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* 0 % 4 OLD-TIME RULES FOR WIVES. (A I REN'T you glad you didn't live A\ in the good old days? Here are 'a set of rules for the guidance of wives published In London In 1819. They would make the modern club woman fairly choke with wrath. As to the American wife In general, she simply laughs and rejoices Bhe has brought up her husband In the way he should go. But this Is the way they did it ln "ye goode olde times:" When a young gentleman makes yon an offer, hold yourself flattered by his preference and proportionately grate ful. If you accept him (which we will sup pose, of course), study his temper and Inclinations, that you may better ac commodate your own to them. After marriage, obey him cheerfully, even though you think him in error; it Is better that he should do wrong in what he commands than that you should do wrong in objecting to it. If he flatters you, do hot forget that It Is but flattery; think lowly of your self and highly of him, or at least make him believe so. Bear in mind continually that you are weak and dependent, and, even if you are beautiful, that it adds to your weakness and dependence. If you displease him, be the first to conciliate and to mend; there is no degradation in seeking peace or in showing that you love your husband better than your triumph. When you rise in the morning re solve to be cheerful for the day; let your smiles dispel his frowns. Endeavor to save rather than to spend your husband's money; if his fortune be large, strive to preserve it; If small, to increase it. Your sex is most exposed to suffer ing, because it is always in depend ence; be neither angry nor ashamed of this dependence on a husband, nt>r of any of those which are in the proper order of Providence. Finally, recollect always that God has made you subject to your husband, and that he is your natural guardian and protector; that you owe him not less honor than love, nnd not less love than obedieuce.—Evening Telegram. her be Is is ing, Decorative Tips. One who lias barely patience to cover a sofa cushion should beware of elabo rate undertakings in upholstery. Any carpenter, and many a "handy' person, can make some wooden shelves which, with a rod and a cheap bit of draperj', will serve admirably for one's books. No matter how alluring a bedroom fixed up as a den be it is better to have each room devoted to its own purposes If space permits. We all say have your pictures few and good, and then go right along and hang up everything in a frame that comes our way. Built-In book shelves are all the more effective for having the top one in the shape of a shelf for ornaments. Sideboard scarfs do not necessarily come to the ends, and as for hanging far down, many think it too much like the scarf on a dressing case or a chif fonnier. Mirrors, If at all well framed and well placed, are usually a good addition. It pays to buy good rugs. Though floors be bad, rugs are much saner every way than carpets. Said floors, as well as almost every other wooden thing, may be Improved by applying a few cents' worth of stain. Chairs that look quite hopeless after a season on the porch respond to a stain .as well as to enamel paint. An appli cation of ammonia will help to remove kny former "coat" \A few treasures are charming, but Udc-a-brac by the bushel is a nuisance. I'ancy work likewise. Girls Men Want to Marry, en love beauty, but seldom marry lit. Neatness and good taste far ieigh beauty and slovenliness. Mn are born hunters. They value a lost who most values herself, wish their wives to be good to Careful attention do they give to allVleta ils— teeth, hands, hadr and breathifor example. A stjush girl delights all well-bred men. 'kllor-rpade upon the street; In the houb a changing symphony of color. \ \ The w the namt' gree "fas satellites home as f Odious men. 8; eyes" n| girl. " ■ \i : V A good phy^que men wish In worn; ed is in >ker. draws a line through any girl who is any de 0 may form one of her t Ale will never go to hi» ride. nerlsttis disgust fastidious àg, giggling and "making et yron a husband for any en whom th than vanity ; waisted wf 1 *r- W Show ye 11 won—tba\?** : 'for one womanly res.'rvf. The fiieees Yeats ago, beta îarry, a higher reason the desire. Wasp are looked at dubious -after your heart is r thereof, but never It the beauty of Waist. ■ engaged Up open-air recreations.^ tiny, slim waist ^ilng, and age, began ;were laced quite was considered the children, at quite anl to wear corseta whi vrrect nearly tightly. A girl of 17 or 18 would some times endure agonies, in order to reduce her waist to a size consonant with the opinions of the time. Nous avons change tout cela. It is now considered very bourgeois to tight lace, and the waist of a full-grown girl should not be smaller than twenty-four inches. The propert measurement for thé chest of a girl, whose waist Is that size, Is thirty-eight inches. The present age is an athletic one, and, as long as girls continue healthy exercises—golf, skat ing, tennis, rowing, riding, bicycling, fencing—bright eyes, good complexions, and firm, well-knit and muscular fig ures will be found. I If I Fickle fashion which erstwhile frowned on that garment long cherish ed with a