»
¢
~~“" mwas going on around him.
»=~. 30 be crusty, to show that
When comes spring?
When blithest the robins sing,
pd the violet has her hour’
us 2 She heart's in flower
8
es June?
be the tim time of the thrush’s tune,
: all beauties below and above?
When reddens the rose of love,
comes June,
* kw
OME years ago, while on a
journey in the South, I put
up at a boarding house in
Chestnut street, Philadel-
phia. As it was the time
of anniversaries, the house
ware fiN, and among the guests were
two or three individuals who bave
since risen to distinction.
It was early in the winter, and the
weather was quite cold. Accordingly
we formed a half circle before the
‘blazing wood fire in the evening, and
passed the time in such desultory con-
wersation as generally occurs where
people are but slightly acquainted with
each other—all save two lawyers, who
getired to their rooms upstairs to ‘m-
prove the time in study.
As the evenings were long, conver-
sation would have dropped but for 2
young girl in her seventeenth year, the
‘miece of our host, 'who introduced
conundrums. Therefore, under her
auspices, we spent an hour or two
every evening in guessing at enigmas
and solving puzzles.
Among the company was a Scotch-
man, some thirty years of age, of a
saturnine complexion, who had board-
ed at the house several weeks, but whe
dom joined in the conversation that
He gener-
ally sat with his thumbs in the arm-
holes of his vest, legs extended, head
down and staring from under his black
eyebrows into the fire, so that one
seldom saw anything of his eyes ex-
cept two glittering sparks, which shone
between his half-closed eyelids as if
they reflected the fire on the hearth.
‘If some seem to try to attract atten-
tion by engrossing the conversation,
this gentleman appeared to aim at the
same object by maintaining a somber
silence, as if in deep thought.
1 could not perceive, however, that
this maneuvre served his purpose, if
such it was, until young Anna L—
.wentured, in her girlish innocence, to
‘ gtartle him from his dreams by cal-
dng him by name and giving him a
conundrum to solve.
He scarcely looked up, shook his head
. and grumbled out that he never
amused “ymself in that manner.
“But why? I hope you don’t think
fhere’s any harm in it!” returned the
young girl, respectfully.
“There might be no harm if there
was nothing beeter,” answered the
Scotchman, shifting his legs, and star-
fog more intently into the fire than
ever.
It was evident that tre gentleman
had found “something better;” he was
svatchi the forestick; and when it
burned through and fell apart. he, of
ll#men in the house, would be the
first to take note of that interesting
ovent.
~ Anna L—- was a young lady of very
" attractive appearance. It was some-
thing more than ordinary beauty that
caused the eyes of intelligent people
| #to linger upon her countenance. Her
manner, her voice, and every motion
was fraught with occult meaning,
svhich may be explained in higher
* states of being, but which is beyond
the reach of human intelligence. The
power of her presence could be felt,
and the only explanation at band is
that <h.) held us all in some magnetic
thrall which lies outside of philosoph-
Jcal research. All, did I say? What,
the ascetic Scotchman, too? Yes, him
most of all.
W/e were shocked at his rudeness;
and yet, the story soon got about that
Me-Farlane was pious. He was rigidly
$6, and frowned upon all amusements,
Mmowever innocent they might be re-
garded by the children of this werld.
His incivility was excused on the score
nf his religion! One would have
thought that he might have spoken
gently, and refused the young lady
with a smile; but no; it was necessary
he was
pffended by this attempt to drag him
from his safe moorings.
Therefore it was that he spoke rough-
Iy, almost savagely, to the young girl,
and, resolutely folding his arms, stared
Anto the fire with concentrated vigor
~ pnd unswerving determination.
Such: was the view taken of the af-
Jair by nearly everyone present; there-
fore they respected his religious prej-
udices; but, being at the same time
annoyed by his incivility, but little
~ motice was taken of him from that
time forward, until a strange whisper
‘went around—a report that McFarlane
Band the witching Anna L—— were
“7znder a marriage engagement.
