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y f f ' LAFAYETTR, LA., "SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16,1893. NME 1 stairmy house on 7 ,r. . wt. nalbu. 1tlen e 11 wss huge@s ipereahed em aba 4 t ities the r isb sle er stau. SiV the ibd at gte "rose-tree, usheeding Snteniag~ storm!' the blithe leasfchaser, rejoleing in ;.gi-no arsoird for the morrow-they . : qwuo eare. today: . - And the thoumad things : . Thatthe future btrings Sma sblnk testueh as they. '.i3~. by the household Ingle, can interpret the #d t Ws ooehoos" through the keyhole. . rea shadow the house enshrouds: Ad I Moei I must quit my mountain, and go d awnli to the vale below. Wor my horse is chill Ons the windy all, the a tu mmntempests blow. My mind is for ever drawing an Instructive r all - lel - temporal thiegs that perish and eternal things that dwell Whien billows and waves surround ma. and wa tesr my soul o:erdow. I deseend in hope S rom the mountain top To'the sheltering vale below. I go down to the valley of silenee, where the worldly are never met; I know there is "balm and healing" there for eyes that witltears are wet; And I fan; in Its sheet seelusion, gentle solace - foralimy-eare. For, that valley pure. With its shelter sure. Is the beautiful vale of prayer.' -Naenie Power.O'onoglhue, in Chamber's JournaL t riaa r MSounsna [Co p right lIo, by u thor i Na beautiful summer day not long ago, two handsome wom en eat on the terrace of one of the many charmingi hunting-castles with which the mountains of Styria abound. "Hear in mind, Dora, that Prince Ilenatschew is a very dangerous man." Countess Dorothea blushed crimson. "Why. do you call him dangerous?" "Is not your husband a little jealous of his pretty wife?"' - "Ah, it he only were! But he de votes night and day to the study of po litical and economic subjects. and has no time for me." "Do you mean to say that he neglects you?" "Not exactly; but he has so many 1 things to take up his thoughts that he would not have time to be jealous. In fidelity on my part would arouse his anger, but it would not try his heart. He is a cold and austere man, Emmy a great'and noble man, if you will-but like a block of ice." "While Prince Benatschew is a ver itable volcano." tDora does not reply, for the subject of their conversation appears on the terrace where the two ladies are chat ting t" hope that I am not disturbing an exchange of confidences, ladies?" "We were speaking of you, prince." " answered Emmy. "It was said that you are a man of a volcanic disposi tion." "You must be flattering me." Countess Dorothea has indignantly risen. "I have said nothing of the sort, for I know nothing of Prince Benat schew's character. Pray, let us return to the drawing-room; I hear Mr. Green- t low play the prelude to his--" s "I entreat you, conntess, stay. It is C the 'Moonlight Serenade,' and I am f sure we can enjoy it to better advan- to tage here, with the real moon shining c down upon us. What a lovely summer s] night! Look down yonder, countess, a and watch the effect here, from where I am standing! Do you see the moon d reflected in the lake, and the fountain a transformed into a sparkling pillar of 6 silver?" o Reluctantly Countess Dorothea -fol- is lows the prince. This man exerts a ti si - at - . w * P" 'OOUNTESS DOROTHEK HAS IxDIOXAYTLY mssax." strange power over her. Emmy if " right; he is i dangerous man. bh "'Whrer areyou, Emmy'?" cries she, as she: turns to where her friend had been sitting. "~Come and watch the moon .lght." T" Bit Ummy has disappeared- through hi . the .woor whih leads from. the veranda . lia-e br.lliantly -ighted drawink. room;and dthe two are left alone. A S4 asitrable feeling of iawe -eo'f Doroth~a's soul. P epest dayis she hais coni s aiteda tile tempter. T- ri r..emain spellbound, held ap- LI -*edis *r *blch Is greater than as ae. Wt he again speak of rq - Jeg.. .elihtttal oenei" she oo... .A delight- g *n daonrnaioniam sell The man of the orld lanterprets these symptoms correaly, and begins to do what she has feared-or hoped, I she does not know which-whisper a peassionate avowal of love into her ear. To him her silence means a yielding to his entreaties. "You- have made me supremely happy," he murmurs softly, and steps aside to meet several persons r who are at this moment approaching from the drawing-room. Among them is Count Tolstegg, Dorothea's husband. Early in the morning of the follow ing day, Count Tolstegg informs his wife that he is called to the