feminine regard bordering almost upon sanctity, the chemise, now smiles upon it with sweet approbation, with this reservation—the chemise as the initial garment is not considered up to-date, but as combination corset cover and short skirt, has its place over the corset, with only a little woven vest next the skin. Madame Au Fait, there fore, who wishes to avoid a single ex tra band around the waist, now adopts the chemise, whose full baby waist, gathered with a ribbon, forms a corset cover as well. Just a word about skirts. The flare is moving backward. That is, the skirts are growing closer at the sides and looser and more trailing in the back width. The sweeping effect is exceed ingly graceful, but rather troublesome in crowded stores or In the street, where one must hold up and carry yards of heavy dress goods in the fin gers, as it were, of oue hand. The grace is quite lost then; the contour is bunched and ludicious. As a natural consequence the ralny-day or walking skirt grows more and more in evidence, It is almost as eccentric not to own one to-day as it was to wear one several years ago. The walking skirts are made of very heavy, sometimes water proof, cloths, plaid back or plain, and the much-mooted question of length ' . , „ . seems to have solved itself. T he skirts I should fall just below the ankles. The shirt-wnlsted girl will have beautiful figure this summer. She has been 'the despair of the designers in seasons past, but this year she will blossom out a thing of curves and dain tineas. The front of her waist will be plain, but the shoulder seams will bej long and slightly drooping. Her sleeves will be small, set Into narrow bands wlth a few puckers. The back of the waist will be yokeless, in fact all minor details will be the same as the minor details of other seasons, the chief dif- j ference between the new shirt waist and the old being in the material and the under-arm seams. The material will be striped and the under-arm seams will be cut so that the slant in ' the stripes will glvfe a pretty curve to the figure while retaining the long lines j in front and the short-walsted back, We shall have more dainty waists than ever, the madras and gingham shirts being reserved for rough wear, while | lovely affairs of silk and linen, fine lawns, batistes and all-over embroid ery will be worn at other times. is Picture Hanclnar. Too little attention is generally given to the hanging of pictures. The tradi tional way Is usually adhered to, the picture being so hung aa to tip forward at various angles with the wall. This alone disturbs the eye and when shad ows are cast from the pictures on to the wall they are unpleasantly obtru sive. Pictures should be hung as near- j ly vertical—flat against the wall— as possible. The best effect is given by, using two hooks, so that two vertical ; lines of wire appear instead of the trl- : n n g nisr piece resulting when but bnej hook Is used. Where pictures are thus bung vertically in a room the walls retain their quiet, architectural appear ance, and the effect is restfqL—Good Housekeeping. Don't, ' Don't be dashing—be dainty. . ss Âîr â, 8 Don't wear a white petticoat unies« It is white. for untidiness. Don't dresft your head at the expense of your hands and feet * J: F , t llk , Dont pinch your waist Fat murder, will out—somewhere. " ___. Don't put powder on your cheeks without looking in a glass afterward. Tn« Sisipl« Wedding Gown. There has been a noticeable return to such fabrics aa fine Swiss, French nainsook, Paris muslin, and the new wash chiffon (or wedding gowns. MIZPAH. Go thou thy way, and I go Vnine; Apart, yet .not afar; Only a thin veil hangs between The pathways where we are. And "God keep watch 'tween thee and me"— This is my prayer. He looks thy way, He looketh mine, And keeps us near. I know not where thy road may lie. Or which way mine will be; If mine will lead through parching sands And thine beside the sea; Yet God keeps watch 'tween thee and me. He holds thy hand, He claspeth mine. And keeps us near. I sigh sometimes to see thy face, But since this may not be, I'll leave thee to the care of Him, Who cares for thee and hie. "I'll keep you both beneath my wings." This comforts, dear. One wing o'er thee and one o'er me; So we are near. ë OE'S pencil, paper and arithmetic were before him, but the bustle usually attending the important ceremony of preparing his examples for the next day was missing. Was this quiet boy with his chin In bis band the laughing, noisy little fel low who was constantly getting up to run around bis chair in order to change his luck when his answers wouldn't agree with those In the back of the book; who whistled and sung and talk ed to himself and interspersed his se vere mental exertions with accounts of the day's doings; who scratched his head and drummed on the table and dragged his feet until his mother sought refuge In her room and declared she wondered how Miss Lucy ever put up with him and fifty more for five hours. His father looked at him wondering ly and put down the paper preparatory to questioning him, when suddenly Joe heaved a deep sigh and began to work. But the figuring hadn't gone on very long before he fell into another brown study and then went over and leaned