The Mount Holly news. [volume], July 04, 1893, Image 1

About The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942

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The Mount Holly News.
VOL. XIV. NO 27.
MOUNT HOLLY, BURLINGTON COUNTY, N. J., TUESDAY, JULY 4, 1893,
ESTABLISHED 1879
PKNN8YX/VANIA RAILROAD.
The standard railway of America. Protect
ed by the inter locking switch and block gig
nal system.
**™nt Holly as follows:
oons.
05,6.10, 7.34 r.
' 52, 7.22. 7.BO. 8.00,
\ 2.31, 5.07, 5.13,
> • <*
On Sundays, 6.50, 8.31 a. m.
On Mondays only: For PhIH. .elphia at 10.2B
On’Saturdays only for Brown’s Mills. Toms
Kiver, and points along the coast at 1.40 p. if.
For Pemberton, 7.03,9.28, 11.05, A. m., 12.24, 1.33,
4.16, 6.07, 7.07, 7.38 p. m . Sundays, 8.16, 10.26
A. M., 7.05 p. m. „ _
For Brown’s-Mills-in-the-Pines, 9.28 a. m.,
12.24, 4.16, 4.42 and 7.07 p. m. Sundays, 8.16,
10.2»a.m. m
F o r llurii ngton, Bor den to wn ,T ren ton and N e w
York, 6.38, 9.08, 10.50 a. m.. 2.50, 4.45, 5.55 P. -
lOT k, O.OO, If.UP, A. ■., *.«w, * « “•
Sundays 7.25 p. m. . 4 _ __
For Lewlstown, Columbus,Kinkora, etc., 7.03
.. i •>•) I 1u An Biinikva 7 <L> P M
For liowiifww ii, owl uuiuub,iviiibu*»i >
A. m. 1.38, 4.16 r. m. On Sundays, 7.U5 r. M.
For Lumoerton, Medford, Marlton and Had
donfleld 9.35 a. t
For Toms River. Island Heights, etc., 9.28, 9.r>2
a 4.19, 4.42 r Ji
For Trenton and New York, via Pemberton
and Kinkora, 1.33, r. m. Sundays, 7.05 r. «.
For Hightstown, 7.03 a. w., 1.33,(1.07 f.m. On
Sundays 7.05 p. m. . _, .
For Asbnry Park and Long Branch 9.52
a. m. 4.42 p. m. Sundays 8.16, a. m.
For Tnckerton, 9.52 a. m., 4.32 p. m.
For Beach Haven 9.52 A. M., 4.32 p. 44.
'trains leave for Mount Holly as follows:
From Philadelphia, 6.00, 7.20, 830, 9 10. 10.00,
11.20 A. M„ 12.30 2.30, 3.30, 3.50, 4.00, 4.30,
5 10. 6.10, 6.30.8.00, 10.30. 11.45 p. if. On Sun
days, 7.30, 9.20 a. if., 1.00. 6.90,10.30 r. n.
On Saturdays only from Philadelphia, 1. r M.
From New York, viaTrentonand Burlington
8.00.9.30 A. if., 1.00.4.00,5.00 P. M.
From Trenton, 7.41,9.25,11.10 A. *., 2.58,5.20,
7.00p.m. On Sunday at 6.40 a. M.
From Burlington. 8.31.10.06,11.53 A. M.,3.32,5.45
7.40p.m. On Sundays, 7.45 a. m.
From Brown’s-Mills-in the-1 ines, 7.16, 8.22,
A. M 2.00, 4.20, 6.20, 8.05 r. M. Sundays, 5.35,
FromPPemberton, (north) 6.35, 7.42, 8.57,
11.00 a. m., 12.35, 4.11, 8.17 r. M. On Sun
days. 8.00 a. m. From Pemberton (south),
7.33, 8.37 A. M., 2.14, 4.42, 6.34, 8.19 P. M. On
Sun Jays. 5.50, 7.14 p. M.
From Hightstown, via Burlington,11.02 A. M.
7.02 p. M. _
From Medford, 11.55 a. m. !•
From Long Branch, 6.25 a. m., 4.15 p. M. Sun
days 5.00 p. M. . „
From Asbury Park, 6.42 A. m., 4.32 P. M._
On Mondays only from Long Branch, e55 a. if.,
Asbury Purk,8.13, a. m.. Island Heights, 9.17
From Toms Bivcr, 6.50.801 A.*., 3.53.0.02 P. M.
From Island Heights, 6.38, 7.4-, A. M., 3.38, 5.48
P. M.
CHAS. E. Pugh,
General Manager.
J. R. Wood,
Gen. Pass. Agent.
TUCKERTON RAILROAD.
Leave Mount Holly tor Tuckerton and Beach
Haven, 9.52 a. m., 4.32 p. m., dally, except
Leilye^&ach Haven for Tuckerton, 5.00 p.
ni., dally except Sunday and 6.40 p. m. on
Leave^fuckerion for Beach Haven. 5.35 a. m.
on Mondays only. 3.02 p. in. daily except
Leave**Beach Haven for Mount Holly, 6.65 a.
m., 3.00 p. m., dally except Sunday.
Leave Tuckerton lor Mount Holly, 7.00 a. m.,
3.02 p. m., daily except Sunday.
Pemberton ami Hlgtitatowu Railroad.
Trains leave Mount Holly for New Egypt
Cream Kidge, Higbtstown, etc., at 7.03 a. m.
1.33, 6.07 P. m. Sundays, 7.06 p. m.
Trains leave Philadelphia and connect for
New Egypt, Cream Ridge, Hightstown, etc.,
6 00 a. m., 12.30 and 5.10 p. m. Sundays, 6.00P. m.
Trains leave Hightstown tor New Egypt,
Pemberton, Mount Holly and Philadelphia
at 7.06, 10.00 a. m., 7.05 p. m. Sundays, 6.20
A. M
Mount Holly Pont Office.
MAILS LEAVE AS FOLLOWS t
6.30 8.20
6.30 8.20
6.30
New York and East. 6.30 8.20
Pemberton and Hightstown....{6.30,8.20
Vincentown.
Trenton.
Bordeutown.
Foreign.
Atlantic City.
Med fora.
Philadelphia.
Burlington.
Camden.
Lumberton.
2J0
2.10
2.10
8.20
8.20
8.20
2.10
8.20
8.20
8.20
8.20
2.10
2.10
2.10
8.00
8.00
8.00
8.00
8.00
8.00
8.00
8.00
2.10 8.00
2.10 8.00
2.10 8.00
MAILS ARRIVE AND READY FOR DISTRIBUTION :
New York and Ea9tl7.45 9.15
7.46
Pemberton.* 7.4
Vincentown.I
Hightstown.7.
Trenton.|7.
Bordentown.
Foreign.
West.
Atlantic City.
Medford.
Philadclnhia.
Burlington.
Camden .
Lum berton.
9.15
9.15
9.15
9.15
H.15 lobiSioo
3.00 5.00
11.15 3.00,5.00
11.15 3.00 5.00
11.15 3.00 5.00
11.15 3.00 5.00
13.00 5.00
11.15
5.00
3.00
3.00
5.00
4,05
5.00
5.00
^30
?!oo
900
6.30
6.30
6.30
6.30
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
9.00
1AMVEL A. ATKINSON,
^ATTORN EY AT LAW, SOLICITOR AND
MASTER IN CHANCERY.
