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• ® SINGER, U MARTHA DELLINGER co/vff/avr /9// sosbs -merx/li etms>Asry 4 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.