city on im portant business and must leave by the elast train that evening: "'And the tableau in which- you are expected to take part?" "As the train does not leave until nine, I will have ample time to figure in that, since I was foolish enough to .consent to such childish play. Our hostess insists that mo bne but myself can represent the character for which she has chosen me, and it would be un kind to spoil her pleasure." "Then we will loave before the ball commences?" "We? There is no reason why you should not remain. I will come for you in a few days." '"Command me to go with you, Otho- I beg of you!" But Count Tolstegg shrugs his shoul ders with a smile, and makes no reply. The guests are assembled in the prel. ty little amateur theater, and the play ers have gathered behind the scenes on the stage. In the first row sites Doro thea, and beside her Benatschew. He has been her escort during dinner, and has filled unnoticed her glass with champagne as often as possible. Dora's cheeks are flushed, and a feverish light burns in her black eyes. Her excite ment, however, is not caused by the wine, but by the inward struggle of the past few days. "I will not!" cries conscience. "I will-I must!",answers another voice in her breast, as if under the ban of some strange hypnotic power. Her husband's departure! Has everything conspired in "Henatschew's favor? Oh, if Tolstegg had but spoken one word one word of comfort and kindness when she entreated him to take het back with him. She would have gath ered strength from it to resist the pas sionate yearning that drives her into the tempter's arms. There is but one way out of the difficulty. She must confess to her husband the danger with which she is beset. Several times dur ing that day she has been on the eve of doing this, but when she lifter her eyes to her husband's cold, indifferent countenance, she relapsed into silence. And now, now he is going from her to leave her unguarded to the other's wiles. "I am lost! I am lost!" moans the unfortunate woman. Three of the tableaux, copied from famous works of art, have already been presented. The next on the programme is the one in which Count Tolstegg is to figure. A side-door which leads to "I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE STABBED YOUB LOVIER." the stage is suddenly thrown open, and some one enters and advances toward Countess Dorothea. beckoning her to follow. One of the performers has been taken ill, and Dora is the only one who can successfully take her place. Would she consent? The tableau is already arranged; there is no time to be lost. C Dorothea gives her consent. Her dress is soon arranged to suit the char acter which she is to represent. They a endeavor to show her the photograph r of the painting from which the tableau t is copied in which she is to figure, but in the general confusion it has been mis laid. Count Tolstegg is bidden to in struct his young wife. the is ready. The count hurries to her side. A cry d of delight and admiration escapes Dorothea's lips. She has never known him to look more handsome. He t snatches her hand and draws her on the stage with him. The others are in their paces. Tolstegg leads her to the center of the stage and, bidding her to kneel down before him, he says, with mufmed voice: "I am supposed to have stabbed your lover: you are to gaze with horror upon his bleeding form. Press one' hand to your temple-so- d cl-ncbing the other, as Igrasp your ii wrist. You are trembling, dear. Have I hurt you? Forgive me; but for a mo ment the part which I am playinl t seemed so natural, as if I were in real- e ity the avenger of my honor." n "tlto-speak-would you have done , as he did?" asks Dorothea under her tl breath. "'Oh! my life, my all--T don't know a whom I would have killed in such a Ease Perhapbs myself!" whispers Count Tolstegg, with suppressed emotion, as his eyes rest lovingly upon the proe twrate form of his young wife. "Otho!" ' Attention !