Newspaper Page Text
I- THE OLD CLOCK. It stands thafMn the comer TVnarMt stood for sixty year. '"With Its big white face a-smilin' An' its brass weights shinin clear; -An' it "pears as If some secrut Sortuh hangs 'twin it an' me, . For I never pass the sta'rway 'Cept it winks right knowin'ly. Time I fetched home my MIrandy Jinksfhow welll mind the day. Old clock sized her up. an' then, sirs, Off it tanged like it would say: " Poo ty' little -crittur. ain't shci In'her buaaitfull o' flowers, "Withthem urls in two big bunches Fallln'Tcnind each ear in showers." "When the twins was born, Samanthy, An' her brother, Henry Clay, Thet old time piece like to busted, Fahly buzzed itself away. Folks 'lowed thet it needed 'ilin'. Sho 1 I Itnowed ' twas unly joy 'Cuz it sensed the Brcckenridges Had a bran new gyrl an' boy 1 So we onderatand each other. Me an' thet old clock. I 'low "When my time comes an' I'm toted Throo the hallway, still an' slow. Thet bright face will bcCsm upon me, "Whisp'nn', as they pack me by; "Cheer up, Israel! you're unly Dead; an most folks hes to die." Eva Wilder McGlasson, in Judse. THE VICTIM Op HIS CLOTHES. Bj Howard Fielding and Frederick R. Bnrtoa. COPYniGHT. isro.i CHAPTER XL VIRTUES OF NECESSITY. At this point in Mr. Drane's adven tures ho ought to have met the emer gency with calmness and a ready wit. He had certainly experienced quite enough of encounters with tho police; but, law-abiding citizen that ho was, having an innate and cultivated respect for the guardians of tho peace and faro banks, tho more ho encountered their power the weaker he was to resist them. Therefore, when he was hustled out of the good old parson's study he went with a blind acquiescence to cruel fate, mens conscia recti, but verj' much cast down nevertheless. In tho hallway of tho parson's house, however, he pulled himself together and demanded the causo of his arrest. Tho policemen wero by no means will ing to explain; they really believed that they had a dangerous maniac on band, and Jimmj', the reporter, was on the qui rite to get a good news item and a reward at the same time. However, as Mr. Drane resisted, Jimmy finally produced this telegram from a New York newspaper: "Rush interview with Drane. Man held here proved to be sane and not the right one.' Just one ray of joy shone against tho dark background of Mr. Drano's pros pects in this dispatch the tramp, im properly confined as insane at his in stance, had been released. Thinking of that as of one sin which had been for given, Lawrence bowed his head and ac companied tho policemen out of doors. An officer was at either elbow and Jim my pranced along behind. As Mr. Drano was very quiet no especial at tention was attracted until they camo to the door of tho Beaver House. There a man was slowly descending tho steps, looking vastly worried and out of sorts. It was the tramp. Ho had Mr. Drane's clothes on and ho appeared to be in hard luck. When ho saw tho officers and their convoy sailing down tho street ho stopped suddenly and looked hard at tho prisoner with a wildly angered expression on his face. It was but a moment that tho tramp stood thus, but in that moment his reasoning faculties went through a tremendous operation. This was about tho sub stance of it: "Hello! there's Lawrence Drane! I stolo his clothes and his name and mar ried in both of them an awfully rich widow. Ho got back at mo by stealing his clothes again and getting mo in hock. Ho oven inveigled mo into an insane asylum. Ho is cvon now sus pected of being a lunatic. Now I know that ho is not onlv sane, but that I have been the cause of his misadventures. I further know that tho Kansas Citv men who declared this morning that I was not Drano, will bo hero by tho next train from New York and will free this man from all his troubles. He is tre mendously rich and good-natured. D mo if I don't do him a good turn." This chain of reasoning was so speedi ly accomplished that by tho timo Law rence and the policemen were opposite tho Beaver House door, tho tramp had resolved upon his course of action. He ran down tho steps pell-mell, seized Lawrenco by the hand and exclaimed: "Well, well! to see you again and in this shape! I'm delighted and everlast ing relieved!"' "Oh! you are, are you?" responded Lawrence, as tho policemen paused. "I seo that you aro at the upper end of tho teeter-board at present." Ho would have said moro in expres sion of his bitterness, but tho tramp interrupted: "Officers, I don't think you have any right to hold this man. I know him. Ho is my only brother, nis name is Lawrenco