A HINT,
?: <• Out Daisy lay down
Ty;: la hor white nightgown,
And kissed me attain ami again
On for.bead nml cheek,
On li| a that could speak,
t Dal found themselves, shut to their gain.
1 / Tlion foolish, absurd,
To uttor a word,
i & I asked her the question so old,
That wife and thut lover,
... Asked over and over.
As if they were surer when told.
There eloso at her side,
, ••Do you love mo!” I cried:
: She liftesi tier golden-crowned hoad,
'lx A puszled surprise
f - frihono In her gray eyes—
* “Why, that’s why I kiss you.” sho said
-Glo’oo Democrat.
The Actor's btory.
DV jo:i\ < OLHTIAN.
A T
S" ;
if
f
«5-<
si . .
CHAPTEK VI -dovTiNUEn.
Flora foun<l Jcannio McPhoraatt
hovering ’twixt life mid (lentil. The
naolo of tliu perpetrator of t he outrage
Wa« hardly hinted among the servant*,
but no ouo dared to speak out. Of
courseii Flora had her own suspicions.
"It is nir ill-wind that blows no
body good." and it was well for tho
girl that her young mistress had
returned. or McAllister would
have found that his bru
tality hud betrayed him to murder,
l'oor Jounnio’s sufferings somewhat
diverted Flora's mind from her own
troubto Iter first duty now was to
hor faithful hand-maiden whom sho j
nursed with assiduous tenderness.
Next morning tit daybreak, when j
tho fishermen went out to cast their j
neta they fouud Curly lying, bathed I
in blond, wbare ho had fallen the
night boforo. Snvo for some faint pul
sation of tho heart, ha was to all ap
peal anee quite dead. M'Diurtnid and
three or four of the men carried him 1
to Sandy’s collage, where tbo guidwifo ]
applied fomentations. and for hours j
and hours ehafod the frigid limbs till 1
they slowly revived to lifo. but con- '
aciousncss and speech hail wholly left,
him. At htsl they succeeded In forcing
a spoonlul or two of whiskey and milk
down hU throat and thus they kept
body and sottl together for somodays.
At length David Donaldson had got
the better of h.s fall, and was for re.
turning to tho Ferry, l.o had a kind
heart hud honnst Davio. and when ho
■aw poor Curly In this noful plight he
forgavo him his own cruet, on the
head, which was a stinger, and re*
3s. membered only that Curly had given
ifr him nine golden.:overoigns. Then he
volunteered to go to Dundee and
•apriog" a guinea for a surgeon.
, Next day ho returned w.th Dr.
Dixon, the famous theatrical physi
> elan, who recognized Curly instantly.
ff despite his haltered condition.
"<iood God!” exclaimed the doctor,
•this is ao awful business. Concus
sion of the brain—compound fracture!
Who did it? It'd murder or man
slaughter at the least! No ucrideht
here, but a foul blow. Who did it?
IP ye hear?-'
M’Diarmid replied. »•Do’ll o’ me
f-- kens, or ony o' thno chaps. -AVo
found the puir laddio lying at the foot
o’ the great muckle hill, yestreen was
a wook past"
That was all the Information Dl\on
could obtain. l>oubllcss M’Diarmid
and Davie had their suspicions us to
how the outrage occurred, but they
kept their own counsel for the present
l’."'' Di on wasted no llmo in words. Ho
decided that his patient must bo taken !
to Dundee at once. Without delay •
the poor fellow was carried down to i
the con hand M'Diurtnid and Klspctli !
ijv accompanied Davie and the doctor.
the guidwiTe tenderly nursing Curly’s
i , head upon her lap all the way,'and
nover quilting him till bo was safely
ensconced in the infirmary. The poor
soul had a son of his ago tlghtlng tho j
queen’s battles far away in India—so I
aha kissed his fevered brow and mat- >
lered: .,
"Puir bairn! It’s my heart that’s
sad for ye. Puir laddie! pjir laddio!
It’s waa for the mitker that bare ye."
>f:, . "When M’Diarmid led her from tha
room she hissed in his ear: "Sandy,
Hwos yon muckle lang loon with the
corbie's beak and the evil een that did
Jv it Hut he'll never pro per with-the
la sin nor with aught else.”
