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Some Good Magazine Reading.
J_» m ll\ ■ m ^ WOMAN’S WORLD Interior decoration is an art, says “The Upholsterer.” It is the art of bring iiijr together in perfect harmony kindred forms and blending colors. In the same measure as ,a discord will disturb and sometimes ujpset a symphony in music, so a clashing dash of color in wall, floor^ or window decoration ,or a piece of fur niture, mantelpiece or chandelier not in form with its surorundings will create a dissonance in an otherwise harmonious interior. There are many persons not familiar with market values in the wide range of drapery stuffs and decorative articles, who are under the false impression that a successful scheme of interior decoration requires a large expenditure of money. Even where mon#- is spent lavishly the results are often unsatisfactory, and sometimes failrxe is complete. Yet, where the means are limited and the expendi ture is of necessity relatively small, artis tic skill and good judgment often produce gratifying results. The general effect is not dependent on the costliness of the wall paper, the carpets and the draperies, but on the color sense and skill with which they are combined. as you enter a nome me nan gives iuc first impression of the interior, and this impression should be a good one. A good color for the wood work of a reception hall would be either natural or green oak. If the former is used the wall paper may be 'steel blue or green. With the latter either a rich red or tai^ can be used. Solid color burlaps are very suitable for the walls. The ceiling should have some decoration in heraldic or Gothic style. If the hall is square and spacious it may be treated as a room, being fur nished with pictures and ornaments. If the floor is of hardwood an oriental rug in proper colors will lend a charm and the appearance of cosiness and comfort. In hangings there is an overabundance of fabrics which may be used to good ad vantage. such as tapestries and velours with leather applique or borders. It is only a few years since all parlors wore furnished in white and gold, pre senting a very flat appearance. White , enamelled woodwork is the most appro priate for a modern parlor. With this f.uy good color, especially Nile green 01 rose, can be used with great effect. The walls may be treated in two-toned brocade paper, oil color or silk brocade, or tapestry may be employed. If the lat ter the wall spaces can be divided in panels. A plain wall is pleasantly re lieved by a good frieze, if the height of the room permits, and a decorated ceiling. There is a great tendency to simplicity in draperies today. Small figured silk annures and brocades are used to a great extent. In some rooms, with high ceil i^d pjaiii window frames, cornices and embroidered lambrequins are in good lorm. Tin- floor covering must harmonize with the wall hangings, and the writer abso lutely prohibits the use of family por traits in any medium in this room. For the library empire gre$n is suggested for * vrall color, in burlap, plain paper or oil paint. Here all the family and other portraits of interest may be gathered Figured tapestry or velours is advised for draperies. The dining room is one of the most im portant in the house, and demands care ful treatment. Flemish oak woodwork and furniture produce a pleasant con trast with solid red or solid Dutch blue wails. The lower part of the walls may be of plain burlap, paper or paint, while the upper part may be made the main feature of the room by means of a fres coed frieze in German or French renais sance. Recently the upper third dining room walls has been effectively treated by painting a Dutch landscape or marine view into them. In hangings a bold col ored velour, with black leather embroi dery, to harmonize with the Flemish woodwork, is pleasing. This is merely ont- method of treatment. There are hundreds of others eequally good. Window boxes}, says the Philadelphia “Evening Telegram,” are not so difficult to manage as palms, but they require considerable attention. To allow them to wither or to lose their beauty is n mistake, for in place of being beautiful a neglected window garden is depressing. ' They must be well watered, weeded constantly, dry leaves cot off, and the blooming plants kept in good condition. Every one who is accustomed to deal with flowers knows that they have ti eir own ^peculiarities, their stubbornness, their tendency to sudden bloom and their eccentricities. The best way to keep window boxes in good order during a season is to have a florist prepare them and then look after them constantly, replacing