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CHAPTER XXIIL
Jemmie govt borne to Nutley, and eats
hi dinor a if nothing had occurred.
The arrow has overshot the mark this
time. He is suffering too much to be able
to endure even the idea of sympathy.
But, as they sit together iu the evening
he tells bis sister quietly that Lady
Mountcarron is worse, and persuades her
to write a letter to Mrs. Fuller mention
in; the circumstance, and advising her
not to delay her visit to Carronby longer
than necessary. When the epistle is
signed and sealed. Lady Kenton is sur
prised to see her brother take it in his
hand, and bear him say be will post it
himself.
Jemmie buttons his great-coat over the
letter, and walks ont into the keen and
frosty air. There had been a slight fall
of snow the day before, and the country
looks like a great twelfth-cake. The night
is bright as day. The moon shines, cold
and clear, and the firmament of heave?
is studded with stars. As he strides
along to Allonby, which is about three
miles distant, he cannot help wondering
why the earth should be so beautiful
and life so sad. Uis life is over. He has
ended it to-day. The wild words he ut
tered have sealed his fate and hers. They
will never meet again. And why, he asks
himself, did it ever happen? Who
planued it, and permitted it, and made
it so easy, only that it might be the
means of breaking both their hearts?
Why did he ever meet Gladys, or, having
met her, loved her, and, having loved,
been, called upon to resign her? It all
seems so hard, so incomprehensible to
him. Life is so short, and there is so
little happiness for any of us iu it. Why
did he let his go? Was it a good or a
bad ange! that prompted him to refuse he'
sweet offer of herself? In his present
state of miud Jemiuie cannot decide. He
tells himself he has tried to do the right
thing and failed. During this moon
light walk, when the stars are the only
listeners to the confession of his weak
ness, Mr. Brooke does not mind avowing
that he tried hard, very bard indeed, to
love Miss Temple.
Gladys was not there to cast her sweet
pells over him. and he believed it to be
his duty to unlove her if he could, and he
knew of no better way than that of put
ting another woman in her place. Georgie
Temple was very'beautiful And very fas
cinating, and she' showed the young En
glishman every attention. He might have
bad her for the asking, if he could have
screwed up his courage to ask; but some
li'ift", whenever the words were nearest
to '.v. lips, "another pair of eyes rose up
bi'!Y.en him and Miss Temple, and
canard them to die away upon his tongue.
"It i my fate," he thinks, as he march
es rapi "; along. "It will be Gladys
Gladys, to my life's end. If I am con
demned to live to old age I suppose I
shall marry. One cannot sit down and
cry over a grief like this forever, but no
wife will have the power to drive this
first, best love from my heart. When sh
looks her sweetest at me I shall think
how much less sweet she is than Gladys.
When my children climb my knee I shall
sigh to miss those violet eyes and that
dear sensitive mouth I love so well. In
fact, my life whether it be short or long
will be one unbroken yearning to get
back to her whom I have given up to
day forever! How can I bear to live at
Nutley with the chance of meeting her
out driving or walking each day of my
life? The anticipation will make a cow
ard of me. I shall have to go away again.
And yet to leave Nell, who is so bound
np in me! It seems awfully cruel. My
life is cruel, whichever way I look at it"
He walk straight to Allonby, and
straight home again, and the rapid ex
ercise enables him to sleep. But with
the morning comes back the old pain. It
seems to Jemaiie as if, in telling Mount
carrou of his love for Gladys, he had pro
nounced his own death warrant. Of
eonrse he does not go near Carronby
Ilonse.. If he leaves Nutley it is to ride
iu evaeuy me opjiosiie oirecuon. tie
occupies himself more over his own farm
and estate than he has ever done before,
and Lady Kenton notices the change, but
does not spenk of it. She surmises that
something unpleasant has occurred be
tween her brother and her cousin, and
he tries to imike is Mp to Jemmie by vis
iting Gladys oftenur.. herself, and bring
ing borne all the n as she can glean of
her. Through Ii!ino. he learns that Gen
eral and Mrs. Fuller have arrived and
taken charge of their suffering daughter,
and that a second summons has been sent
to Sir Francis Cardwell to come down
and see his patient.