No. 109 Main St., Opposite Washington House,
Mount Hoily, N. J.
QHARLEH Oft. SLOAN,
FIRE AND LIFE INSURANCE.
Office in Arcade Building, Mount Holly, N. J
QUARLES EWAN MERRITT,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
Main Street, Opposite Arcade,
Mount Holly, N. J.
X. M" C8CK™E?6b AND CONVEYANCES,
COM MISSION KB OF DEBUS,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
Cbdak Btth. Oobak Couhty, N.J.
gAMClL DAUBY, Bf. D.,
HOMCEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN,
Garden Street, near Cherry Street, Mount
Optic* Houbb:7 to 9 A. X., 1 to 4 P. x.,6 8 to P X.
qwibob w. v andebybik. a. »
Bonxocotoathist,
Garden St. near Buttonwood, Mount Holly
f Until 9 a.m.
Oinci Hours : ^ 6 to 8 p. m.
L to 2 P. X.
J^IRE, LIFE AND ACCIDENT INSUR
ANCE.
Beliable Companies and lowest rates. Cor
es|K>ndence solicited.
SAMUEL A. ATKINSON,
General Insurance Agent,
109 Main Street, Mount Holly, N. J.
0HAS. HAKKBR, M. D., D. D. 8.
DERTAL OrFIOE AND LABORATORY
No. 137 MAIN STREET.
(Cor. Main Union 8U„)
Mount Holly, AT. «r.
Firat-Olaas Work. Reasonable Prices
WILLIAM H. CLINE,
FURNISHING UNDERTAKER,
VINCENTOWN, N. J.
Orders liy Telegraph will be promptly at
tended to.
K. MPPISCOTT,
GENERAL. AUCTIONEER,
MEDFORD, N. J.
|Specittl Attention paid to sales of real estate,
stock, farming utensils, etc.
^ UOKON,
WATCHMAKER AND JEWELER,
NO.84 MAIN 8T11151CT, MOUNT HOLLY.
Keeps the beat aaaortmen tol Watches,
Keeps the beat aaaortmen t ol W atchea, SB
Chains, Kings, and Spectacles In Bur
llngton County. 8-U.
Also, a full line of Stiver and Plated
Ware
Mount Holly Academy,
A BOARDING and DAY SCHOOL
—FOB—
Boys and Young Men.
Apply for onr catalogue, which contalna full
particulars and references. .... . ,
1 Kav. JAM KS J. COAI.K, A. M„ (Princeton),
Principal.
S'
TOCKS
BOUGHT AND SOLD
on Commission and carried on favorable
Terms
Being members of both the Philadelphia ar.d
.. a_ . 1 ...... „ twl tin ol n ir u
New York Stock exchanges, and having a
—* Now
private wire direct from our ofllce to
York, we are prepared to execute orders left
with uh promptly and satisfactorily. Ac
counts received and Interest allowed.
DeHaven & Townsend,
No. MS C1IKSTNUT 8TKKKT. Phil* dsi.fhi*
Do you know a good tiling when you see It T
If ao, order one of
West’s Percolators
for Making COFFEE or TEA
Saves one-flfth ot your coffee, and no
grounds. The coffee will be as clear as wine.
The Percolators will be shown from door to
door by our agent. We have over MO In use
In Bnrllngton.
G. W. WATSON, i
Bristol, P»
eJ^AKFWs
(hewjngTobacco
ISF1RMLY HELD BYTHE
MAGNET OFPOPULARITY,
BECAUSE OF ITS GOOD
QUALITIES;WHEN A
CHEWER ONCE TRIES
cJOLLYTAR
HE "STICKS TO 1Twfor
-EVER—
A FULL % POUND
'• FOR 10 CENTS*
GASKILLS
COAL OFFICE
NOTHING BUT LEHIGH
well screened and picked ol
slate ; also
Land Lime, Building Lime,
Rosendale and Portland
Cement, Plaster Hair,
Calcined Plaster, Marble
Dust Finishing Sand, Drain
Tile, Terra Cotta Pipe.
WASHINGTON STREET
MOUNT HOLLY.
THE LEADING
MILLINERY STORE
IN MOUNT HOLLY.
City Styles at City Prices.
ALSO
Fancy Goods, Notions, Hosiery,
Silks, Satins, Etc.
J. Howard Shinn,
40 MAIN ST. MOUNT HOLLY
Mr. O. 31. JLauer
“Nerves Shattered
C«a«r*lly broken down; at times I would fall
Over with a touch of the vertigo; was notable
to go any distance from the house. I was a
miserable man. The day I commenced on
bottle No. 2 of Hood's Sarsaparilla, I began
to feel better and 1 now feel like a new man.
Hood's5#* Cures
I am working again, and do not have any of
my bad spells. I have a perfect cnre.»
Chas. M. I,aler, 650 W. Market St., York. Pa.
'Hood’s Pills are the best after-dinner
Pills, assist digestion, cure headache. 26c.
Slieibal’s BranchStore
51 NORTH NINTH STREET,
PHilaclolpliia.
Crayon #
Portraits
Handsomely
Framed,
FOR $5.00.
Sold elsewhere for $15. Also a hand
some Pastel Portrait, elegantly framed,
for $10. Never before sold for less
than $23. This work is strictly first
class ; see it and be convinced.
Framing of Piet res at Lowest Rates.
SCHEIBAL’S MANU’FY PICTURE FRAMES j
16 North Ninth Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
ROBERT STREET,
CATERER
MOUNT HOLLY, IS PREPARED TO FURNISH ALL THE
Delicacies of the Season
PERTAINING TO
Weddings, Parties and Entertainments
AT SHORT NOTICE.
Table ware supplied. Orders by mail prompt
l yattended to.
E. D. PRICKITT,
30 Main street.
OUR SODA WATER
=LOOKS RIGHT
_TASTES RIGHT
IS RIGHT
It is pure, delicate and refreshing.
The best apparatus, the eholoest
flavor's. Even those who do not or
dinarily drink soda water like It.
Try a glass of our Ked Orange Ice,
made from the Juice of red oranges.
Just now we are selling Insect Powder 30e
lb.; Tar Camphor 7c lb.; Gum Camphor, 05c lb.
The greatest care given to the Prescription
Department. _
ELMER D. PRICKITT,
30 Main street. Mount Holly. Branch Store
at l.u mberton N. J
Tim, copper ami» sheet-ikos
WARS MANUFACTORY.
The suoserrber, thankful for tne past lib
eral patronage of the public, announces that
he Is still engaged In the manufacture ol
Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, Tinware, Eto.
A lull variety ol which will bekept con
stantly on hand or made to order at the shortest
notice.
Tin Roofing, Spouting, Plumbing, Qatand
Steam Fitting
Promptly attended to by experienced work
men
W. J. BRANNIN,
MAIN STREET, MOUNT HOLLY,N.
Adjoining St. Andrew’s church.
What is
Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitcher’s prescription for Infants
and Children. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor
other Narcotic substance. It Is a harmless substitute
for Paregoric, Drops, Soothing Syrups, and Castor Oil.