* Curly’s ease was one that almost
if1;!' ba' od the (acuity, hut Dr. Dixon was
, not to be beaten; he had made up his
< v mtnd to save his patient, and save
U . him he did at last l’erchance it hud
V been better for the poor allow had
he died then and there Tho
• good Samaritans at the infirmary
; - . nursed him by day. watched over him
C by night, with unceasing tenderness
f and care anticipating bis every wish,
fain every look.
’ v Whoa at length. after months of
sV darkness and delirium, the light of
reason began to dawn; thore was gen
t?. eral rejoicing throughout t..e place, for
they had grown to love the poor
»v creature even as though ho were
'Y»: their own khh and kin. Every morn
ing; when Dr. Dixon came in. hU pa
4y tient's face would light up into the
[/ shadow of a smile, and his eye
would follow his nurse with a kind of
dutch dog-liko gratitude. Though
speech was den'ed him he could dis
■ Slaguish all that was said to him. and
^’{£'.1* was. quite touching to see him gen
' tljMnke the hand of nurse or doctor.
> hnd kiss it with some ol the old grace.
When at length Jcunnio M’l'herson
recovered si;o < ould scarcely recog
nise Iter beautiful young mistress in
i>~' the stern, gray woman to whom she
owed hdr life. As soon as she was
!;.• able io speak coherently Flora in
sisted on the truth. When the girl
■i told her, all Floia’s anger against
fX. M’ AUister ripened into openly a owed
ifij: indignation, and tho estrangement
between father and' child was com
plete. As for DeemjNter. she had al
ways disliked him. now sho positive
ly loathed the sight of tho man. Ho
was a constant visitor, but whonever
. be entered the room sho left it—
;V whenever be-at down to table she
rose and (.uitled it without a word.
■iy ' ‘ One day the two men had been
iriaHnw together, and M'Allisler
, .. . ' ' ■
' rought the other In to aiuner. A■
toou as Flora saw him sho rose and
vurnod toward tho door.
■■bide a woo. Flora," said M’Allls*
ter. "It's time to j«ut a stop' to tnls
nonsense. You may ns well aeons tom
yoursotf to Strath mines' company,
becauso I've given my word that you
ure to bo his wife. ”
••And Mr. Doompstor?" she In
quired, coldly.
••Why. look here Flora” replied
Dnn’I.
At the sound of his voice sho drew
herself up disdainfully.
“Sir." sho said. “I have nlroady
erlvon my father an answer, but evi
dently ho has not beon frank with
you. I shall nover marry. If my
mnrrintre eould save tho world and all
thrills in It from destruction, vou nro
iho last man on earth that ) could
over call husband. Gracious God!”
sho criod. bursting out. •'Can this
creature not soo how I hato him? I
loathe iho very sound of his voice.
His sight is poison to mo. For you.
sir. " sho said, turning to hor father.
! • if ever you sutler this mau to ob
1 trade himself on mu again I quit your
roof the next moment.”
1" ho then loft tho room. From that
time forth sho confined herself to her
own apartments; except for her faith
ful Jeannie, sho was always alone.
•'So. after all their scheming, after
jslL !h**ir violence, it had come to
this: Three lives blighted, two hearts
broken, and tho Laird of Slrathmincs
further otT than ever from the one ob
ject on which ho had cent ed bis
hopes, in this world and the next
CHAPTER VII.
Good Samaritans.
Six months and more had elapsed
slnco Willie and Curly had parted.
•Jamieson thought it strange, after all
Donald's urolestationsL (hat he had
pcvoronce written, and the soft place
in his heart grew sore.
At length tho time arrived for the
return of the company to Abordeon.
Ono day. taking a solitary ramble
in tho neighborhood of the Gairloch
Hoad, tho young tragedian encoun
tered a lady and her maid driving in
an open pony carringei Sho looked
at him. and bowed; bo bowed aguin
ns sho passed out of sight. Tho face
evoked an 'impression—not a recol
lection. Yea be had seen a face
somewhere like that before. Could it
bo? Pshaw! No. This woman was
sterner and older—she was twenty
yours older—and yet. how the face
haunted him!