Drano, of Kansas City, and I am his brother John, eomo on to take care of him. 1 demand that j-ou show mo your authority for arresting him be fore you take him any further." This, of course, was a stumper for the policemen. They had no authority what--ever. "But," said ono of them, "how about that reward?" ' At this moment a button in Mr. Drano's Bowery suit gave way. Jimmy, of course, had explained the prospective reward to tho policemen and had held out its terms as iuduce ments for their action. Neither Mr. Drane nor the tramp knew exactly what to do. "Well, tho fact is," began Mr. Drane. "You understand," said tho tramp at tho same moment, "Mr. Drano is not a crazy man: ho is my friend and rela tive." , "But," interrupted again one of tho policemen, "that reward? Wo don't pro- pose to stay out all night looking for this gent and the reward without some return."" And hero Mr. Drane's right knee be gan to peep through his trousers. His J economical suit was coining rapidiy and naturally to pieces. "Doesit look very had?" he whispered to the tramp, as he felt a seam in the back burst. "It looks like bloody murder," said the tramp, in an undertone; "and speaking of that, how do you think those Kansas City made pantaloons of yours fit me?" "Tell 'cm you'll give 'em a check at the Beaver House at three o'clock this afternoon,"' whispered Lawrence. The tramp knowing that Lawrence had lots of money fell into this plan, and the police, knowing that they had no authority, immediately disappeared. But not so Jimmy. Jimmy hung on un til the tramp assured him that he and Drane were going to the parson's house to elucidate together one or two prob lems that were not yet clear to either of them. During all the conversation that this involved, Lawrence discreetly kept his mouth shut, and presently Jimmy dashed off presumably to give a column TIIE ALLEGED JOIIX DRANE. of copy to his nowspaper for tho last edition. After this tho two men paused on the sidewalk and Mr. Drano began: "My dear man, there is something about you, in addition to my clothes, which makes mo think that you nro or ought to be a gentleman." "Sir," responded the tramp, "thero is something about you besides that ill fitting Bowery suit that makes mo re gard you as destined to better things than you have endured during the past week." Then both men laughed and after that they shook hands heartily. "1 say," said Lawrence, "what is your name, and how tho unmentionable fiend did iou get into a tramp's lifo?" "My name," responded the other, "is plain Johnson, baptised Richard J. I was at one time a country schoolmas ter, which may account for my lapses into fairly correct English when I talk. Schoolmastering, I found, did not pay for a man who had acquired champagne tastes on a beer income, and so I deter mined to travel. Experience of an un usuallj severo naturo undermined my convictions respecting meum et tuum, and I therefore descended to theft. But it is only fair to explain that this de scent in morality camo from the fact that soon after I gave up school-teaching I went into politics." "Unfortunate," murmured Mr. Drane. "I was an alderman," continued tho tramp, "and I voted various franchises to railroad corporations and escaped in dictment I never knew how. Then, having my hands in tho public treasury, otherwise the people's pockets, for two or three years, I lost all sense of de corum and honesty." "You aro to bo pitied, not con demned," said Mr. Drane. "So," continued tho tramp, "1 am not altogether bad. That, with your kind ness, you seem to see; but the fact is that if I had always worn as good clothes as these of yours, I would not have been tempted to commit tho crimes that have brought trouble upon you." "That is doubtless true,"' answered Mr. Drane, dubiously recalling his pe culiar adventures; "but it was very wrong of you to take away not only my garments but my name and credit as well." "Ah, sir,'? replied Mr. Johnson, smil ing, "it is an old saw that 'necessity knows no law.' But let us not wasto time in argument 1 came here to seek my wife, and when I have found her you shall be fully repaid in money for the misery which I have caused you." They had been walking along inde terminedly, andhercMr. Drano stopped. "Johnson," he said, "you arc in a bad fix. Your wife is not only poor finan cially, but so badly off that sho wants to claim mo for a husband." Johnson opened his mouth wide with amazement, and as ho knew not what to say, Lawrenco continued: "Whatever claim shehad to riches she abstracted from another person, as you took my clothes. I