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Woman of It.
F’.vcag News: Professor Broadhead paid f,iu a vrr; great compliment last night Eft >r <1: r < my dear. Mrs. Smith—lndeed! What did he say? AUTOCRACY WAS THE RUSSIANS' CHOICE Thd Romanoff Dynasty in Rus sia Began with Popu lar Assent. CONSTITUTION REFUSED Masses CWe Spurned an Offer of Leg islative Body Such as They Are Now Making Every Effort to Secure. From the National Geographic Magazine. From 1205 to 1472 Russia groaned un- the merciless sway of the 'Mongol Tartars. Resistance was of no avail against the overwhelming numbers of the invading horde. Tne period is fitly called in Russian history "The Age of Tears" or The Age of Woe." No oth er country of Europe has ever been sub jected to such horrible and long contin ued suffering. The only alleviation to the awful distress was found in the ef forts of the royal Russian family—itself tributary and a vassal, always weak, but determined and shrewd—to modify the ferocity of the conquerors and to keep the sense of nationality from dying. Upon their princes, fellow sufferers with them in a. common and intolerable subjection, the people looked as their only hope. When at last Prince Demetrius of the Don won a decisive victory over the horde and made it evident that Its final expulsion was only the work of patience and time, the delirious gratitude of the people knew no bounds. They were ready to swear themselves the subjects of Demetrius and his heirs forever. Front 1462 to 1584 three princes occu pied the throne —Ivan 111. the Great, Wlsstli, and Ivan IV. the Terrible, or, . more accurately rendering the, Russian adjective, monstrous, bbt* always mighty, always persistent in one pur pose, these three built up Russia from Its humiliation and weakness Into glory and strength. Before Ivan IV., the marvelous madman, died he had made himself a "god in the minds of his People." Autocracy had received a fresh sanction in their absolute and whole-hearted submission. People Chose First Romanoff. . (Suddenly the boy prince, Demetrius, the last heir of Ivan. died. With him the royal line of Rurik became extinct. There followed thirty years of lawless ness and anarchy, of civil and foreign war. At last, In 1613, a great assembly, made up from every rank and class In Russia, got together In Moscow. A national assembly, equally representative of a nation, neither Russia nor Europe had ever seen. This assembly, after long and fierce contention, chose Michael Ro manoff as czar. Not a single condition did they imposo upon that untried boy of 17 thus unanimously elected ruler. When he appeared before them, upon their knees they shouted, "Promise that thou wilt graciously consent to rule over us.” And so with autocratic power tha dynasty of the Romanoffs was seated upon the imperial Russian throne. There Is no other royal house reigning in Europe today which in equal degree owes its elevation to the free voice of the people. There is no ether reigning house that does not trace its origin back to some success ful warrior and owe its earliest ad vancement to the sword. In every oth er country, on some bloody plain, a Hastings or a Marchfleld, William the Conqueror, the Hapsburgs, the Hohen zollerns, have carved for themselves and their descendants a title to the crown. The father of Michael Roman - off was no brilliant soldier, only a faithful parish priest, who was re nowned for piety and ability, and who because of his noble qualities attained high ecclesiastical distinction. ffpon the autocratic throne, thus broad based upon the popular will, sovereign succeeded sovereign for more tnan a century. On each monarch de volved the duty of choosing his heir from among the male and female mem bers of the imperial family. Always that choice was accepted by the na tion. Smallpox caused the sudden death of Peter 11., in 1730, before he had expressed any preference as to his successor. There were then living four descendants of Michael Romanoff. of them were women-Anna Ivanovna, Catharine Ivanovna, Eliza beth Petrovna—and a male Infant a few months old. Eight of the most power ful nobles banded themselves together „ in what they termed "The High Secret Council.” They obtained control of the army and of every department of gov ernment and administration. They then offered the crown to Anna, subject to the following conditions: U) Smith—l!c said that while you were not handsome, you were the most Intelligent woman he had ever met. Mrs. Smith—The measley old bear! Pro fessor Broadhead has dined with us for the last time. The high council should be a permanent body, self perpetuating, and should be consulted by the czarina in all state af fairs (2) Without the consent of the council the czarina should make neither peace nor war, should levy no taxes, should alienate no public territory and should appoint no