Now, if the silent gentleman was
under a marriage engagement to the
Qaughter of our hostess—to the peerless
Anna L—, the conclusion was jumped
at that there must be some rich ore be-
meath the top soil of this unprepossess-
ing individual, Also, his harsh replies
to Anna seemed to be explained—he
« did not care to see her ‘showing off”
before other men. It was thought
that jealousy should excuse his blunt-
ness. No doubt that Anna understood
fim.
This reasoning was not substantially
THE SEASONS.
Auntumn’s when?
When grasses rasp in the fen,
And the face of the field is wan!
When joys are faded, gone,
Autumn's then,
Winter hoar, 4
Comes he with the stonm- ¥inTe roar
And all Jorn Nature's ruth
"I" is winter when love a youth
Are no more.
~John Vance Cheney, in the Century.
BENE BEESEYERRN REREENAEY WUSSRASAI
|THE TELLTALE COLLAR BUTTON
Ww * ww WN
By WILLIAM COMSTOCK.
Ea Tiree
founded on facts. At this time Ann
scarcely realized that she was Me-
Farlane's betrothed. It had been al-
most wholly an affair between the
gentleman and Anna's parents. They
had discovered, that McFarlane was
a man of cultivated mind, and religious
to the verge of fanaticism; therefore
they gave full credence to his stories
of real estate in Scotland, unencum-
bered lands and flawless title deeds.
Yes, Mr. and Mrs. L. believed that
the stringer would be able to make
their daughter happy in spite of his
habitual gloom and somewhat savage
zeal for morality and religion. Of
course there would be no play books,
no comic annuals, no music or dancing
in his house. But what of that? Anna
was a good girl, and she would esteem
the substantial realities of life above
all trifles. So judged Anna’s parents,
who thought themselves capable of de-
ciding what was best for her. And, in
fact, Anna yielded to her parents, and
certainly she tried to love the egotis-
tical Scotchman. He believed that she
was enchanted with him, and all the
boarders now watched his lips closely
for the pearls that should drop from
them whenever they opened. But they
did not open—nor his eyes either. He
continued, evening after evening, to
peer into the fire with half-shut eyes,
his whole stock in trade appearing to
be deep reflection—‘“thoughts to big for
utterance.”
Yet no one felt disposed to laugh;
there was something singular about the
man. He was evidently unhappy, and
the presence of Anna appeared to add
to his melancholy. How anyone could
be miserable when about to become
the possessor of that bewitching young
creature was a mystery.
Some imagined they had found a clew
to McFarlane’s sadness in the fact
that an aged uncle of the young lady,
who lived in the house, but who gen-
erally remained in his room above
stairs, and who was reported wealthy,
had never yet deigned to speak to the
Scotchman, though he sometimes met
him in the hall or on the stairs. On
this account it is supposed the old gen-
tleman was not favorable to the ap-
proaching union. If so, it might be
deemed an unfortunate circumstance,
as he had declared his intention of
making Anna his heir.
It was about three weeks after we
had made the discovery of Anna's be-
trothal, that we were gathered around
the fire as usual, on a cold, blustering
night, when a Mr. Edwards, who was
telling us about some of his experi-
ences in Europe, suddenly clapped his
hand upon a bald spot on the top of
his head. Not much notice was taken
of that, until he took his hand from
his sealp, looked at it, suddenly ceased
speaking, and betrayed considerable
agitation. In a moment he put up his
hand again, and became very pale.
“Are you ill, Mr. Edwards?’ demané-
ed Anna, in tones of sympathy that
thrilled and enchanted every listener.
“I, really, I—can't say,” answered
Mr. Edwards; “can I have burst a
blood vessel?”
Anna rose instantly and left the
room, but soen returned with a doctor,
who lived opposite. The doctor exam-
ined the head of the patient, and im-
mediately looked up at the ceiling. As
he did so a drop of blood fell upon his
hand.
“Who is above there?” askedthe doc-
tor.
“My uncle occupies the room above,”
answered Anna, trembling as she
spoke.
