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1‘AKtWELL TO ITifc, !?■ A.KM. J
The coach is pi the door at Iasi; The eager children, mounting last 'And kissing hands, in chorus sing:. <£ocd-byc, good-bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and lawn, T4ie meadow-gates we swung upon. To pump and stable, tree and swing, sJood-byc, good-bye, to everything! " And face you well for evernunc, O ladder at the hayloft door. O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, Good-bye., good-bye, to everything! (’rack goes the whip, and off we go; The trees and houses smaller grow; Last, round the woody turn we swing; Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! —;Il. L. Stevenson. ^ ^ Xi^Tv rv\.Tx>wn\^^-w^vruiq,\\ rsv^.\\:.uru,v>. rg^\iu.Yiiwrjirft4^ Caught on the Rebound. --- BY FLORENCE QUEST. M'-fiy HI- new-mown liny smelled «[ b so sweet as she walked be 0 *TH O side it. Tile wild roses in •** JC the hedges trailed against her shoulder, and the .Time siMiutau--; shone through the ash trees upon hi .-. What a good, new world it was after the night’s rain! The grass was we: still: Miss Nannie Collisson held up her skirt well, though it was short enough not to fear getting very damp, and her shoes v.nre the ones she loved last for the organ, because they knew every hollow in the worn, old pedals. But it was not fear of the wet that made her hurry through the field; it was. because she had told Stevie to be there early to blow for her. It was so Mom that she could get a hoy for so long itt the morning, but, of course, the school was getting a holiday to day. when Miss Aimaeker was going to he married, and the organist was steal ing an extra hour out of Stevie's time for her own use. A wave of scented air met her at the church door—what flowers! Lilies! everywhere white lilies and roses, ail the best of the vil lage for the young bride and her mate. What a day and a place for a wed ding! Miss Collisson touched the flow ers with he: delicate, little hands lov ingly. as she passed with eager steps through the chancel to the organ. fMevie was there faithfully. She called to bin: and then pulled out her music. She knew the wedding marches well enough, no need to practice them: site could spend this half hour with Mendelssohn and that lovely, little cau zoin.'Tts’. of Kheinberger's. She pulled cut hey stops and played on. while her mind went dreaming on. Twenty-eight years ago and she might have walked so. with white-shod feet, upon a red pathway under the palms—then sbe started guiltily. What was making her think like this'/ It was many years now since she hail learned to play liers'elf into forgetful ness. This was just an episode. Site had not even seen the man Miss An packer was going to marry, atul what matter'? He would send her five dol lars. and they would buy so many things for Betty: chickens and jellies and those dainty trifles that wtjro ail site could take pleasure in now.; Poor 1* .. . .■ • i Miss Coliisson puiiod mu the Vox 'Angelica with loving fingers. Ah. well, 'she herself had something belter: How that eanzonetta just sang to her! The guests began to arrive at last, and she turned to brighter strains. Tlic church filled very fast: half tlie countryside and all the village were there. Miss Coliisson played her best, and she had not loved her instrument •thirty years in vain. She heard the bridegroom and then the clergyman enter, and almost immediately she was told that, the bride was at the door. Stopping short in the middle of a festal air she struck the trumpet call of Elsa's wedding march. A line tiling! It stirred the blood of soldiers in her vfins-; and she played it proudly at first, then softly and beautiftiily: then loud again, caring little whether the briue was waiting patiently or ner yousiy. if Then "The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden.'' and at last she could look round. The choir came between her and all the rest, but she saw the bridal group bit by bit; a crowd of girls in white; Miss Annacker herself, lovely as ever, in a white mist of veiling: and beside her—how like. oh. how like—that tall, gallant, young mail with the frank eyes—surely she was twenty-eight years back and the rest was a dream! But. no. The hot tears started to her eyes; it could not tie; this was real ity. Perhaps some relative: perhaps, indeed, his son—a bitter thought. Had lie married? She liad not heard. She had never tried to hear. When she had isolated herself with Better she bad endeavored to inter that ‘‘might have been.” But there was no reason why he should have done the same. ‘‘A man"—Miss Coliisson turned round to the dear, old organ, and her face was white now—“a man forgets so soon!” And so she forced them ail out oi Iter mind and played “O Perfect Love.” as all the church said they had never heard it played before. She did nol notice that half her choir had stopped singing to listen: she was breathing all her passion for sweet sound, and all the starved love of her heart intc 1he hymn that had meant nearly life for her once. "O Perfect Love” tint! had been denied her. Might it How 01 this dear heat I that was so like, so like the; dear one that had left her so lnu< ago. Tier head was bowed over tin ■allow keys, her tears fell like rain There was no bitterness in lie -thoughts: that had been purged ou long ago by Ibtiy. This was her sim pie jot—to play with snob pure bar mold*'.