flowers that may not prosper, and giving those little attentions to the soil and to the roots that only a florist understands. Some women are natural florists, nr.d they are able to make flowers grow and bloom as though by magic. They make a study of their peculiarities,and under stand how to humor them as flowet.t have to be humored. The geranium is, of course,* the best flower, for the reason that it blooms so ronstnntly and keeps in such good condi tion irrespective of climatic changes. In 3eed, geraniums will stand#almost auy: thing. The geranium is a bit stiff in.its lines, ■o there must be other plants about it. The sweet alyssum is graceful and pretty for this purpose. Heliotrope contrasts prettily, and there are a quantity of these soft, low-growing plants that group most effectively about the geranium stalks. Some people like to crowd all sorts of dowers together, but the prettiest effect is oblained in a window garden with just green vines and abundant geranium bloom. When the effect of the exterior of a house is considered, the boxes should be all alike as to color, the height of the dowers and thp regularity of their bloom. The viues are necessary to grow over the edge of the box ami give the graceful finish to the picture. Ivy is always de sirable, and there are the variegated vines that lend themselves to the scheme. The window box of the up-to-date style must extend clear across tiie sil! and must be narrow—not mere than a foot wide, and about as deep. The under soil may be ordinary, but the upper eartii must be had from the florist, it is always a good idea to have the florist start the window garden at his own establishment and nurse the new plants there into health iu their new surroundings. Amateur attempts with window gar dens are very apt to result disastrously unless the gardener is one of those gift ed with a knowledge of plants and a knack of succeeding with them. But it is mistaken economy to attempt them with out a proper knowledge of the sui^ect, for sometimes a window garden will fail utterly and dozens of plants and flow ers will die, owing to improper methods of transplanting, too much or too little water, or exposure to extreme cold or wind before the plants are properly ac climated to tlieir new home. There is no earthly necessity for any woman or girl being without a fresh and dainty little shirt waist suit. Really creditable ones may be had for $3 and a trifle less, and they are such very good style compared with light shirt-waists with dark or otherwise mismatched skirts. This, of course, refers to times when one has no thought of donning the jacket that goes with the dark skirt. And there are any number of summer days of this sort. Ready modes are so cheap and nice that those with much to do can't affoid to sew for themselves. There are, for instance, lawns, prettily made, for $2.95. One in pure white has a hemstitched band at the top of the shaped flounce, tiie same effect being between.flic tucks that figure on the waist. Percales, pret tily figured, come at tiie same figure. Most sought after of all, however, are the white lawns with black pinhead dots. These cost the same and are admirable. There are also more serviceable than those of pure white. A number of pret ty sorts come at $3.50. For $4.50 there are still more. They are no prettier, but a bit more service able. A black dotted white Madras,with a cord stripe at half inch intervals, is one of the best. It is of medium weight and .quite rich looking. At tiie same figure come the mercerized eham brays in all the pretty colors. \ From this the prices range upward. A fine linen is bound to eost more than a cotton. And, what is very important, it is not bound to be any prettier or any more becoming, especially after it's wash ed. Another thing to consider is the make. Choose something that “will wash” well. A fabric strapped with an other fabric is risky, as each may shrink different. Colors must also be consider ed. As a matter of fact tiie simpler a shirt waist is the more satisfactory will it be. The little turn over band is assuming a proportion which speaks well for its future career. It originated with the lit the band which was embroidered and turned down over the black collar to brighten it a little. Now. you can buy thpse bands and work them yourself and the working is a piazza pastime. The most elegant are the bands of silk and of fine linen that are elaborately embroidered and are worn with handsome gowns. . The newest cut of the turn-over band shows the deep point in front, the very deep point, with smaller points at each side, giving the neck a long look. One beantifnl turn-over was in white lawn embroidered in electric blue silk. The embroidery was heavy and raised. Large and elaborately worked flowers formed the pattern and, through the heavy eyelet holes, could be seen the rib bon underneath. Tan linen bands are embroidered in scarlet, and white bands are done in blue. There are black linen ones done in pink and blue linen in green. Great is the variety and pretty the results. * * • An inexpensive hat of good style is o? a deep strav.'