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f~~~~' of sunoy pti i
And coufi*e things that we have done
And counting nd
One self-denying act, One wor,
Tat eased the heart Qf him who leard:
One glance most kind,
Thit felt like sunshine where It went,
Then wq may count the day well spent.
But if through all the life-long day
We've eased no heart by yea or nay;
If through it all
We've done no thing that we can trace,
That brought the sunshine to a face;
No act, most small,
That helped some soul, and nothing coat,
Then count that day as worse than lost.
It was at Lyons, where I had gone to
paint a marine view, that I first saw Ro
She stood at a cottage window, water
ing some roses which grew in pots on
She was as fresh as the roses herself,
and as sweet.
I fell in love.
It was not only that she was pretty;
she was also well-bred, so lady-like, so
much above what must have been her
station, were she daughter of' the old
woman who sat at work so often on the
doorstep-a healthy, comfortable peas.
ant-woman; nothing more.
I am afraid my pictures did not pro
gress as they might.
Rosine was fond of poetry and I went
nearly every day to the old garden be
hind the house.
In a little arbor under the trees Ro
sine sat and embroiderel while the anuni
I sat near Rosine and read to her.
1 forgot all the world except myself
and Rosine, when I was suddenly
aroused to a sense of its existence.
Returning to my studio one evening ]
found my father sitting astride a chaii
with his arms upon the back, regarding
my marine view,'
"You work mc re slowly than usual
my boy,"' he said, when we had shaken
I replied that the sea was capricious,
and that I waited for certain tints which
only certain (lays would bring.
"Very wise," he replied; "but now,
Jack what do you suppose I have come
from London for?
"Ah, you never can!
"It is a delightful surprise for you!
"I have arranged an alliance for you.
GjYou will have for your wife a lovely
young creature, not eighteen, beautiful,
accomplished, and au heiress; the
daughter of my old friend, Oburchill,
who adores art, and believes you a
"It was his proposal.
"Money we have eough of,' he said.
"Family we both have.
"I want grandsons who will be artists,
I should adore a sen-in-law who was
"So of course, It is settled."
"Without me?" I asked.
"Oh, of course you are delighted,"
"She is a beautiful as though she were
poor, and as rich as though she wvere
plain, this young lady we ofl'er you."
What could I say?"
I had not at that moment the courage
"I love the niece of a poor old peasani
woman who liv'es in a little cottage,"
Perhaps it was cowardly; but to avoid
explanations for the present, I agreed t<
return to London with my father earls
the next morning.
After supper I stoic down again tooli
Mannette's little cottage, and peeping
through the windows, saw both womer:
together bending over some object, al
which they were looking by the light ol
the shaded lamp.
it was a beautiful picture-the old
brown face sot oil by its high white cap,
long golden earrings, and bright blue
handkerchief; the young one, fair, rosy,
soft, and in purest white; Rosine, dressed
lhke a Persian.
"Come out, Rosine;" I whispered,
through the blinds.
"I have come to tell you something,'
I whispered, as I led her away from th<
"I am going to London to-morrow.
My father will have it so.
"He has chosen a wife for me-some
rich lady whom I am told to marry for
"And I am ordered to show myself to
* "Then good-bye," saidl Rosme, hold
ing out her hand.
"We shall not see you at Lyons
"Rosine," I said you must hear me
"I am not going to marry this heiress.
I hate her!"
"What has site dlone?" asked Rosine
"Nothing," I said.
- "Probably she also hates me.
"Biut I will not have her; I will marry
a girl I love, or none.
"Rosine, when I come back will you
"I shall be very poor, for my father
will not help me if I disobey him."
Rosine looked at me.
After a while site put her hands in
"If you come back and ask me to,'
"I swear it!" I said.
"I plight my faith to you!"
Then I kissed her, and we parted.
My father and myiself were In the
hotel, when suddenly a gentleman stood
before us, offering us his hands,
It was General Churchill.
"Ahl--how are you?'" he cried.
* "I have just been to the triln to re
just jarought her home from the seaside
~~ "They are taking oc'fee; no time ike
the present for Introducfug the young
We eosedthe haiL
At a table wta yrivate apartalentat
a young lady dresse4 in exquisite style,
and an old lady. apparently a servant,
Their backs weretoward Us.
Geppra. Churohill approached.
"Rosine, mydear."<' bhe said, *)here Is
my old friend, Captain Markham, whom
you know, and his son, Henry, whomas
yet you do not know."
What a ooincidencel
I stood staring at the young lady as
she rose, turned and bowed to us."
I was incapable of any word or motion
for the likeness was astounding.
And this old woman was Mannette, in
Rosine smiled, and bowed sweetly.
I managed to bow, and nmutter some
Mannette's black eyes laughed, while
her mouth was held close shut.
"No, Mr. Henry; "1 never told you
that I was Mannette's niece," said RIo
sine, a little while after.
"She was merely my nurse, and I go
ever.v summer to visit her at her cottage.
