Frostburg mining journal. [volume], April 04, 1913, Image 3

About Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913

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SYNOPSIS.
Agatha Redmond, opera singer, starting
for an auto drive in New York, finds a
stranger sent as her chauffeur. She is
annoyed, but he remains. Leaving the car,
she goes into the park to read the will of
an old friend of her mother, who has left
her property. There she is accosted by a
stranger, who follows her to the auto,
climbs in and chloroforms her. James
Hambleton of Lynn, Mass., member of an
old New England family, decides he needs
a holiday. He goes to New. York and
there witnesses the abduction of Agatha
Redmond. Hambleton sees Agatha forci
bly taken aboard a yacht. He secures a
tug and when near the yacht drops over
board. Aleck Van Camp, friend of Ham
bleton, had an appointment with him. Not
meeting Hambleton, he makes a call upon
friends, Madame and Miss Melanie Rey
nier. With the latter, Van Camp is very
much in love.
CHAPTER IV.—Continued.
“I think my proposition a prior one,”
he remarked with dogged precision;
“but, of course, Miss Reynier must
decide.” He recovered his temper
enough to add, quite pleasantly, con
sidering the circumstances, “Unless
Madame Reynier will take my part?”
turning to the older woman.
“Oh, no, not fair,” shouted Jones.
“Madame Reynier’s always on my
side. Aren’t you, Madame?”
Madame Reynier smiled Inscrutably.
"I’m always on the side of virtue in
distress,” she said.
“That’s me, then, isn’t it? The way
you’re abusing me, Madomoiselle, lis
tening here to Van Camp all the eve
ning!”
But Melanie, tired, perhaps, of be
ing patiently tactful, settled the mat
ter. “I can’t go to luncheon with any
body, tomorrow,” she protested. “I’ve
had a touch of that arch-enemy, indi
gestion, you see; and I can’t do any
thing but my prescribed exercises, nor
drink anything but distilled water —”
“Nor eat anything but food! We
know,” cried the irrepressible Jones.
"But the Little Gray Fox has a spe
cial diet for just such cases as yours.
Do come!”
“Heavens! Then I don't want to go
there!” groaned Aleck.
Melanie gave Jbnes her hand, half In
thanks and half in farewell. “No,
thank you, not tomorrow, but some
time soon; perhaps Thursday. Will
that do?” she smiled. Then, as Jones
was discontentedly lounging about the
door, she did a pretty thing. Turn
ing from the door, she stood with face
averted from everybody except Van
Camp, and for an instant her eyes met
his in a friendly, half-humorous but
wholly non-committal glance. His
eyes held hers in a look that was like
an embrace.
“I will see you soon,” she said
■~'quietly N ■ f— '■
Van Camp skid good-night to Jones
at the corner, they had walked
together in silence fi3.r half a block.
“Good-night, Van Cahlp,” said Jones;
then he added cordially; "By.the way,
I’m going back next week in mj’..pri
vate car to watch the opening of the
Liza Lu, and I’d be mighty glad if
you’d go along. Anything else to do?”
“Thanks —extremely; but I’m going
on a cruise.”
As Aleck entered the piously exclu
sive hall of ,the club his good nature
came to his aid. He wondered wheth
er he hadn’t scored something, after
all.
CHAPTER V.
Melanie's Dreams.
Midnight and the relaxation of slurp
ber could subtract nothing from the
high-browed dignity of (he club offi
cials, and the message that was. wait
ing for Mr. Van Camp was delivered
in the most correct manner. “Mr.
Hambleton sends word to Mr. Van
Camp that he has gone away on the
Jeanne D’Arc. Mr. Hambleton may
not be back for some time, and re
quests Mr. Van Camp to look after the
Sea Gull.”
“Very well, thank you,” replied 1
Aleck, rather absent-mindedly. He was
unable to see, immediately, just what
change in his own plans this sudden
turn of Jim’s would cause; and he was
for the moment too deeply preoccu
pied with his own personal affairs to
speculate much about it. His thoughts
went back to the events of the eve
ning, recalled the picture of his Di
ana and her teasing ways, and dwelt
especially upon ’the honest, friendly,
wholly bewitching look that had flown
to him at the end of the evening. Ab
surd as his own attempt at a declara
tion had been, he somehow felt that
he himself was not absurd In Melanie’s
eyes, though he was far from certain
whether she was inclined to marry
him
All Courteous and Honest
High Praise of the Character of
Eskimos and Icelanders Given
By Explorers.