As Jemmie rides his favorite Flyer next
4av hti see li.tmtcjirrnn unit fitia TIk.
erton, as nsual. side by side. Agnes is!
mounted on toe beautiful chestnut mare,
Goldfly, which the infatuated Earl ex
cfcaDfrert with her, but Motintcarron him
.self bestride a new animal, a powerful
laokiug hnnter of gigantic build, another
f Mis Knshertou's recommendations,
Jemmie- supposes. As he encounters the
pair he touches his cap to them, bat the
Civility -meets with no response from
father aide, and he turns humiliated away.
IZ coo Id not have treated his cousin so
te pahflc (lie thinks), not if they bad had
C2ty qnerrel as bitter a this one.
Whan be ha moved to Mine little di
tinee he tum and watches thein. H
fjee MM like the look of Mountcarron
Lane... He can see by the way it lay
dt Mi ear and show the white of its
jf animal that the brute is virion
rirnfcio, tkat if is too tightly airbed.
Spet I--9W 'Wfcb store aboat horse
'lfTl.JC,b mwtk better rider
.. w ina always beea a'
-rJi. Ts a heavy hand ud
" ..-'vaat Ce la, BMreover. tat
t.jfc'f 'tiUtkn-.mKm km
' J.Tf Haaowerfal area
i v3;IJr...Biaatt an-
r- -vr i
V . -'
has been ordered out of his house. So.
after a while, he moves up to Mount?
carron's side again, as if by accident,
and dismounting, professes to be occupied
with Flyer's girths. Then, turning to the
Earl, he tries to say carelessly, though his
voice shakes:
"By the way, Monntcarron. your
horse's curb is far too tight. Shall I
loosen it for you ?"
The only evidence the Earl gives of hav
ing heard him speak is to twitch his
horse's bridle with such violence as to
turn the brute completely round, with its
hind quarters in close proximity to Fly-'
er's flanks. A giggle from Miss Kusher
ton, added to this insult, makes it doubly
hard for Mr. Brooke to bear. He mounts
his steed as quickly as possible, and rides
:ff in company with some other men. The
Bunt is soon started, and leads them fot
the most of the way over the Sussex
Downs. Jemmie perceives, by the man
ner in which his cousin commences the
day's sport, that his animal will give him
trouble, and finds himself half the time
straining his eyes anxiously in bis direc
tion. , Toward noon they came to a low stone
wall. Miss Rusherton's Goldfly takes it
like a bird, but Mountcarron's horse re
fuses the leap. The Earl, always irrita
ble with animals, and doubly so to-day,
because of Jemmy's proximity, spurs him
like fury. The brute commences to rear,
and. being hit over the head with the
hunting-crop, wheels round and bolts,
with the bit in his teeth, across country.
Mr. Brooke looks after him in dismay.
He is making straight for a chalk pit,
Jemmie shuts his eyes. A terrible gid
diness seizes his brain. He dares not
even think what is before him. ; In an
other minute the riders have drawn rein
and are dismounting. He dismounts
with them. They have arrived at the
very verge of the pit. but ha cannot look
over. One of the strr-n-rcrs in m.r. cur.
ageous. Heaven!' he exclaims,
"smashed to atoms, both of them." At
these awful words Mr. Brooke seems im
bued with sudden life. He is frantic to
go to the rescue of his cousin. Against
all advice and warning, he lets himself
down the precipitous side of the chalk
pit, tearing his clothes, his hands bruis
ing his whole body in the descent. He
would not care if he killed himself in
order to carry help to Mountcarron. As
soon as half sliding, half falling he has
reached the bottom of the excavation, he
is at his cousin's side, and has draaeed
him from where he lies half covered by
the quivering body of his horse.
letch a surgeon as soon as ever you
can," Jemmie shouts to those above him.
He is still alive he is only stunned.
Get help for heaven's sake!" And then
he takes his cousin in his arms, and pil
lows nis nead upon bis strong young
oreast.
"Mountcarron. dear old fellow, are yon
much hurt? Speak to me, if it is only
one word. This is breaking my heart."
At this appeal the Earl opens his eyes,
but there is a film already gathering over
them,
"Floored, by Jove!" he says, faintly,
and then, perceiving Jemmie, he adds, as
though there had never been a word of
difference between them: "Jem, you beg
gar! don't cry; I always was fond of
Jem." and closes bis eyes again.
"Oh, Mountcarron!" cries- the young
man, overcome with grief and fear, "we
have teen like brothers, Mountcarron.
Say yon forgive me! I never meant I
never thought if you had loved ber "
he continues in broken sentences, bat,
unable to proceed, ends up with the one
cry for mercy: "Speak. Say you forgive
me."