"We knew who you were, and what
our parents intended, and it pleased me
to be courted, and not sold like so many
rich ladies of my acquaintance.
"Oh, how shocked Mannette was at
This was aside.
The two papas drank their wine to
getlaer, and whispered
"How soon they have taken to each
And Rosino and I are to be married in
MtoVes .'u WaveR.
Several men were ieated in a Detroit
drug Atore the other day with their feet on
the stove and a cigar in each mouth, when
a boy looked in and yelled out:
"Bome of you had a horse hitched out
"I believe I did,'' quietly replied one of
"Well, lie's gone."
"Did he walk off?"
"No; a runaway horse came along and
upset the cutter and frihtened hin."
"And did lie kick himself clear out of
"1 supposed he would. How did lie
"On a dead run."
'Up Woodward avenue."
"Did he turn in at Montcalm street?"
"1 guess he did."
"Well. he's propably gone home and
will be around there somewhere when I
go ip. Rub, you might draw the cutter
to some shop and tell 'enm to fix it, and
here's a quarter for you."
The boy went out to pick up the kind.
hugs and invent a way to draw a cutter
half a mile on one runner, and the sitter
relighted his cigar, got a new brace for
his feet, and said:
"As i was saying, every sign indicates
that this is to be a year of great contla
grations. 1t sometimnes seems as if great
calamihies moved in waves through the
i'uu wit1: Tiue Tuttor.
He was the pink of pertectian. If the:
cream of human excelleiice was to be
churned the butter wouldi lump in the
aple of Professor Porteus Pyre, tutor.
ice had contracted the bad habit of steal
ing up stairs in his stocking feet to see if
the lights were out at ten. It is hard
teaching old (togs new tricks, but boys
sometimes succeed better with okd profes
sors. T'omnty Tayre us a cadlaverous
youth, with a sulphur colored mustache,
but the iron rod enterI d his soul, and lie
saId he must (1o what lie couhil. So he
bought three paners of carpet tacks one
night and stood the innocent lhttle nails on
their heads all the way up and down the
stairs, and retiredt with lis faithful fol.
lowers to the wood closet above to await
resulte. Promptly the chapel boll struck
ten, then a season of waiting and~ whisper
ing followed. Presently came a flurry,
creepig soundl like wooden stockings feel
ing their wvay over rough boards. 'Toimmuy
tuckedi his hat in his mouith-his mouth I
runs clear ai'oundl, except a small isthmusj
which connects the top of his head with<
the nape of tie neck-and held his nose
till the first burst of glee had subsided.
Now caime a supp~ressedi scream, one foot
on the stairs, then another foot down, then
a scream that wasn't suppressed, then a
howl, ho had struck the second stair; then
he sat (town on the next step, but ho got
up again, andl a groan with exclamation
points after it, caime tearing up the wood
closet. Thle boys stood back to give
Tommy room to kick; then came a scram'
ling and shouting of heavy words, and
Tonm promptly appeared and asked in a
voice fresh from the valley of n4od, "W hat
seems to be the matter?" "Matterl The
boys! The demons! Confound it; see here!
Help!" anid lie shifted about anid hung~ to
the railing, aiid triedl to sland on his knees.
Toem brought a light and the boys carried
thme wounded man to his room, ofrered
sympathy, got a claw hammer and direw
out the tacks. TIhe professor wears slip
pers and sius on a eushion. Tom sets on
nettles, for seventeen bays know the secret,1
and- it Is spreading like smallpox in an in
A Car ioad Or Blees.
Rlecenitly a ear containing a curious]
freight was switched on the East Tecnnes
see and VirginIa Railroad and moved
It was filled with bee.-hives. One hund
red and forty of the latest style of hee
hiyes piled systematically on top of each
other, and in the foreground a phitosopher
with bie bed andi board.
"Where are you going to take your
"To Fiorlida for the winter. My name
is Thlomas McFarland Jackson. and I live
in Northern Missouri, I have large apia
ries that are forced to lie idle lb the win
ter. I'm goIng to take this carload of
hives to Florida where they can make
honey every day in the year. As soon as
the clover is out again in Northern Mis
souri I will take therm back there."
"Will it pay you to move them?"
"I think so. it costs me less than ar
dollar a hive for transportation, and each
hive will have from $6 to $7 worth ofa
honey in it when I. bring it back, That is
what Italian bees I sent to Florida last
year did last winter. Only Italhan bees
will thrive in Florida, as the moths eat
up the common bees."
"Will you live in the open air there?" y
"i'm going to camp around with my
bee.. I believe I will bring back about
$1000 worth of honey in hives that would
otherwise lie idle all the winter and be
empty in the spring."
in QiouG KAaG.
Iloun stans about sixty
miles froia the reat Facio, as the
rowlies, a about two hundred Miles
tip the. olAbia Rive & it islhArga
1.d. Mount'rood a etterly lone
and yet he is_0y a b thor, a .biggr
and taller , brother, of a well-raised
ramny 9 sbvfe4 snow-pqaks.
