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AT THE POOR. •h, what care I (or wealth or dune I Oh, what care I for clashing creeds. They vanish as a dream, Or hostile schools of art, When night is drawn through gates at Dawn It I may wear through smile and tear On Slumber's ebbing stream! The ermine of the heart! Let others sing of Death and War, Let others sing of Death and War, ©r Sorrow's tragic lore; Or Sorrow's tragic lore; But Love has come and calls me hom* But Love has come and calls me horn* To meet him at the door! To meet him at the door! Oh, what care I to weave my Fate Ob, what care I for houseless winds, On Life's mysterious loom, With rain and darkness blent. Its warp and woof from peace aloof— II through the blight on me may light The gllttter and the gloom! The shy dove of content! Let others sing of Death and War, Let others sing of Death and War, Or Sorrow's tragio lore; Or Sorrow's tragic lore; Bnt Love has oome and calls me home But Love has come and calls me home To meet him at the door! To meet him at the door! —Harper's Bazar. Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa&AAAA&aaa r THE CONVENIENT TIGER. I 1 Adrentar* of aI» Who Pound Hlmaelf in an Eaat Indian Jungle tilth a Bag of Bupeea F and a Dlsbenrst Servant, j BT J. C. POWTON, X. C. 8. "I don't know that 1 have ever met ; ft full-blosomed yogi in all my years in ! India. One has to come to America I to find out the wonders and mysteries ftf theosophy. But I have seen per formances of Indian fakirs quite as in explicable as anything I have heard of the Mahatmas. There was one in particular in which I was concerned— ■ matter of some 20 years ago. It had ft tragedy in it and some things which neither you nor I can explain. You understand, no doubt, what an In lion fakir is—a man of the Brahmiuical faith who devotes his life to commun ion with the Hindoo gods. Through prayer and contemplation and the leading of an ascetic life the fakirs at tain powers that seem miraculous to the Western mind. "The fakir that I am to tell you j About came one afternoon to Archie Bedvon's bungalow, near Charpore, j where I had been staying for a few days during a round of inspection. He was an old, brown-skinned man, with ft long, intellectual face and hair and j beard snowy white. A waist cloth, : turban and sandals were all he wore, { and the rest of his visible belongings consisted of a prayer mat, a hubble- : bubble, or native water pipe, and an earthen bowl from which he ate his food. He spread his mat in the mid- . die of the compound, seated himself cross-leged upon it and began to take tinsel balls from somewhere—from the mat, it seemed, although none could be seen upon it—and to throw them one by one up into the air. Each one, as he threw it, went sailing up, up, until it was out of sight, and none of them came down. Then he did the boy and ladder and the mango tree trick in a mauner that showed that he was a fakir of no common order. "Theu he took a hollow reed, fash ioned it into a sort of pipe and went rouud in the compound aud oil the outside of the bungalow, playing a weird tune. Presently a cobra poked its head out from a hole in the wall,its body followed, and the serpent came to the ground aud glided along after the fakir. Soon another cobra crawled out of the grass and followed the sound of the pipe. When the fakir stayed his steps the snakes stopped, ! and as he played on the reed they reared their hooded heads from the ground, aud their bodies swayed to and fro as if they were keeping time with his piping. He called for a bas ket. A house servant brought him one, and the fakir, with his bare hands, took the snakes each by the neck aud body, placed them in the basket, pressed their heads down aud tied a cloth above them. "This ended his performance. Red von gave him a rupee, and 1 handed j him five, for I had never seen any thing to compare with what he had done. He gravely took the coins,after the mauner of the Brahmins, without a thank or salaam. But as he dropped , them somewhere in his waist cloth his j eye fell on my servant Nagho,standing at my shoulder, and he looked at him with a strange in teutness, then turned to me with a gaze as searching. Have jou ever chanced to notice a Hindoo's eye—so sombre black, so keen to see aud comprehend and revealing no more than a pool of ink might the thought behind it. But I noted in the fakir's eye what seemed to me to be a Wash of perception, of discovery, as his look rested on Nagho and then on me. It was the episode of a mo ment. He said nothing, but picked up his mat and pipe, put the basket aud snakes on his shoulder and went his way, taking the direction of Char pore, three miles away. "On the next day I had togo to Baghra to meet the deputy collector there. To save distance I decided to travel in a palanquin over a bullock trail too rough for a carriage, instead of going twice as far rouud by the highway. I made my start in the middle of the afternoon, expecting to arrive in Baghra in the early eveuiug. In my traveling satchel were notes aud coin to the value of 12,000 rupees, which I was taking to the deputy col lector. At the last hour Redvon •bowed some anxiety about my taking the route I had chosen. " 'Once your start is made, don't waste any time in getting through to Baghra,' he said. 