It is Pleasant. Its guarantee is thirty years’ use by
Millions of Mothers. Castoria destroys Worms and allays
feverishness. Castoria prevents vomiting Sour Curd,
cures Diarrhoea and Wind Colic. Castoria relieves
teething troubles, cures constipation and flatulency.
Castoria assimilates the food, regulates the stomach
and bowels, giving healthy and natural sleep. Cas
toria is the Children’s Panacea—the Mother’s Friend.
Castoria.
« Castoria Is an excellent medicine for chil*
dren. Mother* have repeatedly tali me ot its
good effect upon their children."
Db. G. 0. Osgood,
Lowell, Mas*.
“ Oastorfa Is the best remedy for children of
which I am acquainted. I hope the day is not
far distant when mothers will consider the real
interest of their children, and use Castoria In
stead of the variousquack nostrums which are
destroying their loved ones, by forcing opium,
morphine, soothing syrup and other hurtful
agents down their throats, thereby sending
them to premature graves."
Da. J. F. Kinohxlob,
Conway, Ark.
Castoria.
« Castoria la ao well adapted to children that
I recommend it aaauperlortoany prescription
known to me.”
H. A. AnoHin, M. D.,
Ill So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
•• our physlclana in the chlldren'a depart
ment have apoken highly of their experi
ence in their outside practice with Castoria,
aud although we only hare among our
medical supplies what is known as regular
products, yet we are free to confess that the
merits of Castoria has won us to look with
favor upon it."
Usitxd Hospital and Dispensary,
Boston, Maas.
Allxk C. Bioth, JVea.,
The Centaur Company, Ti Murray atrwt, ne
X ur& vivy#
pnsumption
| That dreaded and dreadful disease!
IWhat shall stay its ravages? Thousands
Isay Scott’s Emulsion of pure Norwegian
cod liver oil and hypophosphites of lime
and soda has cured us of consumption in its first
stages. Have you a cough or cold acute or leading
to consumption ? Make no delay but take
Scott's Emulsion cures Coughs,
Colds. Consumption, Scrofula,
and all Anaemlo and Wasting
Diseases. Prevents wasting In
Children. Almost as palatable as
milk. Set only the genuine. Pre
pared by Scott A Bowne, Chemists, New
York. Sold by all Druggists.
bcotfs
Emulsion
- - -
_ -
FACILE PR1NCEPS.
BY DR. S. aiVVARD KBL80H.
Naught but tbe good remains:
Leas than dull dust
Is Nero; and his sceptre, rust;
But Paul, the prisoner, reigns !
Self-slain, he passed away.
Who blood-red made the morn
Of Earth's new day,—
His forehead, passion-purple,—wreathed with
scorn!
The tawny Tiber trembled at his word,
And reared, in crested waves, its fretful foam;
The ’frighted leaves in Gallic forests stirred,
O’er Eastern vales despairing cries were heard,
When spake the scourge of Home.
Vanished is Nero, and his Circean train 1
His prisoner doth remain !
Ended the death-march on the Ostlan Way:
A swift, clear, circling gleam; the sudden
shock.
As falls the blade upon the headsman’s block .
Hence,—immortality!
Say, who was King ?
The soulless, sensual thing
That grovelling empire dared not disobey,
Whose title but profanes
The storied page?
Or, was he King.
W hose manyr-splrlt rose on tireless wing,
And rules o’er every age ?
Naught but the good remains:
Nero is noisome clay;
Paul reigns !
Mount Holly, N. J., June, 1893.
—From **Tht WatchmanBoston.
A VICTIM OF BABGAINS.
The Story of a Man With an Eco
nomical Wife.
A short time ago I met a man whom
I had known for years as a prosperous
attorney, healthy and happy, not at all
wealthy, but reputed to be wise. It
was near the first anniversary of his
wedding. I had been away from the
city for a long time, and I had hardly
seen him since I helped'to Install him in
a pretty up-town flat which he evident
ly regarded. In prospect, as a little pri
vate paradise. I was startled to see
the changes which married life had
wrought in him. He had a haggard,
tired expression, he was shabbily
dressed, and he was so thin that 1 might
almost have suspected him of being 111
fed. Words, if they had been appro
priate, could not have conveyed my sor
row; nothing could conceal the sur
prise which I tried to hide under a
cheery salutation. I could see the pain
my expression gave him. He brought
the subject up immediately.
“Changed since you saw me last, am I
not?” he said.
1 auiniLLeu aesiwuuin^ w —
trifle thinner. “Grip?” I ventured to
suggest. He shook his head. We were
not twenty steps from a noted restau
rant where, in the days of his bache
lorhood, we had often gone together.
"Come into Cherbinl’s,” he said, "and
have a bite of luncheon. It will seem
like old times.”
Ten minutes later we had installed
ourselves in the private room which we
knew so well, and our old waiter had
spread a luncheon before us and smil
ingly taken his dismissal—and a lib
eral tip. It was a light luncheon, for I
had had a late breakfast; and, in spite
of his hungry appearance, my friend
did not seem to have much appetite.
He explained the dismissal of the
waiter by saying that he did not care
to be stared at surreptitiously by one
who oould not fail to notice the change
in his appearance. Then he Insisted on
hearing me talk about my travels, un
til the luncheon was almost finished;
then he broaohed the subject of his own
affairs.
“You wonder,” he said, looking out
of the window and drumming on the
table with his fingers—“you wonder at
my changed appearance. It must seem
striking to you, who left me so well
and so happy a year ago. Perhaps you
will wonder still more when I tell you
that I have not been sick. No, I have
not known a day's sickness since I saw
you last.”
He paused, and I sat silently waiting
for him to resume. Presently he said,
beginning slowly and very deliberately:
“1 am a victim of the bargain counter
—of the man who writes the Insidious
advertisements which glare at you every
morning in the columns of your favorite
paper. How I hate the sight of their
‘five dollars and twenty-flve cents—
worth ten dollars,’ and their ‘less than
oost,’ their ‘bankrupt stocks’ and their
■removal sales!’ You would hardly be
lieve it, old man, but they have brought
me to what I am; and through the in
nooent agenay of my dear little wife.”
There was a tear in his eye, and he
stopped to wipe it away. Then he con
tinued:
“They say that the world of cranks—
of men and women mentally unbal
anced—is growing every day. The an
archist crank is becoming a serious
feature in the social world. We will
have a new species of cranks soon—the
bargain counter crank. I cannot be
lieve that Anita is the first of the
species. Thousands of other homes, I
am sure, conceal a skeleton like mine.
But the possibilities of the mania’s
growth are limitless.
“Its development m Anita began
soon after we were married. Her par
ents, as you know, were comparatively
poor people, though refined; and I sup
pose the habit of studying the adver
tisements in the dally papers to learn
where to purchase with the greatest
economy was the outgrowth of neces
sity. It has always seemed to me a
harmless, but a vain, occupation—this
study of the advertising columns. I
have seen my stenographer busy with
them at times when there was a lull in
her work, and have thought her a rather
idle, purposeless young woman. I sup
pose she, too, is a victim of the habit
Poor thing!
r or Vile 11131 IWU 1UUUUM CUVCI VU1
marriage Anita and I were traveling1,
and nothing oould exceed our happiness.
