i
i
if -
1.
r
i "
n
.'it
is
1
I
t ' '
M
r, .
CHAPTER HI. (Continued.)
Mini Ileadworth had only time to make
a sign of reluctant acquiescence when
the door opened and mother and daugh
ter came in. Nuttie first, eager as usual,
and open-mouthed, unaware that any one
was there. The mother would have re
treated but for Miss Headworth's nerv
ous call, "Alice, my dear, here is Lady
Kirkaldy."
Very lovely was Lady Kirknldy's im
pression as she saw a slender figure in a
dark gray linen dress, and a face of re
fined, though not intellectual, beauty and
sweetness, under a large straw hat with
a good deal of white gauzing about it, and
the courtesy was full of natural grace.
"You do not know me," said Lady Kirk
aldy, takiug her hand, "but I am mint
to some former pupils of yours, one of
whom, Mark Egremont, is very anxious
to come and see you."
"Mark! My dear little Mark," and her
face lighted up. "How very kind ol him.
Hut he is not little Mark now. 1 should
like very much to see him."
Miss Ileadworth was obliged to say
something about her ladyship taking a
cup of tea. Lady Kirkaldy, knowing thai
Mark was on the watch, set off in starch
ofliiin, and found him. as she expected,
pacing the pavement in front of the
church. There was no great distance it.
which to utter her explanations and cau
tious, and his aunt then took him iu with
her. - ; ,
Mark entered, and his exclamation in
stantly was "Oh, Edda. dear old Edda!
You areu't a bit altered!" and he put his
1iead under Mrs. Egremont' hat and
kissed her, adding, as she seemed rather
startled, "Yon are my mint, you know;
and where' my cousin? You are Ursula?"
He advanced upon Nottie, took her by
the hand and kissed her forehead before
she was aware, but she flushed at him
with her black eyes and looked stiff and
defiant. They were all embarrassed, and
had reason to be grateful to Lady Kirkal
dy's practiced powers as a diplomat's
wife. She made the most of Mrs. Egre
mont's shy spasmodic inquiries, and
Mark's jerks of information, such as thai
they were all living at Bridgetield. Egre
mont. now that his sister May was very
like bis new cousin, that Blanche was
fome out and was very like his mother.
JSvery one was more at ease when Iidy
Kirkaldy carried the conversation off to
yesterday's entertain men t.
, Soon Lady Kirkaldy carried off her
nephew, nnd his first utterance outside
the door was, "A woman like that will be
the salvation of my uncle."
"Firstly, if you can bring them togeth
er," said his aunt; "and secondly, if tut re
is stuff enough in that pretty creature."
Meanwhile Miss Ileadworth felt it her
duty to acquaint Ursula with the facts
of her parentage, which until now had
been held from her.
"Oh, then," cried Nuttie, when she had
heard the whole story, "1 am a sort of
lost heiress, like people in a story! 1 see!
But, Aunt Ursel, what do you think will
happen?"
"My dear child, 1 cannot guess in the
least. Perhaps the Egremont property
will not concern you, and only go to male
heirs. That would be the best thing,
since in any case you must be sufficiently
provided for. Your father must do that."
"But about mother':"
"A proper provision must be insisted on
for her,", said Miss Ileadworth. "It is
no use, however, to speculate on the fu
ture. We cannot guess how Mr. Mark
Egremont" communication will be receiv
ed, or whether any wish will be expressed
for your mother's rejoining your father.
In such a case the terms must be dis
tinctly understood, and I have full trust
both in Mr Mark nnd in Lady Kirkaldy
as her champions to see that justice is
done to you both."
"I'm sure he doesn't deserve that moth
er should go to him."
"Nor do I expect that he will wish it,
or that it would be proper; but he is
bound to give her a handsome mainte
nance, and I think most probably you
will be asked to stay with your uncle and
cousins." said Miss Ileadworth.