If we should- ever learn to appre
ciate the finer values of human nature
the results would certainly be dam
aging to our self esteem. Mr. Ste
fansson, whose reports of Eskimo life
have received so much attention, tells
us much of the extraordinary cour
tesy and virtue of these people, and
so confirms the testimony to the same
effect by Captain Amundsen. Stef
ansson not only received the finest
hospitality, but he telte us that his
hosts suppressed every sign of curi
osity as to his instruments and
memoranda. They explained to him
that 1 these things were none of their
business. They always sang when
they approached his hut in the morn
ing, so that he might not he taken
unawares, and they politely waited
outside until invited to enter. Com
ing further south we read that Ice
Aleck, on his part, had not come to
his decision suddenly or impulsively;
nor, having arrived there, w.as he to
be turned from it easily. True as it
was that he sincerely and affectionate
ly desired Melanie Reynier for a wife,
yet on the whole he was a very cool
Romeo. He was manly, but he was
calculating; he was honorably dis
posed toward matrimony, but he was
not reborn with love. And so, in the
sober bedroom of the club, he quickly
fell into the good sleep induced by fa
tigue and healthy nerves.
Morning brought counsel and a dis
position to renew operations. A note
was dispatched to his Diana by a pri
vate messenger, and the boy was bid
den to wait for an answer. It came
presently;
“Come at twelve, if you wish.
“MELANIE REYNIER.”
Aleck smiled with satisfaction. Here
was a wise venture going through hap
pily, he hoped. He was pleased that
she had named the very hour he had
asked for the night before. That was
like her good, frank way of meeting a
situation, and it a,ugured well for the
unknown emergencies of their future
life. He had little patience with ti
midity and traditional coyness in wom
en, and great admiration for an open
and fearless spirit. Melanie’s note
almost set his heart thumping.
But not quite; and no one under
stood the cool nature of that organ
better than Melanie herself. The la
dies in the apartment at the Arch
angel had lingered at their breakfast,
the austerity of which had been miti
gated by a center decoration of or
chids and fern, fresh-touched with
dew; or so Madame Reynier had de
scribed them to Melanie, as she
brought them to her with the card of
Mr. Lloyd-Jones. Miss Reynier smiled
faintly, admired the blossoms and turn
ed away.
The ladies usually spoke French
with each other, though occasionally
Madame Reynier dropped into the
harsher speech of her native country.
On this morning she did this, telling
Melanie, for the tenth time in as many
days, that in her opinion they ought
to be going home. Madame consid
ered this her duty, and felt no real
responsibility after the statement was
made. Nevertheless, she was glad to
find Melanie disposed to discuss the
matter a little further.
“Do you wish to go home, Auntie, or
is it that you think I ought to go?”
"I don’t wish to go without you,
child, you know th%t; and I am very
comfortable here. But his Highness,
your cousin, is very impatient; I see
that In every letter from Krolvetz.
You offended him deeply "by putting
off your marriage to Count Lorenzo,
and every day now deepens his indig
nation against you. I don.'t like to dis
cuss these things, Melanie, but I sus
pect that your.action deprives him of
.a,, very necessary revenue; and I un
derstand, better than you do, to what
lengths your cousin is capable of go
ing when he is displeased. You are,
by the law of your country, his ward
until you marry. Would it not be bet
ter to submit to him in friendship,
rather than to incur his enmity? Aft
er all, he is your next of kin, the head
of your family, and a very powerful
man. If we are going home at all, we
ought to go now.”,
“But suppose we should decide not
to go home at all?”
“You wall have to go some time, dear
child. Y’ou are all alone, except for
me, and in the nature .of things you
can’t have me always. Now that you
are young, you think it an easy thing
to break away from the ties of blood
and birth; but believe me, it isn’t
easy. You, with ’ your nature, could
never do it. The call of the land is
strong, and the time will come when
you will long to go home, long to gb
back to the land where your father
led his soldiers, and where your moth
er was admired and loved.”
Madame Reynier paused and watch
ed her niece, who, with eyes cast,
down, was toying with with her spoon.