I tried to make her contented in every
way; and she was so pleased with every
thing she saw and so grateful for all
that I did for her comfort!
“It had always been my theory that
a man’s wife should know no more
about business matters than is neces
sary to maintain a feeling of confidence
and of interest. Anita came to me in
the sweetest way, one day, and said;
‘Dear, you must tell me just what your
income is, so that I can know how much
1 may spend for dress and housekeep
ing.’
“I smiled and kissed her. ‘That must
never worry your little head,’ I replied.
‘The housekeeper will look after all the
expenses of our little home, and what
ever you want for yourself you must
buy and have the bill sent to me. ’
“ ‘I shall not be extravagant,’ she re
plied, kisssing me. ‘I am a poor man’s
daughter, you know.’ Poor little
Anita!” He paused and shook his head
sadly as he repeated: “Poor little
Anita!”
After a moment he continued: "1
know it was my fault. In her own
home she had been restricted to a cer
tain allowance; she had been compelled
to keep the household and personal ex
penses within a narrow limit. I should
have followed the same system; but 1
could not bear to think of holding my
wife down to an allowance. ‘No,’ I
said to myself, 'my interests will be her
interests. She will guard them more
carefully than I myself could.’ And so
she did, up to the limit of her commer
cial comprehension; but with a result
so different from what I had expected.
“Shortly after our return from the
honeymoon trip, Anita said to me one
day: ‘Don’t you like to read your paper
in the elevated every morning on your
way Uowu town, instead ot leaving it at
home here for rile, darling? I should
think you would.’ I smiled as 1 took
her hand. ‘And don’t you want to see
the paper?' I asked. 'Yes, I like to
read it, sometimes,' she replied, ‘and I
thought perhaps you would have your
other paper delivered here Instead of at
the office, and then you could read it in
the evening when you came home.’ I
smiled at what I thought was her afm
- ----- ........
plicity; but I was so pleased with her
thoughtfulness that I appeared to fall
In with the plan, and I ordered the
I other paper left at the house as well as
at the office. I found, long after, that
It was not simplicity and thoughtful
, ness for me that Inspired this idea. It
was the cunning of madness. That
other paper published most of the dry
goods advertisements.
“Anita's mornings were now spent In
the study of the newspaper. I would
eome into the little parlor of our flat to
find her poring over them, and she
al ways had one beside her at the break
fast table. She became abstracted, and
sometimes careless. Thinking that she
was interested in the current news, I
tried to draw her into conversation on
political or social topics. You know
I am not of a serious nature.
The bright and trivial events of
life have their value for me. I
had never seen any very great
depth in my wife, but believing
that an absorbing interest in the ques
tions of general discussion was filling
her mind and disturbing her thoughts.
I made it a point from time to time to
take up some ourrent topic, after due
preparation, to discuss it with her. But
I never seemed to be able to find one
that was pleasing. Her ideas on the
Chilian question were most vague and
indefinite; her knowledge of what was
being done in congress was super
ficial; the business world seemed to
claim little of her interest, and crim
inal and religious topics were alike a
blank to her. She tried to fall in with
my thoughts, and seemed pleased to
hear what I had to say; but I always
found that I was better informed than
she. At last one morning she broached
to me the subject of her thoughts;
though at the time I did not appreciate
the importance of what she said. I had
asked her again and again if 1 could
not get something for her to make her
happier; but she always answered:
•No, I am quite content. 1 knew, In
time, that she was struggling vainly
with the mania which finally became
too strong for her. It broke out first
on that particular morning.
“ ‘John,’ she said, in her pleading,
tender way, 'may I have a little money
to go shopping with this morning?’
“ ‘As much as you wish, my dear,’ I
answered. *1 am glad you have discov
ered something that you want. I have
been trying to, these many days.’
“ ‘It is not just something that 1
want, John,’ she said, ‘but they are
selling out all-wool ohallies at Burns’
at such a low price that I think I ought
to get enough for a dress. I may need it
in the spring.’
"As you can imagine, ‘all-wool chal
lies' was rather unintelligible to me, so
fresh from bachelorhood; but whatever
it was I was determined that my wife
should have all that she wanted of It.
Bo 1 took out a ten-dollarbill and asked
her if that would be enough. She in
sisted that she did not need so much;
but I pressed it on her, and finally she
took it That night I came home with
tickets for the opera and a bunch of
great big Baroness Rothsohild roses.
“ ‘Oh, you extravagant boy!’ she ex
claimed, as s he met me with a kiss.
‘Come in and let me show you how I
have been saving money for you while
you have been spending it’
“She took me into the little parlor
and spread before me some figured
cloth. It was quite pretty, I suppose; I
am not much of a judge in such mat
ters. ‘It cost only forty cents a yard,
John,' she said, with a laugh, ‘and it
should have been fifty, at least That
was bIx dollars; and with the rest of
the money,’ here she drew me laugh
ingly down the hall to the door of our
little dining-room — ‘with the rest,
John,’ Bhe said, pointing triumphantly
at a heap of plated ware on the table,
'I got such a splendid bargain! Just
think of spoons at eighty-eight cents a
dozen, and knives and forks almost as
cheap!’
“ ‘But Anita, darling,’ I said, ‘what
are you going to do with tbatsetof solid
Bilver my father gave us? and the case
that came from my old chums of the
law school? We thought we had more
silverware than we could use up in all
our lives.’
“ ‘You dear silly goose!' she answered,
putting her arms about my neck; ‘we
don't want to use that solid silver for
every day. And, besides, one of these
days we may want some of this plated
ware, and we would have to pay twice
as much for it.’
"I kissed her on both cheeks, and told
her she was a very thoughtful little
girl. She was filled with quite a glow
of pride that evening, and 1 think the
memory of my words made Patti’s sing
ing all the sweeter to her. For two or
three days she subdued her inclina
tions; but one morning they became
too strong for her. She startled me at
the breakfast table with the announce
ment that she was going to get a cop
per-bottomed tea-kettle at Chase’s. I
said: ‘I think our kitchen outfit is quite
complete, my dear. My mother is an
old housekeeper, and she fitted up our
kitchen herself.’
“ ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘It was so
sweet of your mother; and I am quite
sure there is everything that we actual
ly need. But they are selling house
hold goods for almost nothing at
Chase’s to-day, and we’ll never get a
tea-kettle for twenty-nine cents again.
And there are two or three other things
in this advertisement I think I’ll get.’
And- she did. They came home that
evening—so many of them that I heard
our kitchen maid protesting that there
was no room for them in the little
pantry.
“Two days later my wife said that
she was going to get a banquet lamp.
•Better let me get it for you,’ X sug
gested. ‘I caD have a much larger se
lection to choose from at the down
town wholesale stores.’ ‘No, you ex
travagant boy!’ she said, ‘you would
spend twice as muoh as is necessary, i
They are selling them at McCraw’s to-’
day for two dollars and ninety-seven
cents. They are part of the holiday
stock, left over.' I made no further ob
jection, and the next day we had a ban
quet lamp In our little parlor. It was
all out of harmony with the dainty fur-,
nishings which my sisters had selected
for me; but then, my wife said, it was
worth at least five dollars, and so we
had made quite a saving in getting it.