# cyies the stage manager. The signal is given. The curtain rise . An hour later Count Tolategg's car riage is -on ito way tb the statidn Leaning back inthe edshlons, ifth his u srn around her waist, and haer head rqpting on his breast, sits Dorothe. She has confessed to her husbrand. The pround, a·astere -man diaws hwi gently to him. "Then Master Angeli helped me toube the. 9vipr of my _"_ taewl7 c .i· iN s LEARNING TO EAT POL Aesea £ mgaast* or he thLsema Dsantyr of the Slmdwleh Islands. At your first meal, mays a letter from Hawaii you inquire hungrily for poi, S. and there is brought you a little ( wooden bowl or calabash containing a I, queer-looking grayish sticky compound a resembling paper-hanger's paste. You R regard it askance, and ask for a spoon, n but are told it is to be eaten with the L fingers "Why, no one could take that stuff up in their flngers!" you gasp. "0, yes, just see," and into a com panion calabash your instructor dips two fingers, and with a twirl, only ac quired by long practice, withdraws them loaded with the compound, which is at once transferred to his mouth and swallowed, his countenance assuming meantime an expression of beatified o epicureanism. You do not know what i expression may have taken its abode upon your visage, but you know your principal sensation is one of simon pure horror. " "Now, you try it," says Epicurus. Tentatively you thrust one finger into the mess and gather up a minute dose of the delectable viand. As you raise it toward your mouth your nose takes cognizance of a sour smell that har monizes perfectly with the appearance of the poL You close your eyes, and, mentally breathing forth a devout ejaculation, open your mouth and suck the poi from your fingerr. By a sublime effort of will-you keep your lips closed over the mouthful, while your compan ion looks on interestedly, evidently ex I -pecting to hear your palate screpm with delight. Meanwhile your imagination is workingwith lightning speed. The poi is cold and clammy. The poi tastes t like stale yeast; it stings your tongue, and an unutterable disgust possesses your souL You are sure you are going to choke, though you know you dare not, and-you figuratively take yourself I by the throat and force yourself to swallow the compound. You can trace 1 its progress through the esophagus by the horrified shudder that organ gives as the mouthful passes along it; you can hear the villi in your stomach shriek as the frog-like lump makes its appearance amongthem, and you think you are going to die then and there. "Don't you like it?" your hear some one say. You struggle back to conscious ness and murmur your fear that you are not educated to such a high point of taste. O"O, never mind," is the consoling reply. "You'll be so fond of it in a day or two you can't keep house without it." You know better than that, but you offer no contradiction to the assertion. But if you would leave the islands with a conscience untainted by poi you must hold to your resolution to ab stain from tasting the stuff again. This will be difficult to do. You will see all your acquaintances dipping into their calabashes and hear them expatiating on the delights of poi, and you begin to aspire to taste again. You think about it by day and by night, and at last you venture. You take another step along the downward pathway. As the poet has so touchingly described: "You first endure, then pity, then em brace" the calabash. Poi is a dish that must long remain peculiar to the Hawaiian islands-al ways, in fact, unless some means are contrived for preserving taro so that it will stand export. Poi is made from taro, a root resembling the turnip. It i grows in the water, with a large, hand some, green leaf, and it is almost tasteless. There is also an upland taro cultivated in the mountains by the natives which has a more de cided taste, and which, as I learned to my cost on tasting it raw, bites the throat like horseradish. The low taro is the chief vegetable in the island, and in early days constituted the native's principal crop. When cooked it as sumes a mottled gray and white ap pearance very like the lava rock that abounds every where in the islands. The process of manufacturing the poi is quite a lengthy one. A great hole is dug in the ground, and into this the taro roots are placed around piles of hot stones. The earth is then heaped 1 over the place and the taro left to a steam. When the taro is thoroughly cooked, which operation often takes several hours, the roots are dug out again, peeled, and put into a huge stone receptacle, in which they are pounded to a pulp. This work is performed by the men. It is an arduous task, and 1 on a hot day (and nearly all days are i hot on the islands) the pounding of poi is a scene over which it is desirable to draw a veil. The poi pounder not only earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, but mixes it as well largely with r that fluid. V The "poe of commerce" is "now made b by machinery. The natives, how. ever, still make their own. When ! the mass is thoroughly beaten and ' smooth it is mixed with vwater to the proper consistency, about like good l thick paste, strained through a coarse cloth, and set away for two or three days, until it begins to ferment, when it is ready to be eaten. It then tastes a little like buttermilk, and is very nu- n tritions and wholesome. The natives eat it by the gallon. Give the average a native a big pot of poi, half a dozen i' raw fish, and a bottle of gin, and you h may have the kingdom and the rest of the earth as well. He will squat upon at the ground, break the head off one of f. the fish, take a bite from its raw side, I t piek it in a mouthful of pot, and wash m, the whole down with a swallow of gin, I and repeat the process until all have I d disappeared, t Singularly enough, revolting as this Pi sounds; the actual scenb is far from be- le ing didgusting. I have watched a dozen ii natives feeding thus, all dipping poi from the same calabaqh, and seen less ir daintyrand cleanly' table manners in tI many a backwoods hotel in the states. b Why should we swallow a raw oyster ti without winking and shiver at the i thought of raw fish is one of the mys- o teries of aesthetice few can solve.--San vI Francisco CalL -Husband (listening)-'I think there or is burglar in the house." Wdfe (ex- v n ttedly).p twue·-·. i" QUICKle WITTED. I Cool HReads Whleh Have Turned the DelL1 eats Seale of ife and Death. m A Southern girl anxious to support aI, herself, and to make her own in the le world, entered the training-school for a nurses at Bellevue hospital, New York. id She became an expert nurse, remarka m ble for courage and self-possession. n, One night a patient, who had been le hastily admitted to the wards without in'quiry respecting her mental condi SI tion, attempted suicide by throwing herself from a window. This nurse, n- by her coolness and quick wit, diverted as her from her purpose and saved her c- life. rs The incident made an impression , h upon the mang~iers of the school. d When they received an application from 7 g an insane asylum for nurses to be em d ployed in the scientific care of deranged it patients, she was highly recommended le for the work, and was subsequently ir promoted to the responsible position of 1- matron in one of the largest insane hospitals in the country. s. One of this nurse's experiences with o insane patients disclosed her nerve and e quickness of mind. She was attacked e in a ward by a powerful woman, who is had taken offense because for miscon r- duct she had been forbidden to go with e the other patients to the noonday meal. L, The nurse, being alone with her, had i t incautiously turned her back upon the t k patient. The infuriated woman crept a e up, and seizing the little nurse by the r d waist, lifted her from her feet and - spun round and round with her like a t - top. t h The nurse was completely in the a t power of an uncontrollable lunatic, f e whose excitement and frenzy were in- s s creasing every instant. It would have t gone hard with her if she had lost her s presence of mind. g What she did while she was whirling e in the air was to take a large pin fast- r f eing the belt of her uniform .and a o thrust it into the woman's arm. The a e assailant, startled by the sudden pain, i j relaxed her grip and released her pris Soner. I Then the nurse faced her, and had o her instantly under control. Looking I a her in the eyes, she sternly ordered her o c to go to her room and get into bed. b The woman, completely cowed, obeyed , a like a child. The same quick wit enabled a sur- c a geon to save the life of a hospital pa- t t tient who was undergoing a critical h operation. The assistants had dropped their in- p struments, for the patient's heart had apparently ceased to beat. "She is ce dead," they said; "it is tseless to go on." li The surgeon seized a pitcher of hot it water and poured into the gaping h wound. "Go on with your work!" he d cried. The circulation of blood was imme- m diately restored by the sudden access ft of heat. The operation was quickly vi completed. The patient lived and was st restored to health. tl Often it is the simplest device which a, turns the delicate scale of life and death; but only the coolest head can sr think of it in time.