-ooiored fancy braid, trim med with a reddish brown silk, full folds of it being carried around the hat. with short ends hanging at the back. Set on j to the hems of these ends are several large round white dots. That is the only I trimming, with the exception of three black quills through strap-tike slits in the straw of the under rim. * * * A black and yellow basket design em broidered on bands of white gives an at tractive bit of color to a gown of white ! pique. THE PORCH FLEasaNT. An Inviting Place For the bummer. Curtains, Cushions mul Mat*. Iu summer time the wide porch can be made so inviting a plnce that there will he but slight probability of your breaking the tenth of the Decalogue when thinking of your cousins at Bar Harbor. Curtains of Japanese splint, a vine on a trellis, easting delightful shadows, or gayly striped awnings contribute largely to the coolness and picturesque ness of this retreat. There should be a screen from the Japanese bazaar or a homemade one; a wooden settle or wicker divan, a hammock, some wicker or rush bottom chairs, and a low ta ble with shelf, the table for periodicals and for convenience in serving after noon tea or lemonade in the morning. Then of course there should be a big growing plant in a jardiniere cn a taboret. Your male friends must be taught that this jardiniere with plant was not designed as a dead match or ash receiver. Admirable porch cushions are stuffed with dried wild immortelles, clover blossoms, rose leaves and curled strips of paper intermingled, eucalyptus leaves, bay leaves or pine needles, the coverings being of art denim inqhe cool shades, Japanese cottons in blue and white and bandanna handkerchiefs. The woven grass floor mats serve well as chair cushions in summer time, al though the original purpose of these quaint, inexpensive things is not to be lost sight of by her who loves to sit od the piazza steps in the dewy morning or in the summer gloaming, attired possibly in a frock of simple white muslin. A porch screen can be made at home by covering an old frame or a new one, on the inner side of which the cabinet maker has pui a wide bookshelf, with denim, rice matting or Japanese calico. The screen of the poster collector is also a neat thing, made by the devotee herself, the posters being irregularly arranged on a foundation of thin wood and protected by lengths of glass the exact size of the screen, each panel framed in oak or cherry, hand carved. ] IRONING A SHIRT WAIST. The Method Used In Best Laundries 'Where Handwork Is Done. With every returning summer the feminine fancy turns seriously to thoughts of shirt waists and their prop er ironing, a process which the Boston Cooiiing School Magazine clearly sets forth as fellows: When ready to iron the waist, dip quietly into a pail of hot water, then j put through the wringer and iron at once. Begin with the cuffs, pressing first on the wrong side and then finish ing on the right, until perfectly dry. Next iron the collar hand and then the sleeves. The sleeves are the most difficult part of the waist to do well, and a sleeve beard can be purchased for about 25 cents, which is considered by many as a great help. These are commonly used j in hand laundries, and when used the j sleeves are ironed last. If the sleeve j is to be ironed without a board, press j it flat, ironing both sides. Finish the j ton by putting a small iron inside of : the sleeve, through the arm’s eye, and j A SLEEVE BOARD. smoothing' out the gathered top. Many | object to the fold in the sleeve when ironed flat, and this can be removed by rubbing with a damp cheesecloth and pressing out with a small iron. Before ironing the front of the waist ! stretch into shape, having the front ; plait very straight. If there are tucks, j smooth them out evenly and iron on i the right side until dry. Then iron the j back and finish the bottom of the j waist If parts of the waist have be come tumbled after ironing, smooth out j quickly with a hot iron. Fasten the | collar band and the cuffs with a stud ; or pin, and dry thoroughly before fold- j lag. Pique waists should be ironed on the ; wroDg side, excepting the sleeves, and