'Beyond Charpore the road is through jungle all the way. There's a chance of dacoits—and then if your palanquin bearers should run upon them or get a tiger scare, they would think of setting down the palanquin and leaving you in the jungle. Of course, you have your re volver by you in wording order?' "I had cleaned and oiled and re loaded my revolver that morning and told Redvon so. But he had still another caution to give me. He looked at Nagho, who was filling a water ves sel from a chatty at the further end of the veranda. " 'That servant of yours—have you had him long?' ho asked. 'My stew ard tells me that he is a hill man by birth, that he talks the argot of the Indian thieves' guilds, and he carries a tulwar. Do you know that you can trust him?' "This was news to me about Nagho. I had hired him two months before in Calcutta. He had come well recom ineuded and had proved a capable ser vant. I did not like the idea that he should have carried a tulwar unknown to me. The tulwar, let me explain, is the wide-bladed knife which the men of the hill tribes use so effectively in fighting, wielding it at close quarters or throwing it. With his tulwar, a hill man can cut off the branch of a tree 20 paces away or lop a man's arm from his body. I made up my mind that I would find out more about Nagho be fore I took him with me on another trip, but today there was nothing I could well do in the matter. " 'I think the Hindoo is all right,' I said to Redvon. 'l'll have my eye on him, though. Good bye. Hope I'll see you at Baghra next week.' "We shook bauds, and the four bearers of the palanquin trotted away with me at a four-mile-nn-hour gait, with Nagho and two relay bearers fol lowing. At Charpore, where we stopped a few minutes to rest, the bearers got hold of a report about a tiger, which was said to have killed a man or two lately on the road to Baghra, and when they started on it was with little of the willingness that they had shown in the beginning. We had got about four mile* beyond Charpore when we met a crowd of grass cutters coming on the run for the village, and they shouted 'Tiger! Tiger!' as they came near us. I man aged to find out from them that no one had been hurt, • but that one of them thought that lie had seen a tiger. That was enough for my six palanquin bearers. They set the palanquin down and joined the grass cutters in their run for the village, leaving me with Nagho in the jungle. "1 reckoned that it was about ten miles further to Baghra and decided that I would walk there rather than turn back. I spread my umbrella to protect me from the sun and started along the path,with Nagho following, j carrying the satchel. It was a rough road, miry in places. I had to stop often to rest, so as not to be overcome by heat, and darkness fell before we had made a third of the remaining dis tance to Baghra. But I plodded on in the darkness, feeling rather than see ing my way, and hoping that nearer Baghra the road would improve. I was beginning pretty thoroughly to | distrust Nagho. There had come an unpleasant change of expression in his face since the palanquin men had , left us, and I did not like the furtive look in his eyes which I had caught several times in turning suddenly toward him. Now that darkness had fallen I-carried my revolver in my hand, quite as much on his account ! as on the chance of falling in with a tiger or leopard. "I had ordered him to walk ahead, which commaud he obeyed sulkily. He was walking about 30 fset in ad vauce of me when he turned suddenly rouud just as my foot tripped against a tree root, sending me sprawling to the ground. As I fell something whizzed above my head, and I heard leaves and twigs falling far back of me down the road. It was Nagho's tulwar, aud bnt for my lucky tumble it would have split my skull as neatly as you please. The Hindoo ran as soon as he saw that his knife had missed, taking the satchel with him. I sent three shots after him from the ground, then got up and started on at an easy pace, for there was no hope of my overtaking the Hindoo, for, leaving the davkness out of the ques tion, lie could have outstripped me on such a road two to one. My only hope of recovering the satchel and money and bringing him to punish ment was in getting to Baghra and setting the native police on his trail. "It soon became clear to me that I should not get to Baghra that night. The air was horribly hot and humid, and the road got worse as I went on. I could feel the jungle fever clutching at me in the miasma that rose from the moist ground, but it was better to ( hance that than risk falling from heat and fatigue. I had rested myself under a tree by the roadside and had begun to nod with drowsiness, when the roar of a tiger somewhere off in the jungle gave a new turn to my thoughts, and I got up and stumbled on. Just as the tiger roared again I saw a smouldering fire in the clear ing off to the right. It was an even chance whether it meant a camp of woodcutters or a rendezvous of da coits, but I turned off the road and approached it. Only one man was by the fire —an old white-bearded man seated cross-legged on a mat —and I saw that it was the fakir who had been at Redvon's bungalow the day befere. Here in the juugle he was sitting, ab sorbed in contemplation, as calmly as if each things M tigers or jnngls fsvei did not exist. Two cobras in a basket by his side reared their heads and hissed as I came near, bat the fakir did not raise his eyes until I stood be fore him. Then he looked at me with out the slightest sign of surprise and motioned that I should seat myself opposite him. " 'I expected you,' he said, in Hin dostanee. 