Suddenly a crimson flush rose and
spread over Melanie’s cheeks and fore
head and neck, and when she looked
up into Madame Reynier’s face, she
was gazing through unshed tears.
She rose quickly, came round to the
older woman’s chair and kissed her
cheek affectionately.
"Dear Auntie, you are very good to
me, and patient, too. It’s all true, I
suppose; but the prospect of home
and Count Lorenzo together—ah,
well!” she smiled reassuringly and
again caressed Madame Revnier’s
land, with a population of 78,000, has
only one policeman and that the
taste for alcoholic liquors is prac
tically unknown among the people.
A recent work on Finland tells us of
a curious custom among the coun
try people. Those who have money
to deposit in the bank are in the habit
of placing -it on a stone in the pub
lic road and it is collected by the
banker from the nearest'town as he
makes his periodical trips for that
purpose. It may be that discourtesy
and dishonesty are now inseparable
from civilization, but a separation
will have to be effected if ths civiliza
tion is to endure.
Gowns That Cling.
Mrs. Shortley was discussing the
latest fashions with a young lady
caller,
“Did you say your husband was
fond of those clinging gowns, Mae?”
“Yes; he likes one to cling to me
for about three years.”—Lippincott’s.
gaunt old face. “I’ll think it all over,
Auntie dear.”
Madame Reynier followed Melanie
Into her sitting-room, bringing the
precious orchids in her two hands,
fearful lest the fragile vase should
fall. Melanie regarded them a mo
ment, and then said she thought they
would do better in the drawing-room.
“I sometimes think the little garden
pink quilfe as pretty as an orchid.”
“They aren’t so much in Mr. Lloyd-
Jones’ style as these,” replied Madame
Reynier. She had a faculty of com
menting pleasantly without the least
hint of criticism. Tfeis remark de
lighted Melanie.
“No; I should never picture Mr.
Lloyd-Jones as a garden pink. But
then, Auntie, you remember how elo
quent he was about the hills and the
stars. That speech did not at all in
dicate a hothouse nature.”
“Nevertheless, I think his senti
ments have been cultivated, like his
orchids.”
“Not a bad achievement,” said Me
lanie.
There was an interval of silence,
while the younger woman stood look
ing out of the window and Madame
Reynier cut the leaves of a French
journal. She did not read, however,
and presently she broke the silence
“I don’t remember that Mr. Van
Camp ever sent orchids to you.”
. "Mr. Van Camp never gave me any
kind of flowerr) He thinks flowers are
the most intimate of all gifts, and
should only be exchanged between
sweethearts. At least, I heard him ex
pound some such theory years ago,
when we first knew him.”
Madame smiled —a significant smile,
if any one had been looking. Nothing
further was said until Melanie unex
pectedly straight to the mark
with:
“How do you think he would do,
Auntie, in place of Count Lorenzo?”
Madame Reynier showed no sur
prise. “He is a sterling man; but your
cousin would never consent to it.”
“And if I should not consult my
cousin?”
“My dear Melanie, that would en
tail many embarrassing consequences;
and embarrassments are worse than
crimes.”
Melanie could laugh at that, and
did. “I’ve already answered a note
from Mr. Van Camp this morning,
Auntie. No, don’t worry,” she play
fully answered a sudden anxious look
that came upon her aunt’s counte
nance, “I’ve not said ‘yes’ to him. But
he’s coming to see me at twelve. If I
don’t give him a chance to say what
he has to say, he’ll take one anywhere.
He’s capable of proposing on the
street-cars. Besides, I have something
also to say to him,”
“Well, my dear, you know best; cer
tainly I think you know best,” was
Madame Reynier’s last word.
Mr. Van Camp arrived on the stroke
of twelve, an expression of happiness
on his lean, quizzical face.
“I’m supposed to be starting on a
cruise,” he told Melanie, “but luck
is with me. My cousin hasn’t turned
up—or rather he turned up only to
disappear instantly. Otherwise he
would have dragged me off to catch
the first ebb-tide, with me hanging
back like an anchor-chain.”
“Is your cousin, then, such a ty
rant?”
“Oh. yes; he’s a masterful man, is
Jimmy.”
“And how did he ‘disappear instant
ly?’ It sounds mysterious.”
“It is mysterious, but Jim can take
care of himself; at least, I hope he
can The message said he had sailed
on the Jeanne D’Arc, whatever that
is, and that I was to look after our
hired yacht, the Sea Gull.”