"I shall accept nothing from the family
that does not include mother," said Nut
tie. '
Oil A PTE It IV.
The following Sunday Nuttie and Mary
Nugent, coming home from their Sunday
school labors, in the fervent discussion of
their scholars, nnd exchanging remarks
and greetings with- the other teachers of
various calibers, the friends reached their
own ro'id, and there, to their amazement,
beheld Miss Head Worth.
"Yes, it really is!" cried Nuttie. "Aunt
L'rsel! What has brought you out? What's
the matter? Where's mother?"
"In the bouse. Sty dear." catching bold
of her and speaking breathlessly, "I came
out lo jirepare you. He is come your
' ftVr "
"Where'" cried Nuttie, rather wildly.
"He la la the drawing room with your
mother. I said 1 would send you." Poor
Vim Ileadworth gasped with agitation.
"You hadn't been gone half an hour. Alice
wt reading to me, and J was just dozing,
w'jea in cam Louisa. 'A gentleman to
Mr. Egremont,' she said. We rose
w abe did not know him at once, bat he
Jjt aaid 'Edda. my little Edda. sweeter
;han ever. 1 knew you at once.' or some
thing of that aort, and ahe gave one little
cry of 'I knew you would come and
prang right lata bl arms. He came at
mt with hi hand oottrteiied "
"Yon dida't take it, aunt, 1 hope?" cried
"My 'fear, trie ytm aee' him, 70a will
kaaw Hum Imbo 1M it to. He haa (bat
t'-krvd ataaaer H ia aatf be were cm-
-t toa.:v. '
"..a b aref withwith (araraMe
r.r irW." -
,? "- -: f -X" aCtf KSm Haa
- Vl.f 'tatartfcar. , "H
. ;r-;ia-aai ka fcsi
never been able to find her, till the strange
chance of his nephew stumbling on her at
Abbots Norton.
It cant be," broke in Nuttie. "He
never troubled himself about it till his
nephew found the paiers. You said so.
Aunt l'rsel! He is a dreadful traitor of
a man. just like Msrmion, or Theseus, or
Lancelot, -and now he is telling lies about
it: Ion t look at me. Aunt l'rsel, they
are lies, and I will say it, and he took in
poor dear mother once, and now he is
taking her iu again, and I can't bear that
he should be my father!"
"You are talking of what you do not
understand," remonstrated Miss Head
worth. "You must not waste any more
time in argument. Your mother has sent
for yon, and it is your dutv to go and let
her introduce you to your father."
Nuttie, in her fresh holland Sunday
lress, worked iu crewels with wild straw
berries bv her mother's own hnmls. nor!
with a white trimmed straw hat. was al
most shoved into the little drawing room.
Her eyes were in such a daze of tears
that she hardly saw more at first than
that some one was there with her mother
011 the sofa. "Ah, there she is!" she
heard her mother cry, and both rose-. Her
mother's arm was round her waist, her
hand was put into another. Mrs. Egre
mont's voice, tremulous with exceeding
delight, said, "Our child, our Ursula, our
Nuttie! Oh, this is what I have longed
for all these years! Oh, thanks, thanks!"
and her hands left her daughter to be
clasped and uplifted for a moment in fer
vent thanksgiving, while Nuttie's haiid
was held, and a strange hairy kiss, redo- !
lent of tobacco smoking, was on her fore
head. It was more strange than delight
ful, and yet she felt the lolisli of the tone
that said, "We make acquaintance some
what late, Ursula, but belter late than
never.
She looked up at this new father, and
understood instantly what she had heard
of his lieing a grand gentleman. There
was a high-bred look about him, an entire
ease and perfect manner that made ev-
rythitig he did or said seem like gracious
condescension, aud took away the power
of questioning it at the moment. She
could not help feeling it a favor, almost
an undeserved favor, that so great a per
sonage should say: "A complete Egre
r.iont, I we. She lias altogether the fam
ily face."
"I am so glad yon think so," returned
her mother.