* the bridal by;::.: tha: her owr Ala had missed. ;? : w * * * But her face was shining as sli hurried home when all was over—lei dollars, not five' What luxuries t'o She reach:d the tiny cottas breathless, the golden coins chinking in her hand, and ran straight to the in valid couch in the parlor kitchen, and throw them on the coverlet. "So you have come at last!'’ Well she had known this would be the greeting. "Did they make you play double time for ike pay? It is well you get something extra sometimes.” “Indeed, it: is very well." Miss Col-j lisson was already busy with the tire, for it was past dinner time, and Deity was always worse when she was hun gry. "You must have something nice for tea, to make up for this scrappy dinner. Did you take your milk'?” "Xo. I am sure it is turning sour. Wily can you not stop taking- it from that woman'? You know she has not the best milk in the village. She can not feed her cow properly on that bit of land. It is mistaken philanthropy to let her think so. I have told you so again and again. If he only had to. that husband of hers could get up and work-" Some cinders fell out. The poker followed. Miss Collisson rose in a hurry and knocked over a footstool. "There.” she said, "that is lighting up nicely. Will you have beef tea or mutton broth to-day'?" "I do not care. Von know I have never cared about wliai, 1 get to eat since we are so poor. What a noise you are making. And l have such a headache. This cottage is like an oven. Will you never agree to taking those rooms in that farmhouse'? I know I should like them so much bet ter.” 1.-1K***- Z* 1! • t i I.-,. could never sleep with the noise of all those birds and animals about you all day”—Miss Collisson was laying the white cloth swiftly, with glass and china, and her face was quiet and her voice as gentle as ever. "And do you not think you would tire of living in another person's house?” “You know I would not mind any thing if only I could get larger rdoms.' I cannot breathe in these holts. You would say the same yourself if you had (o live in them contiuuelly. and not be able to get out whenever you like.” The organist was silent. She was never allowed out for more than an hour at a time, unless it was for service or practice. The fretful voice went on: "What was the wedding like? You. never tell me anything. 1 have to wring it out of you. I suppose they did everything in the best of style. Rich-people can. We would have given you as grand a one if you bad only married Richard Torrehs before papa became bankrupt. He would have bad to keep you then.^instead of throwing you over like an old shoe, and I could have liad what I wanted, instead of having to put up with the scrapings of what you can earn. Oh. if you only had not kept, putting off your wedding against all papa's wishes, .just because it pleased you to delay and dilly-dally with Richard.” The beef tea was boiling over. The ■ organist ran to the fire and rescued it. pouring it into a bowl and bringing ii. to her sister quickly. Her face was white: there was a dumb appeal in her eyes, but not to Betty. That had been useless twenty-eight years ago. Only to-day it was hitting her hard. Her outer shell of calm had been broken in the church, and it was impossible to bear all this unmoved. Ob. the long lifetime it seemed since Richard Tor rens bad gone from her. not because she was poor, but because she would not leave this helpless, deformed sister, who always tormented like this for the comforts she had lost! “Y'our beef tea will be cold. Belly.” “Xo. it is too hot. (live me a soup plate to pour ft into, and give me some new bread, not that stale loaf. You like old broad. What did Miss An naeker wear? I do think she might have come to see me before this. She dime seldom enough, seeing we are every bit as well connected as she is. But. of course, it is money! They are rich and we are beggars. All the dif ference." “She wore white satin.” “Yes, of course. She is a pretty girl in a dolly way. Did she look well?” “Lovely.” “I would not say that. Her features are not regular, and she is always smiling. I never could see what peo ple found to rave about in her. It is just because she is rich. YYe are as good as