Next morning he fouud a letter on
tho breakfast tnblo. It was an official
looking document, written on blue
pnper. On the outside page was
prinlod in bold characters, • -Royal
Infirmary, Dundee.” Tne superscrip
tion was in a strange hand. Eagerly
tearing open the envelope, he read
these six words:
••Dear Willie—Come to me. Cur
ly.”
Feeble and indistinct as were the
characters, there was no mistake
about ihe writer. Without waiting
for food or anything else Willie ran
down to Johnston's lodgings showed
him tho letter, and asked leave ef ab
sence. The manager, who was not
without just cause for complaint
against Curly for ‘ bolting’' at a mo
ment’s notice, and leaving him in the
lurch, said:
•Ca my lad—go at once. There's
something wrong, depend on’t. Do
you want any tin?”
••Well, I’m not all over money, sir.
and I may want something when I
get to Dundee;”
•Well—take ten pounds. Will
that be enough?”
•Vcuite enough.”
"Stop. Should you need any
more, send for it, and tell the young
beggar that the old berth is open to
him if he likes to come back. Good
by. and good luck to you. Drop mo
a line as soon as you see how the land
Ilea and take a week’s leave of ab
sence, I’ll play Macbeth to-night
and arrange the business for the rest
of the week without you.”
Next morning, by 11 o'clock.
Jnm eson was at the infirmary in
Dundee, Dr. Dixon told him. as far
as ho knsw, all that had happened,
then they went to the Invalid's room
together. They found him sleeping
tranquilly—but oh. so changed—so
worn and wasted—the sight went to
Willie’s heart When poor Curly
nwoko he looked up. their eyes mot
there was a convulsive movement
about the mouth and the muscles of
tho throat, theu he gasped out tho
| first urticulate words be had uttered
for mouths. "Willie, dear old chap. 1
i knew you’d come,” With that ho
put his wasted arms around the
other's neck, and burst out crying
like a child. The doctor blew his
nose till it resounded like a sDeaklmr
trumpet, and withdrew, leaving or
ders for the two young men to be left
alone. Thanks to his influence, they
slept in the same room, so that they
were not separated night nor day
during his short visit. After that
Curly’s recovery, though still slow,
was certain. Jatnleson waa of
course. anxious to know what
had really occurred since
their parting. and how it
was that tho accident or
outrage had happened. One day he
broached the subject but at the mere
mention of Flora’s name the other lell
into a paroxysm of grief, which was
not only terrible to behold, but caused
a relapse of so serious a character as
to bo attended with great danger.
That morning, when Dr. Dixon came
he found his patient trembling, con*
vulscd and speechless. Tho work of
months had been undone in an instant
• What's up?” he inquired.
When Jamieson explained, he
grunted. -Ob, a woman of courses
I might have known that; there al
ways is a woman! That explains the
rest There is a man. then, •doubtless
—another man —and he it is who has
smashed this poor lad's 6lcull. D'ye
ken the murdering thief?"
••I think I do. ” replied Willie. .•■•If
I were sure of it! If only I were sure
of it"
‘if’.'
•Anyhow, you may be quite sureof
one thing." said Dixon. ••The blow
that neurly bludgeoned your friend out
of ilfo came from a loaded weapon of
some sort.”
••If l live,” aaid thootber. ‘Ill find
It out. I know the man—he may es«
capo the law, but,” and he bet bis
teeth, - he shall not escape me. It
may not be to dny. nor to-morrow,
nor noxt week—but sooner or later.
I'll have it out with him as sure as
my nnmo’s Willie Jamieson." And so
tho matter dropped for the present
The doctor gave Curly a composing
draught and next day he began to
mend again, though slowly.
At the end of a week Willie had to
return to Aberdeen to wind up the
season and to take his benefit When
he told Curly thnt he must go, ho
moaned piteously.
"You're not going to leave me so
soon?” Hut he was reassured when
Willie told him that he would return
id a torinigni.
When Jnmieson cot back to Aber
deen, he recalled the mysterious lady.
He understood well enough now who
she wns. So he went straight to
M’Aliister bouse, and asked to see
Flora. Ho encountered tho old man,
who was characteristically insolent,
and demanded to know -‘what, the
blazes he wanted with his daughter,"
A little insolence went a long way
with Jumieson. who could be danger
ous when he was angered? and Mr.