"Now that I have seen the child," he
added, "1 will make my way back to the
hotel. I will send down Gregorio to-morrow
morning, to tell you what 1 arrange.
An afternoon train, probably, as we shall
go no further than Ixmdon. You say
Lady Kirkaldy colled on you. We might
return her visit before starting, but I will
let you know when 1 have looked at the
trains. My compliments to Miss Head
worth. Good evening, sweetest." He
held his wife in a fond embrace, kissing
her brow nnd cheeks and letting her cling
to him, then added; "Good evening, lit
tle one," with a good-natured, careless
gesture with which Nuttie was quite con
tent, for she had a certain loathing of
the caresses that so charmed her mother.
And yet the command to make ready had
been givcD with such easy authority that
the idea of resisting it had never even
entered her mind, though she stood still
while her mother went out to the door
with him and watched him to the last.
CHAPTER Y.
Half-waking, half-dreaming, Nuttie
spent the night which seemed long enough,
and the light hours of the summer morn
ing seemed still longer, before she could
call it a reasonable time for getting up.
Her mother lay smiling for a few mo
ments, realizing and giving thanks for her
great joy, then bestirred herself with the
recollection of all that had to be done on
this busy morning before auy summon
from her husband could arrive.
Combining packing and dressing, like
the essentially unmethodical little woman
she was. Mrs. Egremont still had all her,
beautiful silky brown hair about her
shoulders when the bell of St. Ambrose's
was heard giving its thin tinkling sum
mons to matins at half-past Keren. She
was disappointed; she meant to have gone
for this last time, but there was no help
for it, and Nuttie set off by herself.
Gerard Godfrey was at his own door.
He wn.s not one of the regular attendants
at the short service, but on this morning
he hastened tip to her with outstretched
hand.
"And are yon going away?" he said.
"1 hope to get leave to stay a few days
after mother," she said.
"To prolong the torment?" he snid.
"To wish everybody good-by. It is n
great piece of my life that is come to an
end, and I can't bear to break it off so
short"
"And if you feel so, who'are going to
wealth and pleasure, what must it be to
those who are left behind?"
"Oh!" said Nuttie, "some one will be
raised up. That's what they always say."
"1 shall go into a brotherhood." said
Gerard, desperately.
"Oh, don't," begnn Nuttie, much grati
fied, but at that moment Miss Nugent
came out at her door, and Mr, Mpyer.
who was gome way In advance, looked
round and waited for them to come up.
He held out his hands to hev and Mtiid,
"Well, Nuttie, my child, you are going
to begin a new life,"
"If hi place was only Monka Ilorton.
What will Aunt Ursel do?"
"I think perhaps she may be Induced
to Join ua," said Mary. "We mean to do
our beat to persuade her.
"And there' the choir! Awl my class,
and -the harmonium," went on Nuttie.
while Uerard walked on disconsolately.
"Miekelthwayte haa eslated without
you. Nnttle." aaid Mr. Roy era, taking her
oa with him alone. "Perhapa it will be
able to do so again. My dear, yon bad
battar look a. There will be ataatir for
you to learn rnd to do where yon are
going, and you w!'J be sure to find much
to enjoy, ind also something to bear. I
lion Id like to remind you that the bent
mean of getting on well in thi new world
will be to keep self down and to have the
strong desire that only love can give to
be submissive, and to do what is right both
to God and your father aud mother. May
1 give you a text to take with you? 'Ch
lren, obey your parent in the Lord, for
this is right.'
Tl. ... , ...
iuey were at tne floor ana tnere was
no time for ao answer, but Nuttie, as she
took her place, was partly touched and
partly fretted at the admonition.