j on a well padded ironing table, so that j the cords will stand out welt. If the j cuffs be desired very stiff, place them ; on a clean board and with the hand rub in a thick cooked starch until tho linings and the outside of the cuffs ai'e as one piece; then wipe superfluous starch from both sides of cuffs and | dry. X^ot stand in the dampened body of the wajst under pressure for about half an hour before ironing. Early Tomatoes. The early tomatoes are particularly good broiled, as they are not apt to be as ripe and luscious as later. Cut in thick slices, drain and dry on a towel, dip first Into slightly beaten egg, to which a tablcspoouful of water has been added, then into fine breadcrumbs, ; and broil quickly over a hot fire. Serve j on squares of toast garnished with watercress and send round a cream sauce with the dish. Motes From ike Jewelers’ Circular. Gold shirt waist sets include cuff links, buttons and collar studs. Watch fobs will be fashionable for both men and women this season. Paddock sticks covered with pigskin ; and silver moented are the latest thing in walking sticks for men. rink pearl and diamond corsage or nomeiits are dreams of loveliness. A chain bracelet with a chrysoprase ■ heart center is a pretty affair sugges- j live of summer engagements. White enamel and baroque pearli] Qgure in the dainty brooches for the ! hot days. The narrow ribbon bow of diamonds \ is a favorite design In the Jewelry of i the present - J Alphonso McGInty By FRANK T. Bl>LLEN Copyright, 190!, by Frank 1. Bvllen WHO is there among British seafarers that does not know the “chain locker,” that den just opposite the mint, like an exaggerated boar pit? The homeward bounder, his heart light as thistledown with the first taste of liberty after his voyage's long impris onment, takes no heed of its squalor no. not even in the drear December slushiness following upon a Shadwell snowstorm. If he does glance around shudderiugly at the haggard faces of the unshipped for a moment, the feel of the beloved half sheet of blue fools cap ostentatiously displayed in his club fingered right hand brings the depart ing look of satisfaction back swiftly enough. It is his “account of wages,” liis passport within the swing doors of the office, which he will presently ex change for the few pieces of gold for which he has given such a precious slice of his life. But the outward bounder, his bands thrust deep into empty pockets, the bit ter taste of begrudged bread parching his mouth and the scowling face of his boarding master refusing to pass from his mind’s eye—he it is who feels the utter desolation of the crowded chain locker corrode his very soul. After a long day’s tramp around the docks, sneaking on board vessels like a thief and asking the mate for a “chance” with bated breath, as if begging for pence, unsuccessful and weary, ho re turns to this walled in pit of gloom “Bhoys, ferglve me. I’m an imposhtcr.” and jealously eyes the company of mis erables like himself, as if in each one he saw a potential snatcher from him of his last hope of a herth. Outward bounders have little to say to each other in the chain locker. They wait, not like honest laborers seeking legitimate employment, but like half j tried prisoners awaiting sentence. This characteristic is so universal that, al though we who bided the coming of the Gareth’s skipper had all got out J discharges in and so felt reasonably i sure of her, we had not exchanged halt a dozen words among the fourteen of j us. But there suddenly appeared in out ! midst a square built, rugged faced man of middle height, whose gray eyes j twinkled across his ruined nose and ‘ whose mouth had that droll droop of the lower lip that shows a readiness ' not only to laugh in and out of season, but almost pathetically invites the be holder to laugh too. He it was whe j broke the stony silence by saying in ; the richest brogue, "Is it all av us j bhoys that does be goin’ in the wan j ship, I wondher?” Even the most mo- j rose among us felt an inclination tc ; smile, we hardly knew Why, but just : then the swing door of the engaging j office burst open and a hoarse void '■ shouted, “Crew o’ the Gareth here!” j lue words, line some irresistmie ceu j tripetal force, sucked In from the re motest corner of the large area everj j man, and in a moment all of us, whc had. as we thought, secured our chances ! by lodging our discharges beforehand ! were seized with something of a pauk j lest we should lose the ship after all ' Heavens, how we thrust and tore oui way into the office past the burly po licetnan who held every one of us at - the pinch of the door until he was sat j isfied of our right to enter! Once with j in we felt safe and stood norvouslj | fingering our caps while the clerk gab- ! bled over the usual formula, to which j none of us gave the slightest heed ■ Signing on bygan and proceeded apace j to the accompaniment of a running Art of questions ns to age, nationality, last ship, etc., to which answers, if not promptly forthcoming, were. I am afraid, supplied by the questioner Thera was a subdued chuckle, and the man who had spoken outside stood at the counter. "What name?” snapped the clerk. 