Melanie looked up, startled. “The
Jeanne D’Arc, was it?” she cried.
“Are you sure? But, of course—there
must be many boats by that name, are
there not? But did he say nothing
more—where he was going, and why
he changed his plans?”
“No, not a word more than that.
Why? Do you know of a boat named
the Jeanne D’Arc?”
“Yes, very well; but it can not mat
ter. It must be another vessel, sure
ly. Meanwhile, what are you going
to do without your companion?”
Aleck rose from the slender gilt
chair where, as usual, he had perched
himself, walked to the and
thrust his hands into his pockets for
a contemplative moment, then he
turned and came to a stand squarely
before Melanie, looking down on her
with his quizzical, honest eyes.
“That depends, Melanie,” he said
slowly, “upon whether you are going
to marry me or not.”
For a second or two Melanie’s eyes
refused to lift; but Aleck’s firm-plant
ed figure, his steady gaze, above all,
his dominating will, forced her to look
up. There he was, smiling, strong,
big, kindly. Melanie started to smile,
but for the second time that morning
her eyes unexpectedly filled with
tears.
“I can’t talk to you towering over
me like that,” she said at last softly,
her smile winning against the tears.
Aleck did not move. “I don’t want
you to ‘talk to’ me about it; all I want
is for you to say ‘yes.’ ”
“But I’m not going to say ’yes;’ at
least, I don’t think J *-m. V)o sit
down.”
Present From Grateful Convert.
The walking stick of General Booth
used on the last walk he ever took
has a little history of its own. At
a meeting in Paris some time ago a
notorious Russian anarchist was con
verted by the general’s Eloquence, and
sooff after the latter’s return to Eng
land he received from his convert a
piece of string, with the request that
a knot might be tied in it to show the
length of the walking-stick the gen
eral usually carried. The string was
knotted accordingly and returned to I
Paris, and a little later this stick ar
rived in London, a present from the
grateful convert and the work of his
own hands.
Completing the Course.
“Now,” said the professor, “when
you have taken a few lessons in act
ing, I think I can commend you as a
highly competent dentist.”
“What do I want with lessons in
acting?”
“After you have assured a patient
that you are not going to hurt him.
you must show great skill in display
ing grief and surnrise when he yells.”
Aleck started straight for the gilt
chair.
“Oh, no; not that! You are four
times too big for that chair. Be
sides, it’s quite valuable; it’s a Louis
Quinze.”
Aleck indulged in a vicious kick" at
the ridiculous thing, picked up an
enormous leather-bottomed chair
made apparently of lead, and placed it
jauntily almost beside Miss Reynier’s
chair; but facing the other way.
"This is much better, thank you,”
he said. “Now tell me why you think
you are not going to say ‘yes’ to
me.”
Melanie’s mood of softness had not
left her; but sitting there, face to
face with this man, face to face with
his seriousness, his masculine will
and strength, she felt that she had
something yet to struggle for, some
deep personal right to be acknowl
edged. It was with a dignity, an aloof
ness, that was quite real, yet very
sweet, that she met this American
lover. He had her hand in his firm
grasp, but he was waiting for her to
speak. He was giving her the hear
ing that was, in his opinion, her right.
“In the first place,” Melanie began,
“you ought %o know more about me —
who I am, and 'all that sort of thing.
I am, in one sense, not at all what I
seem to be; and that, in the case of
marriage, is a dangerous thing.”
“It is an important thing, at least.
But I do know who you are; I knew
long ago. Since you never referred
to the matter, of course I never did.
You are the Princess Auguste Stepha
nie of Krolvetz, cousin of the present
Duke Stephen, called King of Krol
vetz. You are even in line for the
throne, though there are two or three
lives between. You have incurred
the displeasure of Duke Stephen and
are practically an exile from your
country.”
“A voluntary exile,” Melanie cor
rected.
“Voluntary only in the sense that
you prefer exile to absolute submis
sion to the duke. There is no alterna
tive, if you return.”
Melanie was silent. Aleck lifted the
hand which he held, touched it gently
with his lips and laid it back beside
its fellow on Melanie’s lap. Then he
rose and lifted both hands before her,
half in fun and half in earnestness,
as if he were a courtier doing rever
ence to his queen.