M'Allistcr concluded it was best to be
civil, and even vouchsafed the infor
mation that his daughter had gone to
Edinburgh on a visit to her aunt.
Upon the subject uppermost in both
men's hearts they did not oven touch.
Jamieson departed in an evil mood to
seek L'eempster's house. Fortunately
for the Laird of Strathmines, he, too.
had gone to Edinburgh.
At length it was time to return to
Dundee for the commencement of the
Season.
Thanks to the consideration of the
doctor and the house surgeon, the
rules and regulations of the infirmary
were relaxed in favor of their patient,
and alt the members of the company
—n:on. women and children—were
permitted to come and see him. bring
ingt|Utle presents of flowers and the
like. These visita instead of fatig
uing. brought him daily fresh breaths
of life from the outer world, and he
began to rally rapidly.
[TO BE CONTINUED. ]
THE ART OF FASCINATION.
It Blast He Cultivated Early and la the
Home Circle.
The secret of fascination is one
which many women would sacrifice a
great deal to learn. To cultivate a
charming and attractive manner one
must begin at home, and surely a bet
ter school could not be devised, for
the training is, in its way. perfection.
Here you are sure to find each day
little rubs which must be smoothed
with skilful touch: there is a con
stant mind friction going on even
among the most devoted members of
the household.
It is a painful fact, though none
the loss true, that one's family acts
us a constant counter-irritant. Now
a steady effort to smooth over the
rough placea minister to wounded
hearts and with deft touches erase un
pleasant memories is called for. and
she who obeys tnese summons is pret
ty sure to find herself full able to cope
in the most agreeable fashion with the
outside world.
Few women, however, realize that
a fascination of manner is not born,
but cultivated. It begins to bud in
the nursery, developes under the skil
full training of painstaking instruct
ors. and blossoms forth into complete;
beauty in the society of well-bred'
women.—Philadelphia Record.
Doubtful Success.
Imagination sometimes creates dif
ficulties und sometimes but not often,
it helps to overcome them. A maid
en lady.-liviog at a fashionable water
ing-place on the Western coast of
England, is said to have bad a great
curiosity to aee Napoleon.
\V hen he was a prisoner on board
the Ballerophon tossing in Tor Bay.
she braved the dangers and discom
forts incidental to a trip in a small
fishing boat on a windy day in order
to get a look at the captive, who bad
••whipped the world."
On returning to shore late in the
evening, exhausted but rejoicing,
she was asked by a less enterprising
friend if she had really soon -the
monster."
To this question the enthusiastic
spinster replied by lifting up eyes and
bauds in fervent gratitude to heaven,
und exclaiming:
••Yea thanks for the sight! At
least," she continued dropping her
voice to a doubtful mutter. “1 believe
1 almost saw his coattails.” — Youth’s
Companion.
A Baikci at the ntMiheid.
When a sailing master wishes to
buy oysters in the ports of the Ches
apeake ho runs up to the masthead an
oyster basket, and presently has
plenty offered at the vessel’s side.
Down at C’hincoteague Island the
basket at the masthead is sometimes
accompanied by a flag of concentric
squares in different colors. During
the closed season for oysters the bas
ket and the flag indicate that the mas
ter wishes to buy clams. The Chin
j coleague clam digger works during
j the greater part of the year, and a
! very spry man in a spot where clams
j me ttiick can tread out a great many
I hundred in a day. Clams fetch from
! $1 to $1.6t> per 1,000 at Chincoteague,
J which seems a great deal for the
| money when one thinks of clam chow
der at a fashionable restaurant.
X Feminine Trait.
“You ortu’t to put them pieces o’
money in yer mouth, Swipsey,” said
the newsboy. '
••Why not?* demanded the boot
black.
••'Coz it ain't manly. It makes yer
look like a woman ridln' on a street
car.”—Chicago Daily Tribune.
• ’ ' • . . . : C ‘-•''-. V'V. -
FARM AND HOUSEHOLD.
CONSIDER WELL BEFORE MAK*
INQ CHANGES.
B« flora Voo Can Do Better Before Ton
<io Aho Ml —llr-TroducU of the Dairj—.
Oreiiie on Fruit Tree a—Horticultural
Uinta ami Household Helps.
Shall He Change?