they are, and yet who wants to know us?” Miss Collisson was removing the soup plate. Suddenly Betty noticed her face. “Mow white you are. I believe you played that organ loo long this morn ing. Why can you no! take care' of yourself? Think what would happen if you were unable to earn any money. We should have to go lo the poorbouse. and I should die of shame. Do think a little of me." “Oh, there is no danger of my falling ill, l think.” Miss Vollisson laughed, and then looked startled at the note ol ■ bitterness in her laughter. i Had she really been thinking it would • ho well to fall ill and die? Surely ■ Bitty's complainings were not begin ning to oast their shadow over her. She sat down and choked over some dinner, unheeding Betty's intermittent string of grievances. To-day she seemed to hear them more than usual. Perhaps she was growing hopeless. Yes, she would get past work some time, and she never knew whom slm wished would die first: poor Betty, who flung so pitiably to life, or herself, who in dying would leave the helpless, do fcSrmed thing so utterly alone. "Nannie! Are you deaf? What is Captain Torworthy like?” “Very good-looking.” said Nannie, with pale lips. “Tall and dark." “And his father, the General?” Miss Collisson rose quickly and began to clear the table. “1 could not see him. You knoty the choir was packed, and I could only catch glimpses of the people.” “And you say you could not count the roses and the lilies. I wish you could have had some: they will only wither there now. Of course, your flowers are good enough. I am not complaining, but you know I always liked really line flowers.” So it went' on until Betty was finally settled for her afternoon sleep, and the organist had taken her hat and coarse gloves and tools to work in the garden. "You are not going far?” Betty asked, eying her suspiciously as she pulled down the blind. “Remember I have been alone all the morning." "Yes. I remember. T do not mean to leave the garden. You can call me when you awake.” Then she escaped. The Virginia creeper wanted nailing up and a storm of wind had dashed about her hedge of sweet peas. Then there was a lied of scarlet lobelias, edged with calceolarias, to be weeded, and she worked hard at one after an other. Only not quite so hard enough to keep from thinking. Twice she started to go into the house for a book, but Betty must not he awakened, and she came back to her weeding. There was a mew. strange listlessness about her slender, little form. Betty had spoken truly: site must have overtired herself at the organ. Or she was grow ing old. Old! And with old age in creasing helplessness. All without Two scalding tears fell upon Hie cal ceolarias. Site looked up to daslt them away—and there lie was entering the little gate. tall, thinner than formerly, gray-headed and bronzed, but plainly the boy's father and tho more than friend of her youth. She rose and turned to meet hint, half dazed. "I saw you in church." ho explained, simply, striding over the little flower heils. and taking her hand, coarse glove and all. in his. "I am very glad. I am very glad. I have looked for you several times, but utv life' lias mostly boon spent in the Far West. Did you see me V" "No." she faltered, her delicate little face flushing deeply. "I could not. But T saw him. He is so very like-" She looked up at the General with the tears still on her lashes, "And I thought— "Yes. He is my only son. My wife died ten years ago. Here, sit down.” He pur her on the stone seat and prodded holes in the neat gravel walk ill! she controlled herself. "They told me ail about you.” He gazed thoughtfully at the tiny little house before him. ‘‘You were always brave. Nannie.” Gradually he Joid her of bis life: of his success as a soldier: how he had taken another name with a fortune and done well ill life. He did not ask much about her own. Perhaps lie had guessed most of it, and had been told tile rest. “I did you a great wrong. Nannie.” he said, "twenty-eight years ago. f was voting and very hoi-beaded. I re pented soon enough, hut you were gone. I never forgot you. I think l loved you always, though I loved my own dear wife also. 1 am all alone now: my boy is gone, you see. 1 have thought very much about you lately. Am 1 loo old? You are all alone, too. There is time for happiness still. Will you marry me now. Nannie?" Sin- started and trembled exceed ingly. ,VUU iIJIJillL. MJf *. i 1**11. Ltili Mill ly. because they were near the window. “You remember why we parted. And —I can make no secret of it. Oil. Rich ard. she is worse than site ever was! -You do not know. But ii: is unalter able. I am all she has. and I cannot leave her. And site will never leave me. tn her way site is fond of me, and so—it can never bo." The General stiffened his straight back and fixed his eyebrows in a stern air of command. “Betty.” lie said, firmly. “Betty must come, too." And that was the way in which, after many years. Nannie was caught on ihe rebound.