"My wife’s passion for the bargain
counter now began to rage unre
strained. Every day I think she found
something in the advertising columns
of the papers whioh fed her appetite for
shopping and satisfied this craving for
‘saving money,’ as she called it. One
day she would buy a quantity of green
ribbon, and explain to me that she
thought she might want a green dress
some day; then she would haunt the
stores for the material for that green
dress. Her taste longed through the
whole catalogue of purchasable arti
cles.
“One evening my mother met me on
my way home. ‘I have just left Anita,’
she said. ‘Tell me, John, why you have
crowded all those ugly chairs and things
into your pretty apartment. There is
hardly room to turn around.’ I made
some excuse. I could not bear to blame
Anita, even to ray mother. But when
I got home and looked about our little
parlor—so dantily furnished when we
moved into it, now crowded to over
flowing with the cheap, unsalable furni
ture and bric-a-brac of the bargain
stores—my mother's words brought the
full contrast before my mind, and I
groaned aloud. 1 spoke to Anita serious
ly, that night; but the first words brought
such an unhappy expression to her face
that 1 stopped. It was all wrong, per
haps, but I said to myself it was all
done for me, and surely I should not re
proach her with it.
"I need not follow my little wife's
progress in detail. I want to bring you
down to the time when she began to
make me more personally a victim to
her mania- took at these gloves, old
man, and these things, and this.”
He held out his hands toward me, and
j then pointed to his shoes and cravat.
* He had been putting on hiaglovee as he
talked. As i looked at them T saw that
his finders pointed at me through gap
ing holes, while the skin at the base of
his thumb was pushing Its way out at a
broken seam. On his feet were over
shoes that opened at a dozen places as
he twisted his foot In pushing it for
ward. And his cravatl (Poor old man!
He was considered a connoisseur of
neckwear at the club.) His cravat
looked as though it was made of cotton,
and, though it was evidently new, it
was already frayed at the edges.
‘‘These gloves were eighty-three
cents, I believe,” he said, mournfully.
“Anita bought them for me at Her
rick’s. She got six pair two weeks ago.
This is the third. These overshoes
they gave away with a pair of shoes at
Busbey’s. The cravat was bought for
some marvelously small figure at Bait
land’s. As you may believe, old man,
I fell an unwilling viotlm. But
oould I refuse to wear the gloves that
Anita had bought for me, when she
had waited her turn at the counter
for nearly an hour? or the cravat that
she herself had selected; which
she thought so pretty — and so
cheap? I was too tender-hearted in
the old days, you often told me. I
oould not wound my little wife’s feel
ings. I have deceived her in one thing,
and it makes me very unhappy to think
of it. I persuaded old Hilton to make
me a pair of shoes which would fit me,
in exact imitation of the three-dollar
pair which she had found. It cost me
fifteen dollars, and the old fellow said,
with tears in his eyes, that his reputa
tion was at stake. He gave the other
pair to a poor colored man of his ac
quaintance; but Anita is none the
wiser, and she thinks to-day that I am
wearing those shoes. I don’t mind so
much the looking shabby in ready
made clothing and hats of last year’s
pattern and Of doubtful make; but at
least my shoes must fit.”
He sat brooding for a few minutes. I
wanted to comfort him, but I knew no
way to do it. I broke the silence pres
ently by asking if there had been any
change for the better reoently. He
shook his head sadly. “None,” he
said. “The mania seems to take
a stronger hold every day. There
is only one thing to be done; I must re
move her from temptation. If I could
afford it, I would go to Hayti or Samoa,
where the demand for clothing is neces
sarily limited, and the furnishing of a
house is simplicity itself. But I am too
poor for that now. However, through
my father’s political influence I have
had a consular appointment promised
me in some far-away corner of the
world where shops are few. Removed
from the temptations which surround
her here, perhaps Anita may be restored
to mental health. It is aU that I can
do.”
We parted. A few days later I saw
the announcement in the dispatches
from Washington of his appointment
to a consulate. I shall not say where
he has gone; for I am quite sure that
if it were known Anita would be
deluged with dry-goods catalogues.
At least, it is far enough removed from
the region of the bargain-counter to ef
fect a cure—if one is possible.—George
Grantham Bain, in Demorest's Maga
zine.
THE USE OF COSMETICS.
What Some of the Commonly Used Pow
ders and Washes Are Made Of.
The spotted veils began it, so the
ladies say. The terribly trying elec
tric light makes it almost a necessity,
if one wov#d not look ten years older
than their age. Formerly it was the
actresses only who encircled their eyes
with the aureole bestree to give to
their orbs the electric glance which
shoots out from behind the footlights
to the most extreme distance of the
theater where there stands or sits a
man, and who touched their lips and
cheeks with rouge. Now the fine ladies
have taken it up, and on dress parade
in afternoon or evening gatherings it
is easy to detect that the eyebrows
have been pointed, the cheeks fresh
ened and the eyes brightened. This
improving on the Creator’s plan, this
dabbling in art, is very insidious when
once it is indulged in. It grows on one
like the morphine habit, and women
get curiously reckless concerning de
tection, and rather given to more and
more pronounced effects. Perhaps
it's vanity, but one is inclined
to forgive it for the motive is un
selfish. A woman cannot see her own
painted face you know; if she could,
she might not give us such crude ef
fects. French women know better
than those of any other nation the
subtleties of cosmetics, and the art
which conceals art is what is aimed
for by the Parisienne, be she grisette
or grande dame. It is rare to see a
French lady with obvious traces of
powder on her face, and yet two or
more colored powders, with a pot of
rouge, are considered Indispensable to
her toilet. So common is the practioe
that inadame talks of cosmetics as one
would speak of perfumes, and mad
ame’s maid will give you the secrets of
their compounding.
There is the violet powder that dain
ty women puff upon shoulders and
arms before putting on a gown to keep
the lining fresh and dainty. It is made
of wheat starch, orris root powder,
otto of lemon, otto of bergamot, and
otto of cloves. The perfectly harmless
powder for daily use is composed of
levigated talc passed through a silk
sieve; while the more effective powder
for dress occasions is made of French
chalk, one pound; oxide of bismuth,
one ounce; oxide of zinc, one ounce.
The cheek is made to bloom like the
rose, with different tints for a blonde
and a brunette, but a general recipe is
made up of strong liquid ammonia, half
ounce; finest carmine, quarter of ounce:
rice water, one pint; triple extract of
esprit de rose, half an ounoe.
The best lip rouges are very expen
sive, and are made from pure carmine,
either mixed with talc powder, one
part of carmine to three of talc, or the
pure cochineal is spread upon a board
and dried slowly. It is then applied to
the lips by means of a piece of cotton
moistened. A new material has been
invented for brightening the eyes called
“Mesdjem.” No one can detect by any
outward aspect that the eye beautifier
has been used, but it deepens the shad
ows of the lashes and intensifies the
color and brilliancy of the eyes. And,
finally, this fine fresco is washed off
when the ball is over with cold oream
made of almond oil, one pound; rose
water, one pound; white wax, one
ounce; spermaceti, one ounce; otto of
roses, one drachm.
