HIS PARENT'S OPINION.
He's never boon to college and has Httle use for books,
Except tlio ones with lota of pictures In.
no's not a fluent talker, though you'd think It from his look,
Hut pretty eoon we think that he'll begin.
We don't know how ho leurned bo much.
You'd bo surprised to bco wh at marvelous intelligence ho shows,
It's Just a sourco of never-falling wonder, sir, to me,
The heaps of things our Httlo baby knows.
Some children are accomplished; Uiey can do a lot of things,
And do a number of them fairly well.
One dances to perfection and another plays or sings,
Or in some other manner may excel
But not at two years, often. They're comparatively old.
Our little skcczlcks now Is barely two.
You hardly would believe me, I imagine, It I told
You half the things our little one can do.
I've hoard of other babies that their parents brag about,
They're prodigies, you'd naturally think.
The fond and foolish fathers quite believe It all, no doubt,
But 1 Just smile and turn my head and wink.
I'm not disposed to blame them for their foolishness a bit,
They've got to mako the most of what they've got.
But If you saw our youngster you would cheerfully admit
The cunning little rascal beats the lot.
-Chicago News.
mm
a
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"Times are not what they used to
be," the old house complained, rattling
one of its loose shutters dismally. .
"Once 1 was the tlnest and the
proudest house In town, now I'm a
bad property. No one wants me to
live in; I'm too old-fashioned. I've
been all kinds of homes for the friend
less, but even they don't stay. I'm
too drafty and expensive to keep up.
Hero I am, going to wreck and ruin
outside, and Inside, my furniture Is
going to wreck and ruin, too.
"Once I was an aristocratic man
sion, built on the edge of the town In
the center of beautiful grounds. Now
my grounds are like a swamp. The
grass Is never cut, the trees are never
trimmed and my flowers have all run
out from lack of cultivation. There
are cracks In my wulls. My floors
are wigging and my frescoes are flak
ing off. It's hard luck for an old
house to be a bad property.
"The family that built me and lived
In mi. through three generations Is
dond and gone. I belong to a distant
OA'CE
WAS
AN ARI8T0CKATIC
S10N."
MAS-
relative. He has no sentiment and
doesn't care to preserve me for the sake
of family associations. 'Sometime,'
he says, 'the land will bo good busi
ness property, let the old house go.'
I supjoso because the city is growing
so fast out this way, In time my land
will be valuable. 1 hear It roaring
toward me the city and I hate the
Round. It'll tear me to pieces some
day and I won't be even a memory.
"My family was rich and well born.
I've been all sorts of happenings un
der my roof. There have been court
ships, and marriages, and births, and
funerals, and sorrows, and gladness.
It was all gladness for a time, then
there began to be sorrows. I forget
those. I forget the funerals and re
member only the gay days when there
were dinners, and balls, and parties,
and music, and dancing.
"I remember the days when my col
lars were filled with the fatness of the
land and we kept open house from one
New Year's day to another. There
were big fires glowing and crackug
on my .hearths In winter, and there
were soft, flower-scented airs stealing
through the lace curtains of my win
dows in summer. I've heard lovers
whispering their vows. I've seen
brides welcomed home and I've seen
the daughters of the house have grand
weddings and go to other homo? as
brides. Time went with dancing feet
when I was In my prime and they
pointed mc out as the finest residence
In the town. It's all changed now.
There's rone to come and go or to
keep my doors from rusting on their
hinges. There's none to watch for an- r
other's coming through my windows.
There's no youth, no life, no llgnt
within my walls because I am too ov
pensive a place for the poor to keep
up, and too old-fashioned for the rich.
Besides that, I'm not In a good putt
of the city. It's sad to be a bad prop
erty. "The holidays are especially hard to
bear. In tho old tluys I was filled to
overflowing with company. My, my,
what pranks they (wII And what
dlunera were cooke yjny big kitch
en! 1 cau smell the pasting nieata
and fowls to-day, and the sweet, spicy
fragrance of the plum cakes and pod
dings.
"Christmas was a merry time. What
presents they exchanged, what Biir
prises they gavo one another! No
sleep till la to on Christmas eve, and
up before daylight In the morning.
Children's feet went pattering across
my floors to get tho Christmas stock
ings, filled to bursting, hanging before
the fireplace of my biggest chimney
heard whisperings and gigglings, then
that nearly made mo burst my sides
with longing to laugh in sympathy.