have seen her this morning. She claims to bo Mrs. Drane, and" "You infernal scoundrel!" exclaimed Johnson, and ho seized Mr. Drane by the collar. "Rich or poor, she is my wife, and if you havo gone and got her away from mo I'll break your back and put you in the asylum again to boot." Mr. Drane shook off his antagonist easily. "Don't you call mo names," he cried, "or I'll have you arrested for theft!" Johnson cooled down at once. "Whoro's my wife?" ho asked pres ently. "Como with mo," said Mr. Drane, "and Til show you," and ho forthwith led tho way to the parson's house. Just as they arrived at tho door two men hurried up who greeted Lawrenco effu sively. They wero relatives of his from Kansas City, arrived by a way train from New York, Johnson hav ing caught an oxpress at tho samo hour. Tho relatives looked at Law renco sharply and seemed to wonder whether he was all right or not, but he refrained from explaining himself until they had como again into the parson's study. CHAPTER XH. Tmt REWARD Or THB WICKED. Rev. Mr. Knowles was nothing if not hospitable. When this uninvited com pany invaded his humble but com 7 flV'R A X VI lV fortable dwelling he bustled! about with genuine anxiety for their entertainment- "Dear met dear me!"' ho kept saying, softly, "I have- seen nothing like this since tho- donation parties in good old Podunk. I'm. sure you're all' quite wel come. I've been out with the two ladies looking for your but wo failed to find you. However,, weencountered a young; man called Jimmy, who- is connected with the press, and he told: me to return home and wait for you. Now I do hope that all this quarreling is over, and that you, sir"' pointing to Drano "have de cided to be a man." "Such is my present intention,." said Drane.. "I am. getting a littlo tired of being a lunatic--" "You seem to have suffered some vio lence since you were- here before,"" con tinued Mr- Knowles. "I trust that you are not seriously hurt- It often, hap pens that harsh experiences of this kind are wholesome, and necessary to bring us to a proper state of mind- In deed, they alwaysare, if wo could only see it."' Meanwhile the other membors of the party were looking askance at each other. Johnson was beginning to real ize that the new-comers wero tho Kan sas City relief expedition, and that his own usefulness and opportunities were nearly over. Ho was meditating a quiet and inoffensive exit when ho chanced to catch Nellie's eye, and it riveted him to the spot. She was looking an him with a real tenderness of expres sion, and a certain admiration, too. In deed, Johnson in Drane's clothes was worth looking at. Ho had an intelli gent and not uncomely vissge, which had been much improved of late by the effects of moro food and less drink. And Nellie looked at him, thinking of the words which had joined their hands: and she grow quite pale, but not with fear or regret Bessie was pale, too, for sho folt a very painful interest in the scene. She knew that tho strango mon must include thoso who had known Drane in the West, and sho took Johnson to be a distin guished representative of the family, whose words would bo a full explana tion of Drane's mental condition. She tried to attract his attontion; to call him to her side, and ask him whether it was true that his unfortunate kins man was unbalanced. Mr. Sanford Drane, tho genuine, was tho first to break tho silence which had fallen upon tho party. "I beg your pardon," said ho to Rev. Mr. Knowles, "but I really do not sec why we have all invaded your house. Has this unhappy j'oung man " point ing to Lawrence "had any dealings with you during his recent wanderings? I should" tell you that I am his uncle, and that I havo enmo to take him home with me, where 1 trust that rest and medical treatment will restore him to the full command of his facilities." "And is he, then, deranged?" asked Mr. Knowles. "Ah! that oxpliins much which had been dark to me. I fear that I havo done serious wrong. I should havo made moro careful inquiries be fore I married him to this young ladj-.' "Married?" cried Uncle Sanford, aghast "Oh, Lawrence, I did not think j-our wretched fate would have led you to this." "My very dear, but deplorably mud dled uncle," said Lawrence, "do not dis tress yourself unnecessarily. I am not married. This whole complication re sults from an inexplicable error of Rev. Mr. Knowles, who married this man" indicating Johnson "to that young woman in tho corner." "Poor fellow!" said Rev. Mr. Knowles, "he is wandering again." "I am not wandering," said Lawrence. "Tho fact is that this