'You will remain here until the morrow.' "He returned to his contemplation and spoke not another word through the night. The tiger's roar came nearer, and I clutched my revolver as it changed into the low, eager,purring cry that tells he has scented bis prey —but the old man gave no sign that he had so much as heard it. I watched the misty darkness around for an hour or more, but there was no more roaring, and no tiger appeared, and I laid my pistol across my lap and prepared to pass the night us comfort ably as I could. In searching my pockets for cigars I found a package of quinine. I took 50 grains of it be fore morning and thus saved myself from jungle fever. Hour after hour I sat on the ground smoking cheroots, with the old man sitting opposite me. "Part of the time his eyes were closed, but he did not nod or change his position, and whether he slept or not I could not tell. From time to time be fed the fire from a little heap of dry branches at his side, and two or three times he lighted his hubble bubble, but he did not once rise to his feet or leave the mat. Toward morning sleep overcame me, and I woke to find myself on my back on the ground with the beams of the ris ing sun streaming into my face and one of the cobras crawliug across my legs. I kept still, and the snake crept away in the grass hunting his break fast. "The old fakir, who was smoking, presently laid aside his pipe, collected his snakes and other luggage together, told me with a look that we were to move, and we left the clearing and turned into the road toward Baghra. In the dust, and more plainly in the mii j places, we could see the tracks of Nagho. Presently there were other footprints above the man's aud takiug the same course-the tracks of a tiger which had come into the road from the jun gle. I had not said a word to the fakir of what had occurred the night before, but he pointed to the tiger's tracks and said gravely, the tirst words he had spoken that morning: " 'These are bringing you to your property.' "We kept aloug the road until we came to a place where the tracks showed that the swinging trot of the tiger had changed to a succession of long bounds, which ended at a spot where the dust had beeu stirred by marks of a struggle and caked with drops of red. The bushes and long grass crushed and bent to left aud right," showed where the tiger leaped back into the jungle,and there was no track of man or beast in the road be yond. But iu the tiger's path at a few paces from the roadside, strung along the bushes, was the unwound turban of Nagho with a long smear of red upon its white. " 'lt was so appointed, 1 said the fakir. 'He was weaving the plan of his own death wlieu he thought he was compassing yours. Now, tnke your own, restored to you, aud we will go on into Baghra.' "He pointed to my satchel, which I had not seen, in the grass by the roadside. It was unopened, aud all its contents were safe. We went on to Baghra, where the fakir left 1110 at the outskirts of the town, taking his way, I suppose, to the hou3e of some person of his religious order. I gave him a bag of rupees at parting, which he accepted without thanks or com ment—to him it came by appointment of the gods, aud 1 feel sure he would have received a sentence of immediate execution with the same calm fatalism. I saw him once more, when he was called before the magistrate to give his testimony as to the manner of Nagho'a death, but he gave me no sign of rec ognition. To one like him, wrapped in communion with diety,a mere man, whatever his degree, was worthy of nothing more than a passing notice. "My story of the fakir is told, and you may explain it if you can to your satisfaction. His tricks at the bunga low were incomprehensible to the Western mind. Beyond these, what do you thiuk of his reading of the hu man soul,as when his glance at Nagho revealed my servant's thought of murder and robbery against me? Of his knowledge of the events occurring iu his case beyond the perceptions of the recognized senses of see ng aud hearing? Was it the reading of Nagho's mind at the bungalow and of mine by the fire iu the jungle? Let that ex plain it if you will. But what u gen uine and lofty order of mind readiug. Compare it with the jugglery that passes by that name among people of the Western hemisphere."