"It's all right." mutters the Earl, in a
low. thick voice. "All right, Jem. I I
forgive you. Don't bother yourself
about me." And with that he stretches
himself suddenly in his cousin' arms,
gives one strong shiver, and dies!
Jemmie sits there with the dead body
of Mountcarron in his arms like a man
in a trances Even when the surgeon ar
rives with a stretcher, and a score of
gossiping, wondering neighbors, to carry
the injured man borne, he let them take
the corpse from him without a word.
There is no need for Dr. Chambers to
break the news to him that the Earl is
dead. He knew it from the first, and the
shock has stunned him. He send a mes
senger on to Carronby House to break
the news to General Fuller, and then he
follows the mournful procession that
bears the body. of Mountcarron to hi late
home.
When once it is deposited there laid
reverently on the bed on which it had
rested so full of life and vigor a few
hours before Mr. Brooke turn mourn
fully away and rldea back to Nutley.
CHAPTER XXIV.
It i unnecessary to describe the funer
al. Funerals are depressing, soul-sickening
spectacles at any time; and the Earl
of Monntcarron' la made, in deference
to his rank, a little more depressing than
the generality. It is attended by half the
county, and Jemmie is chief mourner, in
heart as well as deed. When the cere
mony is concluded and the legal formali
ties gone through and the library some
what cleared of mourning guest, the new
Earl draw General Fuller to one side.
"General," he cays, nervously, "I hope
Lady Mountcarron understands that Car
ronby House is at her disposal as long
as be wishes to remain here. I am go
ing away for awhile. The suddenness of
this badness has upset me, and I require
change. I may not reside at Carronby
House for a year. Will you tell her she
is not to harry she is to consider the
place ber own "
"Too are very good, my dear lord, but
wt go boats to-morrow, and my daughter
goes wKk aa Alt her cry throughout
th sad affair has beea that I should
tab bar koate. It. Is bat. natural, yaa
knew. TU ia great apett.to a foaag
life, aad tbe aaar eblM bags for tb ca
fart aJ aCrt U bar awa family. - Mo
wa.Uva caJa.all ear amngeaaente a
rort tt Ixzlm taVasprraw moralag."
;r,Wrr;-Ttafcs the
T;X Ef 1 W
1. -Antt t3rVirV
bs guessed her daughter' secret (if the
(testers! has with ami does not think that
an Interview with the quondam Mr
Brooke t this Juncture would conduce to
the support of the widowed Countes' dig
nity. "1 am rrv to refuse your reauest.
Lord Mountcarron,' she say, stiflly, "but
Gladys is .(as you 'a re aware) very weak
of health, as Well as broken In spirit, and
1 should be quite afraid of the effect of
her seeing any one at present connected
with the past. She finis her bereavement
terribly."
This is added in the mother's pride, lest
the man before her should imagine that
her daughter is secretly triumphing in her
release.
"Of course, she must do so!" rppiies
Lord Mountcarron, innocently. "It has
been a blow to all of us. I have not slept
one night since it occurred."
Gladys believes thoroughly at thi
period that Jemmie has forsaken her.
She niourns for him as we motirn for the
dead; and no more thinks he can come
back into her life again, and make It one
long joy, than we look forward to the re
turn of the departed.
He has written her two or three letters,
but they are carefully woided, and she
cannot, or will not, rad between the
lines. Her woman's mind is not broad,
enough to gauge the breadth of his -nor
her l-ature deep enough to understand
his nobility. She puts down all his en
forced control to coldness, and weeps
over his friendly letters as if they were
the very grave of love.
Sir Francis has not lost hope; but he
thinks it will be a very tedious ll'iiess.
The cruel blow which sent her with sich
violence against the table ha been fol
lowed by symptoms which threaten to
prostrate ber altogether. . So that those
about her are very careful to buoy her up
with hope a process which defeats its
end, and makes the invalid still more sus
picious of her own condition. And, mean
while. Lord Mountcarron is saying every
day to his sister:
"Cannot I go up to-morrow, Nell?
Don't you think 1 hare waited luu
enough?"
And Lady Kenton will shake her head,
and answer:
"It's only three months, dear !oy. It
would be scarcely decent to speak to her
yet"
And he turns away impatiently to UU
occupation, only to rejieat the same ques
tion the morning afterward. At last he
says:
"I cannot take your advice any longer.