T. B. Torry in Practical Farmer
replica to some inquirios of an Ohio
man as follows:
Twelve years ago you went into
debt mostly for a fifty-acre farm,
which cost you $2,80J. You have
paid out and built a large barn and a
$1,5:)J house, and paid for them cash
down, and this by what you call
mixed farming. You have done well,
very well. But you sav you are
thinking of changing and keeping
cows, making butter, building a silo,
etc., and asking whether you would
better and how many cows you can
keep, and also whether I think the
berry business would pay better.
First, my friend, be slow to change
at all. You ate doing very welt Be
quite sure you can do decidedly bet
tor before making any change. If
you can get say 25 cents a pound the
year round, or more, for your butter,
dairying could be made to pay well.
But it will be very confining business,
seven days in a week. It will cost
you a good deal to get well fixed.
You will want at least good selected
common cows and a first-class Jersey
malo, then you can work up. You
should have a separator, a good
dairy house, ice house, a power of
some kind to run your churn and
separator, pump, water, etc., a milk
test, and a silo will be nice to save
your corn in. You can get along
without this, however, for a time, by
taking good care of your fodder and
cutting it by horse power in the win
ter. Then you want entirely com
fortable quarters for your cows,
where you can save all the manure,
and, may I say it? You want to bo
just the man for the business. To
make the most in this line you need
to be quiet and gentlo with
the cows. always; you want
to love them, to when
yon aro around the stable they will
give more milk just from looking at
you. And you want to be around
the stable daily and constantly. Then i
if you do your part all around you
may .work up to $80 or $100 per cow.
You have good land evidently and
you “can” keep twenty or* thir
ty or even forty cows in time, buying
only bran and oil meal or cotton seed
meal. The way corn grows on the
bottom land in your country, you
ought to raise enough, corn on an
acre to keep a cow nearly two years,
winter and summer, except that she
would need a little clover hay or
nitrogenous food. I would raise the
best calves and thus improvo my
stock. And you can raise your farm,
too, or keep it up. Butter takes lit
tle value from the soil. A ton has
but forty-eight cents of fertility in it,
and not that, probably, if you arc j
very cleun about milking. A ton of |
butter should bring you $500. A ton i
of timothy hay may sell for $10 and j
it takes from the soil cn the same i
basis $5.38 worth of fertility. I
The berry business is a good one, |
if you work to the top and get extra i
choice fine fruit to customers in nice
shape. I don't mean that you work
the nice berries to the top of the
package, but that you have unusually
fine on top and just the same all
through. Great care and skill will
pay just aswell, perhaps in this line
as in butter making, if you are situ
ated so that you can readily hire
pickers enough that live near by, and
have the market within reach. Lots
of money can be made from fine
strawberries, but you have got to
love them, the care of them as well
as to eat them, and never tire for one
day of waiting on them any more
than you would waiting on the cows.
Clipping Queen'* Wing*.
Dr. C. C. Miller says: I think I
shall always keep my queen’s clipped,
at least as long as there is danger of
queens flying away with swarms.
Some object to clipped wings, and it
is only fair to give the objections.
One is that a clipped queen mav crawl
off on the ground and he lost. So
she may, but that is not so bad as to
have a queen fly off and bo lost for in
the latter case the whole swarm may
be lost with her. Another objection
is that whero queens are clipped, if
several swarms come out at the same
time, or in close succession, it may
happen that instead of returning to
their own hives some of them may
unite. True agaih, but again equally
true that it is better to have
tuu lives in me wrong hive
than not to' have them
at all. For although it is bettcF in
most cases to have no swarms unite,
still the refractory bees may do
nearly the same work wherever they
are. Even if I followed the plan of
hiving in a new hive every swarm
that issued, 1 would have all queons
clipped as soon as convenient after
they commenced to lay. Then when
a swarm issued I would find and cage
the queen, remove the hive from
which the swarm issued to a new lo
cation, set the new hive in its place,'
put the caged queen at te hentrance,
and when one swarm had fairly re
turned liberate the queen. For ne
this would be much easier than to
climb trees or saw off limbs, or even
to try to get bees to settle on some
thing made to imitate a cluster of
bees. But thero aro good bee-keep
ers who don’t agree with me in this,
and you must decide for yourself._
Tournal of Agriculture.