At any season of the year you can
stand on -almost , any little eminence
within two hundred miles of Mount
Hood and count seven snow-cones,
olad in eternal winter, pierlcng' the
Dlouds. There is no scene so ulime
s this in all the world.
The mountains of Europe are only
hills in q9mparison,' Although some of
them are quite as high as those of
Oregon and Washington Territory, yet
they lie fai inland, and are so set on
the top of other hills that they lose
much of their majesty. Those of Ore
gon start up .audoen an, solitary, and
Mimost out of the sea, as it were. So
that while ithey are really not much
higher than the mountain peaks of the
Alps, they seem to be about twice as
high. And being all in the form of
pyramids or cones, they are much more
imposing and beautiful than those of
either Asia or Europe.
But that which adds most of all to
the beauty and sublimity of the moun
tain scenery of Mount Hood and his
environs is the marvelous cloud effect
that encompass him.
In the first place, you must under
stand tht all this region here Is one
dense black mass of matchless and
magnificent forests. From the water's
edge up to the snow-line clamber and
cling the dark green fir, pine, cedar,
tamarack, yew, and juniper. Some of
the pines are heavy with great cones a3
long as your arms; some of the yew
trees are scarlet with berries; and now
and then you see a burly juniper bend
iug under a load of blue and bitter
fruit. And nearly all of these trees are
mantled in garments of moss. This
moss trails and swings lazily in the
wind, and sometimes drops to the
length of a hundred feet.
In these great dark forests is a dense
undergrowth of vine-maple, hazel,
mountain ash, marshe ash, willow, and
brier bushes, Tangled in with all this
is the rank and ever-present and im
Up and through and all over this
darkness of forests, dritt and drag and
lazily creep the most weird and won
derful clouds in this worlt. They
move in great caravans. They seem
literally to be alive. They rise with
the morning sun, like the countless
miilliuns of snow-white geese, swans,
mud other water-fowl that Irequent the
rivers of Oregon, and slowly ascend
the mountain sides, dragging them
selves through and over the tops of
the trees, heading straight for the sea,
>r hovering about the mountain peaks,
ike mighty white-winged birds, weary
f flight, and wantig to rest.
'They are white as snow, these clouds
: Oregon, fleecy, 'and rarely, if ever,
Itill; constalnoly moving in contrast
with the black foreste, these clouds are
itrangely iiympathetio to one who wor
Of couran, in the rainy season, which
is nearly half the yoar here, those cloud
3t1fects are absenut. At such times the
whole land is one vast rain-cloud, dark
and dreary anid full of thunder.
To see a snow peak in all its sub
imity, you must see it above the
olouds. It is not necessary that you
should climb the peak to do this, but
uboeuid soine neighboring aill and have
thie wvhite clouds creep up or down the
valley, through and over the black for
ust, between you and the snowvy sum
nit that pieksi the blue hnoma of stars.
What color! Movoementli aliraculous
Extendling the Tiene.
Beveral years ago, when Fort Worth
vant a wild 'Texais towvn, Dusenbecry was an
~xotic there. lie was civilized and cut
ils hair and was despised by the other
non. One (lay dlapper little Dusenbery
urprised everybndy byv reforming, lie
ras in Uallahan's Retreat when there
mnterod four of'the most ferooious-looking
"Ulnans who bad ever been seen in Fort
Worth. They came with clanking spurs
mud fierce heards, two revolvers to each
nuan anai 'a iarne bowie kmife for lag
uappe, and they sat down to a table and
salled for whIskey all around. A tremor
'an through the assembly. Fort Worth's
)est citizens were for a monment staggered.
But Dusonbery never quailed Trne strang
~rs emptleed their glasses, called for iore
tudI then, glancing muailgnantly around,
hey launched torthi in furious abuse of
l'exals anti Trexans, their language being
farmishedl with that profusion and orna
nentation of profanity peculIar to the
tuileless cattle drover of those tImes. As
hey ceased Dusenbery marched up to the
able at which the stranhbers sat, ills
lashing eyes, his heaving breast, his five
cot of towering form~ reduced the specta
ors to spcechlessut ss. Even the strangers
aused andi seemned impressedt.
"Gentlemen," said Dusonbery, d Ing
nto Is trowsers and bringing up ani ancient
nlver watch, "you have wounded the
linest feeligs' of my nature In your rc
tnarks about Texas, and you must retract
hem or-but never mimd. I give you
Live minutes to retract. 11ive minutes to
lecuro your safe returni to home and friends.