—New York Sun. I,otterien in Old Havana. "Life and Society in Old Cuba," is the title of an article in the Century, made up of extracts from the jouruals of Jonathan S. Jenkins, written in 1859. Mr. Jenkins says: In Havana the stranger's attention is arrested by the venders of lottery tickets, who stand on the street cor ners with a pair of shears in oue hand and sheets of lottery tickets in the other, ready to cut off any number for buyers. They are very adroit, and are apt to persuade the credulous that they will draw a fortune in the scheme. These licensed lotteries are one of the great evils there, especially to the Spanish people, who seem to be born gamblers, and for whom the chauces of dice, cards and lottery tickets appear to have an irresistible charm, all classes iu Havanp dealing in them habitually. $ THE REALM OF FASHION. X' tC9? A Drelay Waist. This dressy waist, of fancy flgnred green taffeta, is stylishly combined with cream-eolored satin and mous seline de soie. The fronts roll back in pretty pointed lapels from the neck WOMAN'S WAIST. * . to waist-line, which are faced with the sijtin and edged with ruching of mous seline. The full front, of moutseline, Is arranged over satin in evenly spaced rows of tucked shirring at the top and blouses prettily at the waist-line. The collar is of cream satin, shaped with stylish points under the ears. The waist is supported by fitted lin- > r se s a. i i i rr. ings that close in centre front, the full front closing under the left revers. The comfort-two-seamed sleeves save stylish fulness arranged in {athers at the top, and at the wrists points of the white satin stand out fashionably. The waist may be part of a costume or made separately to wear with different contrasting skirts. Combinations of material and coloring may be artistically arranged, and the cvaiat can be made in silk, cotton or light woolen fabrics. Velvet made in this way, with revers and front of latin, and decoration of point applique is especially handsome. To make the waist for a woman of medium size will require two yards of forty-four-inch material. A Patriotic Idea. Our glorious victory has been cele brated in the fashion world by model ling many of the new season garments according to the patriotic idea, so in sompliment to our heroes on water the "Admiral" jacket, shown in Jthe large illustration, is a favored style for misses. Naval blue faced cloth, brnid and brass buttons with anchor design are incorporated in the stylish coat which is correctly fitted with a centre-back seam, side-back and under-arm gores. The fulness below the waist is laid in soat plaits which are flatly pressed and finished at the top by buttons, a deep coap lap completing the centre seam. The double-breasted fronts lap widely in reefer style, the neck fitting closely by a short-dart in the centre. Square laps cover pockets that are inserted in the fronts, and the neck is finished by a military looking collar closely fitted and trimmed with braid. Shoulder straps cover the shoulder seams coming forward, brass buttons decorating each end. (These may be omitted if not desired.) The fashionable two-seamed coat sleeves are finished at the wrists by the braid put onto simulate cuffs, and the slight fuiuess at top is collected in gathers, whioh is the newest style. Jackets in this style are natty and ■mart, and can be made of auy eloak- ing fabric or of material to match tha skirt. The collar and shoulder straps are sometimes made of red, white, or pale blue cloth, edged with the braid, which enhances the military eflfect. The skirt has all the prevailing graduated flounce, that is so fashion able this season, joined to a five-gored upper portion that fits closely the be coming fulness at the back, falling in pretty fold. Serge, cheviot, covert or broad cloth, and other weaves in plain colors or fancy mixtures are suitable for skirts or whole costumes by the mode. To make the jacket for a miss of fourteen years will require one and one-half yards of fifty-four-inch mate rial. To make the skirt in the medium size will require three and one-half yards of forty-four-inch material. The Hobson Tie. The Hobson tie is a pretty finishing for the neck of a silk waist or woolen gown with which linen collars are worn. The Hobson tie consists of a satin strip with a slip-knot of accor dion pleated chiffon worn in front and fastened by a clasp like the four-in hand. Colors For Erenlnt Dreeees. Several shades •of one color will be worn on evening dreßses. A Favorite Style For ISoya. The Norfolk jacket is a favorite style for boys, and when made <jn. heavy tweed or cheviot may be worn throughout the whole winter. Brown cheviot is the material here delineated, machine stitching giving the correct tailor finish. The jacket is shaped by shoulder and under-arm seams, the plaits being folded and applied on front and back. The fronts are re versed at the top to form narrow lapels that meet the rolling collar in notches, bone buttons closing the fronts in center and the belt that is worn at the waist. The two-seamed NORFOLK JAfKET. sleeves are of correct tailor cut, ma chine stitching simulating cuffs at the wrists. Knickerbockers are here shown in conjunction with this jacket, but tba regular knee