Xell. You do not think of her suffering
and mine. It is now nearly five mouth
since poor dear Mountcarron died. Of
course, we can't be married."
"Married, Jemmie! What on earth are
you thinking of?" exclaims his sister.
"Do hear me out, Nell. Of cours (as I
say) we can't be married (though it's
beastly humbug) until the year is up: but
that's no reason why I shouldn't speak to
uiy dear girl, and make it all right be
tween us. I can't bear the suspense any
longer. It is simply killing me. I must
have ber promise and give her miss, or I
shall go out of my mind."
He reaches Cardigan place just in time.
It is the middle of July, and tne family
are packing tip to start for Germany,
where it is hoped that some particular
baths may do Lady Mountcarron good.
Everyone is out except the General,
who, knowing no reason to the contrary,
ushers the young Earl into Gladys' pres
ence without the slightest preparation.
"See her, my dear fellow! Of course
you can see her. Why not? Indeed, we
have expected you would call before now;
but, perhaps you have not been up iu
town this year?"
"No! My sister and I thought it better
not under the circumstances."
"True, true. Very sad. We have all
felt it: but Lady Mountcarron is stronger.
Oh! decidedly stronger. Sir Francis says
there is a visible improvement, and he
has great faith in the German baths, for
which we start next week."
"Next week!" exclaims Lord Mountcar
ron. "Then I am only just in time."
"Only just in time," laughs the Gen
eral, ' "but I am sure Gladys will be
pleased to see you."
He has been walking with is gnest to
ward the library as he speaks, and now
throws open the door without further
ceremony.
"Gladys, my child, 1 have brought an
old friend to see you. Iord Mountcarroti
has called to say good-by to us before we
start for Germany."
At that name Gladys, who has looked
up eagerly from her pillows at her fath-.
er's entrance, sinks back upon them again
white as ashes.
"It is only momentary," whispers the
General to the Earl. "The sound of th..
name upsets her. She will recover mor?
quickly without witnesses. I will leave
you alone with her." and, retreating as
he speaks, General Fuller closes the door
behind him.
Lord Mountcarron advances to the
sofa, and looks down upon the whiti
robed form that is shrinking from him,
and hiding her face with her hur.ds.
"My Gladys!" he says at last, In a voice
of infinite tenderness.
At that sound she knows she has her
friend again not her lover, perhaps
but still her friend, and the color rushes
back into her cheeks until they glow like
the heart of a crimson rose.
"Why didn't you come before?" sh
igh.
"They wouldn't let me," he answer.
"Elinor has been persuading me it would
be too soon; that yon would misconstrue
my motives, and think me intrusive. But
I think we understand each other, Gladys.
During the last few interviews we had
together there wa no reserve between u,
vii there?"
"None," she answers, with another
blush, though ber heart link to think
what he may have come to tell her.
"Ha your mind changed inc then,
Glady.r
"No," he falters.
"Neither has mine,
advising me to marry,
the last time we met.
You were fond of
I think you did so
Well, I am going
to take your advice,
you?"
Doe that surprise
"No." in a very faint vole.
"If it was necessary before, It Is doubly
so now. Will you wish me Joy, dear?"
"Tea. I It-is It-Miss Temple?" '
"Is It Miss Temple T' repeats Lord
Mountcarron. with a laugh. "Is it the
man Id the moon? Is it any one, could It
be aay one but the woman I love as my
life? Too know who that Is, Oladysr
' Bba shakes her head. 8h does sot yef
believe In Jemmy' fidelity to ber.
Am be observed the aad, iacrsdalous
agpraasfoa of bar face be draws aearar,
aa4 kneels dowa by ber aM v ,.i .
"There was a girl aaea, Gladys, who
Cered to ar v tba wartl, aad wary.
tzj J tit mZ, far
r. ho was willing ! etching wealth, and
tank, nd position, for disgrace and Igno
miny, only so that she mlht t by my
ide."
"Ah. .Temrale!" she cries. Impulsively,
billing her face Iu her hand, "don't re
mind me of that."
He takes possession of those hands,
and draws them away and lay his face
down in rheir plne.
"But I must remind you of it, darling.