1 "Alpliouso MeGiuty. yer aimer,” was the answer. No exquisite witticism ever raised a more wholesome hurst of laughter. It positively brightened that dull hole like a ray of sea sunshine. “How old?" said the clerk in a voice still tremulous. “God befrl'nd me, I ferget. Say t’irty five, sor.” “Your discharge says twenty-five," returned the effrk. “Ah, yes. yer tinner, but it’s said that fer the last t’irty years.” “Isn't it time it was altered, then?” retorted the clem, magisterial again, as he entered fifty-five on the articles. The old fellow’s quaint speech, added to an indefinable aureole of good hu mor about him, had completely chang ed the sullen aspect of our crowd, so that for the moment we quite forgot that but fourteen of us were engaged to take the four thousand ton ship Ga reth to New Zealand first and Wien to any other part of the world, voyage i not to exceed throe years, i So, with even the Dutchmen laugh ; ing and chuckling in sympathy with ; the fun they felt, but didn't under stand, we all dispersed with our ad vance notes to get such discount as fate and the sharks would allow. In good time we were all aboard, for ships were scarce and all of us anxious to get away, but when we saw the vast, gaunt hull well down to plimsoll’s mark 1 and the four towering steel giants of masts, with their immense spreading branches, and thought of the handful we were to manage them we felt a colder chill than even the biting edge of the bitter east wind had given us. We mustered in the dark, iron barn of the l'oks’i and began selecting bunks temporarily until wl were picked for watches, when our attention was ar rested by the voice of McGinty, saying: Buoys: All turned toward him where he stood, ; with a bottle of rutu and a teacup, and no oue needed n second calL When the ; bottle was empty and our hearts had ; gone out to the donor, he said, clearing j his'throat once or twice: "Bhoys, fergive me. I’m an im- i pos liter. I broke me right kneecap an’ tire ribs cornin’ home from Frisco in the Lameck—fell from the foret’gallant yard—an’ I bin three months in Poplar : hospital. I can’t go aloft, but i didn’t 1 think what a crime it was goin’ to be j ag’in ye ail until I see this awful over sparred brute here. Don't be hard on me, bhoys. Ye wouldn’t have me starve ashore, would ye, now, or fret me poor owld heart out in the wurk house after forty-five years on the open sea?” lie stopped and looked around dis tressfully, and in that moment all our hearts warmed *o him. We were a mixed crowd, of course, but nearly half of us were British, and there would have been a stormy scene if any of the aliens had ventured to raise a protest against McGinty’s incapacity. We didn’t express our sympathy, but we felt it, and he, with native’quickness, knew that we did. a^:d never from that day forward did the brave old chap hear a word of complaint from any of us about having to do his work. Just then the voice of the bos’n sounded outside, “Turn to,” and as we departed to commence work, although not a word was said, there was a fierce determination among us to protect Me Giuty against any harshness from tlie officers on account of his disablement. There was too much of a bustle getting out of dock for any notice to be taken of his stiff leg, which be had so clever ly concealed while shipping: but. the i mate happening to call him up to the forecastle head for something, his lameness was glaringly apparent at once to the bos’n, who stood behind him. For just a minute it looked like trouble as the bos'n began to bluster about bis being a cripple, but we all gathered round, and the matter was ef fectuaiiy settieu at once. Wo never regretted our consideration, for, while it was true that he couldn’t get aloft, and those mighty sails would have been a handful for double our number in a breeztSof wind, there nev er was a more willing, tireless worker on deck, and below he was a perfect godsend. His sunny temper, bubbling fun and inexhaustible stock of yarns made our gray lives happier than they had ever been at sea before. If we had allowed it, he would