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Yesterday now is a part of forever,
Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight,
With glad days and sad days and bad days,
Shall visit us more with their bloom and
Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night.
Lot them go, since we cannot relieve them.
Cannot undo and cannot alone;
God in His mere? forgive, receive them!
Only the new days are our own.
To-day is ours, and to-day alone.
THE WIND RAN OVER THE MEADOWS.
The air and the sun and the shadows
Were wedded and made as one.
And the winds ran o'er the meadows
As little children run.
And the winds flowed over the meadows.
And along the willowy way
The river, with its ripples shod
With the sunshine of the day.
And up through the rifted tree top*.
That signaled the wayward breeze,
I saw the hulk of the hawk becalmed
Par out on the azure sens.
—James Whltoorab Kitey.
MY COWHOY PAR!) IN CHICAGO.
Dave's Evening With French Opera iit
the Windy City.
ijy CAPT, FreD k. ki:i;d.
[Copyrighted: All Right! Reserved.]
"Dave Jackson is the slickest cow
boy south of the Snake, and if any
man can get a price for cattle it's
him, and to Chicago he'll go with
them steers if my pull can get him the
layout," said Jack Bradley the cattle
man; and his pull went, and Dave
started for Chicago with the train load
of cattle. He arrived in good time,
and on his return, around a sagebrush
campfire one evening, told his pards
about the trip:
"Well, boys, I struck Chicago (). K.
with the cattle in good shape. I mon
keyed around awhile, got a couple of
bids, sold out, got the stuff, put the
most of it in the bank, kept a few
twenties for a flyer, and struck out
for a hotel. Hit a dandy with a
white stone floor. No sooner got in
than a son-of-a-gun grabbed me, ran
me up to a bar and socked my name
down in the lamb's book of life; then
fired me into a cage and —zip!—I went
to the top of the house; got the best
room in the whole works —could see
more of Chicago than anybody. Well,
I washed some of the cowboy smell off
just to be decent, and tried to find the
cage to get down stairs, but the darned
thing had skipped, and after monkey
ing around an hour I finally got down.
A fellow asked me to take a drink —•
say, boys, it was a dandy; glasses as
thin as paper and whisky as slick as
butter. I took a rip at it you could
wash your shirt in. The boss told me
I had better eat. Talk about chewing
corrals! —it was a bird. There was a
lot of niggers running around with
their shirts outside of their pants. One
big coon, who seemed to be the day
herder, fired me into a chair; another
fellow said 'Soup?' You bet, says I.
In a few minutes he came and looked
at me and said 'Fish?' Yes, pard, I'll
trot you a heat on the fish. I was get
ting along bully, when the coon called
me 'Entrees.' I said, 'you can call me
anything but Entrees, and if you
make another break of that kind I'll
take a shot at you just for an eye
opener.' Well, I got tanked up in good
shape with the funniest lot of grub I
ever tasted, and got out. A fellow
treated to cigars, and, boys, they were
out of sight — ■put up four bits for two.
Beat the old corn-cob all holler.
"Well, it commenced to g-et dark,
and my new pard wanted to know what
I was going" to do to put in the even
ing. I said, I'll bang- around and see
what kind of a burg- Chicag-o is. He
said: 'Let's go to the opera.' All
right, opera got*. Well, we took a
walk and g-ot a dandy place. My pard
got a couple of paper chips, two dollar
limit, and we went throug-h a brand
ing chute into a big- corral and down
close to the bull ring-. A fellow g-ave
us our tag-s and pulled down a couple
of shelves, and we sat down. My pard
said it was French opera, and I said
'Let her loose.' A lot of bald-headed
duffers crawled out of a knot-hole in
the floor and went to work on the big
g-est fiddles I ever seen and played the
darndest tunes I ever heard. All at
once some duffer hit a pan in the bull
ring- and the whole business busted,
and I seen the funniest layout I ever
clapped my lamps on. It was a bird! —
rivers, mountains, a dandy house and
a layout of furniture that would make
you feel g-ood. Well, a lot of fellows
run out and ki-yicd and g-ave each
other a hell of a g-oing- over. I looked
for a scrap every minute, but they just
winded and left. Then they turned
the lamps down and the music played
as if it had the chills, and a big- duffer
walked out with about a twenty-dollar
sombrero on and a big- knife hanging
to his belt, and walked up and down,
kind of crying- and sing-ing-: 'Who
killed m} r pa? who killed my pa?' I
wanted to get up there and kick his
pants, but my pard said they wouldn't
like it. The big- calf kept on howling
'Who killed my pa?' Just then the
dandiest gal I ever seen, run out. She
was a bird, but awful poor, for she had
her little sister's clothes on; they
didn't come to her knees. Well she
run up to this big duffer who was shy
his pa and put up her dear little hands
and gave the whole snap away, howl
ing, 'I killed your pa.' 'You did?' he
yelled, and made a grab for his knife
to cut her with. Well, boys, I never
Been a gal done up in my life, so I got
the old gun out, and getting- the drop
on his nibs, I says: 'Throw up your
hands, you son-of-a-gun, I killed your
pa, and his son is going to join him.'
Well, boys, I stopped the fight, but
broke up the game. Everybody in the
crowd joined in, and I fetched up in
the jug. Told the judge the whole
business next day, and asked him what
kind of an outfit he had in Chicago, to
see a decent gal get the worst of it
and then jug a fellow for getting in
and staying by the gal for a square
deal. He gave me a hard look, said
something to brass-bound fellow, who
put me in a room and said 'The judge
will fix you.' He did plenty, by say
ing: 'Young man, you are in it. What
do you drink?' I said whisky straight.
We took four drinks together; he shook
my hand good-by, and I left Chicago
without a kick coming. Good night,
HINTS ON MH AT COOKING.
A Washington chef talks thus learn
edly about the philosophy of cooking
meats in different ways:
The most primitive forms of cook
ing are the methods most generally
practiced. Broiling, roasting and
boiling are today the commonest ways
of dressing meats for food, and be
tween the manipulation of the crude
housekeeper and that of the thought
ful housewife whose eye, hand and
nose have been trained to understand
that heat means variations of temper
ature, and not merely "a fire," there
is a broad gap.
The first lesson of the cooking
school is, necessarily, the care and
management of the stove.
One woman will boil her corned beef
in water at 212 degrees as its maximum
temperature, while she whose observa
tion has been cultivated to study ef
fects, obtains better results at 108 de
The former wastes part of the gela
tine and albumen, while her rival has
learned that, as albumen coagulates at
the lower temperature, very little
waste occurs, and the meat is not
The frying pan requires, perhaps,
more skill than any utensil about the
kitchen, since control of heat is every
thing. For veal cutlets, sweetbreads,
calves' liver and other delicate cook
ing, the proper degree of heat to cook
through the flesh and to give the right
tint of color are of primary import
No less important is it that heat be
moderate in its action upon the egg
and bread-crumbs coating1 of the cut
lets, since, if the temperature be too
high, our savory dressing-of the cutlet
will be toughened and indigestible.
The stew, hash and meat pie call for
as much, if not more, judyment and