All very harmless, of course; but the
sad thing about it is that once a woman
begins to use it, she must continue, not
only for fear of detection, but also be
cause her skin is not at all improved by
the process. After all, the famous old
French beauty, who had the honor to
be proposed to by a lover who was, un
known to himseif, her own grandson,
was wisest, it was wun iresn uew
water slie treated the skin, that re
mained beautiful until she had long
passed the allotted threescore years and
ten. Doctors disagree. There are
women with beautiful complexions
tliut never wash their faces, and women
with beautiful coloring that bathe with
lotlom»#nd vapors.
But the natural, cleanly way is cer
tainly the better, and the nightly bath
of pure soap and warm water, followed
by a bit of glycerine and rose water, is
sure to be needed here in the dust of
New York. But if the morning dash
of cold water leaves a shiny surface, a
good nib with a piece of coarse flannel
leaves the skin velvet-like and glowing.
If the nose is an offending member,
and persists in shining still, wipe it
over with a lotion of ten grains of sul
phate of zinc in half an ounce of recti
fied spirits of wine and half an ounce
of rose water.—N. Y. Sun.
—“That's a queer fancy of Smith's,
putting .six gates in his front fence."
“Jerusalem, mant Don't you know he i
has half a dozen daughters, and all oi
them engaged.”—Inter Ocean.
THE EVENING ROAD.
“Sublustri noctis in umbra.”
Before me, In the waning light,
The Evening Road lay straight and white,
Muffled In summer dust
The surging trees rose left and right—
Black billows in the gathering night,
And whispered the light gust
As the wheel drove with rapid gyre
I saw upon the whirling tire
A phosphorescent gleam;
At the tenth round, I saw expire
The firefly’s little spark of fire,
The night could not redeem.
1 saw, upon a naked mound
Where forest fire had swept the ground,
A tree bare and alone;
Tossing his mightless arms around,
He stood like some old king discrowned
And driven from his throne.
I saw, against the haunted skjf,
A small, belated bird dart by.
Far straying from the nest,
W bile in pursuit, with raven-cry,
Night-favored wings did swiftly fly,
And ever cioseiier pressed.
I saw (deserted long ago)
A cot with crannied roof sunk low
And doors that stood ajar;
Beyond, like ghostly taper’s glow,.
Those rifted chambers searching slow,
I saw the evening star.
I saw-—but all I saw without
Still Imaged forth the inner doubt,
The dread, the restless goad—
The griefs, that in a hovering rout
Compass that lonely soul about.
Who takes The Evening Road.
—Edith M. Thomas, in N. Y. Independent.
A SUMMER VACATION.
How Tom Won a Mountain Lass
for Hia Wife.
We were trying to decide where we
would spend our summer vacation, Tom
Sanderson and I. Tom first suggested
Cumberland, and, after I had offered sev
eral pertinent reasons why Cumberland
would not suit, he tentatively men
tioned Asheville, N. C., as a good place.
I told him about the crowds there, the
steep rates and a host of other things,
and he gave up Asheville. After pro
posing every summer resort known to
the railroad agents and finding that not
one of them suited our ideas, Tom final
ly said he guessed the only solution of
the question would be to go to the east
Tennessee resort where we had passed
the previous summer.
I positively refused to entertain the
suggestion. I pointed out to him how
mercilessly we were bored the year be
fore. There was a sameness, a dull
ness, a stiffness, a barrenness about the
place that was conducive to ennui.
Each day the same dull programme of
the day previous had to be gone through
with. We were expected to say tender
things to the same uninteresting
females every day in the week, and to
oontend with the ambitious mammas
of these very conventional 3'oung ladies.
And we were required to be eternally
on dress parade and good behavior.
The place lacked the freedom and un
eonventionality that belonged to my
ideal summer resort. X told Tom all
this, and added:
“I have an idea! We’ll go to north
Georgia for six weeks. I know an old
fellow way up in the mountains whom
I met in the United States court last
fall. He got pretty chummy with me
and asked me to come up and see him
some time and he would treat me like
a lord. That’s the place for rest and
freedom. It has the charm of novelty
—we both like novelty and originality,
and we oan have all the fun we want
climbing up the mountains and fishing
in the mountain streams; and then,
Tom, you can make love to some buxom
mountain lass and come away just
when the climax is ready to come in and
break her little heart. Ain’t that the
kind of summer fun you’re after? Eh?”
I think the reference to flirting with
the pretty mountain girl won Tom.
That’s his weak point—flirting. Any
way he was in ecstasies over my sugges
tion, and said that he had always want
ed an opportunity to study the moon
shiners and the quaintly romantic seo
tion of the state which they inhabited.
Three weeks later a Richmond &
Danville northbound passenger train
put down two dusty young male trav
elers at a very remote and wooded little
mountain station, and snorted off a min
ute later, leaving them leaning against
their four trunks, gazing at their new
environments.
It was Tom and I, and we were not
at all discouraged, although only one
store, two residences, a blacksmith shop,
a ginhouse, a half dozen grazing, lazy
looktng cows, a dozen rooting pigs and
a half score of human beings were vis
ible. There was an abundance of land
scape, of the green variety, with the
most picturesque background of blue
mountain tops imaginable. Tom
douldn’t repress an exclamation of de
light at the rugged beauty of the
scenery.
I inquired for my friend, Mr. Zacha
riah Hester, and was told that he lived
two miles west of the station. We
stayed that night with the storekeeper
and resumed our journey early the
next morning. Mr. Hester received us
with unfeigned joy and ensconced us in
the very best room in his mountain
mansion of four rooms. Mrs. Hester
we found to be the repository of many
wonderful stories, and she regaled us
by the hour with the recital of her
reminiscences.
Two eventful and rather discourag
ing days passed, during which Tom’s
enthusiasm oozed away distressingly.
The first day we spent in decorating
our room, and the next in an eighteen
mile walk to Crow's Foot mountain,
from which excursion we returned sore
and sad, but wiser men. Tom was
clearly disappointed.
“It s a big lake—tins mountain me,
be said, wearily; “just to fancy, we’ve
been here two whole days and haven’t
seen a girl yet You prescribed moun
tain and mountain maid lor me. Can’t
you fill your prescription?”
But Tom had no idea of the'treat that
was in store for us. The first week of
our stay rounded up with a mountain
dance at Haunt’s Bend, to and from
which we were piloted by the cordial
but not prepossessing Mr. Hank Hester,
a lanky youth with more legs and arms
than he could manage consistent with
good grace and becoming dignity. The
dance, I feel sure, ranks among the
pronounced social successes ol tnat sea
son. Warm as it was, they danced as
if danolng was a religious duty. There
wrere eight or ten mountain belles pres
ent, all glorious in the rplendors of gay
frooks and bright ribbons, and three
times as many homely looking moun
tain youths. Mr. Hester introduced us
to Miss Mary Jane Spiwens, a robust
and muscular young wotnau, and then
left us to take his stand by the side of
the fair Miss Johnson. At first Miss
Spiwens seemed to be suffering under
constraint, but under the influence of
Tom's easy manner and speech her
tongue limbered up, and she told us
many things of Interest about the
mountain country. From her general
conversation we learned that some peo
ple, not Miss Spiwens, however, be
lieved Miss Susie Ricketts to be the
belle “o’ them parts." Her remarks
about Miss Susie aroused Tom’s inter
est and she led him across the room to
present him to the alleged belle.