?mve mInutes to avoid a grave upon the
onesomo plain. Five minutes I" An
uwful silence fell UPON the crowd. The
>lood curdled in the vein~ of . every
[i'ort Worthian present. What I nad they
been treating this fire-eating Terror with
icarcoly-veiled contempt? iHad they been
absolutely courtIng death for years? But
lust theni one of the strangers recovered
lie power of speech and said:
"Why, stranger, if you feel that way
abmout it, of course we'll out, it short. We
:lidn't mean it for you 'or any of your
riends, but was just talking on .loose
ike." And with that they all four got up
ind slunk out, their six shooters flopping
'cebly against their hips and their very
ipurs looking dtrooperi and weedy as they
went. With the closing of the door,
)usenbcry's eye reeled in its socket. The
ixcitemeont whIch had thus far hold him
up gave way and ho collapsed, a flabby
ittle heap upon the floor, Thme assembled
atizens crowded around him.
"Why, Deoozey, my boy, you took us
11l by surpriue. We never thought you
eore a fighter."
"Oidn't you ?"
"No, Why, don't you know those are
ocur 01 the worst men in the cattle bush
ecss? And we expected every mninute t~o
cc them go to shooting. Wore you
"Weil,' I had a pistol for show, but I
on't, belheve it was loaded, and I couldn't
ave fired it, anyhow.".
"Ureat heavens, ,man I suppose they
ad refused to retract, whlat on earth would
ou hiave doae ?"
Dusenbery stopped, looked all arotand
o see if anyone was pahding, pulled his
riend's ear close down to hus lips and
"1'd have t. .adoa. then tane."
pe a Morocco.
ll o Justice Was sitting, ani
I hdfro portunities of'observ
lng it id . The procedure, t<
any one -m the Od Bailey, ap
paSaift g, The Bashaw re
=lineson a or able couch listeninf
to the wit ,.who give their evi.
dence with t energy and volubility,
Sometimes 1A the middle of it all thi
Prisoner will &ump up and exclaim tha
Fie can get a *iness on his behalf.' H(
will then run out of court, unattended
by guard or policeman. and present3
return with his man, No one expressei
any surprise at this performance anc
it never seeni to enter their head thai
he should avail himself of the oppor.
tunity to escape. The usual punish.
ments, besides flue and Imprisonmnt,
mutilation, by cutting off a hand o
foot-the stump being plunged in boil.
ing pitch to stop the bleeding-basti
nadoing, and putting lout the eyes.
There used to be a blind beggar con.
stantly demanding backeheesh at on(
of the gates, who had been a noted
robber in. his day, but failing at lasi
into the hands of his pursuers had suf
fered this horrible penalty. Ther<
were at least two murders during m3
stay at Tangier-both perpetrated it
the most open manner, though it
neither case mas any adequate penalty
(if any penalty at .all) inflicted. - The
first was from motives of jealousy, anc
the murderer stabbed his victim in the
middle of the town-tue body lying out
in the street till a guide from the hotel
stumbled over it on his way home al
night. The second was committed b)
a Riflan, to wipe out a blood-feud tha
existed in his family. A relation of his
had been killed by a man, and froin
that time the solemn duty devoloped
upon him of avenging his death. The
act may have been committed a genera.
tion back; but in that case the mothei
would daily charge the child upon hei
knee with the task he had to perform
and when he was grown up, never lei
him rest till vengehnce was exacted,
The man has little hopes of escape.
No Iish agent or Landlord under the
bane of "Oaptain Moonlight" could bc
so certain of his doom; and in Barbar
he cannot even avail himself of the
doubtful protection of the Police. Ia
this case the murderer coolly shot his
victim dead as he was sitting in the
8oko, and then brandishing his knife al
all who attempted to arrest him, goi
elear off into the country. A friend o
mine once heard the Bashaw inflict e
fine of 18d. on is Moor for the pecu.
harly cold-blooded murder of a Jew
that impartial functionary observing
that the sentence would have been v
heavier one, but that it was necessary
that Jews should be discouraged.
Variations of Oninte.
Dr. Oroll atti ibutes the great fluctua
tious of terrestrial climate, as displayed
by the former extension of glaciers on
one hand, and the existence of coal
seams and corals in the new ice-bound
sqhore of Greenland on the other, to
variations in the earth's orbit, and
calculates the periods of these cycles,
extending respectfully over 170,000,
260,000, and 160,000 years. I am una
ble either to confirm or refute these
calculations which may or may not be
correct, but quite outside, or rather
within, these there have been curious
fluctuations of terrestrial climate hith
erto unexplained. The name "Gron
hran:d," which we literally translate
"Greenland," is itself a record of this.
It was given to that country when colo
nized by the Scandinavians, above one
thousand years ago. It was then fairly
described by its name, and the re
mains of human settemente discovered
by our arctic explorers in regions now
uninhabitable confirm the old Norse
sagas, which describe these colonies.