“See, your Highness, how ready I
am to do you homage! Only smile on
the most devoted of your servants ”
Melanie could not resist his gentle
gaiety. It was as if they were two
children playing at a story. Aleck, in
such a mood as this, was as much fun
as a dancing bear, and in five minu
tes more he had won peals of laughter
from Melanie.. It was what he wanted
—to brighten *her spirits. So present
ly he came back to the big chair,
though he did not again take her
hand.
“I knew you were titled and impor
tant, Melanie, and at first I thought
that sealed my case entirely. But you
seemed to forget your state, seemed
not ts care so very much about it;
and perhaps that made me think it
was possible for us both to forget it,
or at least to ignore it. I haven’t a
gold throne to give- you; but you’re
the only woman I’ve ever wanted to
marry, and I wasn’t going to give up
the chance until you said so.”
“Do you know also that if I marry
out of my rank and without the con
sent of Duke Stephen, I shall forfeit
all my fortune?”
“‘Cut off without a cent!’” Aleck
laughed, but presently paused, embar
rassed for the first time since he had
begun his plea. “I, you know, haven’t
millions, but there’s a decent income,
even for two. And (hen I can always
go to work and earn something.” he
smiled at her, "giving information to
a thirsty world about the gill-slit, as
you call It. It would be fun, earning
money for you; I’d like to do it.”
Melanie smiled back at him, but left
her chair and wandered uneasily about
the room, as if turning a. difficult mat
ter over in her mind. Aleck stood
by, watching. Presently she returned
to her chair, pushed him gently back
into his seat and dropped down beside
him. Before she spoke, she touched
her fingers lightly, almost lovingly,
along the blue veins of his big hand
lying on the arm of the chair. The
hand turned, like a magnet spring,
and imprisoned hers.
“No, dear friend, not yet,” said Me,
lanie, drawing away her hand, yet not
very quicjdy, after all. “There is much
yet to say to you, and I have been
wondering how to say it, but I shall
do it now. Like the heroes in the
novels,” she smiled again. “ I am go
ing to tell you the story of my life.”
“Good!” said Aleck. “All ready'for
chapter one. But your maid wants
you at the door.”
“Go away, Sophie,” said Melanie.
“Serve luncheon to Madame Reynier
alone. I shall wait; and you’ll have
to wait, too, poor man!” She looked
scrutinizingly at Aleck. “Or are you.
perhaps, hungry? I’m not going to talk
to a hungry man,” she announced. ’
“Not a bite till I’ve heard chapter
thirty-nine!” said Aleck.
In a moment she became serious
again.
“I have lived in England and here in
America,” she began, “long °noueh to
King of American Islands
James Jesse Ctrang Really Was
Crowned and Had Dominion With
in the United States.
There frequently appears along
Chestnut street a professional beggar
who claims to be Henry Strang, a son
of America's only king. His tale is
greeted as a huge Joke, yet the story
he tells is true, the only part of it
concerning which there may be any
doubt being his own connection
with it.
The kingdom he refers to was once
se< up on Beaver island, in northern
Lake Michigan, and flourished for
some years. James Jesse Strang, a
prominent Mormon, had quarreled
with the leaders of his church, and in
1846 withdrew with a few followers
to that island. Other Mormons joined
the colony from time to time, and by
the winter of 1848 they were suffi
ciently numerous to threaten control
of the island. On July 8, 1850, Strang
was crowned king with elaborate cer-
understand that the differences be
tween your people and mine are more
than the differences of language and
climate; they are ingrained in our
habits of thought, our education, our
judgment of life and of people. My
childhood and youth were -wholly dif
ferent from yours, or from what an
American girl’s could he; and yet I
think I understand your American
women, though I suppose I am not in
the least like them
“But I, on the other hand, have seen
the dark side of life, and particularly
of marriage. When I was a child 1
was more important in my own coun
try than I am now, since it seemed
then that my father would succeed to
the throne. I vras brought up to feel
that I was not a woman, but a paw T n
in the game of politics. When I had
been out of the convent for a year or
more, I loved a youth, and was loved
in return, but our marriage was
laughed at, put aside, declared impos
sible, because he was of a rank in
ferior to my own. My lover disap
peared, I know nbt where or how.