The question as to her remaining a day
or two after her mother was soon dism.s
ed of. Mrs. Egremont sent a pretty little
note to make the request, but the elegant
valet who apeared at ten o'clock brought
a verbal message that his master wished
Mrs. am) Miss Egremont to lie ready by
two o clock to Join him iu calling on Lady
Kirkaldy at Monks Ilorton, and that, if
their luggnge was ready by four o'clock
ue, uregono, would taKe cnarge ot it, as
they wt re all to go. up to town by the
4:4D train.
All through the farewells that almost
rent the gentle Alice's heart in two, she
as haunted by the terror that she or her
daughter should have red eyes to vex her
husband. As to Mr. Duttoii. be hud only
come in with Gerard iu a great hurry just
after breakfast, said there was much to
do to-day at the office, as they were going
to take slock, and they should neither of
them have time to come home to luncheon.
He shook the hands of mother and daugh
ter heartily, promised to "look after" Miss
Ileadworth, and bore off in his train young
Gerard, looking the picture of woe.
OHAPTEK VI.
'Mother, mother!" cried two voting peo
ple, bursting oien the door of the pretty
dining r-oiii of Bridgcticld lieetory. where
the g.uwu-tip part of the family were lin
gering over a late breakfast.
'Gently, gently, children." said the dig-'.
nified lady at the head of the table. "Don't
disturb papa."
"But we really have something to sav.
mother," said the elder girl, "and l-'rau-
lein said you ought to know. Uncle Al
wyn is come home, ami Mrs. Egremont.
And please, are we to call her Aunt Egre
mont, or Aunt Alwyn, or what?"
The di'sired sensation was produced.
Canon Egremont put down his newspaer.
the two elder sisters looked from one to
the other in unmitigated astonishment.
Mark briefly made answer to the fiual
question. Aunt Alice.
"Well," said .Mrs. Egremont, "this has
ome very suddenly unon us. It would
have been more for her own dignity if
she had" held out a little lief ore coming
so easily to terms, after the way in which
she has been treated."
"When you see her. mother, you will
understand." said Mark.
"Shall we have to be intimate with
her?" asked May.
"I desire that she should, bp treated as
a relation," said the canon decidedly.
"There is nothing against her character,"
and, as his wife was about to interrupt,
"nothing but an indiscretion to which
she was almost driven runny years ago.
She was cruelly treated, and I for one om
heartily sorry for having let myself be
guided by others."
Mrs. William Egremont felt somewhat
complacent, for she knew he meant Lady
de Lyonnais, and there certainly had been
no love lost between her and her step
children's grandmother; but she was a
sensible woman, and forebore to speak.
Blanche cried out that it was a perfect
romance, and May gravely said, "But is
she a lady?"
"A perfect lady," said Mark. "Aunt
Margaret says ho."
"What did you tell me. Mark?" asked
Mrs. Egremont. "She has been living
with an aunt, keeping a school at Miekel
thwayte." "Not quite," said Mark. "She has been
acting as a daily governess. She seemed
to be on friendly terms with the clerical
folk. I came across the name at a school
feast, or something of the knd, which
came off in the Kirkaldy' party. I won
der what ;hy uncle thinks of his daugh
ter." "What! You don't mean to say there
is a daughter?" cried May.
"Even so. And exactly like you. too,
Miss May." ,
"Then you are cut out, Mark!"
"You are cut out. I think. May. You'll
have to give her all your Miss Egremont
cards."
"How old is she?" asked Blanche.
"About a year yonnger than you."
"1 think it is very interesting," said
Blanche. "How wonderful it must all be
to her! I will go up with you, Mark, as
soon as I can get ready."
"You had better wait till later in the
day, Blanche," said the mother. She
knew the meeting was inevitable, but she
preferred having it under her own eye,
if she could not recounoiter.
She was a just nnd sensible woman,
who felt reparation due to the newly dis
covered sister-in-Jaw, and that harmony,
or at least the appearance of it, must be
preserved; but she was also exclusive and
fastidious by nature, and did not look
forward to the needful intercourse with
much satisfaction either on her own ac
count or that of her family.