trousers can be substi tuted. Brown felt sailor hat, brown stockings and shoes completes this stylish suit. A Bright Bnatnefis Woman* The oleotric light plant in Long Beach, Cal., is managed by a woman, Mrs. Iva E. who is Superin tendent and principal owner as well. FOLK SONG. This la the lore the old wife know* Who sees the storm draw nigh, Anil wiDd and cloud together cloM The windows of the sky: "The north wind Is man's wind, Entangled with his fate; Id that he joyed, in that he sinned, It chants his love and hate. "The west wind is the angels' wind, He sweeps their lyre strings; And where the gray storm alouds in thinned, We see their rushing wings. '•The east wind is the devil's wind, And stings with Ore and ice; But the south wind is God's wind, And blows from paradise. •'And whence they go none mortal knows Who hears thein riding by; We cun but watch them as they close The windows of the sky." HUMOROUS. My friend, don't put your oar inta * general conversation of sensible tolls, unless you Lave a good skull. Spain's map is not mounted on the right kind of cloth. It shrinks dur ing the reign of every one of ita rulers. "My grandparents married in haßte." "And did they repent at lei sure?" "Oh, yes, both lived to be over ninety." "What can equal the warmth of a true woman's love?" asked the Dear est Girl. "Her temper," replied the savage bachelor. Hurry—How very dull it was at the Cutlers' party last night. Vera—Yea, in the early part ot the evening; but it was blighter after you left. '"Would you please help me?" said the poor beggar to the pedestrian; "I huve a wife and live children at Lome, and an installment to pay on my bicy cle tomorrow." Stranger—That man is evidently cr.a/jy. Why is he not putin an asy lum? Native—llis property is so heavily movtgaged that noue of his relatives want it. Yeast—Jesse tells me that he is practicing in the courts; Ididn't know that he had been admitted U> the bar? Crimsonbeak—He hasn't. It's the tennis courts he means. Bumps (sadly)— You are not tftat you used to be, Viola. Mrs. Bump& (sharply)—Of course I'm not. I used to be your best girl, but now I'm your wife, and it makes ail the difference. Mother-How did pa] a s new book get in this condition? Bobby—Why, mamma, I heard papa say last night that the book was too dry for him, ao I put it in the bath and let the water run. A Michigan farmer abused his moth er-in-law, und then asked her to lower him down tbe well to recover the lost dipper. The coroner decided that the rope broke, though others thought 'it had been cut. He—lt seems to be generally ac knowledged as a fact that nearly all women admire a soldier. She—l don't know as to the married ladies, but none of the single ones would object to a good offer-sir. Elsie was trying to eat a dessert of gelatine, and had some difficulty in conveying the quivering spoonful to her mouth. "Mamma," she said at length, "I don't b'lieve I like such aervous desserts." "Yes," remarked the WidowTacum, "before we were married I used to Admire John because I thought he was so noble. I continued to admire him afterwards; but it was because he was such a splendid humbug!" She —Do you know, that kitten there reminds me of you? He—l'd like to know where the connection is? She—lt seems to have just about as much success in catching its tail as you do in tinding your moustache. "Madam, you've already overdrawn your account." "What's that?" "YOB haveu't any more money in the bank." "The idea. A tine bank, I think, to be out of money because of the little I've drawn! Well, I'll go somewhere else." Freshman (to dentist) — I wouldn't pay nothing extra for gas. Just yank her out, if it does hurt. Dentist You are plucky, sir. Let me see the tooth. Freshman—Oh, 'tain't me that's got the toothache; it's my wife. She'll be here in a minute. She had been arrested for shoplift ing. "Do you wish to make any state ment before sentence is passed on you?" asked the judge. "I huve nothing to say," was the response. Those few words were her uudiiug. Everyone knew theu that the prisouet was a man masquerading as a woman. Meeks—My wife is nothing if not original. Now, what do you suppose she said when I asked her to marry me? Weeks—Oh, something about its being so suddeu,! suppose. Meeks —No, indeed! She said, "Well, 1 think it's about time; I've been ex pecting you to make a break for three months." Gillings—You said that kerosene was perfectly safe, and that it could be used without the least danger. I took your word, and what is the re sult? The stuff has exploded and made a ruin of our kitchen. Dealer— I said the oil was not dangerous. I did not say anything at all about the servant girl. flattering the TCnclUh, It does not require a thorough knowledge of the English language to discover how frequently it is bruised and mangled by adults. A few mid utes' ride on the street car or standing in a public place is sufficient to cause cold shivers to chase up and down the back of a person who holds the Eng lish language in esteem. On every hand one hears "I seen," "He don't," "I done," "They was," "laiu't," and similar deadly assaults. Chicago News.