The doctor shook his head. Anna
ran upstairs, saying, as she went, “I'll
go and see if uncle is well.”
In a moment we heard a loud scream
overhead. and the fall of a heavy body
on the fioor.
“She has fainted!” cried the docter,
leaving the room with hasty strides,
followed by all the company.
On entering the uncle's chamber, we
saw the old man lying upon his bed
with his throat cut from ear to ear,
while the beautiful Anna L— lay
senseless on a rug by the side of the
bed, her dress soaked in the blood of
her uncle, which, indeed, covered a
great part of the floor. It was this
blood that had leaked through the
ceiling and fallen, drop by drop, upon
the head of Mr. Edwards, who, little
suspecting the truth, imagined that it
came from one of his own veins.
“Oh! who has done this?” burst from
every tongue except that of the doctor,
who gave orders that every door in the
house should be locked and the win:
dows watched.
“There must be a general search of
the house,” cried he, “as the assassin
may not Yet hae escaped.”
McFarlane now exhibited unusual
activity, and talked loud and fast, pro-
posing first one thing and then another,
but ending with an expression of sym-
pathy for Anna, whose inanimate form
he took in his arms, heedless of the
blood with which her dress was sat-
urated.
No trace--nothing even to guess at—
was discovered of the perpetrator of
this atrocious murder. The Investiga-
tion ef the coroner was thorough, but
it amounted in the result to no more
than a multitude of answers to fruits
less questions that threw no light
whatever upon the subject of the mur.
der, though they exposed to public
view the most private affairs of the
whole neighborhood.
The body of the old gentleman was
consigned to the grave; the will was
opened and read, and Anna found her-
self the heiress to about a hundred
thousand dollars,
McFarlane delivered her a solemn
lecture; he hoped this fortune would
not make her proud or incline her heart
to earthly vanities. As he turned away
from his patient listener, his eyes met
those of a tall, stern man, in a long
brown ulster, who had entered the
room softly while he was speaking.
“Is your name Alexander McFar
lane?” demanded the stranger, fixing
his hard, stony gaze upon the counte
nance of the moralist.
“Well—yes—it is,” was the answer,
“Then you must go with me,” added
the stranger.
“You're an officer.
“I am.”
“What is it? I don’t owe a cent in
the world! cried the Scotchman.
The officer hurried McFarlane away,
and put him in a prison cell.
The maid, who was accastomed to
set the long table in the sitting room,
had more than once observed a collar
button of peculiar appearance fasten.
ing the collar of McFarlane. It was
very small, and the head had teen
so much stained as to have become
entirely yellow. In cleaning out the
room of Anna's uncle, after the mur-
der, she found that collar button on the
floor, near the head of the bed; and,
since the murder, she had never seen
it on the collar of McFarlane. She had
carried it to Mr. L: , and given her
‘history of it. This led the latter to
watch the Scotchman by stealth, and
to apply to a Scotch firm in Philadel-
phia, who happened to have heard of
the man. They said that he had the
reputation of being a very sober, well-
disposed man, and a strict Christian;
but that, to their knowledge, he owned
no property in Scotland or elsewhere.
This and some other circuinstances led
to McFarlane’s arrest.
The prisoner's conduct was as singu-
lar as ever. Finding that he was sus-
pected of the murder, he immediately
gave up all for lost. He confessed that
he was poor, and said that poverty
had been his constant trouble. He
knew that Anna's parenis were not
rich, and he was constantly harrowed
by the thought that she would suffer
from want after he married her. This
had wrought so powerfully upon his
mind that, at length, he entered the
room of the wealthy uncle, and, finding
him asleep, he drew a knife across the
old man’s throat. He added that he
would have been immediately discov-
ered, as there was blood on his shirt
bosom and other parts of his dress,
had not Anna fallen into the pool of
blood. By clasping her form and carry-
ing it downstairs, he besmeared his
dress, and thus was able to account
for the blood on his person.