She told Mark to say that she should
fome to see Mrs. Egremont after lunch
eon, since he was determined to go at
oii;i and, moreover, to drag hi father
wilh him.
Alice knew Canon Egremont at once,
and thought eighteen years had made lit
tle change, as, at Nuttie's call to her, she
looked from the window and saw the
handsome, dignified, gray-haired, close
pharcii, rosy lace, and Ihe clerical garb
unchanged in favor of long coat and high
waistcoats. . ' '
With crimson cheeks and a throbbing
heart, Alice was only just at the foot of
the stairs when the newcomer bad made
their way in, and the kind canon, ignoring
all that was past, held out his hands, say
ing, "Well, my dear, I am glad to see you
here," kissing Mr. Egremont on each
cheek. "Aud o this is your daughter.
How do you do, my dear Ursula? Isn't
that your name?" And Ursula had again
to submit to a kiss, very much more sav
ory and kindly than her father', though
very stubby.
A to .Mark, he only kissed hi aunt,
and shook hands with her, while hi fath
er ran on with an unusual loquacity that
was a proof of nervoiisue in him.
"Mrs. Egremont Jane, ( mean will be
here after luncheon. 8be thought you
would like to get settled first. How la
Alwyn? Ia he down yet 7"
"1 will aee," in a trembling voir.
"Oh, no, never mind, Alwyn bate to
be disturbed till ba ha tnsde biaiself up
in the moraing. My call la on oa, yov
know. Where are you alttlai?"
"1 don't quit know. Ia IM arawlnf
rooai, I wnpoaa."
Tne canon, knowing the house much bet
ter than she did. opened a d.x.r into a
third drawing room she had not yet seen,
a pretty little rotu. titled up wiiu fluted
silk, like a tent, somewhat failed, but not
much the worse for that, and ojiening ii 'o
a coniHTTatory, which seemed to have lit
tle iu it but some veteran orange trees.
Nuttie, however, exclaimed with pleasure
at the nicest room she had seen, and Mark
began unfastening the glass diKir that led
into it. Meantime Alice, with burning
cheeks and liquid eyes, nerved her voice
to ay, "Oh, sir Mr. Egremont please
forgive me! 1 know now huw wrong 1
was."
"Nonsense, my dear. By-gone are by
gones. You were far more sinned against
than sinuing. and have much to forgive
me. There, my dear, we will say no more
about it, nor think of it. either. I am
only too thankful that poor Alwyn should
have some one to look after him."
(To be continued.)
A REMARKABLE EPITAPH.
A Woman Who Conld Not Foret Her
IluHbantl's Kan It.
Out in Oak Hill Cemetery, the fash
ionable burying ground iu Atchison,
Mo., a marble shaft towers far above
Its neighbors. It is colossal iu fcize,
white a the driven snow, delicate In
proportion, exquisite Iu design, airy
and graceful hk a spliv of Uie Cathe
drui of Milan when viewed from far
away. It is the observed of nil those
who visit flip Iieautiful cemetery and
who tread Its flower lined and shadowy
avenues, and they linger at its granite
base and admire the delicate carving
and ponder upon the strange anil sug
gestive Inscription chiseled upon its
polished surface:
"At last It liitefh like a serpent and
Ktlngeth like au adder." Proverbs,
J3, ?.
This unusual nnd tniiiiue iiontiineut
marks the grave of a once prominent
citizen. He was prominent in business
mil politics, and in nodal affairs. He
was the personification of business in
tegrity, a leader iu public enterprlsen,
the exemplar of the young men of the
community. By and by an appetite for
strong drink took possession of him.
Prosperity, political standing, social lu
ll uence. evervtbiiig was s wet it awav.
The man bad lived and was dead aud
buried, and the great world, forgetting
bis faults nnd frailties, remembered
only his excellences. But the widow!