woman, taking advantage of Mr. Knowles' error, now claims mo as her husband becauso sho knows me to bo rich." "Rich!" put in Uncle Sanford, "if money is all that is needed, perhaps we may yet rescuo my misguided nephew from these perplexing entanglements. Young person," ho continued, approach ing Nellie, and shaking his finger in her face, "what do you want?" "I don't want you, you old bear," said Nellie, beginning to cry nervously, "not even if you'ro richer than Croesus." Johnson laughed. "Come, Nellie," said Bessie, some what sharply, "explain this matter fully and you will do much to atone for your conduct towards me." "I didn't know ho belonged to you," sobbed Nellie, "or I'd never have tried to catch him" Here Johnson laughed again, but Lawrenco blushed and looked foolish. "I'm sure I had no ill will against you," Nellie continued. "In fact, I al ways loved you ever since I've been iZSesgc. THE MAN WHO WAS MA1UUED. your maid. I was sorry after I'd stolen your things and would havo taken them all back to you only I was afraid. I'm going to tell the wholo truth now, and 1 don't care what happens. I was not a bad girl to begin with, but when my aunt died and I had to get my own Hving, I became a servant, for there was nothing clso to do. I couldn't teach, because I didn't know anything " "That is not always an impediment," Johnson interrupted; "I have been a teacher myself." "I couldn't writ novels, as some women dc," Nellie continued, "because I'd been brought up quiet and proper and hadn't seen any of these horrid, frantic things they write about So I just got a place as a maid. It was with a rich woman in high society, and I'vo been thrown in just such company for years. It's an awful strain on a young Tr-fflL M nMPKTfssL jsTFjT i' i rt issV girTs character ro associate with- such people. They make you do- an awful lot of lying for tbem. Ami then there's the uniform the servant's-dress. That's the thing that does she- real' mischiet. It's all the timo saying . to the girl that wears It: 'You're only a slave- What difference does it make-how vou. behave? You ean't go to Heaven in such clothes, anyhow. I got to thinking that I wasn't as good as tho other women be cause I couldn't dress as well; and: so when. I saw the chance to steal your dresses I said to myself that it would make a good girl of me-"" Rev. Mr. Knowles- herd up his- hands in horror. "Young woman,"' said ho, "the ob liquity of your moral vision is- really shoeking. Did you think that stolen clothes could make you good?"" "Yes, sir, 1 did," replied Nellie, firm ly, "and what's more, I was right? they have. Since I've worn them I haven't had an cnTious or wicked thought in my mind, except when this man dis covered me and I saw the prospect of big cuffs and a cap again. I tell you that if I'd had another week in Mrs. DIDX T CATCH TU11 LAST ItEJIAIJK. Harland's dresses not oven that tempta tion would have been strong enough to mako me do wrong." "You havo discovered a great moral principle." said Johnson. "I too, stolo a chance to begin a better life, and. I trust if Mr. Drane doesn't take this suit away from me, that I may yet reform entirely before it wears out. I feel let ter now. Already I havo discarded tho language of a tramp, and tho mendacity of a politician. A few days more and 1 shall be as good a man as Drano himself; and Larry, old boy, let mo tell you that if you don't get rid of that Bowery suit before it falls to pieces altogether you'll be a moral wreck. Every timo a button falls off tho finger of Satan is stuck through the emptj' button-hole. "And as to this marriage." he contin ued, "I am proud to say that I was tho bridegroom. I confess with shame that I married Nellie believing her to be rich, but now now Nellie, I have nothing in tho world that I can call my own. Even my clothes, as you know, do not belong to me. But if jou can lovo me, if you truly wish to be my wife, I will do the best I can to mako a home somewhere for you for us in which whatever dress you wear will be the robe of a queen, and I a humble, but a faithful subject always.' "Dear Richard," said Nellie, laying her head upon tho breast of Lawrence's lato coat, beneath which tho heart of Mr. Johnson was beating very hard in deed if one might judge by the expres sion of his face. "But you forget, Richard," sho said, at length, "we must both go to prison first. Wo can not expect to bo reformed without paying the penalty." "Well, I am ready," said Johnson. "My dear fellow," cried Lawrence, "you need have no fears of me. I have too much to thank you for. But for 3'ou