against Ills "pa," who was the confidant of all his sorrows. He had more than getting uptokun akou.ni» his chaih. ' mm <> . . ..... . . . a dim suspicion that his parent had not . ... , , been the model boy of the school, and so could sympathize with him. "Pa, do you think a person ought to get mnd at you for jU8t doing oue wroug thing?" "Well," said pa,judiciously; "that de pends. The one thing might be very ler ious, you know." joe was thoughtful for a moment and started back to his work, but after a f ew attempts put down his pencil, say | ug: "i think I'm sick, pa; I can't do my examples. Will you write a note aud a8 k Miss Lucy to excuse me?" j "Why, sonny, Miss Lucy will excuse you without any note, won't she, when you tell her you were sick? Where do y 0U feel sick?" "Oh, I'm just sick all over. Pa, did ' you ever chase a crazy boy when you were little?" j "Yes, I did. There was one lived near the school, aud-" Mr. Harris began smiling at the recollection, but Joe Interrupted him. | "Did you ever hit your teacher, or steal a cat, then?" "My heavens, boy! What's the mat ter with you, anyhow? You would bet ter tell md the whole story and clear your mind. Now, what has a crazy ___ - ^ g your teacher * nd Btealln g a cat? "Well, Crazy Willie is a crazy boy who comes to school sometimes, and he always has a wheelbarrow. He's big K er than you, pa, but he hasn't any mind. Some of the children say his j mother whipped him so much when be was little that he got foolish. But, any bow - whenever he comes to school the ; b °y® and some^f the girls, too, have a : lot of fun teasing him. "To-day he came and we were all teaaing him and stealing his wheel barrow to make hin» chase us, and Miss Lucy came along. They all ran away when they saw her, and Willie got Ms wheelbarrow and went home. When school began Miss Lucy asked who had been teasing Willie, and Harry Taylor and I stood up. I wouldn't have stood hüc * qf bip» when he was runping outside; ly it. finds opt everything. "Then Miss Lucy gave It to us. She. eald that even the vrtld Indians were good to people like Willie and that boys ", 7/T r who would tease him would do any ... „ R . J. thing mean. She knew none of the girls would do anytMng like that, and you should have seen Margaret looking ^ ______________ _____ go goo^ and she waa the one, pa, who took hia «»t and ran with it But a fterward in school she cried and said ^ wa s sick and teacher let her go think she felt bad about Wil- A home, lie. 'Miss Lucy told Harry and me she didn't like us auy more and she didn't want us to come around her, because she thought we were dangerous; we might hit her. I water the plants when I finish my definitions in the afternoon and when I went after the bottle she said: 'No, Joseph Harris, you needn't go. I haven't any confer ence in you. How do I know but you might squirt water over the engineer?' And he's bigger than you, pa. "After a while a note came around saying the basement cat was gone and A she asked tkeThildren' if "they knew , a anything about it, and she looked at me 1 * and Harry as if she thought we took it, ; K and when she said good-night to Harry and me she didn't smile at all. Then [ after school all the other boys said we P ought to be ashamed; and, pa, every one of them would have been in it, only they didn't come early enough. Harry and me went over to Willie's house and Harry gave him the nickel he was go lug to buy a stamp with, but I didn't have anything. I think I'll give him my best necktie, if ma will let me. He likes anything red. Do you think Miss Lucy will ever like me again? She said Willie wouldn't be that way if he could help it and we ought to he thank ful we were all right. I I wish ma would let me give him some pie and cake. I don't think be ever gets any. I wish I hadn't teased him, because he's only a little boy In his mind, Miss Lucy saysf and it Isn't fair to tease a boy, is it, pa?" ! Mr. Harris consoled Joe as well as he could, then said: "Now I tell you what to do. Instead of doing your examples to-night just write Miss Lucy a letter and you and I will walk over and leave it at the house. We'll put it under the door and then ring the bell and run away just as if it were a valentine." "What shall I say, pa?" said Joe, smiling. "Oh, just tell her all about it. I know she'll forgive you." Joe labored in the agony of composi tion, his father refusing all assistance, and produced this masterpiece: 'Dear teacher: Ime sorry I teesed Willie I dident no it would make you mad at me I wont do It again and if my ma lets^ me Ime going to give him my red necktie that my unkle joe gave me crismas harry gave him a nickel he had saved up and hes going to give him a piggin any one he wants even his fan tail my pa ran after a crasy boy when he was little and he never hit his teach er or stole a cat hes real good I herd my ma tell miss black he was the best man in the city he always brings his envelope home without taking out a cent. Your loveing scollar, "JOSEPH HARRIS." "JOSEPH HARRIS." 