She remembered even if she did not
remember the virtues of her husband
the cursed cause of rulu. Ami one day,
by her orders, the Imposing monument
above his grave was erected, and
around it, from apex to granite base.
the sculptor bad chiseled from the in
animate marble- a Minke of manv coils,
whose forked tongue, ever protruding.
aim stony eyes, never closing, are a
constant warning to all who look upon
it and read the strange device upon the
polished surface of the granite base
that "at last It biteth like a serpent
and stingeth like an adder."
Chinese. I'alm-e or the .MlUille Age.
Noah Brooks, who is telling for the
boys of to-day "The True Story of Mar
co Polo" iu St. Nicliolas, quotes the fol
lolwug: And when you have traveled
those eight day' journey, you come to
that great city which I mentioned,
called Kenjaiifu, which Iu old times
was a noble, rich, and powerful realm,
and bad many great aud wealthy puis
sant kings. But now the king thereof
is a prince culled Mangalal, the son of
the Great Khan, who haUj riven him
this realm, and crowned him king there
of. It is a city of great trade aud Indus
try. They have great abundance of silk,
from which they weave cloths of silk
and gold, of divers kinds, aud they also
manufacture all sorts of equipments
for au army. They have every neces
sary of man's life very cheap. The city
lie? toward the west; and outside the
city is the palace of the Prince Man-g-alai,
crowned king, and son ot the
Great Khan, as I told you ls-foro. 1
This Is a tine palace and a great, as
I will tell you. It stands in a great
plain abounding ia lakes and streams
and springs of water. Bound about It
Is a massive and lofty .wall, five miles
in compass, well built, and garnished
with battlements. And wlthiu this wall
In the king's pa law, so great and fine
that no one could imagine a finer. There
are In it many great and splendid hallH,
and many chambers, all painted and
emlielllshed with work in beaten gold.
This Mangalal rules his realm right and
well with justice and equity, and Is
much beloved by bis people. The troops
Ffe quartered round alsuit the palace,
and enjoy the sport that the royal de
mesne affords.
Adulterated Bread.
Many late analyses of baker's bread
show that the normal amount of fat In
bread, from one-half to three-quarters
of 1 per cent., Is quite generally raised
to from 3 to 4 per cent. This I accom
plished, by the Introduction of lard or
other cheap foreign fat, o.mr the result
Is a very' white, nice-looking bread, I
eapableoransorbing and carrying much
more water than it otherwise would.
Larg-ely through the free use of lard
about 2t!5 onf-pound loave of bread ar
made from a barrel of flour, which at
five cent a loaf realize J13.23 for the
flour. The moral of this Is that more
home-made and less baker bread
should be eaten, especially In the boon-
of those with small Incomes.
Giving Tit Tor Tat.
"I wish I were an owtrioh," said
Hick, angrily, a he tried to eat one
of hi wife's cakes, and ooukln't.
"I wksh you were," returned Mrs.
Hlclui. "I'd get a few feathera for my
hat then."
Get Along Without Wage.
The Gear of Kua receives no sal
ary. Ill Income arises from 1, (100,0(10
square mile of land, which be Inher
it with toe crown. Hla average income
is a trifle more rhan $30,000 a day.
A dealre for knowledge reqniraa bat
I tit eDcoHrafement to bacoBM a Oxad
conditio
- V
; 1
THE GIRLS.
EV. MAIMSON C. PETEKS of
New York is one of the latter
day pastors who do not Is-Iieve
In confining themselves to simply
pwaching the old-fashioned jmsm1. but
p-efer occasionally to discuss sociologi
cal and even olilicaI topics. Ir. Pe
ters recent ly. deli vered an address which
gave great Kit Israel 1011 to all his near
er.''. pan.ici.larly Mum- among them wuo
had imirrUgeable daughters. The pith
of the sermon is herewith given:
'First, I warn you against the snare
of apin-aiances. There are tricks in
love iu well as In trade. One of them
Is to make things seem to. lie what they
are not. As you value your lite uo not
marry a manikin, a hatter's show Mock,
t tailor's lay figure. Secondly, never
marry a man to mend him or reform
him. If a man will not reform to please
his 'swcel heart he will never do so to
please his wife. I am the father of two
little girls, and rather than that they
should marry nu n wl.o drink I should
prefer to see them taken to the ceme
tery. Thirdly, marry your equal. On
the other hand, do not marry for ambi
tion. Io not marry a man whose age
! greatly disjiroisutionate to yours.