"And New Year's day! Ah, then
was the time when open houses were
in fashion and I was the favorite of
them all. There was the rustle of rich
silks through my halls, beautiful la
dies thronged my parloft, and gentle
men who came to call, forgot to go
away and spent the day, unwilling to
leave my comfort and attractions. In
the evening there was always a dance
In the ball-room at the top of mo.
have a spring floor up thero that was
like air for light feet to trip across,
and I've heard the violins and the
'cello and the booming bass viol mako
the sweetest, saddest, most bewitch
ing music that set me to throbbing on
my foundations
"Times are not what they used to
be. Nobody keeps the holidays now
as tliey did when I was new. The
wind howls icily and cruelly In the
cold throats of my chimneys. Thero
are no leaping fires on my hearths to
drive It back; there's nothing but si
lenco and chill and emptiness.
"1 can almost see the old Judge
again he was tho last of the family
going down the walk. He was a
stately gentleman and clung to the old
customs and style of dress. Tho new
generation of people laughed because
ho wore a swallow tall coat to church
and kept on making New Year's calls
long after every one else had stopped
Toward tho end he came back to me
looking sad and weary. Probably he
was not made to feel cordially wel
come where he went. Ho was like I
am, a survival of other years. Tho
holidays became hard for him to bear,
r.nd, though his form was erect and
his board carried proudly to the last,
I think ho was glad to go. Sometimes
I wish I would take fire and burn. At
least I should be warm again all over.
"Christmas was a horrid day."
"After all, there Is a bright side to
being a bad property. Something hap
pened to me to-day that makes me
face a new year more willingly. I am
to be of use and appreciated. Some
one Is coming to live In me. In truth,
they've come already. I can hear her
singing now while she moves about
and puts my furniture In order.
"It was only a few hours ago when
I felt a key turning In the lock of my
front door. It was so long since a key
had been turned there, that it shrieked
ns if in pain. Tho next thing I heard
was a fresh young voice saying: 'Isn't
this a dear old house. I shall love to
live here, sweetheart.'
"Theu I heard a man's voice speak.
" 'Can you really be happy In this
old bam of a place, dearest? (Up
start.) 'We may not have to stay here
Jong, but they were so anxious for
someone to live in It, they let us havu
It rent free and that was a great In
ducement with an income like ours,'
ho went on. Terhaps I shouldn't have
married you until wo had more mon
ey.' "He said this a little wistfully, and
I began to like him better. 'It's a
lovely place; so stately and old-fashioned.
Wo need live In only two or
three of tho rooms, but In summer we
can throw it all open and protend
we're grand people,' the girl's voice
answered. 'You couldn't have mar
ried mo if I hadn't beon willing, and
I was very willing, sweetheart, ho
very willing, I can do happy any
where with you. We can save monoy
while we llvo hero and that will bo
such a comfortable feeling.'
" 'Dearest!' tho man's voice said.
"Thero was a littlo Bllence. I am a
wise old house, I've seen such things
before, and I know what was going
on. They were in each other's arms,
standing together on the threshold of
a life, which, to their vision, was nil
rose color, lovo and happiness. I'vo
seen It all before. I'm a wise old house.
"Tho girl wanted to stay from the
moment sho ontercd. There was no
going away to return to-morrow for
her. 'No,' she said, 'lot's begin tho
new year in our new, old home. I'm
going to hang my hat up and mako
myself at homo right away.'
"She had such a sunshlno voice, and
her step was so light and springy I
could hardly feel her foot pressing
my floors when she stepped.
"They throw open niy long-closed
shutters and let tho sun stream In
through my chill, gloomy rooms, driv
ing away the shadows. They built a
fire on the hearth lu the very heart of
mo and I began to feel life pulsating
through my dry old boards. After a
while tho man wont awny to get their
belongings, I heard him say. The
girl walked with him to the door and
they kissed each other good-bye as If
their partings were for always Instead
of for an hour. It Is comforting to
have youth and lovo within my walls
once more. I've missed them both for
so long.
"The girl watehod the man out of
sight and then camo back to mc,
crooning a happy, littlo song. Sho went
through all of mo with housewifely
care and a tiny frown of responsl
blllty on her brow. It was funny to
watch her.
" 'Dear, dear,' she said, 'such an aw
ful lot of dust everywhere What a
shame to neglect this beautiful old
place.'
"I lovo that girl.
"He camo back In a very short time,
considering what he had to do, and
they're here to live. I suppose some
day they'll go away like all tho rest
of my people, but I won't think alwut
that now. Their names are Dearest
and Sweetheart, at least I have not
heard them call each other by any
different, but they're names I lovo,
and It's years slnco they've been
spoken within my walls.