and your amiable wife I might havo gone through tho wido world from ono end to tho other, and j-et havo missed the ono woman for whom my heart was waiting. Bessie (taking her hand in his), shall wo forgive them?" "Indeed, indeed, wo will," cried Bes sie, heartily. "Nellie, I owe you a debt such as only a woman cari understand, and and I can't tell you how much I thank you; but if a wholo Saratoga trunk-full of dresses can serve as a sym bol of my gratitudo I ah, you dear gir!" Bessie closed tho sentence somewhat hysterically and fell on Nellie's neck. Lawrence, too, was overpowered with joy. "Dick, eld boy," said he, "cheer up. I'll give you carto blanche with my tailor, and you shall wear as many suits a day as a society belle on a week's visit to a watering place. And that isn't all. I'll give you " "Only a chance to work, Larry; it's all I ask," said Johnson. "Work?" cried Lawrence; "not if I know it. A man who can't find any thing better to do in this world than work is defective in imagination. I'll give you a pension of two hundred dol lars a month for as long as you need it I I old man, my feelings overcome me!" And he fell on Johnson's neck just as Bessie had done on Mrs. Johnson's. There was a crash over in the corner of tho room, and the voice of Jimmy, tho reporter, was heard, saying: "I didn't quite catch that last remark. What was tho amount of that pension?" They looked up and saw the ontcr prising young man's head sticking through the faco of the tall, old-fashioned clock. His right hand, with a note book, presently appeared, also. He had evidently been improving his time. "Fvo got every thing down straight up to that point" ho said. "It'll bo the greatest work of my life." "But, my young friend," said Rev. Mr. Knowles, in some trepidation, "what have you done with the works of my clock?" "They're down at the bottom,' Jimmy explained; "I'm standing on 'em. Sec?" He kicked tho machinery, and tho clock struck twenty-seven. "I fear that you havo seriously de ranged the delicate and costly mechan ism," said Mr. Knowles. "I must re gard your conduct as rcprehonsiblo." "Forgive him, sir," pleaded Bnssic, "and I will have tho clock repaired as good as new. I do not like to think that any body should be reproved upon so happy a day." "I I have not looked upon it hitbert as an occasion of rejoicing." said Mr. Knowles:. "nevertheless. I will grant your request." "I suppose- I've got to- go now," said Jimmy,, climbing out of the clock. "But, Mr- Drane, if you really have any soul about you. drop mo a postal-card when you've fixed tho date of your wed ding. It won't bo any trouble at all; and, for Heaven's-sake, don't let me-get beaten on my own story." "What date shall we put oa the card, Bessie?" asked Lawrence. "I don't know." protested Bessie, hid ing her face- "I never was good at dates when I went to school. You'd better fix it yourself." "Let mo see." Lawrenco said, reflect ively; "yesterday was the twentieth?" "Yes." "And to-morrow will le the twenty second?"" "Of course.'" "Well, in that case, I vould avoid extremes-and suggest the twenty-first" "You. mix me all up with your arith metic," said Bessie, frowning prettily. Oh! dear; why, it's to-day. No, I really can't think of such an awful hurry. You know I've given away all my dresses, Lawrence. But on the twenty-first of next month, if you pleaso " "Lawrence." said Uncle Sanford, "when I look at the woman you will marry I cease to doubt vour sanity, and" "And begin to doubt hers, I suppose," Lawrence broke in. "You are mistaken, uncle. She is the only vioman I ever met who was level-headed enough to recognize a truly good man under a ragged coat. I say thi3 modestly, but Pia ready to stick to it" It may bo interesting to record, in conclusion, that the pension which Drane had promised to the reformed couple was always paid promptly on tho first of every month. Within a year, however, a series of inheritances raised them far above tho necessity for any such charity. But they kept right on drawing it just the same, and thus by a little harmless dishonesty varied tho monotony of their otherwise exemplary lives, wisely avoiding that excessivo virtuo to which progressive good fortune is tho onl j real temptation in this world. tex: EX1. A BRAZILIAN LUXURY. Apt to Kill ir Eaton and to Hum If Han dled, Yet Very Refreshing. A Sun reporter found himself in a crowd that stood staring into a fruit store window the other day. In tho window, hanging by a string, was some thing that locked like a big Bartlott pear, except that its color was deep red. On tho big