When Ingolf, with his retainers and
followers, settled in Iceland, A. D. 874,
that island must have enjoyed a differ
ent climate from that which it now
endures or it could not have become so
popular a colony as to alarm King
Harold, the Fair-haired, so greatly a
to induce him to check the emigration
by imposing a fine of four ounces of
silver on all intending emigrants. The
growth of its population until it be
camne in the uleventhi and twelfth centu
rios the focus of European poetic
literature, when its great poet, Snorro
S~turieson, attended the meetings of the
Thingvalla, or island Parliament, "with
a I plendid retmnue of 800 avmed men;"
when houses and ships were built with
native timber, of which remains are
now to be found, all indicate a curious
change of climate. I could quote many
other evidences of this if space per
A Moortshr breakfast consits of cas-cuis
su a cake of baked granules, deftly made
of flour, which eats crisp and sweet-milk,
butter, omelets, pigeous cooked in oil,
sweet potatoes, forcerneat, and sweet tarts
of honey, butter and eggs. Tlea, which is
quite a "course'' meal, is taken eross
leggedi on soft, carpets spread on tbe floor
around~ a handsome and costly tray with
dwarf feet raisinst it a few inches from
the floor, turnished with drinking glasses
is place of china cups. The formidable
meal, which is served by an upper man
servant, excites the European visitor's
wonder and dismay. First the teapot-cr
kettie, if named after its shape -is filled
with green tea, sugar, and water in such
propot tions as to make a tt~ick sweet
syrup, which is drunk without milk or
cream. Tlhen follows an infusion of tea
and spearmint ; yet another of tea and
wormwood ; yet another of tea and lemon
verbena ; aiid yet another of tea and cit
ronb On good occasions a sixth is added
of tea and ambergris. Nothing is eaten.
The "weed'' usually follows, but the Moor,
though a smoker, is not an "inveterate.'
Dinner consists of various dishes of mut..
ton, nieh and fowl, inigemously and ar
tistically served in mixtures of pomades4
soups, spices, and cosmetics; so, at least,
Englishmen declare who have had in
courtesy to swallow the preparations.
limves, forks and spoons are dispensed
with, perhaps despised. Around a cenj
tral dish gathers the company, as usua.
oross-leggeci on the floor. At "In the
name of God,'' which is the brief grace
pronounced by the master of the house,
the slave removes the cover from the bowl;
lifted hands are thrust into the smoking
dish, and morsels of its contents, deftly
rolled into the nmputh with a neatness and
precision truly wonderful. Eract portions
are picked from fowl, and fish, and mut
ton-chop bone without delay or effort,
Sharp nails are said to act as 'knives.
After the course water and napkins are
brought around. The wash over, another
dish and another plunging of the paws in
to .tIb savory. mess. .incense ia often
burned during the dhnner, which fills the
apartment with dlelicate aroma, 'When' a
meal is neorved )as the open Court the ladies
of the house are permaitted tb gaze on their
lord, from ther op1en balcony which usually
A BoYal 'inampIon.
Into the field of the "Oloth of (old'
one bright afternoon thronged the
."venan" or "comers,"t to runli 0 ilt
with the "tenans" or "holders." Bid
ing down the field to the "tree of nobil*
ity,'' each knight rang his lanoq upon
the black-and -gray shield, thus signify
ing his readiness to joust with the
i challengers. One English knight, more
aspirig than the ress.-Bir Richard
Jerningham, knight of: the King's
chamber,-reaching to the top of the
"perron," struck with his lance's tip the
white-and-silver shield of the King of
France. Then "holders" and "comers"
rode the one general course of lance to
lance, and, this shock over, they fell
back while the single champions rode
before the barriers.
"For whom fight you, Sir Richard
Jerningham, good knight and true?"
demanded Mont St. Michel, the herald
"For the hondr of God, the glory of
England, and the love of the little lady,
Mistress Annie Boleyn-our rose of
England blooming at the court of
France," and the gallant Sir Richard
bent to his saddle-bow in salute to the
fair young maiden whom ha thus chain
. "And for whom fight you, Francis,
King of France?" demanded the English
herald, garter king-at-arms.
And the king. knight, not to be
outdone in courtesy to the bright young
girlhood of England, glanced toward
Queen Katherine's gallery, and made
"For the honor of God, the glory of
France, and the love of the sweet little
Mistress Margery Carew-the tenderest
blossom in the train of our sister of
Margery's beaming face, which had
been stretched eagerly forward in the
excitement of seeing and listening,
flushed furiously as she drew back m
sudden confusion, while the "Oh " of
e surprisbroke from her parted lips.
Then shd looked quiokly to the lists
again, as the shouts of the heralds:
"St. George for Englantil"
"St. Denis for France!"
rang out and the trumpets sounded the
With visors closed and lances fully
couched the kmghts spurred across the
fiel ., but, just as they approached the
shock, Sir Richard's horse stumbled
slightly and threw his rider's lance out
of aim. With knightly courtogy King
Francis broke his own couch, raised his
lance upright, and then, with friendly
salutations, both knights passed each
other without closing. Turning in the
course once more, they galloped across
the lists. and with equal speed and with
steady aim, "full tilt" they spurred to
the shock. Tang, tang! the lances
struck an-1 splintered fairly. Sir Rich
ard's stroke met the guard of King
Francis's silver shield, while the lance
of the King rang full against Sir Rich
ard's pass-guard or shoulder-front.