-Youth's Compan- ai ion. TOES TURNED IN. a in How a Distingulshed Maln Was Iemem bered by an Admirer. A lady who recently had the good fortune to meet a distinguished man and spend half an evening in his com- a pany, was eagerly questioned after wards by her friends i-ith regard to st him. Her impressions were highly fa vorable. She found him brilliant, cour teous. kindly and agreeable. "And how did he look?" inquired It one friend at length, after his manners and conversation had been fully de scribed. pi "lie is very good-looking-even hand- lii some," was the reply. Then after a se slight pause she added, pensively. "lBut di I wish I wasn't sure that I should al- w ways remember him sitting' with his le feet planted rather far apart on the os rug. and his toes turned in." to "His toes turned in!" echoed the be other ladies in dismay. ar "Turned very much in," replied the ur lady who had met him; and it is safe to assume that not one of those who heard at her say so, can ever again think of this so revered literary idol independently of th his toes. I It is of course ridiculous to be in con- san stant fear of ridicule, and it is con- we temptible to pose for effect. Neverthe- fu less, if many people realized in what 'fi particular attitudes the memories of pr their friends most readily recalled them, their carriage and outward de- ca meanor would be sensibly improved. tel It is a trick of memory to catch and to retain tricks of pose. People who know fu us seldom think of us as looking our me best,-unless our best is the way we lit look every day, but as looking most be natural, most familiar, most character- wl istic- da If a person is in the habit, when talk ing, of nursing an elbow in each hand as and rocking to and fro, or of rumpling p his hair, or stirring the dimples in his w knuckles with a forefinger, tnme memo- a ries of his friends take in the conscious- e, ness of the act like so many kodaks. cet Their minds hold in remembrance the sea absurd and trifling peculiarity, which, for in the man's more flattering picture of himself, he never sees at all. of It is true that little personal tricks a and attitudes sometimes gain a charm dec from merely being characteristic, and ful that an absent friend is often recalled ani most affectionately in an attitude tal whose very awkwardness has beuome thu dear. Nevertheless, it is probable that ma the friend, could he know it, would prefer to be remembered in a position less natural to him, but more becom- cus ing. pea The distinguished author who turned (ain in his toes would doubtless rather be son thought of with toes turned out, even brO by an admirerardent enough to believe wh the former position permissible. Grace, eat like goodness, is a quality that we all w' of us admire and should try to culti- dea vate.-Youth's Companion. In -"Why did everybody laugh so long Iwh overthat. story of old Boreby's? It jas wasan't a bit *ub-y." "They were nat afrsaid he would tell auoer if they too FIRESIDE FRAGMENTS. IL. -Russian Tea.-Pare and slice fresh juicy lemons and lay a piece in the rt bottom of each cup; sprinkle with te white sugar and pour hot, strong tea >r upon it. Serve without eream.-House k. keeper. a- -Baked-nash.-Mix well about equal portions finely minced cold meat of any n kind and minced cold potato, moisten it with milk, gravy or soup stock-never i- with water-season with salt and pep g per, make into a roll, put in a buttered e, pan and bake in the oven. This, if d properly prepared and cooked, will be r delicious hash.-Boston Herald. -Pie Crust.-Rub thoroughly one n cupful of lard into two cupfuls of flour, I. to which has been added a little salt. n Mix with enough ice water to make a r- soft paste, but which can be rolled out d thinly. Do not handle more than nec d essary, as upon that and the coldness f of the water depends it flakiness. f Have the filling of the pies ready be I fore making the crust, as it should not stand before using.-Housekeeper. S--Omelette Souffle.-For this an I earthen pudding dish should be uied. d Butter it warm. Beat the yolks of two o eggs with a tablespoonful of powdered i sugar and half a teaspoonful of vanilla extract. Then beat the whites of four * eggs until stiff, and whip them lightly into the flavored yolks. Pour the mix e ture into the dish and bake at once in a moderate oven from ten to twelve e minutes. Serve immediately. I -Braised Tongue. - Simmer the a tongue two hours. Tie the tip to the thick part. Brown two tablespoonfuls e of butter, add two tablespoonfuls of flour, pour on one quart of hot stock. add one-half of a carrot, one-half of a i turnip, one onion, one cut potato, one r sprig of parsley, two bay leaves, one stalk of celery, one tablespoonful each i of Worcestershire and mushroom catch up. Add to the tongue and bake one and one-half hours. Boil sauce down e and pour over tongue.