public official of higher rank than colonel. (3) No mem ber of the nobility should be executed or condemned, and no property of a noble should be confiscated except af ter a fair trial by his peers. (4) The czarina should neither marry nor ap point a successor without the consent of the council. (5) Violation by the czarina of any of the aforesaid stipu lations should constitute forfeiture of the crown. Anna accepted all these con ditions, solemnly 3igned the document, and was then proclaimed czarina or em press of Russia. Magna Charta, with all Us sublime provisions, seemed thus naturalized upon Russian soil. The announcement of this constitution was received with general indignant protest. Under se vere penalties the high council forbade the people anywhere to assemble; but they could not disperse and silence the crowds which got together all over Rus sia and denounced the new system. The czarina was put under guard and only partisans of the new order al lowed to approach her. The council hoped she mightbe kept ignorant of the mounting tide of popular feeling. Yet the council found itself powerless, de spite its being intrenched in possession of the government and despite the rank and wealth and personal influence of its members. On February 25, 1731, a zem ski sobor, a national assembly, dared tc convene in Moscow. The 800 elected deputies belonged to the nobility, the clergy, the professions and trades, and the peasant class. They' drew up a for mal and unanimous protest against the constitution. The czarina entered the hall and was greeted with frenzied shouts, "We will not let laws limit our czarina!” “Let our czarina be an auto crat just like her predecessors!” The czarina calmed the tumult and ad journed the meeting. At the next ses sion a formal petition was voted by the 800 for the re-establishment of au tocracy. The council melted away. Au tocracy reigned again as in all the days since the time of Rurik. Thus ended the first, if not the .only, genuine at tempt at & liberal government in the Muscovite empire. This is. the most Im portant, the most significant, event in the history of Russia. , The Uses of Newspapers. From Harper’s Weekly. Our newspapers are doubtless awful things, but wo could ill spare them. It is true—whether Professor Morse said so or not —that most of them devote much space to murder and baseball, for neither of which subjects the cultivated reader carc3 much, though it is astonishing how the in terest In murder keeps up with the less cultivated average reader, common though It has become, sad to say. But it Is In dealing with other forms of crime that the labors of the press are more valuable. Only the newspapers—and nowadays some of the other periodicals—have a constant and sustained Interest in showing up mis government, frauds on the people, graft, breach of trust, and man's various forms of dexterous inhumanity to man. News papers make reforms possible, and when the reforms come, help greatly to make them successful. The considerable body ot our fellow citizens who find ‘ steal and let steal” a good enough maxim for the con duct of life could live up to it far more successfully if It were not f6r the news papers. Our newspapers might be much better: they could easily be made more to the taste of people of taste; but their un lovely crying of crime, disagreeable as it is, la an exceedingly important puoiic duty, and in tho.r faithfulness and vera cious fortitude in keeping it up lies really the biggest pnrt of our hope of a higher standard of honesty In public and private life. There is hope for any kind of ras cality as long as it can be kept out of tl.c papers. Proof Positive. Knicker—Why do you believe that II Is an unlucky number? Bocker—Well, ain’t everybody that Uved in the thirteenth century dead? j v GRAFT? v | Of course, we all know graft when we see It, in the shape of a bribe to a legislator, in the shape of a tip to a waiter or bellboy, in the shape of ridiculously enormous salaries and fa* directors' fees and stock syndicate pro fits to life insurance officials. But are we all so ready to recognize graft in some of its many much more*common forms? For example, do any of the incidents here set forth tell of graft? And If not graft, what? Business and social amenities? Custom? Thoughtfulness? fitupidity? Selfishness? Cusscdncss? Or Just plain, everyday downright hu man nature? Not very long ago a certain city editor of the metropolis assigned a re porter to Interview a certain eminent divine on the growth of the Easter spirit in this country among the Pro testant denominations. Seeking the preacher In his church study, the re porter said to him! “Dr. Blank, the paper which I repre sent would very r much appreciate the courtesy of an Interview with you on the manner in which the various Pro testant denominations have come to celebrate Easter with