Then affairs changed. My father died,
and it transpired that I had been of
ficially betrothed since childhood to
Duke Stephen’s brother, the Count
Lorenzo. The duke was my guardian,
and there was no one else to whom I
could appeal; but the very week set
for the wedding I faced the duke and
declared I would never marry the
count. His Highness and
stormed, but I told him a few things
I knew about his brother, and I made
him see that I was in earnest. The
next day I left Krolvetz, and the duke
gave out that I was ill and had gone
a health resort; that the wedding
was postponed. I went to Prance and
hid myself with my aunt, took one of
my own middle names and her sur
name, and have been known for some
time, as you know, as Melanie Rey
nier.” •
“I know you wish to tell me all
these things, Melanie, but I do not
want you to recall painful matters of
the past now,” said Aleck gently.
"You shall tell me of them at another
time.”
The color brightened in Melanie’s
face, her eyes glowed.
“No, not another time; you must un
derstand now, especially because all
this preface leads me to what I really
want to say to you. It is this: I do
not now care for the man I loved at
nineteen, nor for any of the other men
of my country who have been pleased
to honor me with their regard. But
ever since those early days I have had
a dream of a home —a place different
from Duke Stephen’s home, different
from the homes of many people of my
rank. My dream has a husband in it
who is a companion, a friend, my
equal in love, my superior in
strength.” eyes lifted to
meet Aleck’s, and they were full of an
almost tragic passion; but it was a
passion for comprehension and love,
not primarily for the man sitting be
fore her. She added simply: "And
for my dream I’d give all the wealth,
all the love, I have.”
The room was very still. Aleck Van
Camp sat quiet and grave, his fore-.
b“ad resting on his hand. He looked
up, finally, at Melanie, who was be
side him, pale and quite worn.
“Poor child! You needed me more
than I thought!” was w'hat he said.
But Melanie had not quite finished.
“No, that is not enough, that I should
need you. You must also need me.
want what I alone can give you, match
my love with yours. And this, 1
think, you do not do. You calculate,
you remain cool, you plan your life
like a campaign, and I am part of your
equipment. You are a thousand times
better than Count Lorenzo, but I think
your principles of reasoning are the
same. You do not love me enough,
and that is why I can not say yes.”
Aleck had taken this last blow
standing. He walked slowly around
and stood before Melanie, much as he
had stood before her when he first
asked her to marry him; and this
time, as he looked down on her fair
ness, there w r as infinite gentleness and
patience and love in his eyes. He
bent over, lifted Melanie’s two hands,
and drew her bodily out of her seat.
She was impassive. Her quick alert
ness, her vitality, her passionate seri
ousness, had slipped away. Aleck put
his arms around her very tenderly
and kissed her lips; not a lover’s kiss
exactly, and yet nothing else. Then
he looked into her face.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Force of Habit.
An attache at the statehouse has a
nose which slightly turns to the left,
and when asked why, replies it turns
that way from force of habit.
“Habit?” some one asked one day,
“how can a nose have a habit?"
“The nose didn’t,” was the reply,
“but I did. When I was a boy my nose
naturally turned to the right. It em
barrassed me a::d I was guyed about it
so much that I decided I would pull it
straight. So I began to draw my left
hand across it in the hope I could
straighten it. The motion became a
habit. I did it 'when in school, in
church, and my mother said I did it
when asleep. Before I could stop the
habit I had the end of my nose pulled,
over to the other side, and I decided to
let it stay that way.”—lndianapolis
News.
emonies. There was much contro
versy between the Mormons and the
other inhabitants of the island, most
ly fishermen. While on a visit to De
troit President Fillmore heard of this
little kingdom within the domain of
the United States. He sent an armed
vessel to Beaver island, and King
Strang was captured ana tried for
treason. He conducted his own de
fense and made such an eloquent plea
that he was acquitted. In 1850 he
was assassinated. —Philadelphia Rec
ord.
Parly Advantage.
“Those framers of the United States
constitution did great work,” said the
patriot.
“It' seems to me they had It pretty
easy,” replied the member of con
gress. “They worked with compara
tively free hands. No legal experts
could arise to contend that the things
they were putting into the document
were unconstitutional.”
vPi TPC ET knowledge all you can,
||ir aSw and the more you get the
more you breathe upon Its nearer
heights their invigorating air and enjoy
the widening prospect, the more you will
know and feel how small is the elevation
you have reached in comparison with the
Immeasurable altitudes that yet remain
unsealed. —Gladstone.