Thus the man who was too scrupu-
lous to guess a conundrum was led
by all-engrossing love and anxiety for
the well-being of her whom he pas
sionately adored, to imbrue his hands
in human blood.
He was executed in due course. His
last words on the scaffold were: ‘‘Mis-
ery was mine from infancy, and misery
followed me still; but, in ruining my
soul forever, I have brought fortune
and happiness to Anna. That is
enough. I am content.”—New York
Weekly.
er
Smoking Cars in England.
Accommodation for smokers in rail
way trains, which is now being dis-
cussed, dates back only to 1868, and
on October 1 it will be thirty-seven
years since travelers were first en-
titled to smoke by rail. The question
was raised as an amendment to a
board of trade bill regulating the rail-
way system, and providing, among
other things, for means of communi-
cation between the passengers an€
the guard, and also imposing a penalty
of £300 on any spectators to a prize-
fight. A clause enjoining smoking
carriages’ was proposed by Mr. Sheri-
dan, M, P. for Dudley, and carried by a
majority of sixteen, after a debate in
which John Stuart Mill made his last
speech in the House, earnestly sup-
porting the reform, and recommending
with remorseless logic that the last
carriage in the train should be reserved
for smokers.—London Chronicle,
How He Knew.
In a Kansas City, Kan. court re-
cently a negro on the witness stand
was being questioned about a sick
horse by a lawyer.
“What was the matter vith the
horse?” asked the lawyer.
“He wag ailin’,” replied the witness,
“Yes, I know,” said the questioner,
“but what was the matter?’
“He wah jes’ ailin’.”
“But what was wrong? With what
disease was he suffering?”
*“Jes’ ailin’,” persisted the negro.
The lawyer was quiet a moment. Then
he had a bright idea. He would try
to get at the horse's symptoms.
“Well, how do you know he was
ailing?”
*“’Cause he died,” replied the wit.
ness.—Kansas City Times.
Growth of Auto Industry.
In 1899 there were only fifty motor
cars in the United States. It is esti-
mated that there are now more than
60,000, says the World’s Work, and all
the other leading countries of the world
are turning them out with remarkable
rapidity. France last year exported
more than $14,000,000 worth, Germany
more than $3,000,000 and the United
States nearly $50,000 worth,
Ian
TE
oo
THE CHIP HAT.
Every woman knows what a chip hat
fs, but probably few know why it is
called by that name.
The reason is simply because It is
made, not exactly of chips, but of wood
shavings, which are dyed in dainty
colors, curled and crimped almost be-
yond recognition,
FLATTERY IN VENICE,
In Venice, says the Ladies’ Realm,
the women of the lower classes accept
tributes to their beauty from perfect
strangers as a matter of course. It
is considered not only proper, but po-
lite, to compliment a passing maiden
on the charm of her beautiful eyes or
complexion. If one treads on the skirt
of a pretty woman, one has only to say,
“Pardon, beautiful girl,” to receive the
most dazzling smile and bow in return
for the awkwardness, At cafes fre-
quented by the people it is the custom
for waiters to say, when placing a chair
for one of the women, “Take this seat,
beautiful blonde,” or, “Sit here, lovely
brunette,” as the case may be.
HOME ANNIVERSARIES.
"he happiest households are those
that do not let die out the sentiment
connected with various anniversaries.
Although gift giving or recognition of
such events in a suitable way may be
out of the question owing to the strait-
ened circumstances of those ‘“‘within
the gates,” there can yet be a little air
of festivity when mother's or father's
birthday comes round or some wedding
anniversary is to be celebrated. An
extra dish, a little bunch of flowers or
some special music perpared for the
occasion will show the kindly spirit
and the loving remembrance that count
far more than the money value of any
gift. As the children grow up if these
festivals are encouraged they will have
much to look forward to and much
more to remember in the years to come
when they go out to battle with the
world and find thatsentiment is crushed
under foot and affection is regarded
only as a side issue.—Utica Observer,
THE HORNETS’ NEST WOMAN.