You do not want to sis-nd your liest
days ministering to a superannuated
person. Fourthly, do not make matri
mony a matter of money. So common
has the mercantile estimate of marriage
become that I should not le surprised
to see the "hymeneal market" lint
chronic. if in the newspapers and the
prices current quoted on the Stock Ex
change. "I know it Is accounted a silly tiling
to marry for love, but the woman who
for the want of it reduces marriage to
a meri-etia ry contract degrades mar
riage, degrade herself anl inflicts an
Irreparable u i rage on the man she
marries. Iiou't hesitate to marry a poor
man, but be sure that he lias something
more than his poverty to commend him.
And here let meay, marry a man who
Is industrious. The young man who
lives off the earnings of his father un
til he cau (ind a girl who Is fool enough
to marry him will very likely live oft
bis wife's father. A do-notWug young
man will make a good-for-nothing hus
band. L'ifstly, pans,- long before you
say the word that ends your chain-c of
realizing your Ideal of marriage. Do
Hot become cynh-al. The World is full
of grand husbands and full of young
men who will make the right sort of
woman happy."
To Preserve ! nulmnoV
See that the linen In -.vliV h you wrap
hlni is nicely mended, with the requir
ed number of buttons and strings sew- i
ed on. Tie hlni In the matrimonial ket
tle by a strong silken cord called com
fort, should the one called, duty, prove
too weak, Huslnitxls are apt t fly
out of the kettle aud lie burned nnd
crusty on the edges, Hlntt, like eratts,
and lobsters, you have lo cook them
while alive. Pet them on a clear,
steady lire of love, neatness and cheer
fulness. Set him as near the Hume as
seems to agree with him. If he sput
ters and fri.zles do not lc anxious, for
some husband do this till they are
quite done. Add a little sweetness iu
the form of kisses, but beware of mix
ing vinegar or pepper. A moderate,
amount of spice improves them, but It
must Ie used with good judgment.
Stir hliu gently, watching the while
lest he lie too Hat and clow to the ket
tle so as to become useless. You can
not fail to find out wbeu be Is done.
If thus treated you will Dud a husband
digestible, agreeing nicely with you
and the children, and he will keep a
long as you want him unless you 1m
eome careless and set him In too cold a
place. American Jewess.
Honse Gown.
To Look Grncefol Awheel.
It Is only natural that every woman
should desire to look graceful on a
wheel, ami this longed for result lies
largely with herself. Avoid till unnec
essary motion, particularly with the
knees; learn to pedal as much as pos
sible from jhe ankle. Have your ma
chine perfectly adjusted to you. Have
a trim, well-made and becoming suit,
fitting so well and fashlowd on such
lines that your coaftaiU will nol be
flying out behind, your alclrt blowing
on eitlMT side and your neck bent to
keep your hat from blowing off. Bit up
atralght, have your handle bars smffl
dently high lo allow you to take a
tight but firm bold with the forearm
tmifbt and the elbow on a line with
tm waiat Don't deapiae the day of
GOOD ADVICE TO
R
mm fiMTjm
9y
. . v.
Utile ihiuirs: consider even trine unouv
i vour cycling costume, youY wlietl and
yciir action: improve w In re improve
ment there '-an Is-, ami. w'uen you can
no longer de so, be hapiy in having;
procured the desired end.
Gir'a We Read A joot.
The girl who is a dream f loflinesa
when she Is dry iug her hav In tlie sun.