-Good House keeping. -Tropical Snow.-Ten sweet oranges pared and grated, two glasses sherry, one cup powdered sugar, six bananas. Peel and cut the oranges small, taking ' out the seeds, put a layer in a glass bowl and wet with wine, then strew with sugar, next put a layer of grated cocoanut. slice the bananas thin and cover the cocoanut with them; when the dish has been filled in this order 1 heap with ooecoanut; eat soon or the oranges will toughen.-Detroit Free Press. I -Cucumber Salad.-Peel and slice the Icucumbers very thin, sprinkle with a little salt, cover with bits of cracked Sice. Let them remain thus half an hour before they are wanted; then drain, and they will be crisp and with out any bitterness. For the dressing mix slowly together two tablespoon fuls salad oil with the same amount of vinegar, and a teaspoonful each of sugar and white pepper. Pour it over the cucumbers just before meal time anl serve.-Orange Judd Farmer. -Sponge Cake.-Take one cupful of sugar, four eggs, one cupful of flour and one level teaspoonful of baking powder. Beat the yolks of the eggs and sugar together, then add the flour in which you have put the baking pow der. Lastly stir in the beaten whites of the eggs. This makes one loaf. ,laked on a long shallow tin this makes a very nice rolled jelly cake. I have used this recipe often and like it, both for jelly cake and sponge cake. It should be baked quickly.-Prairie Far mer. SUMMER FANCY WORK. It Slay Save Time In Future as Well as Kill It Now. On all the porches and out on the piers one sees pretty hands engaged in light work which in some cases never sees the light after it is made to dc duty as a killer of time during the warm weather. Many an utterly worth less bit is wrought out in endless stitch es, which might have been put to bet ter service if only a little thought had been exercised in the selection of the article or articles that pass muster under the head of fancy work. A few hints may not come amiss even at this late date. Instead of starting something more than usually elaborate that will in all probability never be finished, point the needle toward some smaller and less discouraging bit of work that can form a part of the great fund of Christmas gifts that one never finds time to.prepare during the rush preceding the popular holiday. In the list of articles that are easy to carry about and yet are worthy the at tention bestowed upon them are fine towels that can be made more beauti ful by drawn work or embroidered with monograms either in wash silks or linen thread. Even one of these would be rarely appreciated by a housekeeper who dotes on .dding to her linen closet dainty eteeteras of all sorts. Next to towels, in the order of their actual merit, are all the pretty ap pointments for the table, from the wine glass and butter-plate doilies up to the largest bit of its kind-the cen ter scarf. The smaller pieces are, how- a ever, the handiest to carry about and P certainly a dozen doilies or initialed a serviettes are no mean present, either s for oneself or for one's friend. Bureau covers, or dainty little pieces of drawn wvork for the tops of pin cushions, or to be put td the hundred and one uses a woman intuitivelv un derstands, all are sensible and delight- t ful bits of work to occupy the hands and the time with, and will more cer tainly be finished as to one's satisfaction than if more pretentious efforts aee Ii made.--Chicago Times. Two strange Death Cstemas. In some parts of England a queer custom is still in vogue, which is re peated whenever a death occurs. It is called the "bite of sin," and whenever some one in a house dies a piece of bread is laid on the breastof the corpse which some stroller-by is persuaded to h eat for a good sum of money. In this way it is believed that the sins of the a dead are transferred tothe living, who in turn can shove them off together with his own by a similar ceremony when his life comes to an end. On the Sandwich Islands the widows have the names of their departed husbands tat. -l toced on their to~nu.