She wonders why her women friends
don’t flock about her, court ber and
call her “dear.”
It is because she never goes any-
where without a hornets’ nest.
She has it with her and is always
giving it little shakes. Everybody
knows how a hornet’s nest acts when
some one shakes ir.
She makes unkind remarks about
every one and criticises her best friend
when her back is turned.
She tells one friend all the ill-na-
tured things that another has said
about her.
She calls attention to people's frec-
kles and wrinkles.
She never forgets any disgrace in a
family history.
If a woman's dress fits well she never
mentions it, but she is always suggest-
ing how the sleeves might be changed
to make them in fashion.
She tells mothers the bad things that
she hears about their sons and she
tells wives the bad things she hears
about their husbands.
She waves the hornets’ nest above
her head as if it were a flag of honor
and wonders that the women run at
the sight of it.
She puts on an innocent face and
pretends that she believes that she is
being honest, truthful, helpful.
She is, in fact, being hateful, spite-
ful and disagreeable.
We could get on very nicely without
Miss Truthful and her nest of hornets.
—Brooklyn Citizen.
MRS. ROOSEVELT A LACE MAKER
Lace making is to be a diversion of
fashionable women in Washington this
winter. Mrs. Roosevelt may be called
the pioneer of this movement, though
the wife of the French Ambassador,
Mme. Jusserand, and several other
women in the diplomatic corps have
added to iis popularity. When Mrs.
Roosevelt receives the women of the
Cabinet circle for the weekly boudoir
conference* she works on a piece of
filmy lace while important affairs of
the next social season are discussed.
Whenever the President's wife re-
ceives an intimate friend in the sunny
western alcove on the second corridor
of the White House, which is her spe-
cial preserve, she makes her lace,
chats, stops long enough to take a cup
of tea and begins at her lace again.
She is engaged just now on an ambi-
tious design of Irish point, intended ul-
timately to adorn. the graduating gown
of Miss ‘Ethel Roosevelt, now almost
fifteen years old. Several winters ago,
Mrs. Roosevelt wore a house gown eof
pale blue crept, adorned with a wide
collar and cuffs of deep yellow Renais-
sance lace. Everybody believed the
lace was an heirloom; instead, it was
the work of Mrs. Roosevelt's own fin-
gers. Lady Durand, wife of the British
Ambassador, can turn out as neat 2
piece of lace as one may buy in Brus-
sels,
HOW TASHION IS GUARDED.
A little flutter of excitement has
swept through west end dressmaking
circles ‘at the discovery that the man
arrested in Paris on a charge of bribing
an accomplice to steal the latest models
of gloves was the representative of a
London establishment.
“We suspect that the practice pre-
vails to a considerable extent within
the area bounded by Regent street and
Bond street,” remarked the manager
of a famous firm of courteriers in the
latter thoroughfare,
“What we do with our latest models
is to show them to only the select few
well known to us, Even from them we
hide all models except those which
will appeal to their personal require-
ments.
“The latest design is as carefully
guarded as a new play in the early
stages of rehearsal, But frequently
the owner or creator of a model is an-
ticipated by some rival.
“Last spring, for example, the pro-
prictor of an establishment in Regent
street saw two ladies in the park who
were wearing dresses built on a model
which he had treasured almost in se-
cret for a month. The slightest altera-
tion had been made in order to remove
possible difficulites, as the design was
registered.
“Searching inquiries by the proprietor
revealed the fact that one of his regu-
lar customers dressed herself at the ex-
pense of a Vienna firm whom she sup-
plied with designs carefully drawn
from memory after inspecting the lat-
est creations in his showroom. When
the lady next called—the autumn styles
were then due—she was courteously in-
formed that her patronage was no
longer required.
“The only way to even partially pro-
tect a design is to give it a name and
register it.”"—London Daily Mail
FOR THE BABY.
If economy has to be studied in the
home of the new baby an ordinary
clothes basket, costing twenty-five
cents, may be transformed into a most
charming and comfortable nest for the
little stranger, where most of the time
for the first six months of life may be
spent.