'Pa" had much ado to keep from smiling when he read this, but man aged to say gravely, "That will do very well, but I think we must have a few spelling lessons some time." On the way over to deliver the im portant letter "pa" remarked that the l>oy he had chased wasn't so very crazy and knew enough to take care of him self very well. "But of course," he added, "it was wrong to tease him at all, though we generally got (he worst of it." A happy little boy ran to meet "pa" on his way home from work the next evening and a beautifully written letter with a gold pionogram was carefully produced. It said: "My Dear Little Pupil! I forgive you from the bottom of my heart and I am going to ask you to forgive me. I am afraid I am as fond of teasing as any boy in the world. When I got home from school last night I thought I had been as cruel to you as you have been to Willie—more cruel, because I ought to know better. What I said to you and Harry was my way of' teasing. Let us both start fresh to-morrow and I hope we will both remember as long as we live that 'what is fun for the boys is death for the frogs.' If you don't understand what that means I will read you the story. Ask your mother if you may come over to my house next Friday evening. I want to show you and Harry some tMngs I have. Your loving teacher, "HELEN LUCY." 'And she let me water the plants and take a note to the engineer, too," he added. "Miss Lucy Is a daisy," said his fa ther, "and I don't think sbe'U teach school very long." / "Why, pa?" "Oh, I'll tell you some other time. We'll go over to Willie's to-night and take him the cake your mother prom ised to bake for him. I got him work to-day where he can use a wheel barrow all day and get $4 a week for It. I thought I would get square with myself for chasing the boy that lived near me when I was little. I never felt bad about it until to-day, though." And "pa" smiled.—Chicago Record. a What a Diamond Expert »ays. Damp, murky weather practically kills the diamond business. No dealer dare buy for fear of cheating himself. The purest white diamond will on one of these dark, foggy days take on a. straw color, and to all appearances Is off color. Always pick out a diamond on a clear day, but see to it that you have a good light on the gem, for many dealers tint their ceilings and walls a delicate hue, "which gives the stone a bluish tint which it does not or should not possess in a clear light." Quickly Turned the Joke. A Whosss City man went into one of the meat stalls at the city market, and finding a comely young woman in at tendance, thought he would joke a bit with her. "Madam." he said, gravely, T want a yard of pork." "Yes, sir," said the young woman, quickly, and,, turning to the boy In the back of thei shop, she called: "Charlie, wrap up three pigs' feet for the gentleman." j A MYSTERY IN IOWA. GREW OUT OF AN UNNATURAL MARRIAGE. A Pretty Girl'» Union to a Crippled Miser—Hi» Changed Nature—A Mys terious Death — Life Imprisonment for the loang Wife. From Sigourney, Iowa, come the de tails of a tragedy growing out of a union of lives in which there was not a unlon of hearta - A *oung woman not * et 20 ***** ot a « e has been lound K ullt J of Poisoning her crippled hus baud and sentenced to spend the rest ber al bard labor in the State P en lteatiary. The young woman's name is Sarah Kuhn. She is of English parentage and her maiden name was Crane. She was born and brought up on an Iowa farm. At 16 she was sent out to earn her own llvIn *> and then the sordid ro mance whlch bat * lef t ber behind prison bars. It began when Sarah fell in love with Andrew Smith, a broad-shoulder ed young farmer of little more than her own a *°- who was by no means so mucb lu love With her. For a year or 80 they went about together and the farmers' wives said no good of the girl, Then the young farmer s attachment cooled * and here the cripple whom Surah Is accused of murdering came 11110 the story. ! Charles Kuhn was wofully deform ^ Inflammatory rheumatism had twisted his legs so as to bring the knees together no matter how he stood, and he walked with a corkscrew gait, Besides this disease had left one of his long arms entirely useless. He was known as a miserly, hard-working Ger man, who toiled early and late in his shoemaker's shop for sheer love of the money his labor brought him and once Li KUHN AND HIS WIFE AND THE FATED RIG. *.. . be was P ast middle age the wags of, his the district often amused themselves by suggesting that he take to himself a wife. The old man did begin to think of marrying. Two years ago he asked his nearest friend to find him a wife, and the friend he asked was the broad shouldered young farmer, Andrew Smith. The request came at a time when Smith was growing tired of Sarah Crane. He thought over it and finally promised to help the old man to a wife. A month later he told him that he had found him a girl and at a Fourth of July celebration at Delta, MBS. SABAB KUHN near where the cobbler lived, he intro duced him to Sarah Crane. Six months later Kuhn asked the girl to marry him. She told him he was crazy and ordered him away. The cobbler appeal ed to his friend' Smith again. What persuasions Smith used to bis sweet heart nobddy knows, but three months later Kuhn and the girl were married., Smith's father, who is a Justice of the peace, married them, and the only wit ness was Smith. Sarah's parents, when they heard of the match, declared that they would never see their daughter