all the elaborate ness of the Catholic church. Would you feel like granting the interview?” The reverend doctor beamed. "Why, certainly,” he replied. "I shall l>e only' too glad to tell you what I know about the development: and, fur thermore, let me congratulate you on bringing to my attention a subject that Is most decidedly interesting, but one which would doubtless never have oc curred to me had you not mentioned it just now.” Then, in answer to the questions put to him, the preacher gave the reporter all the necessary material for a highly entertaining interview, throwing many unusual sidelights on the way the Protestant churches, one by one, lost their contempt for the celebration of what they had chosen to term a pagan survival and began observing it in all solemnity. When the last question had been put and answered and the reporter had folded his notes, he warmly thanked the preacher for his courtesy and kind ness, and the latter responded that he had been only too glad to have had the opportunity presented to him of talk ing on a subject of such great interest to him, but which, he must repeat again, had never occurred to him. So the reporter returned, jubilant, to bis city editor, and told all that had occurred between him and the preach er, even to the compliment the latter had paid the editor’s mental acumen in thinking of the subject matter of the Interview. Therefore, what was the city editor’s surprise two days later, when he received this letter In his official mail: “Dear Sir: Day before yesterday, when one of your young men called on me to interview' me on the growth of the Easter spirit among the Protestant churches generally. I did what I could to supply him with the information desired. I now write to ask you when I shall receive a check; and I trust that you will pardon the suggestion that it should be one commensurate with the unusual Information I gave him. If, however, you do not see your way clear to send a check for an interview, may I further suggest that you do not use the interview, but permit me to dispose of it to my denominational paper, which, I feel, w'ould be only too glad to pay me for such an article. Indeed, I see how I can make two articles out of the material." The city editor read the letter over In dumb amazement. Then he read it slowly and carefully the second time. Then he listened again to the reporter detail all the circumstances attending the interview. Then he handed the re porter the preacher’s letter, and as he did so, one word escaped him. Was that word—graft? It was another reporter who sought out a reformer, now nationally promi nent, when he was Just beginning to come to the front, and asked him if he would grant the favor of talking on a certain phase of a question then before the public. The coming man jumped when the reporter spoke. ‘‘By Jove!” he exclaimed, "why didn’t I think of that phase of the thing long ago? Talk about it! No sir! I’ll save that idjea until next week, and then write it up for a magazine which I know will be glad to pay me $l5O, at least, for the discussion. But is there anything else 1 can talk to you about?” Graft? One of last June’s many brides— typical of the others, to all appearances —was making up a list of guests for the big church wedding which she had set her heart on and about which she had carried her point, despite the mild remonstrances of her fiance in favor of a quiet home affair. It took her some days to compile a list that she was certain Included all her friends and acquaintances, and would not cause anyone to think that he or she had been either intentionally or unintentionally overlooked. Then she sought her father. “Daddy, dear.” she said, “I’ve got all made out the list of the people I per sonally want to invite to my wedding. Do you want to look it over and add any names?” The indulgent head of the household superflcally scanned the list, then Jotted down the names of a half dozen boyhood cronies, then handed it back to his daughter with the remark that it was a very satisfactory list, indeed. The daughter looked at the new ad ditions and her-face fell. “Are they the only one* you want to Invite?” she asked. “Yes,” said the father, “besides the ones you’ve already got down. They’re my closest friends, and I don’t know of any I’ve left off the list.” “But how about tie lots and lots of men you do business with?” “Th.at’s just it, daughter. They are not friends; they are merely business acquaintances.” “But. father, why can’t you invite them—anyway, the ones you do the most business with? I’d get so many more gifts then!” On the other hand, cases have been known where fathers Insisted on invit ing mere business acquaintances for various ostensible business reasons to family weddings. The clotji is not all cut one way. but the question is— Is this graft’’ And if you can’t de cide the question