have been a slave to all of us, for we carried no boys, and all the odd domestic jobs of the' foks’l had to be done by ourselves. As it was, he was always doing something for somebody, and as he was a thorough sailor in his general handiness and ability his services were highly appre ciated. He made the Gareth a com fortable ship in spite of her manifold drawbacks. In due time we reached the “roaring forties” and began to run the easting down. The long, tempestuous stretch of the southern ocean lay before us, and the prospect was by no means cheering. The Gareth, in spite of her huge bulk, had given us a taste of her quality when running before a heavy breeze of wind shortly after getting clear of the channel, and we knew that she was one of the wettest of her class, a vessel that welcomed every bowling sea as aa old friend and freely invited it to range the whole expanse of her decks from poop to foks'l. And. in accordance with precedent, we knew that she would be driven to the last ex tremity of canvas endurance, not only in the hope of making u quick pnssage. but because shortening sail after really hard running was such an awful strain upon the handful of men composing the crew, so that when once the light sails were secure an attempt would al ways be made to hang on to the still j enormous spread of sail remaining until the gale blew itself out or we bad run out of Us vast area. But for some days the brave west wind lingered in its lair, j and we slowly crept to tbe southward and eastward with trumpery little spurts of northerly and northwesterly breeze. We bad reached 47 degrees south and about 10 degrees east when j one afternoon it fell calm. One of tbe most magnificent sunsets Imaginable spread its glories over tbe 1 western sky. Great splashes of gor geous coloring stained tbe pale blue of tbe heavens and illuminated the fan tastic crags and ranges of cloud that j lay motionless around tbe horizon like ; fragments of a disintegrated world. A long, listless swell came solemnly from . the west at regular Intervals, giving that waiting ship a stately, rhythmical motion in the glassy waters and mak ing the immense squares of canvas :nat hung straight as boards from the yards slam against the steel masts with a sullen boom. Except for that oc casionally recurring sound, a solemn stillness reigned supreme, while the wide minor of the ocean reflected faithfully ail the flaming tints of the sky. Quietly all of us gathered on the folis’i head for the second dog watch smoke, hut for some time ail seemed strangely disinclined for the desultory chat that usually takes place at that pleasant hour. Pipes were puffed in silence for half an hour until suddenly MeGinty broke the spell, his voice sounding strangely clear and vibrant, by saying: “I had a qua re dhrame la3ht night.” No one stirred or spoke, and after a few meditative puiis at his pipe he w uu : “I dhrcamt that I was a tiny gos ■ soon ag’in at home in owld Baitimoi-e. I’d been wandberin’ an’ sthrayin’, God alone knows where, fer a dhreadful i long while, it seemed, until at lasbt, : whin I was ready to die from sheer | weariness an’ fright, I heard rue dear ; mother’s sweet voice cryin’. ‘Where's Fonnieavicivergot to this long while?’ | Oh, ’twas as if an angel from iiiven i spoke to me, an’ I cried wid all me heart an’ me tongue, ‘Here, mother, here 1 ami’ An' she gathered me up In her arms that was so soft an' cozy till I felt as if I was a little tired chick neshtlin' into its mother’s feathers in the snuggest a v nests. I didn’t go to sloop. I just let meseif sink down, down into rest, happy as any saint in giory An’ thin I woke up wid a big. tearin’ ache all over me poor owld bro ken up body. But, bad as that was, ’twas just uothin’ $t ail to the gnawin’ acne at me neart. Silence wrapped us round again, for who among us could find any words to apply to such a story as that? And it affected-us all the more because of its complete contrast to MeGinty’s usual ! bright, cheery ami uncomplaining hu mor. Not another word was spoken by any one until the sharp strokes on the little bell aft deft the still air and In immediate response one rose and smote the big bell hanging at the break of the ' foks’l four double blows, ushering in | the first watch of the night. The j watch on deck relieved wheel and look out, and we who were fortunate enough i to have the “eight hours in” lost no j time in seeking our respective bunks, j since in those stern latitudes we might j expect a sudden call at any moment. > We had hardiy been asleep five min- ; utes. it seemed, when a hoarse cry | came pealing in through the foks’l door j of “All hands on deck! Shorten sail!" | And as wc all started wide awake we ; heard the furious voice of the southern | tempest tearing up the face of the deep j and felt the massive fabric beneath our , feet leaping and straining under the i tremendous strain of her great breadths j of canvas that we had left hanging so idly at eight belts. Out into the black night we hurried, meeting the waiting mate at the fore mast and anwering his first order of “Man the foretops’ls downhaul!” with the usual repetition of his words. Weird cries arose as we hauled with all our strength on the downhauis and spilling lines, while overhead we could hear, even above the roar of the storm, the deep boom of the topsails fiercely | fighting against the restraining gear, j Then, with a bissiug. spiteful snarl, ; came snow and sleet, lashing us tike i shotted whips and making the dark ! “ At the same moment McGinty’s arms flew up. i ness more profound because of the 1m | possibility of opening the eyes against | the stinging fragments of ice. Rut aft- j | or much stumbling and struggling we j ! got the four huge topsails down and j without waiting for the order started | j aloft to furl, the pitiful incapacity of • ! our numbers most glaringly apparent. | | Xhe pressure of the wind was so great j I that it was uo easy matter to get aloft; but. clinging like cats, we presently I found ourselves, six of the port watch. ! on the foretops'l yard. The first thing evident was that the : great sail was very slightly subdued by tite gear. It hovered about the yard j ! like a white balloon, making it both ! dillicult and dangerous to get out along ; the spar. The storm scourged us piti- ; ! lessly. The great round of the sail re- j sisted all our attempts to list it. and j we seemed as helpless as children. | Some bold spirits clutched the lifts j and., swinging above the sail, tried to ; stamp a hollow into it with their feet, but against the increasing fury of the tempest we seemed to be utterly impo tent. We were so widely separated, too. that each man appeared to be es saying a giant’s task single handed, and that horrible sense of fast oozing streugtb was paralyzing us. Feeling left our bunds. * YVs smote them suv OUR PICTORIAL PUZZLE DEPARTMENT. CAN YOU FIND THE HIDDEN PICTURE? FIND THE OTHER MELON THIEF AND THE FARMER. ‘ ogely against that unbending sail with ; out sensation, and still we seemed no i nearer the conclusion of our task. But I suddenly the ship gave a great lurch I to windward, and just for one moment | the hitherto unyielding curve of the sail quivered. In that instant every fist had clutched a fold, and with a i Hash of energy we strained every sinew to conquer our enemy. Tugging like a madman to get the sail spilled, I glanced sideways and | saw, to my horror, by a jagged flash | of lightning, the rugged face cf Me | Giuty. I had hardly recognized him when, with a roar like the coinbined voices of a troop of lions, the sail tore itself j sway from us, and with bleeding hands j I clutched at the footrope stirrup as I fell back. But at the same moment McGinty’s arms flew up. lie caught at the empty gloom above him and fell, gasping “In manus tuus, Domine!” Far beneath us the hungry sea seethed and whirled, its white glare showing ghast | ly against the thick darkness above. J For two or three seconds I hung as if irresolute whether to follow my poor old shipmate or not. Then the heavy Capping of the sail aroused me, and, springing up again, I renewed my ef forts. The ship had evidently got a wipe up Into the wind, for the sail was now powerless against us, and in less than five minutes it was fast and we were descending with all speed to renew our desperate fight with the mizzen and jigger topsails. The decks were like the sea overside, for wave after wave toppled inboard, and it was at the most imminent risk to life and limb that we scrambled aft. quite a sense of relief coming as we swung ourselves upward out of that turbulent flood into the rig ging again. But 1 was almost past feeling now. A dull,- aching sense of loss clung around my heart, and the patient, kind ly face of my shipmate seemed branded upon my eyes as he lifted it to the stormy skies in his last supplicatory moan. 1 went about my work dogged ly, mechanically, indifferent to cold, fatigue or pain, until, when at last she was snugged down and under the fore lower topsails and reefed foresails was gying through the darkness like some hunted thing. 