end of the fruit was a pulpy looking protuberance. Pushing his way into tho store and pointing to tho strango fruit in tho window, tho re porter asked the dealer: "What kind of a pear is that?" "It's no kind of a pear," replied tho fruit man. "It's a Brazilian caju." "Oh, indeed!" said tho reporter. "Yes," replied tho dcalor, "that's a caju, and it's tho only ono in tho city, 1 guess. It's a curious kind of a fruit, too, for while it is ono of tho most delight fully cool and refreshing of delicacies it will make you deathly sick. and ma3bo kill you, if you eat it Tho Brazilian caju wasn't made to be eaten. You havo to drink it to proporly enjoy it." "Ah!" said the reporter. "What aro the habits of this peculiar fruit?" "Well," said tho custodian of tho caju, "that one in tho window is what they call a garden caju becauso it is a cultivated one. but it grows wild, very wild. They make a claret wine out of the wild caju down in Brazil that the na tives dote on. It will stand you on your head in loss than ten minutes. The cultivated fruit sometimes turns out red like that ono, but it is also apt to bo yellow, and perhaps pinlc Tho ways of tho caju are in no way in fluenced by its color, though. A red ono can't discount a pink ono, and a yel low one is as much of a thoroughbred as either of tho others. Tho pulp of tho most luscious orange isn't half as tempt ing as tho msido of tho caju, but tho caju pulp is poison. Juice is what tho caju is for. I'll bat that red ono yonder has moro than a pint of juico in it, and if you over tasted it you'd nover let go until you engulfed tho wholo of it There's nothing finer. The swell Bra zilian sucks the juico out of a caju every morning before breakfast." "What docs the caju wear that ro setto for on its big end?" asked tho re porter. "Well, that isn't exactly a rosette," replied tho fruit-dealer, "but it looks like one, doesn't it? That is tho seeds of tho fruit. They aro put on the outside to mako room for moro juico inside, I suppose, and for another very important reason. If thoy grow on tho inside the sucking of a caju would bo followed by tho instant and complete annihilation of the sucker's stomach. You can' t seo the seeds becauso they aro covered up by pulp. That pulp ha3 a juice of its own, and wherever it hap pens to touch 3'our flesh a big blister will rise up and burrow Itself Into the flesh like tho burning head of a parlor match. They don't seem to mind it down in Brazil, though." "Do yop intend to introduce the caju in our markets?" asked tho reporter. "Well, we had thought of it somo." said tho fruit dealer, "but I have an idea that we can't hope to make a luxu ry popular up here that is liable to kill you if you eat it and burn you up if you handle it I'd liko to have a quart of caju juice right now, though, all the same." N. Y. Sun. An Iaterastlnc Interview. Clerk If you please, sir, I shall have to ask you to excuse mo for tho rest of the day. I have just beard of er an addition to my family. Employer Is that so, Penfold? What i3 it boy or girl? Clerk Well, sir, the fact is or (somewhat embarrassod), it's two boys. Employer Twins, eh? Young man, I'm afraid you are putting on too many heirs. Munscy's Weekly. Most women marry because other women marry. USEFUL AND SUGGESTIVE. Lamp burners can be renovated by boiling them in strong soda water. To remove tar from the bands, rub with the outside of a fresh lemon peol and wipe dry immediately. The surest way te have clear jelly is to let the juice drain, through flan nel bag, without squeezing it A doctcr at Toulouse informs- th French Academy of Medicine that ho has discovered a care-for croup. It is a very simple one a teaspoonf ul of flour of sulphur in a tumbler of water. After threo days of the- treatment his patient recovered. If yoa want a lovely odor in your rooms, break off branches of the Norway spruce and arrange them, ia a largo jug well filled with water. In a few days tender, pale green branches feather out, soft and cool to tho touch, giving the delightful health-giving odor. A loaf that has becomo too stale for the tablo may be "freshened" by wrap ping it in a clean cloth, and dipping it in boiling water for thirty seconds. Then remove tho cloth and bake the loaf for ten minutes in a slow oven. Stalo breakfast rolls may be treated the samo waj To keep the bright green color of summer cabbage and somo other egeta bles, boil fast in plenty of water in which has boon dissolved a piece of washing soda the size of two peas; cover until tho water boils and then take off the lid. If the steam is shut in