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A LONELY GIRL
CHAPTER XVII. Sir Lucien has elected to come late In hii 'wn private brougham, to Madam O’Flaherty’s hall, a decision that was warmly encouraged by his nearest and dearest. He has come very late indeed — when supper is well rm —but Madam, see ing him, s.voops down upon him instantly. Bhe is always beautifully unconscious of the fact tl at he detests her, and has in deed been often heard to say that she is sorry she can’t come oftener to see poor Lucien.” “So you’ve come. Better late than never!” cries sh? with all the loud “bon homie” tha/ makes him 1 ‘e her. "Glad of it! Look here, there’s old Lady Kil burn over there —see her?—in a brand new white satin gown ! Go and ask her to dance the next set of lancers. Do now ! It’ll do you both good. Oh, Amber, my darling, here you are again, and looking lovely—lovely. Your cheeks like lilies blended wl'h roses! I hope you are tak ing care of her, Mr. Everard?” “I don’t know,” says Everard, who is looking very distinguished, and extremely quiet. “You must ask Miss O’Connell for a character for me.” “It’s such a delightful dance,” says Amber, laying her hand on Madam’s arm, who lays her big fat one over the little slender clinging fingers, and taps them klndiy, lovingly. “Oh!” with a little sigh of deepest content, “I feel so happy!” “Come into the library—a rest will do ns both good.” says Everard suddenly. A well of feeling, such as he never known before, has sprang up within his breast. It is the one pure passion of his life. This child, so sure that all the world is good— so unsuspicious of evil, so ready to believe in the sweetness, the goodness of life—so ignorant of the evil. They move away, unconscious that Madam’s eyes are following them. But Madam’s eyes are terrible things that roam about here, there and everywhere, seeking whom th*y may devour. Her dis like to Mrs. Claranee is hardly a stronger feeling than that she entertains for Ever ard. And to see that "dear innocent” with him. “Well, anyway,” says Madam to hesself with inward consolation, “it will make Mrs. Know-Nothing sit up a bit!” Turning, she finds serself face to face with Mrs. Know-Nothing, who is sitting on a lounge, with a big fan and a general air of almost insolent boredom. “Hope you are enjoying yourself," says Madam, with a malevolent smile and a snort. “Oh, immensely! Immensely!” responds Dolly rapturously, making a great matter of stifling a yawn behind her fan. “You look it,” says Madam tersely. Then, “How’s your husband?” “I don’t really know,” sayi Dolly. “lie always directs his letters to our place in Sutherland, and so of course —servants are so dilatory—l can’t tell you If he wrote last month, or the month before that —or any month.” “Expecting him home?” with increasing volume in the usually too loud iones. “I don’t know. Sit down, d.-ar Madam, and let us talk about it! You look very fatigue I.” “In my C'Dinion,” says Madam, with a burst of virtuosi* anger, “he’ll never come home ! Never ! And small blame to him ! I say it again. He’ll never come home. Yon know that, anyway.” “I don’t indeed,” says Dolly with more truthfulness than she usually betrays. It is to her extreme discontent that she knows her George is al 'eady on his home wari way. She raises her long glasses and surveys Madam w’th an air of sur prised lut placid inquiry. “You haven't heard h A dead, have you?” Mada n, distinctly routed, makes a ges ture of supreme disgu it, and without trusting herself to say another word, makes a martial stride past her, and see ing a window open that lends Srst to a balcony, and then to the gardens beneath, instinctively makes for it, with the idea, perhaps, of cooling her fevered brow. ■Really, all these Castle people are unfit to be know n! That shocking little wom an, an' as for the man called Everard — she ieels it almost her duty to follow him and Amber, and drag the dear girl away from him, by force if necessary—but she has gone through far too much already. Now she will go and warn her. But how to warn Amber, who is at times a little difficult? She meditates; and then a bright thought comes to her. Hilary will be the very one to whom to tell her doubts. Of all the Carrig party, he alone is approved of by her. Yes, she will get Hilary to look after Amber. It is just when this thought has occurred to her that she meets Hilary. “My dear boy, you!” says she. She had known him off and on since he was very young. “The very one I wanted.” “Can’t you want me a little later, Madam?” asks he, smiling. “I’m in a hurry now. I’ui looking for your favor ite. Amber.” “Ah! That's iny want !*’ says she. “So you don't know where she is, then?” “No.” A sense of fear lays a cold hand upon his heart. “She went to sit out the last dance with Everard,” says Madam. "That I know; I'd be glad. my dear Hilary, if you could find her, and prevent her from sit ting out the next with him. But from what I could see, ” She says a pood deal more, but Hilary does not hear her. He has gone back to the house. ______ *.