1 staggered wearily into the cheerless foks'l, dropped upon a chest and stared moodily at vacancy. Somebody said, "Where’s McGintv?” That roused me. It seemed to put new life and hope into me, for I replied quite brightly: “lie’s gone to the rest he was talking about in the dog watch. He'll never eat workhouse bread, thank God.” Er.ger questioning followed, mingled with utter amazement at his getting aloft at all. But when all had said their say one feeling had been plainly manifested—a feeling of deep thankful ness that such a grand old sailor as our shipmate McGlnty was where he fain would be. taking his long and well earned rest Only “Dad.” An exchange says: "There Is a class of men who are seldom if ever appre ciated at their true value. In this en lightened age they are commonly called ‘Dad.’ It is dad that humps himself year in and year out on the farm, in the office, store or workshop in order that his boy and giri may go away to school and upon their return home that the boy may have a tine horse and top bug gy and the girl a costly piano. It Is dad that hustles and cultivates great cal loused knots on his hands and becomes j stoop shouldered in order that his off spring may revel in luxury and make tarnal fools of themselves. His sons and daughters have learned at his ex pense to despise tiis old fashioned ways. They secretly laugh at the style of his Sunday cent and his bell crowned hat. -On Sunday, when his daughter has company and he would sit in the parlor and listen to the music, he is given in various ways to understand that his presence is not desirable,- and the poor okl man goes into the kitchen and re mains the balance of the afternoon. God help the sou or daughter who goes back on dad: In the catalogue of low Uowu cusseduess that of iugratitude to one's parents is the most contempti ble." _ Army and navy officers in Germany are obliged to make a deposit of $7.out) with the Government before they are , permitted to marry. This draws an ill come of U tier cent., nud at death is re funded to the family or heirs. « LAUt NOVELTIES. Embroidered Lace—The Xew Chiffon Boas. The latest thing in allover lace shows a design of flowers embroidered in colored silk. The new chiffon boas are flat instead of round and fall awaj- from the neck. Accordion plaited chiffon is cut in van dykes and finished with baby velvet, narrow inching or a fringe of sma’l blossoms or rose petals. The combina tion of plaited taffeta and fine lace is very smart, especially when completed by long scarf ends of lace to match. Lace collars are very popular and are to be seen on almost every gar ment. Irish crochet and tatted laces are the favorites, and big Richelieu collars of Irish lace are worn by those rr'Sc'o v»?J* jiUab’ fhp*ri ’T'Vi? i-“- -1 couiumaiiuii iu vieumy msu lace ana black and white chiffon is very smart, and a chou of velvet in pale pink or I blue makes a dainty finish. A tasteful dress is shown iu the Ulus tiation. It is made of allover lace. The blouse waist has a surplice neck, and the opening is brought from right to left. The sleeves are elbow length and tight fitting. The skirt opens over an underdress of white chiffon edged with many ruffles. The girdle is of white louisine ribbon, with long ends hang ing down the front, which are knotted twice. JUDIC CHOLLET. oifara. “There is very little difference be tween good cigars,’' said a dealer, “though they have many names. I have beeu in the business for many years and at one time or another served most of the prominent men of the country. I have always smoked aud consider myself a critic, but after I have had a cigar or two 1 can’t tell for the life of me by the odor what is the name of the cigar L am smoking. Of course 1 can name it by its shape, and anybody knows n strong cigar from a mild one, but the most expert can be fooled on brands. In spite of this, many prominent men insist on certain brands and are unhappy if they don't get them. Sometimes they complain that an inferior tobacco is being used, but that is not true. Their taste haj palled, aud they need a ohscce.” Tired of Mi* Talk. At a recent trial in Scotland a certain lady got into the witness box to be ex amined when the following conversa tion took place between her and the op posing counsel: Couusel.-IJow old or£ you? Miss Jane—Oh. weel, sir, I am an un married woman and dinna think it right to answer that question. The Judge—Oh, yes. answer the gen tleman. How old are you? Miss Jane— Weel-a-weel. I am fifty. Counsel—Arc you not more? Miss Jane—Weal 1 am sixty. The inquisitive lawyer still further asked if she had any hopes of getting married, to tt tiich Miss Jane replied: “Weel, sir, * Wlnna tell a lee. 1 fainna lost hope yet." scornfully adding, “but 1 widnji marry you, for 1 am sick and tired of your palaver already." „