for yourself perhaps it would be well to ask the aid of some buslnes acquaintance who has been the recipient of an invitation to the wed ding of a daughter or a son of a man he knows solely in a business way. When Smith went to the city from his home town ho was polite enough and thoughtful enough to look up ills old friends who had preceded him to the broader field, but after paying a call all around h» to avail himself of the numerous opportunities that were given him to continue the old friendships. It Is safe to say that he did not see one of his old cronies twice a year, and whenever one of them, in an effort to get in touch with Smith, would call him up by ’phone to make an appointment for lunch or some so cial event Smith would always reply that he was too busy. After this had been going oa for some time, Smith’s cousin moved to ths city, and the first thing the r»%u»tn did was to Inquire of their old friends. "How’s Jones?” asked the cousin. "Haven’t, seen him for six months.” said Smith. "Well, how’s Brown?” "Haven’t seen him for six months, either,” So it went through the entire list; then the cousin asked: "Don’t you keep in touch with them any more?” "No,” was the reply, "I don’t. Why should I? They can’t be of any service to me. I made it a point when I came here to know and associate only with people who will be useful to me." Graft? This same Smith decided that he would spend the summer months at the seashore. "You see,” he explained to his cou sin, "it will not be so expensive as it may seem at fiist blush. I know a lot of swell girls down there whose fathers have cottages, so I’ll just take a room at some bachelor hotel, get my break fasts at the restaurants —eggs and rolls and coffee won’t cost much —and for most of my dinners I’ll get myself in vited to their homes by the girls I know.” Graft? Said a young man two years out of college—u broker’s clerk and something of a society chap—to his chum: “She’s a good girl to know. Father’s got wads of money. Gives her all sorts of turnouts. Two afternoons last week she called up and wanted to know If I’d like to go out driving with her. Of course, I. was delight* d. Takes me out to hei golf club, too, and the Fountry club every once in a while. Meet a lot of influential people through her. Maybe some of them will be of benefit to me some time. But just now I’m having a Jolly good time driving behind taiulems and pairs and meeting people. Tell you what, she s a girl worth know ing and cultivating, and I intend to keep in her good graces Why don’t you get acquainted with somebody like that?" Graft? Mrs. Perkins was making a morning call on her sister, Mrs. Henry who lives In two rooms in a non-housekeep ing apartment house and takes her meals out. As the hands of the clock noared 12:30 Mrs. Henry remarked, naively: "How would you like t<* drop In on Mrs. Jones, just around the corner? It’s about her lunch time now, and If we go right away I just know she’ll ask us to stay to luncheon, and she always sets such dear luncheons, and I like them, oh, a very great deal better than those they give us at the boarding house.” Graft ? “William," said Ihe gray-bearded head of a famous wholesale dry goods house to his Junior partner, “I got a letter in this morning's mail from Hawkins saying that he would be in town day after tomorrow on a buying trip. You know what that means. Hawkins is doing a big business out in Colorado and his order cannot amount to less than several thousand dollars. We’ve simply got to land him this time —you remember the fellows down the street carried away the fat of his last order, and we both agreed at that time its largely due to the good time they showed him. “Now when he comes, I’m going to turn him over to you. And for good ness sake, make him eomfortable while he is here. See that he is nicely located at a good hotel, in a good room; then slay with him evening's for company’s sake and show him around a bit. lie’s particularly fond of the theater, and be likes shows with chorus girls and all that. Make him feel that we appreciate him and think he is a good follow. Here’s a voucher for $l5O, and If you need any more money, let me know; for we want to land that order in full this time. And William, perhaps—perhaps, it would be well to invite him home for dinner one of the evenings.” Graft? "I'm having a hard time placing any thing like the usual number of orders this trip.” a traveling man of twenty years’ experience with a first class house wrote to the president of the firm. “It’s this way: Blank & Co. have lately allowed their man on the same route sls a day entertainment expenses, and he’s cutting right into my best trade, which, I fear, will large ly desert me if you, too, don’t raise the ante. Confidentially, I thing It’s a d — shame for us to be held up in this way by a lot of picayune grafters, but we