—New York Weekly. Tin* Improved Methods of Modern Society “Do you think that society is im proving?” “Assuredly." answered the bookish man. “In old days when a man was robbed a pistol was shoved into ins face and lie was made gener ally uncomfortable. Now lie is per mitted to send his money by mail and gels some sort of an engraved, receipt for it."—Washington Star. TMcasant I’liyuii!. Tlie “grape cure" has now begun at Weisbadeu. It is a pleasant one, though rather monotonous, as the pa tient sometimes manages to eat as much as ten pounds of grapes during the day. The diet has an excellent ef fect. on those who suffer from an aemia. or from dyspepsia in all its troublesome forms.—Vanity Fair. Bloodhounds are net naturally cruel. Their mission is tv track a fugitive, not injure. Those whom they follow are rarely, if ever, lorn or injured by the pursuing hounds. Plucl? anE debenture. NARROW ESCAPE. EE this?" said W. H. Leuk liart, chief machinist’s mate in charge of the naval recruiting station at the Postofflce Building, to day, holding up what ap peared to be half a silver coin. “Well, a chum of mine in the Navy has the other half, and it saved his life once. It's a coin of Colombia. We were do ing duty on the Isthmus of Panama and stopped in at a little fruit shop. The coin is only worth about a fifth of a cent, but what we bought did not come to that, and the old woman in charge of the shop took out a knife and cut the coin in two. it struck us ns so absurd that we gave her another coin and kept that as a souvenir. We punched holes in the halves and strung them on our watch chains. “About a year after that we were cruising in the Canary Islands, and some of the Spanish dons at Las Palmas invited the officers to a grand ball. When wo landed we saw a curi ous procession making its way out of the town. What struck us as particu larly peculiar was that the Captain of the company walked in the rear of his soldiers. As soon as we met some of the natives they explained that he was the inad executioner and that the job was a hereditary one. Although he is in command of a company, lie lias to walk in the rear, and whenever lie goes into a cafe to eat the proprietor smashes tile plates as soon as he has finished. "We followed the procession to wit ness the peculiar execution. Finally wo came lo a desyrted place and found that the method of execution was io place the victim in a chair, where a steel hand is placed around his neck. With the turn of a screw the band is tightened. “After the execution wc thought it would be a good chance to take a pic ture of one of the fcliows, and my nmm ami ujf ru;m . r iipiiinii'u lip the band a little bit and took tiie picture. Somebody decided that tve had hotter leave hint there a little longer, and we strolled away to the grand bail, (i was so interesting licit we forgot the poor fellow for a couple of hours, and when we hurried back he was gone. "We did not worry any. supposing that, he had gone back to the skip. The next morning, however, he was nowhere to be found, and we went on shore to search for hint. To make a long story short, we spent all morning and most of the afternoon in trying to got a clue. Just as we were giving up in despair I noticed an old native sitting on the roadside. Around Ids neck was a s’trfcg and on the string was tiie half coin. "You can imagine that 1 grabbed the native and sent one of the boys for somebody that could talk tile lingo. It seems that the nalives who live in tin' Atalayan caves are supposed to take away the victims of the execution and bury them in caves. They get whatever is on the person. "We started the old fellow up on iho jump and pushed him up (he hills on the end of our walking sticks. He led us by little paths and lanes through the mysterious caves, and finally came to one that laid a great stone rolled up against its mouth. Lying on a heap of bones was the Lieutenant in a dead faint. He was stripped and Ids hair had inriH'd while. We shook him up and gave him some stimulant, and in .1 lit lit* while lie came around. •"That follow liad an awful lot of nerve. He declared that lie knew we would get him out. but that we were an awful long time doing it. He thought the whole thing was a joke. As he liad been one of ilie ringleaders in all the stunts on board ship, he took tiie whole thing in good part. It seems that he bad dozed off. and. be ing one of (lie sleepers that you can't wake up >viih an ax. never quivered until (he natives had left him in the cave ’ for some hours."