Susie was a shy little creature, but
the one of all the others that would at
tract attention. She was simply and
be fittingly clad In a plain white frock,
that, although loosely made, revealed
the grace of her figure. Her gold
brown hair was caught at the bsok and
fastened liy a ribbon and then allowed
to fall in a wavy mass upon her shoul
ders. Her face was whiter than the
faces of the others, and two bright
crimson patches burned on cither cheek.
Her w-ords, her manner, her general
appearance were those of the moun
tain, but there was a subtle charm
about her for all that.
All this f noticed from my post across
the room from her, and I noticed, too,
that Tom had grown quite animated
and was telling her a story lust as he
would have done If she had been of his
own circle. Tom danced with her, not
onoe, but many times- He missed two
dances, the two 1 danced vt ith her. He
called me over and presented me In a
very formal manner. She and Tom
were already on good terms, and she
laughed Immoderately at everything he
said, whether It was funny or not. She
looked up Into his jolly face with an
expression of confidence and trust
Hank Hester came over to me with a
puzzled look.
“He’s a-makin’ love to Susie fit to
kill,” said he, “and she seems to like it.
It 'ud he awful tough if he was to cut
Sim Eidgely outen her. They’re en
gaged, you know."
He pointed out a very miserable and
diseonsolate-looking young man who
was narrowly watching Susie and Tom,
with the remark that “Sim ’pears to be
a-takin’ it purty hard already.”
When the dance was over, I heard
Tom whisper to Susie and ask if he
might walk home with her. A look of
pleasure swept over her earnest face.
“I came with Sim—I mean Sim Ridge
ly,” she said, half apologetically, “and
he’d be mad if i left him. Next time
you may go, and won’t you come
’round? We live about half way ’tween
the Hesters and the station.” Tom
promised that he would be around, and
as we walked home that night he was
in jubilant spirits and told me that he
would have a picDie now, that he had
found his mountain maiden.
The next day we saw Susie at church,
looking even more charming than on
the night before: and Tom walked home
with her, much to the evident discom
fort of Sam Ridgely.
After making Susie’s acquaintance
the days seemed to pass easier for Tom.
He was with her nearly every day.
managing in his ingenious way to find
an opportunity to call or meet her some
where. Tom has the happy faculty of
making himself the friend of nearly
everybody with whom jie is thrown,
and he was soon a friend of the Rick
etts family and a welcome and priv
ileged visitor at their home. Every
night Tom would tell me of the prog
ress he was making in his suit for
Susie’s favor.
1 IldVCU biic jiuiuii ui piwj/v/o
ing yet,” he told me. “Hut you just
give me time and I’ll do it. I’ll just
make Mr. Simeon Ridgely sorry he ever
was born, and then we’ll go quietly
away, and soon after we are gone she’ll
forget me and marry Simeon and live
happy ever afterward. It’s some diver
sion, anyway.”
The picnic at Haunt’s Bend was tho
event of our summer’s stay in that sec
tion. People gossiped a great deal
when Tom disappeared with Susie and
I heard many such remarks as “that
dudisli town feller hev laid Sim Ridgely
in the shade with Susie.” Tom didn’t
give the wretched Ridgely a single mo
ment at Susie’s side during the entire
day, and the poor fellow could not con
ceal his jealousy and disappointment.
That night he called on Susie and be
gau to chide her for her fickleness. She
Bushed up and made a sharp reply.
Simeon, very much hurt and quite
heartbroken, said:
“All right, Susie, go an’ marry the
feller from town. You’re tired of me,
an’ I kin see it. Don’t let me stand in
the way, Susie. You ain’t mine, an’
haint been since you seed him, but I’ll
be always your friend.”
And so they parted. . Susie was too
happy to shed a single tear, but poor
Simeon wept copiously on his pillow
that night, and, after dropping into a
fitful sleep, dreamed that it was not so
at all, and that Susie was the same to
him as -she had been before she saw
Tom Sanderson. Susie told Tom, and
the night after that he came in rather
late, laughing:
“I’ve done the grand act, old boy,” he
said, beaming at me as happily as a fel
low might who had made a love con
tract which he intended to keep. “I’ve
proposed to Susie, and she wilted right
away and fell into my arms. She told
me afterwards that she knew I loved
her the first time I saw her. It’s funny,
ain’t it, how little it takes to fool a
woman.” We had many a hearty laugh
over Tom’s engagement, and roared
when we thought of the rare stories we
would have to tell the boys about it:
A few days later I felt twinges of re
morse of conscience when I saw Susie
and Tom together and noticed her ab
solute faith in him. I saw then that
Tom’s diversion, as he called It, would
have lasting results so far as Susie was
concerned. She loved Tom. That night
I cautioned Tom of the seriousness of
his position and advised him to give
it up.
“I thought it was very funny, like
you,” I said to him, “but with Susie it
is frightfully real. You’d better stop,
Tom.”
“Pshawl” laughed Tom; "you are
foolish; she will soon forget when 1 am
gone. Women are quick to forget.
Anyway, you suggested the joke, aud
since I have begun it I am going to car
ry it through.”
I told him it would be a sad thing to
break a girl’s heart, just for idle pas
time, and painted a very graphic pic
ture of Susie all alone, weeping her
very eyes out for him His face grew a
shade more serious.
“It would be bad, mean, wicked to
really break her heart,” he said.
“Susie is a good little girl. She’s not
like the rest of them up here—she’s
different. If I thought she really cared
I would leave here to-morrow. But I
will wait and hope that she will get
over it all right.”
A day or so later he repeated to me a
conversation he had had with Susie.
She told him that her friends feared
that he was only fooling her and did
not intend to marry her at alL “1
don’t think that at all,” she said. "I
never doubted you, Tom. But I wanted
to ask you since we’ve set a day for our
wedding and all has been fixed, that
you buy the marriage license so I can
tell them and they won’t doubt you
any more.”
ljlKe a IOOi to numur net a wugm |
the license. There can’t be any harm,
can there?” Tom went on. “People
are not obliged to use licenses when
they buy them, are they?”
The joke had indeed grown serious.
Tom had not only appointed a day for
the wedding, but had purchased the
license, and we had not yet been in the
mountains five weeks. And the worst
of it was that the wedding was to oc
cur on the following Wednesday even
ing at seven o'clock. It took but little
argument from me to convince Tom
that he would have to leave the moun
tains before that time. “Of course, we’ll
slip out quietly on that very day. Susie
will soon forget.”
Tom’s wedding day came around re
markably quick, it appeared to me. I
made all the arrangements with Hank
Hester for our baggage to be carried to j
the station late that afternoon and cau- i
tloned him to say nothing of our in
tended departure. Tom went over to
see Susie the last time, while I was
packing the trunks.
“Phil,” said he, coming in just at
twilight, “it’s tougher than I had any |
idea it could be. Susie is thinking of
nothing else but the—to-night. She
has all her things ready and would put |
on her dress for me to see. It gave me
the eold chills. I kissed the little girl j
and left with something like a tear in j
my eye. Poor little thing—she didn’t
think it was the last kiss.”