want the business, and so what are w.e going to do about it?” What? Grafters? “My. soil,” said a successful lawyer, settling back ip his chair, preparatory to giving his offspring a bit of fatherly fdivee —“my son, you would do well o follow my practice of keeping a box of fine imported cigars in my office desk for the benefit of those callers who smoke; and nearly every man is a smoker these days. A fine cigar will put any lover of the weed in a good frame of mind for the discussion of business, and, besides, it will make him feel that he is getting something foj| nothing out of you and coming out a little ahead of the game.” Something for nothing? And that something graft? Two men met on the street. “By the way,” said the taller, “do you remember the man I introduced you to the other day while going to lunch?” “Yes.” “Done any business with him yet? He’s in your line, you know.” “Not yet, but hope to.” “Well, when you do. don't forget how you happened to get next to him.” Graft ? “On my last trip west I struck a hotel in Chicago where l was able to load up with about all the paper 1 shall need in writing my next book," laugh ingly confessed a well known writer of fiction. “Most liberal hotel I ever saw in the way of writing paper. Send down for some, and the clerk sends you back a ream. And did I take ad vantage of it? Well. I came back with my grip bulging full." Graft? Graft to demand of a famous man that he send you his autograph, that you may sell it with your collection later on. Graft to pull strings for compli mentary tickets —for the circus, for ex ample? Graft to wear a shirtwaist for a week, then have it nicely pressed and taken back to the store where you bought It and get your money back be cause it doesn’t suil? Graft to get a friend or an acquaint ance to secure you an invitation to this, that, or the other function at which you yearn to be present? Graft io have a professional singer or an elocutionist at a reception as a guest and then, by constant importun ing. g“t the talented guest to sing or recite as a great favor to you? Graft to say. incidentally. In a letter, after stating that everything is going well with you Jack, that Just now, though, you are considerably worried, for little Margaret Is growing so fast and will need so many new clothes for fall, knowing full well that the next letter from home will bring a sub stantial check? Graft? And —as was asked In ths beginning—lf not graft what? Busi ness and social amenities? Custom? Thoughtfulness? Selfishness? Or Just plain every-day down-right human na ture? "P-r-r-r! Wow-w-so-00-oo! M-rn-m --fth.ih!” It was a despairing cry that trailed away in a sob of utter hopelessness. Ellis Carleton lifted her head In the quick, spirited manner of a thorough bred horse. There was much about her remindful of the sleek racers of her native Kentucky. Her slender figure straightened, her brown eyes widened and darkened at the sound. “Br-r-r-roo-00-wow-wow-m-ah!” Kills rose so impetuously that her drawing board tumbled upon the floor and her paint tubes lay, a blue and red and yellow menace to the white bear rug. But the clever young Illustrator for Life's Path spurned them with her slim, slippered foot and dashed to the telephone. , "What Is that noise?” she demanded. "It’s Mr. Trafton’s dog. miss. Mr. Trafton’s been called away on a trip, and Jack is lonesome. Been howling that tune all morning, miss." "A humane way to treat a dog!” Miss Carieton’s eyes flashed. She was a member of the society for the preven tion of cruelty to animals. She held the telephone receiver in her shapely, ringless band while she reflected. No, it might be Indiscreet to report the case at the society’s headquarters. She must first look Into the case. But as an officer of the society—her gleaming new badge of office lay in a corner of the upper drawer of her chiffonier—she had a right to investigate the case. "Jl:lmy!" she called, her contralto voice sharp with decision. "Come up st ;lrs and go with me to this man Trafton’s apartment. As an officer of the Humane society I’m going to take charge of his abandoned dog.” Jimmy, the Albino bellboy of the fashionable Gorham apartment on Up per Broadway, appeared at the door a moment later, blinking furiously In token of his repressed excitement. "Come, Jimmy!” Miss Carleton had thrown a long, black coat over her pink negligee. "B—b—b—but, Miss,” spluttered Jim my. "Mr. Tra—r—rafton’s a very nice man and him and Jack are the best of friends. Please, miss, I don’t like to 'rest his dog when Mr. Trafton's away.” "Jimmy!” Miss Carleton opened the upper chiffonier drawers, drew forth the gleaming star and ostentatiously pinned it on the bosom of the black silk cloak. "You must never interfere with an of ficer of the law in the discharge of his —her—duties. Come along.” Awed by the sheen of the star upon her righeously