"There's a homo fire burning on the
hearth In the heart of me. It's good
to bo nllvo and warm at tho heart. It
brings back youth and happiness to be
warm at the heart." Toledo Blade.
Climate mid Coiinuiupdon.
Wo are to-day learning tho truth
that there Is no particular climate for
consumption. Wherever can bo found
pure nir tho less moisture In it Uie
hotter there will the sufferer from
tuberculosis bo able to fight his dis
ease sometimes to a successful fin
ish if ho can at the same time ob
tain the proper rest and food.
Two generations ugo this doctrine
would have been hooted at as the de
lusion of a madman, yet It is the
truth. Tho mountain sanatoria of
Switzerland, the pine woods of Prus
sia, of Canada and of New York, the
Ice fields of Alaska boar witness to
It. Tuberculosis is stopped by the
pure air of all these varied climates;
and It has been accident far more
than design, experience far more than
theory, that found this out. One gen
eration ago tho wholo Southwest
would have been at tho North avIUi
the plcturesquo bowie or Colt, had any
one dnred openly to assert, much less
to insist on, such a pernicious doc
trine, but to-day those who are seri
ously studying the facts feel com
polled to acknowledge tho truth of it,
while the advocates of climate per se
are beginning to say nay, are eager
to have us understand that their cli
mate Is not everything; that It won't
work miracles, and that thero are
some cases of consumption that their
glorious climate will not cure; and
whot a change! there are to be heard
protests, hero feeble, there vigorous,
against the unhappy habit long ago
planted by tho Southwest, now firmly
rooted in tho North and East, of send
ing all sorts and conditions of tuber
culous patients by tons, by thousands,
by tens of thousand, Into that climate
to be cured. Albert Hale in Header.
The American Chuiueleoii.
The American chameleon, a small
lizard (Anolis caroilneiiBls), inhabits
various parts of the southern United
States. Tho little animal has tho re
markable habit of quickly and com
pletely changing Its colors, varying
from brown to yellow of pale green.
Its food consists of Insects. The lit
tle animal is perfectly harmless to
higher forms of life, is often kept as
a pet, and has been worn uttached to
a chain as an ornament.
Tho toes aro provided with adhe
sive puds, which enable the lizard to
run upon smooth vertical surfaces.
St Nicholas.
We all of us claim to be natural, but
we all of us know thut tho only time
when wo are not puttlug on Is when wo
aro asleep.
LIFE PRISONER OV LOVE.
Forty-llvo years ago, when tho
evenfs that led to the present state of
affairs began the farm of tho Plu
tners was known far and wide for tho
excellence of its cattle, Its sheep, Its
orchards, from which came the Unost
apples and from them tho best cider
in New Hampshire; tho abundance of
Its hay, Its ncres of thriving woodland
and Its fertile pastures.
Old Kphralni IMumor, tho grand
father of the present generation, had
como from "down Rochester way"
when tho great oak treo that stands
In front of the house was about iih big
as "a common stake," to quote the
phrase attributed by legend to the
first settlers. lie bought a small tract
of laud and ho bullded him a small
hut.
Things were prospering with him
and when he died his son Samuel
erected the present largo house and
found It necessary soon after to add a
great barn to tho original hewn-oak
one, so fertile did tho hay fields prove.
So when Joseph IMumer, tho pres
ent bedridden one.cauie to young man
hood It was with as brilliant pros
pects as were possescd by any farmer
In New Hampshire. lie had two
younger brothers, Uphralni and Sam
uel, Jr. It is these who take care of
him to-day, preparing his food, mak
ing over his bed at times, tending him
at all times as they might a helpless
child.
Joseph entered his twentieth year
sturdy and looked upon with pride by
his father as his very worthy success
or. And It was Just here that lovo
entered tho game, not to glorify It as
love has so often done, but to start
the unfortunate chain of events that
has ended with tho present misery.
It began when the young man went
with his father one bright May morn
ing to purchase a yoke of oxen. While
the" father talked trade the son wan
dered from tho circle of mere busi
ness tilings and in his mcauderlngs
came upon tho pretty daughter of tho
owner with whom his father was
busy.
Well, the maid was pretty and tho
time was spring! And in a few mo
ments what cared Joseph for oxen or
tho way they wore traded? The only
tiling ho remembers about the trado
to this day Is that one of the oxen had
a splash of white on its side.