~-V-· m.Iwd ~Sre b WOMAN AND HOME. he PRETTY LITTLE.. OLOAK. th ea rew to m]ake an Artstle Ularment fe 3m a Girl--The I ateriea Usaed by toe I1 venter or This Charmlan Desiam Was a ta worm-Ot Dese of Considerable Am tigatty. en Economy does not necessarily sacri e. flee daintiness and beauty to useful ,pr ness. Some of the prettiest dresses ed imaginable are "made over" dresses, if and the number of bewitching little be garments our grown-up clothes are capable of being turned into for the me tiny folks is legion. ir, The little cloak illustrated here is a one of the ."made-overs," and I am ut quite sure no prettier need be asked ,c- for to put a little four-year-old maiden as into. It is very simple, but I was con as- verted to the doctrine of simplicity for ' children long ago. ot The materials for the little cloak n were-well, a worn-out dress belong d Ing to a former generation! To be sure, the worn-outness was not uni ved ersal-only the sleeves really. So the ed little coat has all the wear of new goods in it. The body is dark blue r plaied off with lines of gold and red, ly the sleeves of plain blue to match the ' ground-work of the plaid, and the cuffs and yoke of blue velvet. Blue ve ribbons tie under a little round chin. However, the material is immaterial! Colors and goods may vary to suit a body's taste-and worn-out dresses! of Ic, a ie :h re e g I ARTISTIC LITTLa CLOAK. a Or goods fresh from the counter may d be treated acceptably in just this n fashion. n The pattern in this case was adapted t -turned "wrong side foremost"-from I a round-yoke French Mother Hubbard. :- The little yoke may be either round or t f square-the little illustration shows a t 1 happy medium. The cloak is plaited c r instead of gathered to the yoke, with e only a narrow heading, and the plaits a are side-plaits running each way from v f a broad double box-plait in the center a r of the back and from the.opening in i 1 front. The sleeves are very full and a plaited into the arm-size rather than r gathered, and plaited, too, into the vel- , - vet cuffs. Two long strips of material t s (lined heavily with "stiff'ning") are p plaited into a stiff little frill that s stands upright on either shoulder. r e These epaulets are graduated in width, li 1 from quite broad in the center to very c t narrow where they merge into the arm- tl size altogether on either side. Long o ribbons tie at the throat, and a hook n and loop fasten the yoke at its lower 9 end. And there you have the little coat complete! Could it be simpler or more childish? In my own eyes it is very e dainty and charming.-Annie Hamil- ii ton Donnell. in Country Gentleman. FASHIONABLE CHAIRS. a Chippendale and Sheraton Styles Are the d Most Popular. tl At a recent sale of old furniture the g most eagerly sought-for specimens s were noticeably the rather gaudy Em- o pire styles, gilt chairs, onyx tables and ti "whatnots," ormolu cabinets, mirrors, ti etc. Next in public estimation evi- e, dently came specimens of Chippendale's o1 tl w hi was quite noticeable that the Gothic or wood-carving so much admired a dee- or ade ago had gone off in the ever-fickle wi public estimation, as there seemed ab- n solutely no sale for the many beautiful 'k specimens which were shown. As a ha guide as to what is fashionable in chairs nowadays, we give a sketch of three-an Empire, a Chippendale and a Sheraton- all perfect specimens of tb their kind. The Night to Lie Singaleal It has hitherto been the law in Japan that is a woman was not married by a eertain age the authorities picked out t a man and compelled him to marry her. The mikado has just abandoned this usage. In luture Japanese women will be allowed to live and die maids, do as in European countries. th The Inlmesee of Womn, ei "No man ever lived a right life who ha has not been chastened by a wom- t an's love, strengthened by her courange and guided by her discretion."-John - Ruskin. * - Thse Wrong Plane. Poet-I have a poem here to sell Editor (harshly)-Euse .me, but in this i~ not a junk shop. Around the isOrpe plEease)rontrjit Wigs 11w. Tllr adaeeoor Paau .4. FAMILY SCRAP BAG.* Arvra knives have been eleaoedt may be brilliantly polished with e coal powder. IN making coffee the broraer bottom and the smaller the toioOf t " vessel in which you prepare it the ~te ter the coffee will be. .i- SIK handkerchiefs should be washeA r . in a suds, made with castile soap aixl: as tepid water. They should never be wrung out, but just shaken and ironed: [ with a cool iron. TEnna is nothing better for cleanIln7" copper kettles than powdered b.