swelling bosom, Jimmy followed. With Ills pass key he reluct antly unlocked the door, and Miss Carleton, having lifted the whimpering, nottled bull terrier in her arms, stopped with a sigh of artistic satisfaction to survey the handsome apartment. The lull red of the walls, blending with the dark hues of the weathered oak kettle, long, low sideboard, whereon shone a silver decanter, the capacious lounging chairs and teak wood tabourette. What a study in low tones it was! And the three or four fine old etchings—what tuste the man had. A surreptitious glance at the bookcase revealed amaz ingly “solid reading.” The spirit of Pandosa reincarnated in the young woman from Kentucky. "Do you think, Jimmy, I might have a peep at the bed room and bath? This is such a beuutlful apartment and, you know, I am an artist.” Jimmy, mollified by ids appreclaton yf his favorite guest, nodded. Miss Carleton's search left her In op timistic mood. Not a dancing girl with pointed toes at a quarter of twelve, not a winking soubrette, nor a Broadway favorite in scarlet pajamas In the col lection of pictures on his bedroom wall. A motherly face framed in soft, white hair, a masculine face with judicial features, hardened by the kindly light in a pair of sharp blue eyes, these and a Browning calendar were the only mural adornment. Jack lapped his cheek gratefully, for at the discovery she had given him a friendly hug. As she and Jimmy went below she interrogated him as to Jack’s regimen. “We feeds him whenever he hollers,” Jimmy confided, whereat Miss Carleton softly groaned. “Meat,” he added, in answer to in quiries, “all he can stuff. We gives him water wfcen we thinks of it. Mr. Traf ton’s in Boston. I don’t know when he’ll be back. He paid me well to see that Jack didn’t need nothin’ while he was gone. Yes, I takes him to the door and he stands there, lookin’ out with me at the crowd, for exercise.” For answer Miss Carleton pressed her red lips upon Jack’s shining brown head. Thereafter Jack lived hygienlcally and happily In the apartment of the fab Illustrator of Life’s Bath. For a joyful week he walked briskly every morning and evening with his long llmbed. graceful hostess In the park. True, he had but one meal a day In stead of being “fed whenever he hol lered.” but he dined bountifully on dog biscuit at such times, and his small In testines were no longer fevered, because all day a sliver dish, filled with cool water, awaited his needs. He slept on a yellow silk cushion on Miss Carleton’s white willow rocking chair at the head of her brass bed. It was a halyeon week for Jack and he licked hfs glistening black lips as he set forth with his white linen gowned, red leather belted, white sailor hatted friend for their early walk one morning. But he stopped at the curb. His wondering black eyes had been fixed by a face at the window of a stopping hansom. “Como. Jack.” called a pleasant con tralto voice, but for the first time Jack disobeyed With a yell of delight he had sprung Into the arms of the alight ing stranger. The stranger raised his hat. “There is—l think—nomo mistake.” He lifted Ids hat with one hand and pointed to the Joyously squirming dog's collar with tiie other. “I am John Trafton. I (to the bell boys)—l an; known as Jack's father.” he sail. The tall girl in the white linen gown dimpled and flushed becomingly “I am Ellis Carleton. I have been taking the liberty of entertaining Jack in your absence.” She lifted her eyes pleadingly. “I was reared among dogs and horses and I heard him howl,’’ she said. It was arranged with much amiable courtesy. Jack's master was, unfor tunately. leaving for Washington and Louis that night. Certainly. If Mi- Carleton cared for Jack s com panionship his father” would be Im re- vly relieved to have him in such good and—pardon him—such beautiful comrany Mt«s Carleton bowed und bb'-Vd. Mr. Trafton bowed. When Miss Carleton returned from ?1 ” walk Jimmy was just “going on detFor five minute's she talked seriously to the boy who stood blink inn in perplexity. At lust he nodded and n '•hlnlng silver dollar passed from h°r white silk glove to his brown paw. And so It happened that Mr, Trafton n o r knew how nearly he had been ”ndcr th rt ban of th** Humane society. He and the alert officer of the society never “properly introduced.” but Carleton. communing with her wlf one evening:, said of thia: “It ! doesn't matter as much as though he hud some dreudful high kicking prints : In his apartment." Three months later, when he asked j her to become Mrs. Trafton, she raised that conventional objection In feeble j Jest. He brushed it aside in an im« ' petuous way she secretly admired. When she hesitated, as women who are going to accept always hesitate, be clinched his argument with **F\»r Jack's sake." Jack, with a hug. white satin bow on his collar, was an interested guest at