After that Joseph went over tho
hills again and again to the houso of
tho man who sold oxen, but oxen had
nothing to do with the case now. It
was the old story of the man and the
maid, and though she was only 10
she was willing to marry Joseph when
ho asked her was he not the most
eligible swain In all tho countryside?
He went homo and announced tho
bliss that had como to him to his fa
ther. But father, forgetting the days
of his youth, demurred.
"Why," remarked the father, "In the
first place the girl Is only id years
old."
"But wo love each other," cried the
youth, "and we must marry."
"You can not; tho girl Is only 10.
What you need Is work, not a wife."
"Well, then, I tell you, father," ex
claimed the lad, "you who care more
that I should work than that I should
bo happy; for every one of those six
teen years I will refuse to work. I
will llvo here, but I will not work. I
am going to bod now and I will not
get up to-morrow until I choose. And
If I so choose I won't got up at all."
It was by that statement, combined
with tho Inherent stubbornness that
had characterized tho houso of Plumer
for years, that Joseph condemned him
self to all these years of Imprison
ment.
Tho next day he would not come
from his room. His father pleaded
with him, offering everything but his
consent to the marriage. But tho boy
was obdurate.
Tho father4 did not attempt to tarr
his son out. Ho directed that food
should be sent lu at each meal tlm
and that Joseph should havo anythiur
within reason that ho asked for.
It Is not recorded that the boy ever
attempted to communicate with th
girl for whom ho had gono Into volutin
tary imprisonment, but she heard of
It somehow and soon after a now woo
er camo and won a brldo. And botfc
aro dead and gono long ago.
Thero camo a draft In tho civil war
days and Joo was named. This wa
two years ofter ho had ceased from
all tolling and spinning. Ho was tol
that ho was on tho list and ho wont to
Portsmouth to be examined.
Thero the physicians passed him,
but ho Insisted that ho was sick. HI
family somehow wanted him at home,
so they hired John 15. Goodwin, a
prominent shoo manufacturer, to go to -Portsmouth
lu his interests.. '
Thero year ofter year ho hns stay
ed. Through the windows ho caa
look out upon tho hills of his child
hood. Ho knows every bush, every hollow,
every treo. Year after year, day afte
day ho has conned the sceno till the
very stones are familiar.
Tho reporter was led Into tho kitch- '
en through a dliiltig-room which waa
furnished with absolutely nothing but
u magnificent grandfather's clock and
a small collection of priceless old cupa.
and saucers. " ,
After Kphralm had recalled that hhi -father
died twenty-four years ago
remembered It on account of tho fact
that tho old man had purchased
ram three days before tho event
tho reporter was led in to sco Joo, a
tho vernacular of the household called
him. It Is a littlo room with two groat
windows, through which one may looaj
out across tho valley. Ho Is in a groat
four-ponter bed, strung with ropes la
tho fashion of our great-grandfathera,
which sags lu the middle
Ono cau scarcely see why it should
sag with tho weight of the skeleton
that sits upon it.
His beard and hair arc long and uo
kempt. His voice Is a bourse whl
per.
"I havo had cloven doctors," h
said, "and only two of them have evei
dono mo any good."
"I wish I had my health and
strength and was young again. I
would marry and have my children to
comfort me." Ho sighed as his life
less hands dropped back upon the cov
erlet
Her Vint Turkey.
It was the day before Thanksgiving,
Mrs. Ray's first ono as tho mistress of
a home. Mary, the cook, had beea
hurriedly called awny by tho sickness
of her mother. Fortunately, tho des
serts had already been made. But ther
was the turkey to be stuffed and
roasted.
Mrs. Rny before her marriage had
been a teacher of embroidery, and aha
knew very Httlo about cooking. Sha
did not feel well enough acquainted:
with tho neighbors to ask them hovr
to preparo tho turkey.
With determined air sho wont Into
tho kitchen, put on Mary's big blue
gingham apron, rolled up her sleoves
and with a shudder attacked tho tur
key. No cook book could ho found, bo tha
stuffing had to bo from an original
recipe.
After tho stuffing was made and
coaxed into tho turkey, tho question
aroso how to keep it there during tha
roasting. Mrs. Ray was sorely pua
zled. Then a happy thought came to
her. She mado two buttonholes, sewed
on pearl buttons, and buttoned tho stuf
ting In.
Time flies so fast as a man crowa
older that It seems to him ho has his
Sunday clothe,! on all tho time.