But, though Sir Richard struck "like a
sturdy and skillful cavalier," the shock
of his antagonist was even more effectiye.
For, as the record states, "the French
|King on his part ran valiantly." Sir
Richard's horse fell back with the shock,
his rider reeled in the saddle, and, so
says the chronicle, "Jerninghamn was
nearly runhorsed." The broken lance
shafts were dropped from the hands of
the knights, and the heralds declared
.Francis, King of France, victor in the
An hour later, Sir' Richard came to
Queen Katherine's gallery, King Franais
accompanying him. Then, in accor
dance with the rules of the tourney, Sir
Richard, as the knight "who was worst
ed in the combat," with due courtesy
and a deep salute, presented to the
blushing Margery a beautiful chain of
gold, large and glittering, as "the token
to the lady in whose service the victor
fights," and King Francis, smiling,
"And I, too, must claim my guerdon.
The fair Margery shall be our guest at
Ilouseueening And Clooking.
The science of housekeeping deserves
to be classed among the fine arts. It
deserves to be made so much a study
that processes and methods are lost and
only the effect remains. We all remem
ber Mrs. Stowe's blustering housekeeper
who saw good reason why every one
around her should be up and doing; on
Monday, because It was wash-day: on
Tuesday, because it was Ironing-day; on
Wednesday, because it was baking-day;
on Thursday, because it was sweeping
day, and on F~riday, because to-morrowI
would be Saturday, and the same au
thor's notable contrast In Katy Scudder,
mn whose home no one ever hurried,
and, where the work was always "done
You consult only the dial plate of your
clock, but everything depeiids on the
sets of wheels out of sight. So in the
model home, A spectator would say the
house kept itself, everything seems so
easy. .L~ut In housewifery, as in ltera
ture, results that appear simple are often
produced at the greatest expenditure of
thought. Macaulay's closing sentence
on Byron issaiddto haye cost him two
days' work; and a tyro, deceived by the
smooth diction and appropriateness of
expreson of sentiment, would think he
could do quite as well himself.
Nothing but faithful thought and care
keep the dining-room appointments
from coming~ to shame, from the linen
to the walls; nothing else keeps grease
out of the soup and lead out of the
bread; nothing else gives peace day and
night from insect pests or keeps the dustt
of ages from windows floors and shelves-;
nothing else fills the rooms with sweet
air, tidy apparel, thrift and comfort, and
imparts the general atmosphere of aj
place where you would like to stay. Itisa
not to much to say that good hdusekeep
ing Is a compound .of chemistry, oulti.
yated taste, natural, mental and moral
philosophy, economy, and that most
uncommon article, common sense,
A r.Anon low! will make more meat I
than a small one, but requires a longer ne- (
riod In which to mature. Early maturfug t
liens are of more Importance than slize orb
weig~ht of carcase.,l
" Do you neanit~ iatlioe?"
hia father's . .s4086 spok1, o ttep
worda--4991cedfairly ed 'gJIy An- ,
awe of the keen eyed Old ,an -wlyq
petted idol he had been simoo te ray
of his babyhood--those dreary, desolate
ays when the 'black pall of his ygung
wife's death had fallen over the lite of
him who was now looking at his only
child so sternly.
Aristides Mahafy's son-his bright
eyed boy-had said that he was about
to marry Ethelberta O'Rouke, a girl
whom the old man knew only as a fash
Lonable belle, and in a moment of pas
sionate anger he had told the boy that
If his determination was persisted in,
lisinheritance should follow, It was this
threat that had caused Vivian to utter
the words with whlh our story begins,
"Yes, I mean it," replied the father,
"Marry this girl If you choose, but
if you do, not a penny of mine shall
you have"-and leaving the bitterly
Druel words floating around the room
Eke stalked savagely from his apart.
Two hours have passed. So have
seyen or eight horse cars, but the one
Ior which Vivian is waiting fiually comes
dlong, and lands him at the door of
Pericles 0' Rouke's house. Ethelberta
is sitting in her boudoir sewing some
foamy laceo into the neck of a velvet
dress as the young man entered.
"I have bad news for you darling."
Vivian says in sad tones, while a don't.
blufl-or-you-will-be-called look comes
over her face.
Bertie nestled her little dimpled hands
confliently ,in his. "Tell it to me at
once, sweet," she said-only with you
alive and well, nothing could be so very
Vivian looked at her with a wonderful
gravh tenderness In his blue eyes.
"My father and I have quarreled, and
he has disinherited me. I have"-and
here his voice quivered slightly- "been
given the g. b. on your account. I am
a beggar, Bertie."
Her soft dusky eyes grew wilder and
"Yes continued Vivian "I am poor.
But I wouldn't care if it wasn't for you,
darling. It means that I must give you
up, for I cannot ask you to share life
with me on a thousand a year."