CHAFING DISH SUGGESTIONS.
The many valuable uses to which
the chafing dish may be put has been
oft told in song and story, but there
Is none so valuable as that which
gladdens the heart of our conva
lescent. His appetite may be stimu
lated by some delicate morsel which
he will enjoy all the more intensely
becausq he has watched the process
of cooking. In the home where there
Is an invalid, the chafing dish is al
most indispensable.
With the chafing dish, which may
be as simple or as fine as the purse
allows, one always likes a few pretty
pitchers, small bowls, dainty jars and
dishes to hold the materials to cook,
as well as the condiments and season
ings, Measuring spoons and cups are
indispensable, as accuracy is as es
sential in chafing dish cookery as in
any other.
Anchovy Toast. —Toast four slices
of bread from which the crusts have
been removed, spread with anchovy
paste. Scald a cup of milk, add two
egg yolks and stir until the mixture
thickens. Beat the whites of two
eggs until stiff, add the thickened
milk, beat thoroughly and pour over
the toast.
Toast dipped in egg and milk and
fried in a bit of butter is a favorite
way of serving bread.
Frizzled Beef Take a few slices of
dried beef, cover with boiling water
and let stand ten minutes, and drain.
Melt two tablespoonfuls of butter in
the blazer, add two tablespoonfuls of
flour, and pour on gradually one cup
of milk. Season with salt and pep
per; reheat the beef In the sauce, and
pour over strips of toasted bread. A
yolk of egg may be added, if wanted
richer.
Hash balls may be browned and
served hot from the chafing dish. One
of the charms of chafing dish cookery
Is that it is served hot from the
dish.
I WOULD be friend to all the
foe, the friendless
I would.be giving and forget the gift;
I would be humble, for I know my weak
ness;
I would look up—and laugh—and love—
and lift.
—Howard Arnold Walters.
COOKERY FOR THE SICK.
Sir Henry Thompson said: “I have
come to the conclusion that more than
half the disease which embitters the
middle and later life is due to avoid
able errors in diet.” It is safe to say
that two-thirds of all diseases are
brought about by errors in diet.
The study of foods and their effect
on the individual is of equal impor
tance to the! study of drugs.
Often the entire return to health is
dependent upon the food prepared
for the patient.
Children more readily succumb to
disease than older people, hence the
necessity of paying the strictest atten
tion to their nourishment and diet.
To those who are accustomed to vis
iting children’s hospitals, the subject
of mal-nutrition is very much dis
cussed, as its evidence is everywhere
manifest.
There are comparatively few foods
that are at their best in an uncooked
state. They neither taste so good, nor
are they as digestible as when treat
ed to some kind of cooking.
The question of feeding of persons
in health is always of great impor
tance, but when one succumbs to dis
ease, the feeding is of supreme mo
ment.
Where the temperature is high, and
there is great wasting of the tissues,
it is necessary that a large amount
of easily digested food, usually in
liquid form, be used. Water is used
in quantities, as that carries off waste
products.
With some convalescents food must
be restricted, while others must be
stimulated to eat.
Some of the important things to re
member in feeding sick people, are
—not to ask them what they would
like, for usually when they get it the
desire for the food is past.
The food should appeal jto the eye.
A POOR EXCUSE.
“I don’t suppose he’ll ever amount
to much.”
“Why not?”
“He’s afraid to take a chance.”
“In what way?” .
“I offered him a block of mining
stock at 12% that is likely to go to
par at any time, but he said he
couldn’t see it.”
“Wouldn’t toucji it eh,?”
“No. He said that buying mining
stock is the poorest excuse for being
broke that he knows of.”
Always Optimistic.
“Your husband is always optimistic.
Isn’t he?”
“Yes. He never lacks a cheerful
.word.”
‘What did he say when your water
pipes burst the other day, and you
had to be without a fire in the house
from morning till night?”
“He said he was glad that he had
a nice warm office to go to.”
There’s one thing that may be said
in favor of a lazy man. . lie neves!
meets trouble half way. I
It should appeal to the taste. It
should be digestible and nourishing.
I would be pure, for there are thoee who
care.