-■ CHAPTER XVIII, The light is dim as he enters the library. He had searched many rooms before finding her here. Now he can see her, sitting in a big soft chair, close to Everard. who, in a chair of harder make, is leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, evidently in earnest conversa tion with her. Through the half-light. Amber's beauty, so soft, so kindly, shines like a star. He walks straight up to her. “Our dance, I think." His tone is so abrupt, so almost choked, that the girl looks up at him very suddenly. "Ours? Is it?" She rises. "You must tell me the rest another time. Mr. Ever ard.” says she over her shoulder. Adare leads her. not to the ball room, but through the hall to the balcony by which he had just entered the house in search of be*. "What 1* It?" asks she a little nervous ly, alarmed by his silence, his rapid move ments, his whole air. “What should it be?" He has stopped at the end of the balcony, where the shad ows ars thicker. “Nothing, I suppose,” plucking np a little spirit “only your manner is so Strange, so abrupt. And I thought your voice Bounded angry just now. But 1 think I only fancied it." “No doubt.” He leaves her abruptly, and going to the railing of the balcony, crosses his arms on It. Ha is straggling with a mad passion o' }eloty and despair. If this one woma: will not love him. what can all his life be to him from this day forth? What good, what joy. what comfort can It con tain? Oh! and. more than that, can he fTm iire without her? The Quick sound of her feet behind him checks his thoughts. He turns to her a frowning face. •Ah! don’t look at me like that !“ says Amber. “Don’t 100k —but tell me. A little gentle hand Is now slipped into his. “Tell me what I have done!” “Don't you know? Can’t yon guess,’’ cries he in a stifled tone, “what I felt when I saw you there—in that dark room —;with that fellow?” “No,” says she in a low tone. She draws back involuntarily, as if frightened by his manner. “Why do you speak of him like that? Why should I not be with him* I like him; he is always very kina to me.” “I despise him,” begins he sharply, fiercely, then checks himself. After all, is he to say? How explain to her that Everard’s reputation is not all it ought to be? “Come down,” says he hoarsely, pointing to the gardens beneath, “I can’t talk to you here. Let us stop here,” says be, when they have come to a clump of evergreens that bides them effec tually from any passer-by. His heart is still hot within him, and his voice sounds to her stern and harsh. Such a tone rrom Brian Deant would have been met by cold anger on her part, but from Hilary! “I must speak to you.” “Oh, but not in that voice.” She lays her hand gently on his arm. “You have been so good to me always that—that you will have to go on being good.” Suddenly in his grief and despair all things are cast aside and she is in his arms, her cheek pressed against his own, bis heart beating madly against hers! “My darling ! my own ! —Amber ! Oh ! it is folly to tell you I love you. You know—you must know.” "Yes, y>s. But you must not love me.” This is dreadful; but he takes courage from the fact that as she gives sound to this awful sentence her arms tighten round him. He passes it over very light ly indeed. “I’m not worth thinking about,” says he. “But do you love me, my sweet heart?” “No!” says she, in a tone that she fondly hopes is heroic, but is only tear ful. “Oh! Amber! and here.” He tightens his arms round her. “To say that here.” “It was a lie,” cries poor Amber, giv ing in miserably. "But how can I love you, or let you love me, with this stain on my father's name?” “Nonsense! if that is all,” jubilantly. “It is all,” solemnly. “But— No, let me stand away from you; but—it means everything. I shall not let you love me until my father’s memory is cleared.” “Why, think, darling,” cries he, still holding her hands, as he cannot hold herself. "Who believes in that absurd story of the missing jewels, except our mad old uncle Sir Lucien?” "And Brian Deane!” “I don’t believe he knows anything. I don’t really. He has only been working on Sir Lucien’s nerves, first, perhaps, with a view to making money out hf him, and latterly to get him to forward his marriage with you.” “Still, Hilary, I cannot marry you. Don’t think me cold, or heartless, because I do love you, I do, I do.” “My own darling girl !” “Only— to marry >ou ! With such a cloud as this shame hanging over me. Oh, no, I couldn’t!’’ “Let us talk of ourselves. You are mine now, you are mine, Amber! Say that. Here stands my affianced bride!” “You won’t tell anyone about it. will you?” she entreats; and then, seeing re bellion in his face, “You will promise that, you must. You will promise faith fully to tell no one.” “I don't think I can. At least”— smiling at her perturbed face—“not faith fully. I want to tell Sir Lucien for oue.” “Oh! not Sir Lucien.” “lie first! I could not stand the idea of hiding our engagement from him of all people.” There is so much loyalty to wards her in this eager desire to tell the man who has been so unjust to her all along, of his own admiration and love for her, that Amber's eyes grow full of tears, half sad, half happy. Ou ! if only things had been different! “He will disinherit you.” “Let him! I’ve a thousand a year of my own, left me by my poor mother. We can pull along very well on that. Can go out to India and live happy there ever after.” “You would give up all Sir Lucien's immense wealth!” She turns upon him with flashing eyes. “And for me 1 No, no. Do you think for one moment I would hear of such a thing? No, I take back every word T have said. I won't be engaged to you, Hilary. No, not in any way. You may think I don't mean It, but I do.” "Will you take back ‘I love you'?” “Y'es. certainly. I never meant i It” —with a little stamp of her foot —“was a mere folly. Of course I don't