-' e and soap. Wet a coarse cloth inl water, soap it well, and apriWd*le is it the powdered borax. -.. n Wnax stewing fruit, or, in fact,wbhew: d cooking anything in an open vessel d n not leave the spoon in if you swlasi* have it boil quickly. The spoon c* ries a portion of the heat off into thie: air. k Monday proves a stormy day the white clothes, after washing,. should-"' f- be put into clean water and wait.fotr y e the hanging untiL fair weather. Callz - coos and flannels should not be washed. e until fair weather. W BRAss ornaments should be first be washed with a strong lye made of rock-alum, in the proportion of one - Sounce of alum to a pint of water. , e When dry rub with leather and fine s ° tripoli. This will make the brass brill- r L iant. THns is one of those simple things . a which few people know of. If you are in a Pullman car get a pillow from the- .' porter, put it on your. lap and plae - your writing materials on it. The elasticity of the pillow will insure smoothness. Where a pillow canne be obtained use a shasvl or coat. A COFFPPEE pot with a strainer of aluminum that will not rust nor cor rode, a bread-knife with the cutting ., edge in reflex curves, that is warranted. not to crumble nor crush warm or very light bread, and liquid 'hoeolate in pound cans, ready for use in layer • , cake, are some of the new conveniences . offered by the stores. SoME women unwisely try toenhancg the brilliancy of thier eyes by expos ing them to an air slightly impreg nated with a powerful .acid or rub over each eye a tiny quantity of bella donna ointment. This artifielal dilar tion has again and again been the means of injuring the sight. Plenty of sleep and good digestion are the best cosmetics for the eye. HOUSEHOLD NOTES. P oum stone is one of the best things to use in removing stains of any kind from the hands. GOLD and silver jewelry may be thoroughly cleaned by a strong solu tion of ammonia-a teaspoonful to a cup of water. RL'usiG all sorts of vessels and uten siles with charcoal powder is a good way to rid them of old smells that seem to defy the sand and water scour ing. AN apple poultice is said to be s . good a thing for sore eyes that it is used regularly in French hospitals, but any poultice is dangerousforanon professional to apply to the eye. DrRT on a wall paper can be most readily removed by rubbing over it lightly a lump of dough made of the coarsest flour, and but little stiffer than for a pudding. Stale bread is often used for this purpose, but it is not so valuable as the dough, as the latter leaves no crumbs. The Training of Girls. The foundation of society rests o its homes. The success of our homes rests on the wives. Therefore, first of all, teach our girls how to be success ful wives. Begin in their infancy to develop their characters. Teach them that, jealousy is an immorality, and gossip a vice. Train them to keep the smallest promise as sacredly as an oath, and to speak of people only as they would speak to them. Teach them to look for the best quality in everyone they meet, and to notice other people's faults only to avoid them. Train them to do small things well and to delight in helping others, and instill constantly into their minds . the necessity for sacrifiqe for others' pleasure as a means of soul develop ment. Once given a firm foundation "4 of character like this, which the poor est as well as the richest can give to their girls, and no matter what neces sity arises, they will be able to-rise - above it--Womankind. To Wash the Hatr. Por washing the hair, particularly such as is inclined to be oily, nothing . is better than the common hard soap of the kitchen. A woman who has used it frequently herself and seen..its benefits tested in other cases pre scribes it with strong falth. "Make a strong suds," she says, "'rub it quickly on the hair and wash it off again, at once. After that any scented soap or wash may be used in the way of an ordi nary shampoo." An English maid,wh is 'amed for the care of her mistre hair, may be taken in further testi-l mony of the same article, as the only wash she uses is soapsuds thickened, with a teaspoonful of glycerin had the white of an egg. Undobedl" women waste money in expensivi b haIr beautifiers and preservers. Simple'i means right to one's hand are just "ns effeetive. The pnlp of a lemo6n, for h, stanoo, rubbed on the roots of the hlar will stop ordinary cases of fellng oth Suash Pie WlUaet s u . Bake the squash in the- ~s done, semove with a spoon tads through a colander. nFor nept eight tablespoonfuls of the half a cap of sugar and out j·iijs third eaup of bolling ,millkfh rPdii milk. 4ibwly ovej the squash,.. rapldly ef4uib~ie, to make h lure light. flake-in band eimi '