She looked at him with a rich crimson
flush surging into her cheeks. If it had
been a full, Vivian would have gone
under, but a flush could never scare
"Vivian," she said passionately, "do
you think I will let you give me up? I
love you too well for that. A beggar
)r prince you are the same to me-my
ing, my lover."
And he folded her to his heart with
i great, almost speechless tenderness
"My darling my precious," lie whis
Three months later on, a golden De
sember afternoon, with a blue sky as
nu June, there was a grand wedding at
he 0' Rouke mansion. As Vivian and
[ithelberta were entering the carriage
~hat was to bear them to the depot, she
ooked at him with a weirdly precious
"And so you would not desert me,
larling," he saId," even when you knew
hat I was poor.
"No, my precilous one," was the reply
"I learned long ago that a sucker
nce off the hook will never bite again,
md your father and I put up this job so
is to land -you a little quicker."
Artist.,' Modei an New York.
Among the Academy models some tune
lance, was the son o1 a banker In Wall
itreet, New York, who had failed during
m financIal crisis. Later, the young model
>btained a position In a down-town bank,
aut such was his pride in his physique and
blis interest in art that he continued to pose
in the evening classes. Another model,
valued for his fine muscular development,
was a blacksmith by trade. Another was
i house-painter, who during the winter
months, when all of his trade are thrown
raut of employment, supported himself in
this fashion. fBtill another, also noted for
his fine development, was a German ath
lete. Onre model, well known in his day
it tbe Acadlemy, was a half-breed Indian
employed as coachman in a wealthy
famnily. In his leisure hours he posed at
the Academy, and became a piopniar
model, but one day his employer discov
ired his arlistic bias, and forced bim to
tiesist. Hie has siuce returned to the
equine sphere he adorned, and resides in
in inland city, Another temnporary mo
tie was the son of a prominent artist min
mother city. &2any studies of Arabs ex
meuted in New York during the past few
rears bave had for their model a negro at
Miched to the Academy, whose head and
Igure effered a perfect type of th'at race.1
&L prosperous manufacturer of picture
rrames in an interior town, having failed
n busines, became a model in New York,
Sfew artists In New -York have their mo
els acting also as domestics or studio-re
ainers. This Is a foreign custom import.
d b~y artists who have received their
chlooling abroad. Under these circum-.
tances a sort of comradeship arIses be-.
ween the artist and his faithful model, I
vhich has its pathetic as well as its gro-e
esque side, since the remunerative of the
nodel Is apt to depend upon the successes
>r failures of tbe artist. There is a colo
iy of young artists in New York which 1
>Ossesses a retainer knowk to the world as I
'tBammy"-a youth of muscular type,with I
blonde mustache and hair, and a fresh c
omplexion. H1 s face and figure fit him
or all spheres of model life. One day, he t
ioss as a stalwart fisherman, in a pea.
acket, a disreputable hat, and high sea- a
outs. Another week, ia a dress-suit a
orrowed for the occasion, he figures as a I
al-roomi gallant, with one arm encircling f
he waist of a bald-pated lay-fsture, ar- 3
ayed in silken robes. lhke vise borrowed,
nto whose glass eyes he gazes with an a
'Ipression of the deepest tonderness, Hie t
mas even appeared as a bold horseman j
eated astride a wooden chair, which was r1
laced on a table,' tightly clutching two
>tdcey of clothes-line for reins, Vith his t:
ody inclined at the angle necessary to la
mply a furious galloping on the part of s
ils fiery steed, and his. coat-tails spread
lut and fastened to the wall behind to ft
Ilustrate the action, of -tne wind. In ad- o
lition to his accomephalhments as a inodel, o
is young maa does everythmng an artist's o
enchman can be erpected to do in the c
ne of gentneairiaofulg.
, 'ik~ s 4
"A TuVO UI.44)iohtai
There is a little hamlet in the souith
Orn part of Nelson Qounty X A' a' Wlo4
I Trappiet naon~s.4 EtcP il, the
monastery refeAbles 1an othef l dt.
wiien the doots' are noe phieded tie '#iaI
o feels as if hthad stepped baek Into
tlie middle ,ages . The visitor Is courto.
ously recelyed and given .a cot in A cell.