love you.” So firm, so determined is her whole air, so fierce is the stamp of her foot, that in spite of his effort to control him self, Hilary bursts into a roar of laugh ter. He is horrified at himself, but can not control his amusement, nnd indeed it stands him in good stead. If he hid talked to her sensibly for half a day. not one of his wise arguments would so have convinced her of his determination to have and to £yld tjej; as does this irrepressible burst of laughter. “Forgive me,” says he at last. “Oh! you can laugh if you like; but I mean it.” Her tone, however, is. a little feeble. “Not you,” says he comfortably. “And even if you did”—drawing her tenderly to him. and pressing her sweet and lovely head against his shoulder—“it would be of no use. I have given myself to you, and you have given yourself to roe; and —” He pauses. “Well, that's all,” says he. And so it seems it is. CHAPTER XIX. She has, however, exthracted from him a promise not to tell Sir I.ucien antil she has left Oar rig. which will be the day after to-morrow —during their return to the house. A promise reluctantly given —and remembered afterwards! Almost as they reach the yellow rays of light that lie across the paths beneath the windows, two men coming out of the shadows approach them—Sir Lucien and Brian Deane. “Hare you nothing better to do. Hil ary.” says Sir Lucien in a clear tone, sub dued. but full of ungovernable temper, "than to walk about the garden all night with—Miss O’Connell?” "I have been with my cousin and your niece!” says Adare slowly and defiantly, and with a good deal of accentuation. “You have been with the girl who is to marry Mr. Deane!” says Sir Lucien. He turns and beckons Deane forward. See to it. See to it,” cries he furiously. A very madness has entered into him. If the girl will not marry Deam. then the bargain between him and Deane fails to the ground, and the jewel* will never he his. Oh! what is the worth of a silly girl’s happiness, in comparison with the possession of those priceless stones? Deane has come forward. His face is livid as he meets Adare. Involuntarily he thrusts his hand into his left side, be neath his coat. No doubt in the land he has just come from, revolvers at times are handy little things. Without a re volver. Adare'* set and stern face is dis tinctly disagreeable. Out of the darkness that surrounds all this, a girl's voice rings dearly: “I am not going to marry Mr. Deane ?' It is Amber. It thrills through Adare. But why did she not say she was going to marry him? It would have eased so much of the tension. His promise to her alone holds him from speaking aloud just now. “Pardon me! You must, I think. Your father's name and the disgrace attached to it will prevent your ” “Why should she remember her father's name?” breaks in Adare violently. “Her father's name so far has ho stain upon it. save what his relation. Mr. Dean#, has chosen to cast there. As for my cousin, she tells me she is not engaged to Mr. Deane.” “She seems to be very communicative with you." Sir Lucien’s voice is now vindictive. “May I ask,” slowly, “if she is engaged to you?” Adare at this juncture would have made a declaration of his engagement to Amber, in spite of that promise he had given her only a few minutes before. But looking at her, as if to command her permission to speak, the anguished look in her eyes forbids him to go fa ther. He is about then to answe. r Lucien in some slight trivial way, th, . ,j his heart is on fire, when Deane breaks the silence. Passing suddenly by Sir Lucien, he eomes close to Amber. “Give me five minutes?” Adare, who is standing beside Am ber, pushes him unceremoniously aside. “Not one,” says he. In a voice of con centrated fury. “Yes, one,” says Amber. She lays her hand on Hilary’s sleeve, and looks at him. "Just one.” Her voice is a mere whisper, heard by him alone. “It will be better. It will be— the end.” Then she turns to Brian. (To be continued.) WHEN TO SHOOT A MOOSE. Hunter's Cure for the IHues lit the Canadian Wilderness. “Did you ever spend the winter In the woods up in Canada cruising for timber?” asked H. N. Brown of a Mil waukee Sentinel man. “Do you know It is a curious feeling being out there alone or with just an Indian guide. “The thing that Impresses you most is the awful stillness. The slightest sound seems like a cannot shot. You get to talking to yourself, asking and answering questions and lots of other things which you would not think of doing down here, or If you did they would be having a commission sitting on you as a candidate for the dippy house. About all yon think of is htw to get enough to eat, for your ap petite increases as the supply of fo.Kl grows less. We got into that condi tion finally when it was get something or begin to eat our boots. “One morning my Indian came In with a grin on his face. Now, an In dian up there never smiles. In wrest ling with that frozen north they seem to get sour and sullen. This made me more surprised when the Indian came into the shack beaming, ‘Well, what is it?’ -I Inquired. “ '.Moose, big moose,’ was the reply. ‘Went by this morning; catch ’em, maybe.’ “That was enough for a hungry man. I went out and there were the foot prints of a big moose who had gone by, as the Indian said, about three hours before. I got into my coat, strajrped on my snowshoes, took my rifle nnd we started after Mr. Moose. We went about ten miles before we saw him. He was on a side hill brows ing on the twigs. It was a long shot, but I raised my rifle, when the Indian touched my arm, saying, ‘No shoot.’ "I hesitated, but he insisted, saying, ‘No shoot now, blmeby maybe. By that time the moose had sighted us aud started off at a rate, which took him out of sight in a few minutes. Wo were twenty miles farther on wheu we saw him again nnd were near enough to try to shoot, but my Indian Insisted I must not. Well, we followed that moose three days. The big fellow tired at last and started back the way be came, we following. Then we came up with him ouly a short distance from the shack. ‘Now shoot,’ said the Indian. I fired and the moose dropped. “When It was nil over nnd we had meat in plenty nnd the big hide stretch ed before the blazing Are in the shack I said to my Indian. 'Why didn’t you want me to shoot that moose at first when he was not so worn down as he was after that long chase?' " ‘Lose heap fun,’ was the reply. Well, do you know when I came to study over it I began to see his point of view. It was not so much the kill ing as it was the chase which to him was Interesting, and he was willing to travel over forty or fifty miles Just for the hunt, and the more I thought of it the more I agreed with him. I had been growing ugly and nervous myself before, but after that long chase I was another man.” Sich a Help. A faithful serrizt had grown old In the service of a railway company, and at last became too feeble to work. The general manager was asked If the company would not do something for him, ns ns was very poor. "How long has he been with us?" the official inquired. “Over forty years.” “Always did his duty.” “Never missed a day.” “You say he is very old and feeble?” “Yes. The chances are that he will never leave his bed again." "H'ra! Door fellow! We must do something for him. I'll give him a free pass for life over all the com pany’s railway system." The Weight of T*af. “A woman.” remarked the observer of things aud events, "doesn't begin to feel the weight of years until she dis covers her first gray hair.” k "And a man,” rejoined the strong minded female, “begins to feel the weight of them on his twenty-first birthday, and it takes about fifteen years for it to wear off.” The Flippant loath. “You know It all now. my son,” said tbe old man, "but when you hav reached my nge you will find you kno oonqiaratively nothing.” ”1 guess that’s right, dad,” replied the flippant youth. "I’ve often beard that one forgets much in hts declining years.” A draatafs of Prneilce. “That Congressman who used to be a lumber man ought to have an easy time with his bills.” “Why so?” “Because he is so used to log-roll ing.”—Baltimore American. Fla* Fr—pect for tho FmkUe. “The corporation has resolved at laSt to lay out a park for the benefit of the jioor.” “Have the preparations begun?" “Yea All the 'Keep Off tbe Grass' signs have arrived already.” Germany's population Is Increasing much more rapidly than that of Brit ain and France. This is a Batina's greatest source of strength. -\w?r\\r v i ir l rvi Year Refusal. Tis very kind, indeed, of you To offer to become my wife; To say you love me as you do And wish to share my simple life, But do not grieve at what I say. Dear Maud; I really love another. Tn anger do not go away ; I will consent to be your brother. I’m sorry, Maud, I ready am. That you should have learned to love me so: For me you should not care a—da' f j | I never meant to be your bea". Your husband, Maud. I cannot - My heart belongeth to anothie. I’m sorry you’ve propo. c "d to me, But I can only be your brother. If you thould ever want a friend. 1 trust that you will send for me; On me you always may depend— I’ll come to you where'er I be. Surely, there is some better man Who’ll gladly take you for his wife; So find him—l am sure you can— I’ll be your brother all through life. —Detroit Free Press. Woman Explains Man's Fnllnre. “Men who lack popularity among women are prone to say it is because we are attracted by the worst side of man’s nature,” remarked a matron who thinks. “The man who knows himself to be steady and loyal and above small weaknesses is likely to become rooted in that belief when he sees men he knows to be below him in worth walk off with the matrimonial prizes. He thinks the woman who marries a wild chap does so because of the wildness. It’s in spite of it. The chances are that the wild young man takes pains to make himself agreeable to women. He studies their likes and dislikes and al ways professes, whether he feels it or doesn’t, profound Interest In their health, their whims, the fit and fashion of their clothes aud even the welfare of their pet dogs. Now. the man of sterling worth, as he likes to be called, will not condescend to court favor in those little ways. He is convinced he would make a good husband for any woman. He knows he is honorable, in dustrious and purposeful, and he thinks those qualities ought to suffice. But they don't. And the woman, repelled by his indifference to her in tiny things, turns to the microscopic devotion of the other, forgiving' his wildness for the sake of his diann.” Standing; Trent. A man says that a great deal of un intentional entertaining takes place among women. Women —when they are by themselves —it appears, lack in dependence of action. They cannot shake off one they have met a moment or two ago with a nod, when they want to lunch by themselves. The spirit of domestic hospitality is too strong. In a weak moment —for it is painfully weak —they insist on paying for the company and the food of an acquaint ance they had merely meani to be civ il to. Of course, this sort of thing seems almost incomprehensible to a man. In vitations, in men's clubs, say, have to be backed by pretty sound reason. The pleasant sort of a fellow who waited about for some sensitive man on whom to Insinuate his appetite would soon find himself living a hungry life. This is certainly a strange and dis turbing insight into the manners and customs of women. It goes against one’s observation, too. Women usually appear to be quite conscious that they are doing an independent thing in an Independent spirit. Girin TauaM Fife-Saving;. A course in lifesaving has been in stituted among the women students of Columbia University for the purpose of making them as adept as men in rescu ing drowning persons. They receive the regular lifesaving drill, including the grips and breaks, towing to shore and artificial respiration. A fully dressed girl is thrown into the water at one end of the swimming tank and the oth er girls are obliged to rescue her from the opposite end and take her back, which is already done in fifty-seven sec onds. Graceful Lille Wrap. This graceful little wrap is one of the newest designs imported from Paris. It is simply made, the mate rial being fine cloth and the only or naments are silk tassels on the corners and silk cord scrolls on the front and In the back where the surplice ends fasten over the liack part of the gar ment. A Girl and Her Beada. The modern woman finds pleasure in decorating her person with jingling or naments and beads. At this moment the bead craze Is taking a particularly strong bold upon us. Bead-threading Is being rapidly advanced to an art and makes a pretty and fascinating employment for dainty fingers. Man is always impressed if be sees a woman manipulating wools or silks or beads, and with deft fingers and a few bowls of glistening beads, girls will find they can make exceptional havoc. Alan for Clothes Moth*. A correspondent of Science, who has spent many years In China, where in sect pests are plenty, writes that she found alum to be a perfect means of preventing tbe ravages of the clothes moth. After making this discovery the alum was given a severe test in some woolen picture cords which were treat ed to a solution of tbe alum, and then exposed to the attacks cf the moth for several years, during which time there was not to be noted the least evidence of their presence. Other tests equally severe were made, and in no case did the application of the alum affect the color or texture of the materials exper imented upon. The alum does not evap orate. aud it is, therefore, permanent ly effective in materials which are not to be cleansed by washing. DA.MET,' ■PfMm 1 ifelWJfe Topebrims of yellow or white straw, with facings of black, brown, blue or red straw braid, are in favor on spring hats. An important innovation which has crept Into the ateliers of the Paris mo distes, and which promises t. carry all before It, is the vogue for bows and pompons of cretonne veiled with tulle. The beautiful, lustrous mohairs, greatly resembling Lyons silks, are in favor this season for dressy jacket suits. Many show the diagonal weaves. They copy all the striped, checked and bordered effects. All the gold laces are dull in tone. Some of the new scarfs are In the ox idized silver, others of a tarnished Etruscan gold. Nothing could, how ever, be more fully feminine than the new ones of filmy lace in pastel tones. The hip yoke has again appeared. With the present fashion for glove-fit ting skirt tops this was, of course, to be expected; but the yoke is as yet only in the experimental stage, one famous Paris maker standing for it, while the rest look on to see the success or oth erwise of his venture. A recent development of the waist coat is in a bretelle shape. It is sight- CHARMING DESIGNS IN GOWNS. ly when the coat is removed. In such cases it is made of the material of the skirt and has the appearance of a juniper waist. Some such accesso ries end at the front in long tabs that fall over the skirt below them. These tabs often end in fringe. The separate coat in silk and cloth is to be one of the important factors of the summer's wardrobe. No end of such garments are seen In the long range of styles that the present lax fashions permit. One has wide-open front and cutaway sides. Many of the separate silk edats are of this order, with one or two-button fronts ; now and then there are three buttons. H You Want to Be Loved. Don’t contradict people, even if you are sure your are right. Don’t be inquisitive about the affairs of even your most intimate friend. Don’t underrate anything because you don't possess it. Don’t believe that everybody else in the world is happier than you. Don’t conclude that you have never had any opportunities in life. Don’t believe all the evils you hear. Don’t be rude to your inferiors in so cial position. Don't repeat gossip, even if it does interest a crowd. Don’t jeer at anybody’s religious be lief. —Christian World. Softening the Voice. Endeavor to soften the voice by speaking slowly. People who talk hast ily insensibly raise their tones and these in time become positively harsh. To improve the voice cultivate the vir tue of listening, for a good listener is a patient person not prone to rapid speech. J\) learn how to listen watch some first-class actress, noted for