First cover the basket with pink,
blue or white cambric; make a pad of
curled hair for the bottom; cover this
with oiled silk. Then take white dotted
Swiss and cover the cambrie; make a
deep ruffle around the top, which may
be plain or edged with ribbon or lace;
wind the handles with ribbon, tying a
big bow at the side. A tiny pillow may
be added for the downy head, but most
nurses disapprove of pillows of any
size,
Now for the chest upon which the
basket can rest. A wooden box thirty
inches long and twenty-two inches high
is the foundation of one recently seen.
It came from the store filled with small
parcels and was about to be consigned
to the basment or kindling wood, when
“the matron” rescued it and announced
that from it the baby's hamper and
basket were to be evolved.
The man of the house smoothed the
rough edges, made a lid, and then a
tray of very light wood was fitted in
the top, just like a trunk tray. The
entire chest was lined with blue cam-
brie; the tray was covered with blue,
then with white point d’esprit; pin
cushions, pockets and powder box were
all put in this tray; it was made exactly
like the time honored baby basket.
The top of the chest cover had a
piece of blue silk elastic fastened di-
agonally across, which held the brush,
comb and other small articles. Under
the tray was plenty of room for the
tiny clothes. The outside of the chest
was covered with tapestry, but cre-
tonne or the art tickings are all ap-
propriate,
One of the rich models designed for
an afternoon dress is done in raspber-
ry and chiffon broadcloth.
For any full dress occasion of a tre-
mendous character there's a lovely
cream white silk lace with big, soft
figures in it that look like rich Japan-
ese embroidery.
Blues are not to be overlooked in
the scheme of color for fall, and being
of a more or less indistinet type they,
too, will be used in combination with
enlivening tones.
Though not all of the so-called heavy
effects are very heavy looking, yet
they tend that way, as compared with
the delicate sorts, and all, in a gen-
eral way, are adapted to the rooms de-
scribed as heavy.
The three-quarter length coat of sat-
in or taffeta silk faced with shirred
chiffon or lingerie, opening over a vest
of fine English embroidéry or lace,
and with the deep cuffs to match, is
an excellent design for a cloth or vel-
vet coat for the winter.
“Among the details of a modern
fashionable outfit,” says Harper's
Bazar, “are the negligee jackets of
most graceful lines, and althought
relegated by etiquette to only the pri-
vacy of the bedroom, are attractive
enough to serve as models for more
elaborate garments.
One daring Parisian creator sends &
hat to the New York openings which
sets the old superstition at defiance.
The hat is a deep blue beaver with a
broad straight brim and a low crown.
It is raised in the back where ribbons
of the shade of the hat cover the
cachepeigne. All around the brim are
set little pompons of peacock breast
feathers, while long tail feathers
HOW. OTTO WON
A Yoolball Story With
an Unhappy
Ending.
“Every time I read of a football
gawe,” sald George Mong, of the
Coates House, “it reminds me of the
days when I used to play the game
back in Canal Dover, O, One year we
had a team there that we thought
could not be beaten. It was really &
very strong eleven for a country town,
After we had defeated all the small
town teams in the vicinity of Canal
Dover we decided we'd like to try big-
ger game; so we secured a contest
with a Cleveland Ligh school eleven
which had quite a reputation, The
Cleveland boys arrived in Canal Dover
on Friday night to play us on Satur
day, On Saturday morning, much to
our dismay, we learned that one of
our best men was ill. We wanted to
beat that high school team the worst
kind, and the illnegs of our man was
a blow to us. Strange as it may seem,
we didn’t have a substitute good
enough to play in this game. We had
a couple, but they weren't strong
enough, I was captain of the team,
and I was up a stump. Sandy Walker,
our guarterback, came to me just bes
fore noon on Saturday with a bright
idea.
“‘Say, Pie) he said (they used. to
call me Pieface then). ‘I'll tell you
what to do. Let's get Otto Klein, the
butcher boy, to play with us.’