The sweetest, proudest hour of my lifp! I
had to hurt you then, my Gladys (though
heaven knows how I . bruised my owa
heart In doing so), but It was for your
dear sake more than my own,' Let me
heal the wound now if it is in my power
to heal it. Let me try and repay you in
some poor measure for yonr unUish love
by giving you my name and my protection
and everything that I iossess. Yon are
my wife already, darling. The niarrlag
of our souls was registers! in heaven
long ago. Let it be followed by its nat
ural consummation in the eyes of the
world." - -
He takes her in bis arms, and lays her
head down on his breast, and showers
his passionate kisses on her eyes aud lips,
urns' he hears her murmur:
"Oh. Jemmie 1 am yours 1 always was
yours from the first tnomeut that we
met."
(The end.)
A Burning Clime.
The climate of Venezuela is very
warm and the city of La Gn3yra is
ald by the naturalist Spears to be
oue of the hottest places on earth.
For weeks In the summer time the
thermometer there hangs around 100
degrees iu the close stifling air. The
average temperature the year round
is 84 degree. La Guayra Is only 22
feet above the sea level, and there is
no relief except the escape to the
mountains which rise In sheer preci
pices behind the town to a height of
b-'HC) feet.
The following story illustrative of
thp climate I told of a young English
naval lieutenant-on the La Guayra sta
tion some years asio who dreamed
that lie (licl and went to sheol. On
h!:i arrival he wan taken In hand by a
friendly demon who volunteered to
show him all the sights. After all tl
heat and horrors had been paraded ne
fore his torrM view he encountered n
group of men in one of the hottest cor
ners of the inferno laughing over a
game of cards.
"They don't seem to mind tne neat."
remarked the astonished sailor to his
cloven footed guide.
"Oh. not a bit!" laughed tne omon.
"Why are they so cool aud uncon
cerned?" persisted the lieutenant.
"Well, you see they don't mind the
heat. In fact, they find It rather cool
here. That gang came from La
Guayam."
A Moi'e-n Fable.
Once upon, a time a young chicken
stood with its foot drawn up close to
his breast, shivering iu the cold, and
thinking hungrily what a nice feast a
big fat worm would make, but wa
too lazy to go and scratch it. While
It stood thus a wise old duck, whose
bill was hard and worn from much
digging for. its meals, came waddling
along and aked:
"My young friend, why do yon Ktnnd
looking so forlorn and sad?"
"I nui thinking," said this foolish
chicken, "what a nice feast a big fat
worm woultl make."
The wise obi duck nearly lost her
balance, and her bill came together
with a loud, indignant snap, nU she
replied In angry astonishment:
"Alas! That is too iinn-li the way
of the world now, never get any
thing to eat without digging for It, and,
my young friend, you will go hungry
a long time before a worm or any
thing else will come to you to be gob
bled up by snc-h a lazy upstart." and
having delivered itself of thes,e few
sage remarks the wise duck waddled
on.
The foolish chicken stood a moment
In deep thought, and theu, taking its
foot from Its breast, and shaking its
ruflled feathers straight, began to
scratch, and it was not long ere it
found not only one but a dozen worms.
Moral He who expects a living to
be brought to him will get left. He
must scratch for It.
Hot any and Color. '
It Is a remarkable fact In botany
that no species of flower ever embraces
In the color of Its petals the whole range
of the spectrum. Where there are yel
lows and reds there are no blues; when
blue and red occur, there are no yel- s
lows; and. when he have blues and yel- j
lows, there are no reds. Tulips come 1
nearer to covering the whole range of
the spectrum than any other species.
They can be found ranging through
reds, yellows, nnd purples, but a blue
one has never been found.
How He Kuspended.
A petty newspaper of the Midi, which
bad long been at the point of death, has
Just found an Ingenious means of clos
ing Its career brilliantly. Its last Issue
contained the following notice: "Taking
advantage of the national festivities
which will lie occasioned by the arrival
of the Czor, the Illustrious friend of
France, this Journal will cease to be
published."
"Mrs. Hlgby, what was that bundle
you hid nnder the sofa when I came
In?" "Never mind; you don't need to
know Just yet" "Great Caesar, wom
an ! Have yon began already to make
me Chtiitmaa slippers oat of my old
straw hatr-Chlctgo Record,
"Did yon beab that Cbawlle Dnnno
bad been dwopped from our set?" "No;
why was that?" "Tbeab wa a lira at
bla bwoading booaa at high noon, don't
yon know, and Chawlia ran out In tba
atweat In bla dwaas coat, don't y w
kDowr-OeveUfld Laadar.