Urease on Krnlt Trees.
i have at various times heard and
read that it will kill apple trees to
put muoh grease on them. Now I
want to say that I have put grease
on trees several times and my trees
j seem to grow as well as any trees I
have ever seen. Last fall a year, I
hauled in 900 trees . I greased’ them
heavily with hog’s lard and tuiphur
which kept the rabbits and mice from
them all winter. Only seven out of
I the 900 died last season. About ’ the
first of September the rabbits set in
on the trees, and I greased them
again. The rabbits were so hungry
for the bark that in two months I
had to grease again. I greased some
of the trees twice with hog fat and
twice with axle grease. My trees
arc alive and flourishing. I have
great respect for the experience of
others, but a long ways more for my
own. I feel like saying to all thoso
who would put grease on their trees,
if they were not afraid, just try a
few and try them thoroughly, then
report
lly-Products of tiie Batter Dairy.
Mirror and Farmer says- there
should be an income from the butter,
and butter should be the main ob
ject. It can be easily made at home;
it can be sold at high prices without
the intervention of middlemen or
danger from storing.
The standard butter of production
should not bo less than 3.JO pounds
per cow per year, and the price not
less than 25 cents per pound.
An income from the calves of
twenty cows of a well bred variety
of cattle should not be less than
$50; at least, I have no difficulty in
selling high grade Jersey and Hol
stein calves for $5 apiece.
Each year in the dairy of twenty !
cows it will be found necessary and
profitable until we acquire more
skill, to dispense with at least one
fifth of the dairy annually. These
discarded animals should not bring
less than $30 apiece, or $120.
The cow that produces 300 pounds
of butter will produce 6,000 pounds
of milk, and this, when skimmed, at
one-fifth of a cent a pound, brings in
an income from. this by-product of
$12 per cow. , *’
Summing these all up, we have $75
for butter, $50 for calves, $12) for
beef and $12 from the skim milk of
each cOw, making a total income
from a dairy of twenty cattle, $1,900.
It is not too much to say that the
manure from these animals is worth
$100, making a total in round num
bers of $2,000, or $100 per cow, per
year.
We sometimes think that the dairy
does not pay, and it does not if little
or nothing is secured from the by
products, which are often worth,
when well utilized, quite as much as
the butter upon which we lay so
much store.
Horticultural Notes.
The soil cannot be piade too rich
fo>’ tomatoes.
Deep cultivation of the orchard
frequently injures the roots of the
trees.
An exchange recommends the fol
lowing as a good wash for cherry
trees: A pailful of common white
wash. a pint of soft soap and a pound
of sulphur.
Lots of orchards are failing to yield
fruit because of neglect. Trees full
of sprouts and dead limbs need not
be expected to yield bountifully.
They need judicious pruning.
If you plant seed of an old variety
that will not produce as much by
fifty per cent a j a new vaiioty would
produce, it is pretty plain that it
would pay to buy new seed, is it not?
Before an inexperienced man goes
into horticulture too far, he had bet
ter profit as far as possible by the
experience of successful fruit-grow
ers. Such wisdom and precaution
will save many a fatal blunder.
The big red apple and the big red
strawberry are the fruits that sell.
Better apples and better berries may
stand along side of such fruit, but
they are not as handsome, but they
will rot while the others are selling.
Fouselioltl Helps.
It is said that a spooiiful of "grated
horse radish in a pailful of milk will
keep it sweet for several days.
Grape fruit is almost as good as
quinine for malarial troubles, and
pineapplo is a sure cure for soro
throat. Tomatoes are perfect liver
regulators—they contain a very small
portion of mercury. Oranges act on
the kidneys vory tonoficially, while
lemons and grapes are efficacious in
curing and preventing cancerous
troubles.
a aeugntiui mixture tor perfuming
clothes thjit arc packed away, and
which is said to keep moths out also,
is made as follows: Boat to a powder
one ounce each of cloves, caraway
seeds, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon and
Tonquin beans, and as much .orris
rcot as will equal the weight of the
foregoing ingredients put together.
Idttlo bags of muslin should be filled
with this mixture and placed among
the garments.