I would be strong, for there Is much to
suffer;
I would be brave, for there ig much to
dare. —H. A. Walters.
SOME LUNCHEON DISHES.
One may serve luncheon dishes of
ten for dinner or supper though with
little change in the menu.
Breslau Beef. —Put lean beef steak
through a meat chopper, season with
minced onion, pepper and salt, and
one large soda cracker rolled fine.
Shape an inch thick in a greased pan
and place thin slices of bacon on the
meat after it has been baked a few
moments. Serve when the bacon is
crisp and brown.
This may be left in a .long roll.
Bake fifteen minutes or longer before
putting on the bacon.
Mashed Dried Lima Beans. —Soak
the beans over night, and the next
morning drain thoroughly and place
in a kettle with sufficient water to
cover; add a teaspoonful of soda, and
when boiling, cover again with cold
Water; add salt and cook until the
beans are tender. Drain the water
and save for a soup foundation. Put
the beans through a sieve and whip
with a fork, season with a little cream
and butter, a dash of red pepper. Heap
in a hot dish and serve.
In baking beans, those who do not
like pork may substitute olive oil,
which adds the necessary fat in an
acceptable manner.
Pear Pie. —Line a baked shell with
quartered pears, add a bit of lemon
juice and a sprinkling of the grated
rind; cover with whipped cream and
serve as any pastry.
Oatmeal Bread. —Take two cups of
fine oatmeal, two cups of boiling water,
two cups of bread sponge, two table
spoonfuls of butter, half a cup of mo
lasses, a cup of raisins and half a cup
of nut meats. Knead and let rise in
loaves. Put into greased pans, and
when risen bake in a moderate oven.
God made a million spears of grass where
he made one tree. The earth is fringed
and carpeted, not with forests, but with
grasses. Only have enough little virtues
and common fidelities and you need not
mourn because you are neither a hero
nor a saint. —Henry Ward Beecher.
WHAT TO EAT.
Here are a few dishes that are sug
gestive, if one does not care to fol
low out the recipes entirely: ,
Baked Steak. —Rub fine one canned
pimento, add a pound of minced beef,
half a pound of minced veal, a fourth
of a pound of minced ham, and season
with salt. Form into a loaf and lay
in a greased paper, folding it well to
gether; set on a pan in a hot oven
and bake thirty minutes. When done
remove,the paper, slip the loaf on a
hot platter and dot with bits of but
ter.
Orange and Prune Salad. —Steam a
dozen large prunes until puffy, then,
cool them, remove the pits and mix
with an equal amount of orange pulp.
Carefully mix, not to crush the or
ange, and serve with a tart salad
dressing, mixed with whipped cream.
Chicken Griddle Cakes. —Beat one.
egg, add two tablespoonfuls of chick
en fat melted, a cupful of minced
chicken, half a teaspoonful of salt, a
pint of milk and flour enough, sifted
with three teaspoonfuls of baking
powder, to make a batter.
Crecy Soup. —Melt two tablespoon
fuls of butter in a frying pan, add two
tablespoonfuls of butter in a frying
pan, add two tablespoonfuls of flour,
and when stirred together pour in a
pint of milk and cook to the consis
tency of thin cream. Season with
salt and pepper and add a cup of
cooked carrots pressed through a
sieve. Boil up and serve very hot.
Add finely shredded onion to baked
beans, and when ready to serve cover
with thinly sliced cheese. Serve as
soon as melted. (
Details Wanted.
Client —He called me a liar, a scoun
drel, a coward and a thief.
Lawyer—And which epithet is it
you object to?
Speed Limit.
“I understand that in Chicago they
suspend the speed limit Regulation
where physicians are the offenders.”
“No! that’s wrong. The Chicago po
lice are very strict. They don’t make
speed exceptions for anybody but the
auto bandits.”
Similar Misfortune.
“Alas, kind sir, help me! I am
spent.”
“Alas, my poor man, so’s my mon
ey.”
How Kisses Are Made.
She —If you put two and two to
gether, what does it mak.e?
‘He—Two and two what?
She —Anything.
He—Well, I don’t know what to
tell you, but if you’ll come under the
mistletoe I’ll show you.
Lateness.
“Did they dance the latest dances
at your party?”
“They must have,” replied Mr. Cum
rox. “It did’nt break up till nearly
three o’clock-’- -Washington Star.