A wtoa woman (a ona who doaa not
bora a man wbaa gat trylij to aa
THfC DININQ.ROOM.
Colonist KsTrcls In Furnishing and
j tircorstlna Are Most tlecomlna.
j
' There la no more barbarous rontrl
1 vance than' the basement tlplng-rooni
. In tu ordinary city house. Although It
tuny I made neceiuuiry by consldera
, tlon of .K'onoiny and convenience, these
i facta do not make It any more admira
ble. Architectural limitations are such
that the basement dining-room muttt of
. necessity have a low celling, little nat
I ura light, and an unattractive outlook.
Tliene are drawbacks very difficult to
Overcome by any scheme of decoration
or furnishing. ' For various reosxina
rooms of this kind are dismissed from
consideration In this article. City
houses are alwayB built with certain
restrictions and limitations In mind,
and each house must be a law unto It
self. But nnl(le from the question of
means, the builder of a detached villa
house has free reign and can consult
Ills own taste and Inclination in the ar
ia ngement of the various rooms.
One who plnns the erection of such a
house will be wise If he gives Ills great
est care and attention to the dining-
room, for uo room Is more important,
nor contributes more to the character
of the house. The dining-room is In
ukc but a small part of each day, but
it Is made the scene of what should lie
the most formal function of every day
life in the household. Nothing Is a
surer Index of good breeding than re
serve and elegance at the table, and
the character of the room should be
such as to emphasize these qualities.
In the first place If there Ir to be gay-
ety at the table, there must be plenty
of light, forn gloomy room will surely
be reflected Iu the conversation and de
meanor of those you dine. If possible,
ihere should be windows in 'more than
one side of the room. It Is not always
possible to command the outlook from
the windows of the house, but at least
one can avoid having the dining-room
windows face one's own outhouses, or
the blank walls of some other part of
the house. No handsomer mom was
ever designed than a colonial dining
room, and It will be well to follow their
general style unless it forms too vio-
lent a contrast with the remainder of
the house. The walls should 1m; warm,
red-brown tint, or lie covered with
some warm-colored paper, with a sim
ple, formal (blgn. By far the most
effective furniture for the dining-room
Is mahogany, but this Is costly. With
mahogany out vt the question, pretty
effects can le got which will make the
room rich, with well-made oak furni
ture, provided it Is simple in design
and riot disfigured with machine carv
ing aud glued ornaments.
A hardwood floor -costs no more than
fine carpet, and is far more appropriate.
There Is no nee for ornamentation
other than pure and simple iorcelaln,
glass and silverware, which can be
made to do good service. If not huddled
away In closets. A few good pictures
In modern frames, chosen with some
idea of the "eternal fitness of things."
It might be tU iught unnecessary to say
this, but one can recall dining-rooms
ruined by cheap chrouios of fruit and
flowers, pictures of dead fish, aud oth
er alMimlnntiouN of still life.
The accompanying design shows a
dining-room which lends Itself reality
to the treatment described In this arti
cle. The width of this bouse is thirty
four feet six inches, and the depth, In
cluding veranda, fifty feet four Inches.
With first story nine feet six Inches,
and seeoud story nine feet, with attic
eight feet, secures a wmfortable dwell
ing, easily heated. The size of the drn-Ing-rooin
Is shown by the floor plans.
The room Is finished In oak, with oak
floor. The two windows are lended
with diamond-shaped panes, looking
out over the veranda. The walls are
first rioor
covered with a paper of yellow brown
color, with a stiff, formal design la red
brown. Tbla rasa to the celling, with
no fries, but with oak picture rail
about twenty Inches below tba cornice.
Tbe catling rtpamat tba aid wan col
on, tboofb tba nattera of tba paper to
not ao pKmowwaA. Tbe tra ftace to
facad wttb dart, brown brick. Tba
fxrittm to no esrM7 wto tnm
Pfj'ffl 1
Tl "ftn X "" I
''tfVl4'-IM DioindR j
rhrjri tatfMiW (21
clol Hall I 1!?
j j j: rWfor jji
up 1 j 4-'le' I
7-wide
mounting. The dideltoard, on which
art's few piece (X fine glnsa. reflected
by the fire light, Vlstens a welcome.
Bright china gives Vint of rich color
for the eye to rest IWelf, . A Hmyrna
rug In deep reds and bwn laid on the
polished onk floor addclll mora color
to the room, and a few cliolce hunting
scenes finish, the walls. The cost to
build the design, Illustrating this artl-
2 J rrrc f
Bed R 1 T Bed R.. lj
u'mz-io' 2 I 'S'Ma-irf II
J)
fjk Hall Iociof cio .