—Minneapolis Journal. Jtrxr FOR WILD BEASTS. “Hunting big game to capture it." says a writer in the London Magazine, “is a far more dangerous business titui limiting, merely to kill, and when on the trail one cannot lie too cautious. One of the closest shaves I ever had was in the pursuit of a couple of rhin oceroses. 1 had news that a couple were in the vicinity: and. as I had an order for a pair. T started out with eighteen Malay coolies to track and trap them. “We had arrived, after a two days’ journey, at a spot where it seemed possible to trap them, and were pros pecting around, when suddenly my gun-bearer, who .always walked just behind me. cried out. dropped the rifle, and. followed by the others, bolted for tlie nearest tree. Now the Malays are among the bravest of Hie earth, and will face any animal except the wild buffalo: and certainly their fear of this creature is well founded, for it is the most ferocious brute I have ever en countered. Not only will it attack on sight, but it will pick up a scent and 'track iis quarry: while if it trees it, if will wait around tiie tree till its prey either comes down to fight or fails exhausted from hunger. It stands five feet from the shoulder, weighs from a ton to a ton and three-quarters, and moves with the speed of a horse. Its horns spread from three to four feet, pointed as spears, but its short neck prevents it from using them on any object that is iying on the ground, otherwise I should never be telling this story. ‘Even as I heard mr gun-bearer shout ‘Sladong!’ in his native tongue, I saw the huge beast bearing down upon me like a whirlwind. For the moment I was too paralyzed to move. The speed at which the sladong was going carried it past me, but as I turned I slipped, my foot caught in a root, and I fell, twisting my ankle badly. In that sec ond I thought my time had come, for I saw the animal turn and bear down upon me again. In my left hand I was earryng my piarang, a long, broad, keen-bladed knife that I used to cut my way through the jungle, and with it X slashed out wildly at the beast, cutting its knees to the bone. It lurched and fell across my knees, tried to rise, but failed. “On seeing the sladong fall my treed coolies came down, and one put a bui let into the animal's brain. I was sick with pain when they lugged me out, and. though 1 had a broken ankle and was badly bruised. I thanked my iucky star 1 was still alive." A PERILOUS EXPERIENCE. Ben,Benson and Ben Oleson. Glou cester fishermen, missing since Septem ber tt from the Gloucester fisherman Arbutus, turned up sound and well on the Scandinavian American liner Hellg Olav. The two Bens were assigned one day by Captain Pflnger ol' the Ar butus to set out the trawls off the Grand Banks. They rowed away in the dory to do it. and that was the last the men of the Arbutus saw of them. A thick fog settled off the Banks about that time, and the trawl setters were unable to find their way back to the vessel. Then they began to drift, and the seas got choppy, and they had all they could do to keep the sixtecn-foot dory afloat. For the next twenty-four hours they bailed out the water that poured with relentless regularity into their frail craft. They had neither food nor fresh water, and matters soon became serious. The second day a big tramp steamship was sighted and the cutwater caused the little dory to do all kinds of stunts, hut the lookout on the tramp did not see them, and the steamer was soon lost to view. The next day they sighted another steamship. This time it was an ocean line! heading at t'nli speed for New York. It was several miles away, and the man on the lookout again failed lo see them. The great ocean grey hound went her way. Benson and Oiesou continued to drift. The Gloucester men were almost crazed for water and food, but they kept on bailing and hoping, l-'or three days they hoped. The sky was clear and blue all these iast three days, but neither sail nor smoke from pass ing craft did they sight. They knew that unless somebody sighted then! within a day it was a thousand to one that they would die. Almost exhausted, but still bailing, when tile sun came up on the morning of (lie seventh day. their hearts al most leaped into their throats, for only a few hundred yards away was tlie steamship Nicolai II.. bound for Copen hagen. The lookout saw them, and ten minutes later the Nicolai had stopped and a lifeboat was on the way io rescue them. In an hour they were safe on board the Nicolai II. and on the way to Copenhagen. When the Nicolai II. reached Copen hagen tite American Consul took the Gloucester men in charge and sent them home.