At niiduight he Is awaknied by the bell
which calls the mduk. to the midniolt
mass. De nponks ontinue attheir de -
votionis ab9ut six artd a half hours, and
then they march an shen$.proceepipn to
the chapter. room. Here they 'iee4t
every morpinig, andlhere pupishiout ti
meted out for all offences against the
rules. The abbot'schair N ai ele0.64
throne, and in walking to his seat thjat*
abbot pauses ovor his own grave. TI'he,
culprit who awaits j idgmient also stands
on this terrible spot. For punishineat
some are deprived of their weals for a
day; others are' ordered to prostrate
themsAlves on the floor, while the monks
walk over them. When a deoision is
given the delinquent never murmurs,
but immediately sets abont its fullfil
-By an ancient rule of the ordor all
Trappist monasteries are built in the'
form of a quadrahgle, enclosing a square
court. All around this court extenes the
cloister, used by the monki as a prome
nade. Here the inmates never speak,
not even to visitors, nor do they in the
refectory, dormitory or churches. . In
the graveyard back:of the church is the
tomb of Mrs. Nancy Miles, and by het
side the remains of Mrs. Mary iBradford,
only sister of Jefferson Davis. Each
monk's 'grave is marked by a black
cross on which, in white loiters, is
painted his monastery name. At the
foot of each grave is a stool whieh the
moilks use in praying for the souls oi
the departed. The dead are not en.
olosed in coffins, but are simply wrapped
in their gowns and buried. When a
death occurs, a fresh grave is iminedi
ately opened for the next one who passes
away. In the dormitory each monk has
a cell with walls of heavy fire-brick,
containing an iron cot. The monk al
ways sleeps with his clothes on. The
regular time for rising is never later
than two 3'clock, but on feast days it is
two hours sooner. In these cells, every
Friday night, the monks scourge them.
selveb with a knotted whip of many
lashes, in remembrance of the scourging
of the Saviour. Except by a physician't.
prescription, a monk never tastes meat
of any kind, fish, eggs, butter or lard.
Their diet is exclusively vegetable. No
stimulants, not even tea or coffee or to
bacco, are used in any form. In the
dining-room each monk is provided with
a tin plate and a woo.len fork and spoon.
From Sept. 14 to Ash Wednesday only
one meal a (lay 1s allowed. From Easter
Sunday until Sept. 14 they eat two meals
daily-'ine at slevent anct the other at
six o'clock. For seven years those who
wish to enter are on trial, 'and all the
hardships are put upon them. They
can go away any day during this period
if they desire, but when the time of
probation is over they take a final vowv
and are irrevocably sunde red from the
world. There are about sixty monha in
this monastery. Only two Americans
belong to the order-one frot Solma,
Ala., and the other from Philadelphia.
A remarkable ruld of the order is that
which precludes all females from enter
bho abbey, save only the wife of the
ruler of the nation. The Gethseemtie
Abbey owns 1800 acres of land, haif of
:>f which is mn a state of high cuitiva
And he was Grad of it.
Almost every night of' has life for the
Last twenty-three years a Detruoiter has
been aroused from his slumbera, by a poke'
in the ribs and a voice whispering: "J't111
John I do you hear that ?"
On such occasions the conversation hs
tlways run in one channel, and about, as
"W hazz want ?"
"D in't you hear that noise ?
"histen I I tell you s >me one as raising
"For Heaven's sake, John get up, or
we'll be murder ed in our bieds! 1 hear some
>ne moving arouu'i in the dllina roomil"
"Let 'em move!"e
"There it is again! if y'ou don't got up
1will, for I'm all im a chill !"
There was no peace until John got up
md stumbled around the house with a
ruety old revolver in his grip, lie never
nxpe.cted it was anything m->are than the
wind or the frost or the ca', but almost
avery night brought a repetItion.
The other night ushered in an entilre
bhadge of programmei. J ust before mid
aight the wife elbowed his spine and
"Mercy on me ! but I feel a draught of
moid air I"
".Nonsoee!" growled the sleepy hug.
"And I hear some one walking aroundi?"
"It's the c at! *"
"Get out of bed this minute, or l'Ji yell
nuirder and arouse the neighbborhojd! "
John obeyed. lHe Cdet the cold air on
us legs as be trampled through the uipper
mall, and when lie was half way down
tairs a dark ligure skipped out of the
pen front door. W~en he reached the
breshold he saw a man runnknhr across thme
treet, and ho called out:
"Hollow! thesre-holdl on.
The man halted.
'"Come back here, you burglar? Comne
asok and 1'll give you the run of the
Louse! I've been waiting for and expieea
ng you for over twenty yearn, and now I
Ion't want to be shook In this manner!"
"You go to South Americat" shoutedl
"Well, I'll leave the door open for you
,nd you can enter and burglar -around for
whole hour If you want to and I won't
ift a finger, I'm glad you got m-i-pawer
ul glad, and sorry I drove you out before
'ou had loaded up."
He loft the door open and walked up
lairs anid jumped into bed, but his wife
lirow up a window and whistled for theO
ol4ce and raised such a racicet that time
eighbors were aroused.
It was mound that the tbbiler had opened .4
lie front door with afale key, but hadl
een driven away .before he had time t >
icure auy luunder.
"l'veJ akot tifd' f poltnga roun d
>r burglare tehemd Were' are'n uburglars,
KOelied th~ man as' he wave'd the crotv(
mit, of .the hll,."anid gt .this cebap had
ely stopped long enough to fire at' me a
)uple o? times, hanged If e wouldn't have
ought im a nsew overooat I"