“He doesn't know a single thing
about the game.” I replied. «
“ “What of it? He weighs 200 pounds,
and is strong as a bull. We can show
him enough in half an hour. He'll
play for 85, argued Sandy.
“It was the only way out. We saw
Klein and hie agreed to | I showed
him a few of the tricks and taught
Lim the signals. ‘Just keep them from
reaching that goal of ours,’ I said.
“‘All right! said Otto. I decided
to play him at fullback. The game
started with Otto away back in the
rear playing full. We didn’t give him,
the ball in the first half and not &
Cleveland man got away from our
line, so we hadn't anything to do but
to push the bunch pow and then. The
half ended 0 to 0. In the second half
it was the same story until the last
five minutes the play. Then,
through a-trick, a
of
“Otto heard me. He did the work,
all right, but not in the way we want«
ed it done. Turning, he raced madly,
to the goal and jerked up the slender
posts, Then, taking hold of the cross
piece, he ran away from the field with
all his might. The Cleveland man
simply crossed the line and scored &
touchdown. Otto came back proud
and smiling.
“I dit it, didn’t I. Pie face,” he yelled
to me, ‘He nefer did gid to dot goaly
dit he?
“The game ended with a score of 5
to 0 in Cleveland's favor. I lit out
at the sound of the final whistle and
took a short vacation on my uncle's
farm. Everybody was looking for ma
to tell me what a ‘find’ I had in Ottd
and I was too modest to listen to their
praise.,”—Kansas City Times.
The New England Cook.
The typical cook of the average New
England town lives, moves and has
her being entrenched behind one
axiom of precedent; the thing which,
in her experience, has been done, can
be done again. ‘After this, the deluge.
It may be, for instance, that the do
mestic goddess in question served hen
first apprenticeship in a family of ten
For the consumption of such a family
she was in the habit of preparing
twenty potatoes in one or another
form. When, during her subsequent
peregrinations, she condescends ti
minister to my modest home circle o
three persons, I sometimes assure my<
self that if to a knowledge of elemen<
tary arithmetic she could add a thor<
ough understanding of higher algebra,
geometry and trigonometry, and then
superadd some slight acquaintance
with differential and integral calculus,
she might in time be able to discover
that if ten persons require twenty,
potatoes, by the same ratio of allot=
ment three persons might be satisfied
with six. .
I suggest six potatoes, a modest and
satisfying half dozen. The arbiter o
fate replies, “You see, ma'am, I've al«
ways been accustomed to cookin®
twenty”’—and twenty it is '—Marthal, ~
Baker Dunn, in the Atlantic.
eee
Serenaders Foiled.
A Leavenworth bridegroom knew he’
was slated for a charivari, so he pre<
pared for it, When the crowd came
to raise the disturbance he stepped to
the door and told the members that
they would find a “keg” on the,back
porch,
borrowed some glasses of a joints
keeper and repaired to a small park
near by to consume the liquid. When
they tapped the keg they found {it
contained *“‘air.’—Kansas City Journal,
A Sign of Prosperily.
“One of the surest signs of the pros
perity we hear so much about,” said
Howell Jones, of Topeka, Kan., at the,
Raleigh, “is the tremendous passenger.
business that is being done by all the
railroads. On the Santa Fe, which I
happen to know about especially,
there was never’such a.passenger traf-
fic before, and it is the same with the,
other Western lines.” — Washington
Post,
His Appetite.
A Kansas City boy, while dining at
the house of a friend with his mother,
managed to put away a large piece of
cake with his pie. The hostess asked
him if he could not eat another piece
of plum cake. Little Johnny looked
slyly out of the corner of his eye at hi
mother, then, disregarding her warn<
ing frown, turned to the hostess and
sweep backward over the crown,
Cleveland player,
got by us with the pall and started
for the goal. :
‘Otto,’ I yelled. ‘Don’t let himy
reach that goal! Now, do your work.’
They went around and ot in,
said: “Perbaps I could, if I stood up,”
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