Iiarkuess settled over the mountains
and the vicinity of Haunts Bend was
wrapped in a dreamy stillness. Our
train passed the station at a quarter be
fore eight o’clock. Hester had gone
ahead with our trunks and we followed
on foot. We walked very rapidly along
the mountain road, talking as we went
of the novel experiences of our five
weeks' stay in the mountains.
Just off the road a bit was the home
of Susie Ricketts. Its dim outline was
faintly visible through the trees, and
from its two windows gleamed cheerful
lights. A pathetic silence born of soli- .
tude and night brooded about the little |
mountain home. The lights shone j
brighter than usual to-night Tom j
stopped and gased mutely through the j
shadowy trees. His eyes were fixed upon
the lights and I could see that his face
n._____ __ _.
had grown very serious. There was that
regretful look upon his face that I re
mebered having seen when a boy when
sorry for something he had done.
While he looked a shadow that I
fancied must have been Susie's crossed
the light. The figure stood an instant
at the window silhouetted against the
brilliance behind, anxiously watching
for Tom, I fancied, and then disap
peared.
“Do you see that?” asked Tom, husk
ily. “Do you see that? That was Susie,
and she is wondering why I am lata.
It’s just past seven now. Poor girl, I
am very sorry I did it. I could kill my
self for it.”
He stopped an Instant and then went
on:
“It was cowardly and mean. It was
contemptible. She never once doubted
me, and I went on deceiving her like a
villain Phil, I never did anything half
so mean in all my life before."
His voice had grown tremulous. He
pressed his hand to his forehead as if to
ease a pain It was growing late.
“Tom," 1 said, “it’s bad enough, I
know, but let’s not stand here holding
funeral exercises or we’ll miss our
train. Come along.”
Just as I spoke the shadow—it was
Susie’s—again appeared at the win
dow. She was leaning out listening
for his footsteps. She had never
dreamed the truth and was waiting for
him even then.
“Let the train go,” he said, vehe
mently; “let it go. I would be a mur
derer to leave here like this.” He took
a step resolutely toward the distant,
beckoning light, and, stopping, looked
back at me standing in the rugged
mountain path.
“Tell Hester to bring my trunk
back,” he said, at length, and the next ;
day Tom, Susie and myself left for the '
city The license had been used.—At
lanta Constitution.
LOADED WITH EXPLOSIVES.
An Apparently Abandoned Boat Which
Surprised a Chilian Crew.
Toward the close of the recent war:
between Chili and Peru, the Peruvians
found themselves quite shut in from
the outside world by the Chilian block
ading' fleet that lay off the harbor of
Callao. With two exceptions, the
Peruvian navy had all been captured
or destroyed by the enemy, and these
two remaining ships, vessels of low
speed and little power, were moored
behind the breakwater, absolutely
useless for purposes of war. With all
their power of opposing the enemy
gone, the Peruvians turned their at
tention toward destroying some of the
hostile ships that lay a few miles off,
a constant menace to the oity of Callao.
Frequent futile attempts were made
to blow up the Chilian cruisers with
torpedoes, but the Chilians were too
alert, and succeeded in avoiding or de
stroying the deadly missiles. One fore
noon, says Harper’B Young People, the
picket vessel of the Chilian fleet, a
small steam gunboat, was cruising in
shore to take a near look at the town
and fortifications. While steaming
slowly along a boat was discovered ;<j
drifting down with the current. A
near inspection proved it to be a fine
new whaleboat, with oars and sails
and complete outfit. The commander
of the Chilian steamed olose up to the
boat and ordered tackles rigged for
hoisting the prize on board. The
tackles were hooked, and the men
walked away to the pipe of the boat
swain’s whistle. Suddenly, as the
boat left the water, a terrific explosion
took place, tearing the boat to atoms
and crushing in the gunboat’s side at
the water line, so that she filled and
sank, leaving her startled crew strug
gling in the water. Most of them
were rescued by boats from the
foreign men-of-war lying near, but
some were never seen again. The boat
was a ounningly-devised weapon, hav»
tng a double bottom filled with a pow
erful explosive, with a fuse and deton
ator connected to the bolts to which
the tackles hooked. When the strain
came on the bolts, as the boat rose
from the water, the fuse was ignited
and the explosion followed.
MUSIC TO BANISH INSOMNIA.
A Loudon Physician'. Ingenious Plan for
Banishing Midnight Torture.
Music as a curative agent has been
known and valued since the earliest
ages, and the recently established
guild of St. Ceoilia, in London, whose
professed object is to apply the sooth
ing influence of melody to patients in
hospitals and elsewhere, is only carry
ing out the prescriptions of physicians
who flourished two thousand years
ago. The Athenian dootors “banished
fever by a song.” Thales found music
most efficacious in the plague, and Au
lus Gellius even went so far aB to main
tain that it produced a beneficial effect
In cases of bites and stings. In their
work on “Psychological Medicine” Drs.
Bucknill and Tuke remark that music
is the first recorded remedy employed
for the relief of madness. A novel,
and possibly a useful, suggestion in
the same direction is mentioned by
Dr. J. G. Blackman in the latest num
ber of the London Medical Magazine.
It is that a music box, worked by an
electric motor, might be advantageous
ly employed in cases of insomnia.
Some care, no doubt, would have to be
exercised to see that the mechanism
worked properly before it was started,
as nothing would be more likely to
drive sleep permanently away than a
musical box out of tune or liable to un
accountable and abnormal spurts of
energy. It would also be trying to a
nervous patient in the stilly night if
the electric current were turned off al
together and the box became suddenly
silent. It is possible that a burglar In
one’s bedroom might be soothed and
induced to surrender his booty by the
unexpected strains of “Home, Sweet
Homo,” but it is also possible that he
might not. One or two interesting in
stances are recorded in the article of
the benefit which has tesulted in hos
pitals from the musical treatment, and
the sleepless soul might do worse than
try the prescription contained in it.
Routed Flowers.
A florist who has one of the largest
greenhouses in the city derives no in
considerable profit fron the renting of
flowers and plants for private con
certs. public dinners, receptions, balls,
wedding's, church services, and even
funerals, the things most in de
mand being palms and rubber trees.
The charges for the use of those plants
for a single evening seem pretty steep
to the uninitiated. He explains why:
“You think fifty dollars too much for
dressing Mrs.-'s parlor last Tuesday?
Come into the greenhouse. There, you
see that palm? That was worth thir
ty dollars on Monday. I will sell
It to anybody to-day for ten dollars.
The leaves are split, and two of the
stalks are broken. And that is only
one instance. We are suffering dam
age like that, and we have to charge
a price that will Insure us against too
great a loss, fifty dollars wouldn't
cover the damage that is done to ot
property at some of the swell receji
tions.”
Rather Misty.
Country Child—People who live in
city flats have lots of company. Is’pose.
City Child—No. indeed; it's awful
lonely.
"1 don't see how."
Why, folks won't ’soeiate with the
families above them ’oause they is be
low them and they can't ’soeiate with
the families below them because they
is above them.”—Good News.
OircumatADWi Altar Cases.
Miss Oe Pink—Why have you again
asked me to marry you? I told you em
phatically, three months ago. ‘hat 1
could never lore you
Suiter—V e-s, but I’ve fallen heir to
a torture since then."—N. Y. Weekly,