1"" T b
3 Bed R. Bed R., -Cte
i'' 'col I 1
5ccoryf floor
cle. In the vicinity of New York City, la
$3,500. not Including the heating ap
paratus. In many sections of the coun
try the cost should be much less.
Copyright, iw, by the Co-operative Building
Man Association.
A btory or Gail Hamilton.
A capital story of the power of a
bright woman's talk is related by the
New York Tribune. Tbe bright woman
was Miss Abigail Dodge, better known
by her pen tin me of Gall Hamilton. A
Western clergyman, cultivated, well
read, but not exactly a man of tbe
world, was In Washington for the first
time, eager to make the utmost of his
holiday.
He wanted to see all there was to be
seen, but most of all hi desired to meet
and have a word with Gail Hamilton;
Indeed, he confided to a friend that he
should consider such a privilege well
worth his Journey to the East.
It took him several days to summon
up his courage, but at last be presented
himself tit Mr. Blaine's door and asked
for Miss "Hamilton." Atiout three
hours afterward the friend met him
descending the steps of the house, one
broad smile of delight and satisfaction.
"Ah," exclaimed the confidant, "I
congratulate you. So you have men
your dear" Gall Harrdlton. I can see It
In your face."
That face fell grew remorseful.
"N-no," he stammered, "I didn't meet
her she didn't come down, and the
fact is, I forgot to ask. for her."
"Forgot to ask for her!"
"Oh, I sent up my card, of course,
but a ldy came down, a Miss Dodge,
and my dear fellow, you never say
such a woman in your life! I suppose
Miss Hamilton must have liecn out;
she didn't mention her, but she began
to talk to me, and In two minutes I for
got what I had come for. I never could
have believed that uny person, man or
woman, could know so much.
"I lielleve we talked on every subject
In the world, and she knew everything
about every oue of the subjects. I was
never so surprised as when a lot of
fx-ople came in and I found how long I
bad been there, and I didn't want to
come away then. I can tell yon, and
till you spoke, I'd forgotten all about
Miss Hamilton. I don't Ndleve she can
touch Miss Dodge, anyhow!"
His astonishment and delight when
he found that be had entertained or
lieen entertained by his angel una
wares, were very pleasant to see.
In telling the story the narrator add
ed. "I don't know what It is about Ml.
Dodge, I can never tell how she does
It - I heard her tell the funniest story
1 ever tiearu in my life, about a drive
she took In the country, when her horse
had on u harness tluit nmciiciiitr f..n
to pieces. The room was full of people
and every one laughed himself sore
over It, and yet when I came to think
It over, there was really nothing to It,
notmng to ten it was a thing that
might have happened to any one, and
not have bornetalking alwut. Yet she
bad entertalnd twenty people for half
an hour with It"
Election of United 8tal Henntors.
in his paper on "This Poor, in- nr
Ours" In the LavJles' Home Journal ex
Prealdent Harrison writes of Congress,
and tells how United States Senators
are elected. "The law ,,t lwut" i.
says, "provides that the Legislature
cnosen next before the expiration of
tne term or a mutator shall clum. t.u
successor, and that It shall proceed to
uo so on me second Tuesday after it as
sembles. On that flllV (' 11 firing
the legislature must vote separately,
ir ira, ior a senator, and enter the
result on its Journal: the tw ii........
must at 12 m. the next day meet In
Joint session, and If It appears that the
same person has received a majority
of the vote In each House lie Is de
clared elected; If there baa been no elec
tion the Joint assembly raust take a
vote, and If any one receives a ma
jority of the vote-a majority of all
the members elected to both Ho isc
being present and voting-he hi to be
declared elected. If there Is no elec
tion the Joint assembly proceed with
the balloting, and must meet everv
day at 12 m., and take at least one bai
Jot each day until a Senator la elected.
The Governor of tbe Mtate Is required
.to certify tbe election under tbe aaal
of tba Btate, to the President of the
Senate, tbe certificate to be counter
algned by the Recratary of Mat of the
tate."
Tba real sincere woman are those
whont prayers at nlgbt In a cold room
yywgbbwtotrt by Ua coadltlM
if.? .
- ;",v j:' .
' -.' '.'-.y "
1
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