the cab bage will be yellow and unsightly. In choosing your wall paper you should be careful before finally deciding on it to seo how it looks under gas or lamp light, as tho color and general ap pearance of most of the patterns chango very greatly under artificial light. A good plan is to select three or four pat terns, put thorn upon the walls of tho room, and oxamino their general effect carefully both by day and night. Butter Spongo Cake. One-half of a cupful of butter, ono and one-half eup fuls of sugar, one and three-quarters cnpfuls of Hour, ono-half cupful of milk and water, threo eggs (beaten separate ly), one teaspoon ful of baking-powder; flavor with vanilla and lemon, moro of tho former as lemon flavoring is much stronger than vanilla. It makes a good sized loaf. Bake fully fifty minutes. Good Housekeeping. Luncheon buns may be mado as fol lows: "To one quart of sifted flour add a littlo salt, two tablespoonfuls of melt ed butter and ono cup of sugar. Dissolve a yeast cako in a little warm milk, then add enough moro warm milk to make a soft dough. Set to rise. When light mix in a heaping cup of stoned raisins, and flavor with ground cinna mon. Make into buns, set to rise again, and when light bake in a quick oven. Dampen the tops while hot, and si ft over them a little powdered sugar." THE DEATH PLANT. It Dint UN a Deadly Perfume Yt'liirh Kills InnectH nml Smull ltiril-i. A magnificent kali mujah. or death plant of Java, has been recently received here by Mrs. Madison Black. The spec imen, which is the onl3 living one that has ever been brought to this country, was sent Mrs. Black by her brothor. Jerome Hendricks, who went out as a missionary to the island. The kali mujah is found only in tho volcanic dis tricts of Java and Sumatra, and then but rarely. It grows from two to three and a half feet in height, with long, slender stems armed with thorns nearl ? an inch long, and covered with broad, satin-smooth leaves of a heart shar and of a delicate emerald on one side, and blood red, streaked with cream, on the other. The flowers of tho death plant are large, milk-white and cup-like, being about the sizo and depth of a large cof fee cup and having the rim guarded by fine, brier-like thorns. The peculiarity of the plant lies in these flowers, which, beautiful as they are, distill continually a deadly perf umo so powerful as to over come, if inhaled any length of time, a full-grown man, and killing all forms of insect lifo approaching it. The per fume, though more pungent, is as siclr ingli swfot as chloroform, which it greatly resembles in effect, producing insensibility, but convulsing at the same time tho muscles of the face, es pecially1 those about the mouth and eyc6, drawing the former up into a grin. An inhalation is followed by violent headache and a ringing in the ears, which gives way to a temporary deaf ness, often total while it lasts. Other plants seem to shun the kali mujah, which might be termed the Ish macl of the vegetable kingdom, for it grows isolated from every other form of vegetation, though the soil may be fer tile. All insects and birds instinctively seem to avoid all contact with it. but when accidentally approaching it have been observed to drop to the earth, even when as far from it as three feet, and, unless at once removed soon died", evinc ing the same symptoms as when ether ized. Mr. Hendricks, who writes describing how he secured the specimen sent his sister, says he discovered it first by see ing a bird of paradise he was endeavor ing to capture alive fall, stunned by tho deadly ordor of the kali mujah, and on examining the plant, though warned by tho natives to let it alone, himself ex perienced the headache and convulsions which are its invariable results. Sa vannah (Ua.) Cor. Philadelphia Times. The Court Poet Must Go. Discussion still continues in various journals as to the poet best fitted to fill the post of laureate after Lord Tenny son. I have my suggestion to make. It is that this ridiculous office be abolished, for what can bo more absurd thau that a Prime Minister, who, perhaps knows nothing of poetry, and cares, if possi ble, l"ss, should suddenly be called upon to decide between the conflicting claims of a crew of versifiers, each worshiped by a select band of literary toadies, and none likely to be remembered beyond nominis umbra 100 years hence. Poetry really immortal is the rarest of products; poetry fairly good is a drug in the mar ket Poetry and officialdom are antago nistic A court poet should go the wa$ f the court buffoon. London Truth. . tH , . ts.