again. They kept their word till she was in Jail. With the marriage the cobbler's hab its changed. He bought his wife ev erything she asked for and her neigh bors began to say that she had not done so badly after all. The only thing that troubled her crippled hus band seemed to be the fear that she might leave him. One day she lightly threatened to do so. He sought his friends and asked them what more they thought he could do for Sarah. The next day a villager met him com ing out of a lawyer's office In Sigour ney. "I've just finished the best Job I ever did in my life," said the cobbler. "What was that?" asked the villager. "I've Just willed all I own to my wife," was the reply. A month later the old man wil dead. to to to At her trial (he will waa made to tel strongly against his widow, though It Was not shown that she Inspired, urg ed or sanctioned the action by a single word and it was pointed out by her lawyers that under the laws of the State of Iowa, where a will is made and the wife is the beneficiary in whole or In part, and it is proved that she took the life of the testator, the will becomes inoperative so far as she le concerned. A Fatal Trip. Labor day, about a month after the will was made, was the cobbler's last. On that day he and his wife drove to an entertainment at What Cheer. Noth« ing was developed at the trial to show that the wife planned or suggested the trip. While the couple were In the village the husband purchased a dozen bottles of beer, which he placed in hi» buggy. He left his wife alone in it later, while he wandered about the streets. Then they started home. What occurred on the drive only the wife ha» told. "When we were a short way out of town," she told the sheriff afterward, "Charley opened a bottle of beer and we both drank some. He was in a good humor and after finishing that bottle he asked me to sing him a German song I knew. I held the reins and sang while he opened the second bottle. He joined in the chorus. He drank from the second bottle and then he passed It to me, saying that it tasted bitter. I drank a little, but not much, and he drank more. Then he set the bottle down, and I saw that something was wrong. He lay on his side mumbling. I thought the beer had gone to his head. When we got near old man Snyder's house he began to cry that I had poi soned hlm. Theen I shouted, too, and Snyder came out into the road." Snyder was the principal witness agaainst the woman at her trial. He testified that when the buggy reached . . his house Mrs. Kuhn was crying Come quick, my husband is dying." He came to the buggy, and Kuhn told him to take the reins and drive as fast as he could to the doctor's, because he'd been poi soned. "What else did he say?" said the county prosecutor. "Well," said the witness, "I hesitated about taking the reins. His wife said she didn't know what Vras the matter with him, but he'd been drinking beer and eating bologna, so I climbed into the buggy and drove toward the doc tor's. When we got pretty well down to the place where you turn I asked whether we should go to the doctor's or home, and his wife said It would bo better to take him home. Then be cried, 'No, take me to Dr. Busby's; she's poisoned me!' I thought not, and told him so, and she said: 'What makes you talk so, Charley? What will people think* of you talking that way?' He kept saying: 'She poisoned me, Snyder, she did.' Then she would say again that she had not and for a while he wouldn't say anything. One time dur ing the drive he turned to her and ask ed: 'Why did you do it?' '' The doctor waa not at home and the cripple, still crying that be had been poisoned, died In the buggy on the way to his cottage. An autopsy revealed traces of strychnine in his stomach and in the beer left in the bottle in the road way was found enough strychnine to kill a dozen men. On the roadway over which the couple was driven there was discovered a small glass phial half filled with strychnine. It bore the name of a New York firm. On the trial it was brought out that this was found on the side of the roadway on which the wife had driven. No evidence of a purchase of poison by either husband or wife was discovered. The prosecution argued that the wom an, thed of her crippled husband, poi soned the beer in the wagon in the few moments when she was left alone by him in the village. The defense showed that she had no means of uncorking the bottle and argued that Kuhn himself, fearing that his wife would carry out her threat to leave him. had bought the strychnine contemplating murder and suicide on his way home. It was urged that Kuhn's dying declaration was an opinion rather than a statement of fact, and therefore Inadmissible. The Jury, composed of solid farmers, however, re garded it as the essential feature of the testimony. To the last the wife pro tested her Innocence. Costly Hailstorms in France. The annual loss to France caused by the ravages of hailstorms is said to amount to about 83.000.000' francs. From 1873 to 1895 the figures varied from 40,000,000 to 134,000,000 franca. One trouble.with the world is that the fool-killer is gallant, and when he meets some women he raises his hat instead of his club. < "Not guilty" isn't necessarily an In nocent remark.