—New York Times. PItO3 P E C T O I» S' PLUCK. The story of the stampede over the Arctic divide of the Seward peninsula is one of the heroic pages of history which will probably never be written in detail, it abounds in instances of reckless daring and optimistic philoso phy. Imagine, for Instance, a starving man walking sixty miles with frozen feet and then cheerfully sitting down and amputating his own blackened toes with his poeketkuife, in order to avert blood-poisoning. Such episodes as that arc mere trivial details in the history of the •'Arctic Ocean or bust'' stampede. lucre were no nans in vnose trozeu wikis, ami each party had its own ideas as to the best route. Half frozen and on famine rations they struggled northward. Some of them came upon lava beds that necessitated a painful and difficult portage, and often, for weeks at a time, they had no shelter but their sleeping bags. It was impossible to calculate defi niteiy on the day's travel, for fierce and sudden blizzards forced them to the shelter of their sleeping bags for hours, and even days. The spirit thermome ter often registered sixty degrees be low zero. It was no uncommon thing for men to prospect through six feet of snow fitr a handful of dwarf willows in order io procure drinking water, for insanity lurks in unmet fed snow when men or dogs quench their thirst with it on the trail. Despite the scantiness of the supply of provisions they were able to carry, they had no fear of venturing hundreds of miles from their base of supplies. Many mashers ran forty miles a day behind the dogs, some struggled on for days after their food was exhausted, gnawing grass and willow hark in an effort, to keep body and soul together.—Mario Coe. in Sun set Magazine. CARRIED WOrXDED IIITSRAXD. A dispatch to the Chicago Record Herald from Monument, Col., says that Mrs. C. B. Wilson, wife of the station agent at that place, accidentally shot her husband while hunting. He dropped to the ground insensible, bul the plucky woman, although weighing less than 115 pounds, carried the man who weighs 155 pounds, a quarter of a mile up the mountainside to the tracks of the Denver and Rio Grande Rail road. She then signalled a fast freight which stopped and took the injure*: man aboard. ‘‘There's a train at 4.04.” said Miss Jenny; “Four tickets I’ll take. Have you any?” Said the man at the door, “Not for 4.04, For four for 4.04 is too many.” CONCLUSIVE EYI DENC E. Mrs. Gad—“Did your husband enjoy himself in Paris?” Mrs. Fad—“Well, he brought me home a SUO.dOO necklace."—Brooklyu Life. FRIENDLY PATS. Rodrick—“They say Cholly Goodfel low is very popular around town." Van Albert—”1 should say so. Why, he wears out two coats a month just from people slapping him on tlm back.” —Chicago News. WHY HE BELIEVES. Pat—“Do yez belave in ghosts,' Moiko?” Mike—"Oi do. Oi don't think Blur's n ghost oi’ a chance av me iver becom in' Prisidint av Amerikey.”—Star of Hope (Sing Sing Prison!. SOMETHING QUITE DIFFERENT. Dnmley—“What they call ‘preferred stock’ is the stock that pays divi dends. isn't it?” Wiseman—“Not at all; blit the stock that does pay dividends is always pre ferred.”—Philadelphia Press. ENLARGING THE VOCABULARY. "They say that American traveling men will now have to learn Chinese.” "Say. just think of a popular drum mer telling it laundry full of grinning Chinamen the latest good story in choicest chink!" — Cleveland Piaiu Dealer. AGED. “These are good chickens,” declared (he dealer. "If that's true," replied Mrs. House keep. "there's no truth in the old say ing.” “What old saying?” “ ‘The good die young.’ ”—Philadel phia Press. MEDICINE. Doctor—‘ How are ihe pains to-dayV Xo better? Then don't take any more of those lulls.'’ Patient—"I haven't taken any of them yet, doctor." Doctor—"Why. that accounts l'or it. Take them as directed."—Aliy Sloper. CAUGHT. ‘T diditt think that story you told at dinner last night was very funny.” said the man with the short memory, "it was so utterly impossible.” "Was it?" said his friend. "It was one you told me a long time ago. 1 didn't believe it at the time."—Detroit Free Press. 8UFFIC1EXTLY REI'IIESEXTED. "What does your wife think of wom an's suffrage?” "Xot much." answered Mr. Meekton. ''She believes that a woman who can't make at least one man vote tiie way she wants him to doesn't deserve to have any influence in affairs."—Wash ington Star. THE REAL TROUBLE "You can't imagine.” said the musi cal young woman, "bow distressing it is when a singer realizes that she has lost her voice.” "Perhaps not,” replied the plain man. "but I've got a fair idea how distress ing it is when she doesn't realize it.” —Chicago Journal. AX ILL WIND. ETC. Old Mr. Brownstone (reading the pa per)—"I see that in the recent storm at sea a ship loaded with passengers went ashore.” Did Mrs. Brownson (placidly)—"llow fortunate! I can imagine how glad those passengers were to get on dry land.”—London Tit-Bits. FROM BAD TO WORSE. "Mike,” said Plodding Pete, as lie climbed into a freight ear, "I'm glad de Government doesn't own de rail roods.” "Why?” "Because when we takes a free ride now de worst dat happens is to he put off. Bur if de Government was mimin' de lines we'd lie arrested fer graftin’ sure."