the charm of her speaking voice as well as for the art of listening. Maude Ad ams. Katherine Grey and Mrs. Leslie Carter are good examples. Carina Objeeta to Women Smoking. The Czarina has not only forbidden the ladies of her court to smoke, but has ordered the Princess Galitzin to inform them that she dislikes the odor of tobacco. It is said that this dislike is limited and only recently acquired. No one has ever heard that she objected to tbe use of tobacco by her husband or any other man. It is a case of “women only” Obituary. I’m the that’s dead and buried. I’m the man yon all are dear of; I’m the man that’s planted deep, I’m the man you never hear of. What my name was doesn't matter. Whether Green or Brown or Sr ratt. Yet— I was the merry widow’s husband, And my monument's a hat. Byes aa4 Mag. Prof. W. D. Scott sounds a note of warning about tbe Increasing use of the eyes for reading and the inspection of small near-by objects. This especial ly affects school children. Prof. Scott says that the human eye was evolved for distant vision, aud in its structure is relatively poorly suited for near-by vision. The increase of all sorts of printing augments the trouble every day, and “all things seem to be con spiring to make us use our eyes more and more for the very thing for which they are most poorly adapted.” There is, no doubt, much reason in this, but could the world banish its printing presses aud retain its civilization? How Woman Wan Made. According to a legend. Twashtri, the Vulcan of Hindu mythology, created the world, but wheu he arrived at the final oVect which was to be his chief d’oeuvre he found to his annoyance that he had run out of materials, lie had not a single chunk of solid matter left. With a mental execration upon his carelessness he fell into a profound meditation, the result of which was that he took “the roundness of the moon, the undulating curves of the ser pent, the graceful twist of the eiv-eping plant, the light, shivering of the grass blade and the slenderm ss of the wil low, the velvety softness of the flow ers. the lightness of the feather, the gentle gaze of the doe, the froliesome noss of the sunbeam, the tears of the cloud, the inconsistency of the wind, the timidity of the hare, the vanity of the peacock, the hardness of the dia mond, the cruelty of the tiger, the heat of the fire, the chill of the snow, the cackling of the parrot and the cooing of the turtle dove.” He mixed these together in equal proportions and the result was woman. Ten Strainer Pin Cushion. The tea strainer pin cushion is a use ful article that needs no particular skill in its development. You buy tha strainer and paint a simple flower upon it. then fill with horsehair and secure this by a cardboard disk covered with a bit of any bright silk, etc. Conceal the edge of the strainer with a frill of ribbon from 1 to 2 inches wide, and tie a bow to the handle by which the cushion hangs. Two Hats In High Favor, The hat on the left Is a yellow straw with a fold of black-and-white striped ribbon around the crown. Across the front the ribbon is loosely looped and held in place by two wreaths of blue forget-me-nots. Tbe other hat Is made on a wire frame. The edge is bound with black velvet and wide laces are lised fo? the brim with a net which bler.ds well with it draped around the crown. Bands of pink satin hold the if-.t in place and a large bunch of pink roses and foliage is placed upright The Coat Shirtwaist. This is the very newest thing. As its name suggests, it has the appear ance of a coat worn over a vest or shirt front. To produce this effect a double breasted vest, with a shawl collar, is attached to a stiff chemisette. This de sign occurs in white butcher linen and the cuffs to the bishop sieeves are often some contrasting shade of linen, which is also used In facing the shawl collar. In m Mofoof# Harem. Every woman in the harem has her face decorated In the most curious manner. The practice is to elongats the eyebrows to tbe ears and to embel lish the chin with little points of black paint. In contrast with the men, their complexions *re very fair, as they are shut within walls aDd are never ex posed to the sun. Tbe Tenth Temptation. The “well able to take care of her self” girl is a featnre. quoth the cynic. She generally has sufficient strength of character to resist nine temptations— and to be silent about tbe tenth, which overcame her. Ink 9talma on Wood. Ink stains on boards may be removed by vinegar or salts of lemon. Another recipe, if tbe above fails, is: Scour tbe board with sand, wet with water in which a few drops of oil of vitriol are mixed. To Remove Greau Spot. To remove a grease spot, place a blotter under tbe spot, apply a paste made of French chalk and gasoline; leave on until dry. brush, and tbe spot is n> more. The blotter prevents a ring forming. SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY Andrew Carnegie’s library gifts amount almost to $50,000,000. The total number of persons In re ceipt of State relief in India exceeds 1,250,000. Louisiana has seven million acres of swamp land, which are at present total ly useless. prise 5,340,000 acres and support 10,- 000,000 persons. It Is computed that the dew falling in England is equal to five Indies of rain each year. Government experts are Investigat ing seaweed with the object of deter mining Its economic value. Students who have graduated In Ger many are being engaged for the Han yang (China) Iron works and arsenal to Improve the quality of the arm a be ing turned out there. The coat of repairs on a wooden rail road car Is about SIOO a year, much more than that of a steel car, and the wooden car Is out of service toy reason of repairs six to one as compared with the metal ones. Cape Colony, South Africa, has a deficit of $9,500,000, accumulated dur ing the last four years, and which, saya Mr. Merrlman, the premier, will likely be $12,000,000 by the end of 1908- The onpald Government railway debt brings the present true deficit up to about $15,000,000. The Chinese have undertaken to nurse their forests, and the officials of the Celestial government have engaged a Japanese expert from Toklo to act as head master for the proposed school of forests at Mukden for a term of four years, with two Chinese as his assist ants. Prof, D. C. Jackson of the Massachu setts Institute of Technology, has been retained by the Massachusetts highway commission to make a report regarding the telephone situation with special reference to the practicability of a re duction In rates and a higher efficiency of service. , “Neatness is essential on the links." said H. J. Whlgham, the golfer, at a dinner In Chicago. “At Bhinnecock Hills one day I played behind two 70ung and pretty girls. Overtaking them, I heard the younger say: ‘How many holes on this course, Alleen?* ‘Nineteen, dear,’ said Alleen, ‘lncluding ♦toe one in your stocking.’ ” Simultaneously wltti the organization of a pigeon postal service In the French Kongo, where the climate makes both ordinary and wireless telegraphy Im possible, It is announced thnt the Brit ish government has replaced the pigeon post by wireless telegraphy in both the naval and the colonial service, and that this year’s budget contains no appro priation for pigeons. O’Connell had got a man off at one time for highway robbery and at an other for burglary; but on the third occasion, for stealing a coasting brig, the task of hoodwinking the Jury seem ed too great for even his powers of cnjolery. However, he made out that the crime was committed on the high sens nnd obtained an acquittal. The prisoner lifted up his hand and eyes to heaven and exclaimed: “May tha Lord long spare you, Mr. O’Connell— to me!” The reason why the (•omnch and In testines do not digest thems<?lve* r.as once thought by Welnland, a German expeiimenter, to be that they defend themselves by anti-enzymes, or mtl feiments. Dr. Nandor King of Bima- Pesth now reports these anti-ferments not to be foued, but that the mucin present in the Inner half of the gastric mucous membrane resists the digestive action of the trysin and the gastric juice. The digestive organs, therefore, protect themselves by the mucin they secrete. The population of Japan to-day Is just about 60,000,000. The exact fig ures for 1907 are not yet available, but the estimates just published nre based on the average growth of the last thirty years and may be taken as fairly ac curate. In each of the five-year period; for which figures are shown, oven the past twenty-five years, the popuii.tlon has Increased, roughly speaking, by 2,000,000. To-day the estimate Is that there are 49,267,744 native-born Japanese In the territory ruled over by the Mikado.—Pall Mall Gazette. When the members of the British In stitution of Electrical Engineers pall a visit of Inspection to northern Italy lately, they were Interested In a device used to protect the overhead transmis sion lines of an electric traction sys tem from lightning discharges. The device consists of Jets of water, which form a permanent “earth” at the Mon begno generating station on the Valtol ltna line. Tbe electric resistance of tne Jets was said to be sufficient to pre vent a serious loss of current, while Dot too great to enable them to serve fbr protection against lightning. It is said that “moon blindness" in a horse is caused by “wolf teeth”—two sma’ii surplus teeth Just in front of the first upper pre-molars, one on each side of tbe upper jaw. An authority says; “The ‘wolf teeth’ do not cause eye dis ease or any other harm, nnd usually nre not discovered until the eye disease appears. The eye trouble Is ‘periodic ophthalmia’ (moon blindness}, which Is hereditary nnd Incurable. Thousands upon thousands of horses suffer from this eye disease, yet have not a ‘wolf tooth’ in their beads. The important matter to remember in connection with periodic ophthalmia is not the signifi cance of the ‘wolf tooth,’ but tbe ne cessity and importance of rejecting from breeding operations all afflicted with periodic ophthalmic, or cataract, which results from repeated attacks.” Couldn’t Do It “A father should be the friend and companion of his son,” said Mrs. Corn tossel, who had been reading a maga zine. “Mandy.” answered the farmer, “you're askin’ too much There's no use of askin’ a man at my time o' life to let his hair grow out over his fore head like a back port* an' go around In clothes that ain't mates, hollerin' ‘Rah! rah! rah!' "—Washington Star. All Her Loin*. “Your husbaDd,” said Gaddie, “ap pear* to be a man of great self-control.” “Yes," replied Mrs Perk ham, "be is.” “I suppose," Gaddie went on, “be In herited that quality from his father, the Judge r “No." she replied, significantly, “it’s a virtue be acquired since his mar riage."—Philadelphia Press. Grass widows are never as green as *47 pretend to be. “Were the amateur theatricals good?” “Splendid! I never saw anything worse.”