Watercresses act on the lungs, and
are said to bo a cure for incipient
consumption. They certainly have
marvellous tonic power, and refresh
one after great fatigue. A diet of
grapes as a cure-all has been proved
valuable in hundreds of cases, and,
if taken in time, a case of jaundice
can be cured by eating nothing but
lettuce and lemon juice. In the face
of this, can one not almost dispense
with doctors?
A dermatologist of high standing
says that the proper way to shampoo
the head is to use some pure soap,
such as castile of the best quality,
or glycerine soap, made into a “good
lather on the hoad,” with plenty of
warm water, and rubbed into the
scalp with the fingers or with a
rather stiff brush that has long
I bristles. When the scalp is very
| sensitive, borax and water, or the
| yolks of three eggs beaten in a pint
j of lime water, are iecommended in
I stead of soap and water.
Bent and weary she totters alon,
past great marts of trade, over th!
black river, down narrow side streets,
to the rotting teaemont which eivei
her shelter.
For whom does she toil? Do the
hungry lips of gaunt children wait
for the bread she brings?
Up the narrow stairs she climbs
wearily. Pushing open the black,
worm eaten door she looks about ter
expectantly: Her first thought is of
—food?
Concealing something under her
shawl she turns and goes down into
the night.
Across the street shines the bril
liant window of a saloon. She pushes
open the screen door and enters. Is
it a wayward son she seeks?
A tin pail clatters on the bar. Be
side it jingle ten copper cents.
“Fill de growler,Mike," she hisses,
“or I’ll smash you. You cheated m*
out of half de bear last night.”
TO LAND A TROUT.
Some Kales Which Intending FUhm
should StuJjr Carefully.
The oncoming of the trout fishing
season will land additional interest
to the following,, quoted from the
Brooklyn Eagle.
In throwing a fly raise the arm
well up without laboring the body.
Send the fly backward by a sudden
spring of the wrist. Do not draw
tne fly too near or you lose your pur
chase for sending it back, and, there
fore, require an extra sweep in the
air before you can got it into play
again. If on sending it back you
make the counterspring a moment
too soon you will whip off your tail j
fly, and if a moment too late yonr
line will fall In a slovenly manner, i
The knack of catching this time is,
therefore, the whole art of throwing
well. Allow the line uo more than
just time to -»nfold before repeating
the spring of the wrist
When a fish is hooked the line
should be wound up immediately.
The rod must be held on the bend,
with just purchase enough to prevent
the trout from going under a weed
or boring into the gravel. Now let :
him run and walk by the side of the
stream. When he strikes ease him
quickly. When he becomes weak
pull him gently down stream, aim
ing to get his nose above water.
This must be..dona with patience.
Gradually get the fish on some slop*
ing place, and never attempt to pnjl
him out of the water, as boysdobull
heads. Capture him as best you can,
always remembering that it is never
safe to think a trout is drownedmM
you have him safely in your ban
Tho sight of a man with a landing
net sometimes revives an apparen
ly exhausted fish in a miraculous
manner. ,
Trout seldom rise well to a J
nst before rain or at midday. _
Trolling or spinning a nnnM»
nd bait fishing in all its ph“
equire no description. Every sc
oy knows how to catch trou J
hese methods.
Most of the choice trout waters oa
,ong Island are now owned or leasw
y sporting clubs or by Pr._
adivlduals, and efforts Nave
lade to induce legislators to c
pon the former privileges
ime that are not enjoyed by
ents of other parts of the E P
Easier to Cut.
The five pointed star on the n
tional flag is a woman’s idea. ^
inkton wished to adopt tn ^
pointed or ecclesiastical sta .
Mrs. Betsy Ross, who made tee ^
American flag, showed him
five-pointed star could bo m°
veniently cut _
The Wall or Soverm.
The wall of Severus, sCPar®:”’
Eng laud from Scotland. «nty.
six miles long and guarded o) ^
one' forts. It was twenty feet^
and twenty-four feet t*1'1*’ m0»t
the north was protected by
forty feet wide and twenty fe
England Hu Unwelcome I"\'I“l^*°ed
Lord Lyon Playfair recently
in the house of lords that un^
200,000 pauper aliens. l7,0Jd°i
were Russians and Poles had1*^
in Great Britain, against a“
gration to America of 17Si>>a
