband devoted to her, as this manner of living cannot help but
draw him closer to her as the years roll by.
Ndne out of ten men would rather be a benedict than a bachelor, but they
cannot afford to take the chance. All we see is the young, frivolous, coy,
vain and cunning woman who does her best to conceal her true self. I do
not mean that all women are alike, but am speaking of what a business man
sees on his way to and from his business. Would a man of refinement
choose for his wife a flighty, frivolous girl, who thinks of nothing but dances,
theatres, puffs, dress and the craze for style? Not If he Is sober.
The man of today In large cities does not crave woman's society In matri
mony for two reasons: First, the odds are against him. He is not going to
take the chance on marrying a bundle of pads or an "artificial woman." He
wants a sound, common-sense girl of good breeding and character and one
that can rear his children In a good maternal way.
Secondly, there are many social functions that a man attends, suoh as
clubs, etc., which make him look upon women with indifference.
rsvo. . . Our. . -v-r
Undeveloped Resources j
J Cy Signet C Laut J.
HERB are in the United States 80,600,000 acre of swamp
land which can be drained and which will be as arable as a
garden when they are drained. This swamp land would
provide homes for and support 10,000,000 people. There art
In the United States millions upon millions of arid and seml-
H l arid lands which Irrigation could make and Is making very
II fertile. These lands will support 15,000,000 households, or
JI twice the population of New York state. There are what
may be called the
through fraud; lands lost to the public through lack of knowledge of how to
handle their peculiar formation. Only twenty percent of Uncle Sam's lands
are yielding living averages. What of the rest? Conservation says that
every acre, every foot of every acre, niuBt be made productive of something.
If you can't grow crops, grow trees! If you can't drain swamps, grow cran
berries and matting reeds! . If you can't irrigate, then practise dry farming!
If you can't farm rocks, then harness their cataracts into water power! As
to the lands lost to the public through fraud. Conservation says: "Take them
back for the public, or charge their full price for the public."
And you are still only at the beginning of Conservation's big program.
For every ton of coal mined, a ton and half is wasted; or, to put it differently,
for every four tons mined, six tons are wasted. In the petroleum fields, enough
natural gas goes to waste to light every city in the United States free of cost.
The fire waste of the United States Is the highest in tho world; so Is the bill
of fire Insurance. And greater than all these Is the waste of human life In
mine and factory. Outing Magazine.
irij
Exploring
$ew York
By John Walsh
AM a life-long resident of New York city, my parents having
lived down on Market street long before I was born, and
that is nearly fifty years ago. About thirty years ago we
1 X moved to the West Side.
I had always thought that the conditions In the so-
..llnj fVI-K (.n.mAiit Hlatrlifa w -a. Vat hi, f Intatv T nuiilA
my first visit to the East Side In a number of years, and it
was an eye opener to me. The conditions which prevail at
present in the district from the Brooklyn to the Harlenr
bridge, east at the Bowery and Third avenue, aro the limit
That the three races, Slavs, Jews and Italians, which make up about 90
percent of the population could have been any worse off in their native places
than they are here is beyond belief. IS any Congress committee wants to
study the immigration question at first hand, let the members spend a week
in this district and they will become converts to restricted Immigration very
quickly. This may sound strange frcra the son of Irish emigrants, but the
largest part of the emigration that we are receiving now Is of that kind which
le congesting old New York to such a degree that living conditions for the
average middle class man aro impossible. It is no wouder that thousands of
them are moving away every year, and in years to come New York will be a
city of the very rich aad the miserable poor. ,
Clothes I
Wtr
"V
4?
If f A1 f i
as. Liuo isOtnjoris
Green
wholly at fault. She Is destined to sit on
sho chooses to select a man's position.
Lost Lands; lands lost to the public
sMkVpsfOii
1