—Washington Star. AX EM BA HR ASS IXG BLUNDER. "How did your father treat George when lie askul him for you?” ”11 was one of papa's deaf days, and he thought George was asking him for a loan." "What did he say?” "Ho told George that while he would be glad to loan him the trifle lie asked for. he had so many requests of tlie same character that he begged to be excused."--Cleveland Plain Dealer. ^H9USE_ Make a paste as y< bread. Sweeten it vi stead of putting it in ad pot with lard, and ns the^ to the side of the pot sen a spoon. Continue scrapil _ soon as it adheres, unti " 1_ are all cooked. It is a nice brcal] dish.,--' 'tapioca custard. Take one quart of fresh milk, two eggs, half a cupful of pearl tapioca, half 'a cupful of white sugar. Soak the tapioca over night, and next morning drain off all the water while the milk is scalding in the double boiler; when the milk "is hot add the tapioca, and let it simmer ten minutes; beat the su gar and- eggs together, and add the milk and tapioca; flavor with cinna mon, vanilla or nutmeg. STUFFED POTATOES. Choose twelve good sized potatoes, wash them and scrub the skins with a brush; bake them until done (about an hour). Remove from the oven, cut a slice off of one end of each, scrape out .the potato, mix it lightly with a small piece of butter, pepper and salt, re place it in the skin, and when all are done return them to the oven for ton minutes. In serving cut a slice off the other, end to make them stand upright on a flat dish, leaving the top uncov ered. A little cooked meat can lie mixed in before replacing the potato i:i the skin if desired. CREAMED LIVER. Cut two pounds of liver into small pieces; cover with cold water for ten minutes and drain. Heat thvee table spoonfuls of butter and put iu the liv er: season with salt and pepper, and cook slowly for ten minutes, browning it oil all sides, then take up the liver and put where it will keep warm. F’ut one slice of onion in the frying pan and cook one minute; add three tablespoon fuls of flour and cook constantly-, stir ring until it begins to froth. Draw tin pan back, and add one pinr of warmed milk to it. stirring carefully. Lot it come to a bail. Put the liver.in this and serve. joints' for, the !! Housekeeper, Spinach and carrots are both excel lent for the complexion. AH|j It'n-e cakes wi:h creamed lish is ^Ho excellent luncheon dish. Oil of sassafras will drive insect^M| from the pantry shelves. When canning pears that are flat and tasteless put a stick of cinnamon in each jar. Enamelled saucepans can be easily cleaned by using powdered pumice stone. Itaspberry slirnb is greatly improved by squeezing into each glass a little lemon juice. A delicious salad is made of cucum bers. pears and piccalilli, dressed with mayonnaise. Handkerchiefs should lie put into a tub of cold water by themselves with a handful of salt. Chicken croquettes served on broiled tomatoes make a very appetizing lun cheon substantial. Flannelette goods may be taken by themselves, or mixed with the ordin ary personal linen. White stains may be removed from mahogany by rubbing the snots quick 13' with a little grain alcohol. Egg stains may lie removed from sil ver spoons and forks by covering them with salt moistened with water. Lettuce leaves and water cress shoukl be washed in salted water to remove all insect life and improve the flavor. To clean cake tins and other tinware, place them in boiling water with soap, and boil for an hour, when they will be found equal to new. Immediately after taking the china from the dishpan rinse in warm water and stand in racks to drain, or else dry quickly while still hot. Very nice lace should be tacked onto a flannel covered bottle, covered with mi old handkerchief, and splashed about in the soapy water until clean. Wooden vessels will need constant scalding and scrubbing with hot water and sou]). Butter pats when not in use should always be kept in cohl water. Lace should never be passed through blue water. If it is valuable ii will In come a bad color, and cheap lac.* will be improved by the absent'd of blue water. If -the housekeeper is unable to ob tain a regular brush for cleaning pol ished floors, a substitute can be ma r* by covering an ordinary broom with a soft muslin bag. A large ink spot was removed, from a light colored Axminster carpel by the application of a common kitchen sand soap with a soft cloth that had t an wrung nearly dry. An old fashioned housekeeper lias her carpets all "wiped off" while on ike floor with a cloth wrung out of tepal water with which a little ammonia has been mixed. But. unless ike water out cf which the cloth is fre quently wrung be changed often, more harm than good will be accomplished.