the wedding and barked at the sub* sequent rice shower. LOOKING AT liATS. From the Kansas City Star. Margaret and 1 were Just looking at huts. As we entered the large miliV nery department we gazed with intense admiration at the bewildering display of hats, hats, hats; nothing but hats! The demure, little saleswoman ap proached us, confident, smiling, "Something in a small black hat? Yes, indeed, we have a lovely selection. Now here is perfect little beauty. The style—now try it, my dear; this la charming! The very latest shape, positively the latest. See! ah! the graceful curves, the—try it tilted a lit tle more to the front. So —there! My dear, you have such beautiful eyes, and this little hat really adds so much to the expression. No? You do not like it. "Well, now here is something else. My dear, this is exclusive. We have but the one and—Ohl how perfectly charming! See how it —Really, dear, you have such a pretty mouth, and this Increase the droop of the lips and la so—and the material —Oh, you could not duplicate that little hat in town for double the price we ask for it. So becoming! So perfect! And at a spe cial price. It seems to have been made especially for you. "The crown high! Why, what would you have? That Is the newest impor tation, and is "New here Is another little shape. Try it. So—now —100k — : ah! The very thing! This is, indeed, what you have been looking for. It is perfect. The style is exquisite. Plain and elegant; Just suited to you, my dear. It makes your profile perfect. See now, from the back, ah! charming! And all hand made—the horse-hair braid, you see; the latest thing, and the silk chiffon, and the buckle —real Jet, my dear. Now really it is the hat you should have. But you do not like It? "Well, let me see. Oh, yes! I have something back hero you will like. It Is half promised, but if you like it, it shall be yours. There are two ladles Just dying for this very hat. Is It not a perfect dream? Just a little more to this side. It is far more becoming to you than it was to either of them. It gives your face just the right fullness, and from the hack It —well, look for yourself. Perfect, isn’t it? My dear, you should not neglect an opportunity like this. The nobbiest little hat in town. Just for today we have it at a reduced price. It is appro priate for street wear or dress occa sions. Black is very becoming to you. Let me turn it just a little —so. Still better. You cqphl not get anythin* more suitable or becoming. The ma terial —best quality Jap silk, shirred by hand; those silk violets are so dainty. The shape is all you could desire. It is so youthful, so becoming. You don’t— H Margaret was the victim of all this while I stood by, helpless, transfixed by the fluency of that little lady’s tongue, Her every movement was quick, but the movement of her tongue was mir aculous. 1 gasped and held with both hands to tllo'dable. Margaret quailed beneath the volley of words hurled at her, and I don’t know w’hatever w« would have done had not kind provi dence sent a floorwalker, requiring th« presence of the volatile lady In the reai of the room for a few moments. When she returned Margaret had gathered sufficient courage to say, meekly and apolegetlcally that she did n’t believe she would get the hat today As we walked out, still partly dazed, we felt that the eyes of the world and the finger of scorn were pursuing us, and every hat we saw had a knocking grin concealed within its flowers. t The Smell of Cities. From the London Chronicle. Some sensitive essayist should take the smell of place as subject. Paris for ex ample, is highly pervaded with the odor of burning charcoal, and, coming from Paris to London, one i? newl/ assailed by the appeal of soot. Cologne has a reputa tion, long undeserved, for snielli other than that of Its famous "water," an<s it has been said that In years of old a blind man could find his way about Cologne by following his nose. Moscow has an odd perfume of its own. It suggests cranber ries of peculiar pungency. And It never leaves the nose. Garlic, of course, Is the basic smell that greets the stranger who lands at Calais. But the most curious of the smells of place Is that of St. Peters burg. The present writer had often won dered what It was, having detected It even between the sheets of his bed at the most exorbitant hotel. On his third visit he was driven in a drosky from the station with a fresh young English girl, who had never been away from Kent before. "Now. do do you smell anything,” he asked. "Yes." said the girl. “Old boots.” That is the smell of St. Petersburg. Centenarian shoe i leather. William W. Dean, age 93, recently i celebrated his birthday by working full 1 time at his desk in the treasury depart* ; front at Washington. “Si bet on a horse named Rosebud.* “And loat ?” “Yes; she began to blow in ths first quarter." ‘ xM