—Life. Jones—ls your daughter a finished musician? Smith—No; but the neigh bors are making threats.—The Club- Fellow. “Is she a hill-climber?” “You bet! This machine will get ’em unless they take to trees.” —Louisville Courier- Journal. Miss X.—Wouldn’t it be horrible to have to die an old maid? Miss Y.—- Not half so horrible as to have to live that way.—Cleveland Leader. “Wh. t do you think young Chumpley weighs?” “About 200 pounds on? the scales and about ten ounces in Ihe com munity.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. “Can I have a pass over your line?” “No,” replied the railroad man, ‘‘law’s too strict. We can’t pass anything but a dividend now.”—Philadelphia Publle Ledger. Out of Town Friend—Say, old man, where Is the best place to get umbrel las? New Yorker—Oh. a large recep tion or a club meeting.—Lipplneott’s Magazine. Bacon—Has he been successful with his new airship? Egbert—Partially so. He goes “up In the air” every time he tries to start the thlnjf.—Yonkers Statesman. “I didn’t notice you at the mothers' congress.” “No,” replied the woman addressed. “I'm not a theoretical mother, you know. I have six.”—Phil adelphia Ledger. Ella—l’m to be married to-morrow nnd I’m terribly nervous. Stella —I suppose there always Is a chance of a man getting away up to the last min ute.—Brooklyn Life. Eliza —Did you say Sam was makln* a lot of money out of his voice? Cloe —Sure thing! At de opera. Eliza —At de opera? Cloe—Yes; he calls de car riages !—Yonkers Statesman. Mifkins—l understand you said that I had outlived my usefulness. Bifkins —You have been misinformed. I said that I didn’t believe you ever were of any use.—Chicago Dally News. Redd—l understand that new nuio moblle of yours goes like the wind. Greene —That’s right. Nobody can tell Just when the wind Is going to start or when it Is going to stop.—Yonkers Statesman. “Did you nnd your wife tnke a long trip on your honeymoon?” “It seemed long to me. Her father had promised to settle a snug sum of money on u as soon ns we got tack.”—Chicago Rec ord-Herald. Reddy (putting down n gold piece) Ticket for Del Monte. Ticket Clerk— Chnnge at Castroville, If yon take this train. Reddy—l’ll wait then, for I want my change right here, uncle.— Monterey Gossip. She—l see where a fellow married a girl on his deathbed. Just so she could have his millions when he was gone. Could you love n girl like thnt? He—Sure, I could love a girl like that I Where does she live?—Puck. “What would you do if you was one o’ dose millionaires?” sold Meandering Mike. “I ’spose.” answered Plodding Pete, “dnt I'd get meself a golf outfit an’ walk fur pleasure instid o’ from necesstty.”—Wasli 1 ngton Star. Mabel —Jack proposed to me Inst night. Stella—Poor fellow! So he did keep his word after all? Mabel—Why, what do you mean? Stelln—When I refused him last week he said it would cause him to do something desperate.— Chicago Dally Newß. The Actress—ln this new play I’m supposed to die from a broken heart. Now, how am I to know how a person with a broken heart behaves? The Manager—l'll tell you whnt to do. You study tue author of this play after he sees the first rehearsal.—lllustrated Bits. Mrs. Ascum—Have you any 5-eent stamps? Drug Clerk (abseut-mlndedly) —No. ma’am, but we have something just as good, Mrs. Ascum—Hn! hn! force of haeit That's wh**re I caught you. Drug Clerk —Not at all, ma’am. I can give you two twos and a one.— Philadelphia Press. “Knty, who’s In the high school,” re marked Mr. Dolan, “have been read In’ Herbert Spencer to me.” “Who's Her bert Spencer?” "He’s wnn iv tbe smartest min on earth. He could ex plain anythin’ at all ty yez If yea could only be polite enough to stay awake an’ pay attlntlon.”—Washington Star. “Which Is the cow that gives the but termilk?” innocently asked the young lady from the city, who was insjiect- Ing the herd with n critical eye. "Don't make yourself ridiculous," Hnid the young lady who had been In the coun try before nnd knew a thing or two. “Goats give buttermilk.’”—Springfield Journal. Youngling—What nre you crying about, my dear? Mrs. Younghub—The j-cook got m-inad and i-left to-day with out ggivlng me a m-monet's notice. Younghub—Well, you might to be glad of it. You said you were going to dis charge her. anyway. Mrs. Younghub— Y-yes. b-but the m-inean thing b-beat me to IL Biggest Man In the House. Cy Sulloway of New Hampshire still retains Ills plnee ns the biggest man in the House of Representatives, and o far no one has appeared that may claim honor to second place ahead of Ollie Janies of Kentucky. Sulloway Is something more than sit and a half feet ta’i Dd weighs but a pound less than 350. His breadth !s proportionate with liis height, and he towers above bis colleague. Frank D. Currier, as he does above most ail the members of the House. He Is one of the mem tiers who does not exercise bis prerogative of taking his luncheon on that side of the House restaurant where the sign proclaims “for mem bers only,” but each day partakes of a sparing lunch on the public side of the room, where negroes are not barred and where the motto ia that anybody’s money is good. U MrloSrams. Knightly Hero—l say, old chap, that lady’s glove episode makes a great hit Admiring Super—Tes. sir, you’re al ways sure of a band on that.—Balti more American. Don't take up a man's time in halt ing to him about the smartness of your children. He wan’s to talk to yoa shout the smartness of his children.