The blacksmith's daujj'er In Mm
country village w!ii read.1 : tiu, Greek
and Hebrew.
The licautiful Utile govtyuess who
wins the young lord's licart.
The poverty -strlckc:, uiaideu, who,
gowned In simple white urlla and
blue sash, outshit.es her iK'Hcr-Jrcssed
sisters, and is the Indie of li" 111.
The girl who looks fresn and sweet
lit a d-iliily gingham wbeti she ! clean
ing house.
The girl whose wind-blow 11 tresses
fall in a golden shower about I-er ala
baster neck, when she takes K canter
011 her spirited bay.
The proud beauty who scorns the at
ertious of the humble .voting artist,
and learns too late thit he Is a ua') of
fame.
The untutored maiden with the. volc
of n nightingale who brings the yhold
audieiKx" to her feet on her fir
pea ram c.
The l.tlress who wanders alsjul dls-gtiiM-d
as a pool girl and falls In 4ur
with the fisherman's son.
The girl with two or more mrfly
Jealous suitors who can keep them oil
at her beck ami call, and Induce tm
to do anything by a glance of her iJq.
uld eyes.-Philadelphia Times.
New .' ntjr for Maid.
Among 1 he notions of Hie present iy
is that of "1. leaking in the brid'
shiics. This duty Is generally enacttd
by the chief bridesmaid.- But thisouiy
can Is- done where the feet of two
women are nearly of one size; nnd it ut
not a pleasant idea to think of auyon
else standing In our own shoes. It
would get 1 hem out of shape. Yet It Ii
very nice to have the Initial stiffness
taken out of a pair of stout walking
boots, and one morning's wear will
usually do It, Tan shoes are worn In
the morning for bicycling; patent loath
er, kid and cloth-topped slns-s for af
ternoon and satin slippers In the even,
I tig.
Novel Ground for Divorce.
A Boston man, wedded but three
months, Is about to bring suit for di
vorce iijsiTi somewhat novel grounds.
His wife has always Im-cii regarded aa
an attractive woman, but die wai
courted and won by her husband large
ly on account of her luxuriant and
lM-antifu! blonde hair. His compli
ments we're showered upon her halt
profusely before and nfler tnarria,e.
Now he has discovered that all but a
few straggling threads of that hair
were pun based In a switch. It Is said
that he made the discovery about a
week ago and has not Is-en living with
his wife sine'.
Orange and stem green satin vests
make a stylish addition to Mi lltUe
jacket IsMllces and those, with short
Ixileros.
fording and tucks vie with ear, oth
er for the embellishment of the plainer
waist when a second trimming mate
rial or applied garniture Is not de.
sired.
All the latest adjustable rihvn
stocks are wound twl-e around the
Imck and fastened In the Iwtek or fn,nt
as preferred, the latter way though n
ina much newer and more practiced. '
An old-fashion revived Is to have a
sleeveless waist or alternate stripes of
velvet or satin riblx.n aud lace with
girdle aud bolero to match over a silk
slip. The sleeves and stock match the
sup, or course.
Both fitted and linlf-fltted Jackets are
worn, but those with the back snug
and taut to the liody give the most In
coming apjiearance to the figure. Have
the lawk reach quite to the waist line.
They arc very apt lo ride up, and If too
short ? very ugly.
The Jacket fronts which will be ex ten
slvely worn this spring may be round,
square, pointed or cut Into any fancy
shape your taste may desire. They
may high or low, but no matter what
the filial) they always give the effect
of a Jacket over a full vest or waist.
A utilitarian Idea Is to have a bodice
with an adjustable yoke that can be
hooked on, so that when It Is removed
the. gown Is cut low and cijn be worn
for evening. Many of the most fash
lonable modistes are making their
handsomest gowns In this way thi
spring.
Moat I'opn'sr Womnn.
In the voting by the readers of Worn,
an, the English Journal, to dechl,. who
Is the "most isqitilar woman In n(l.
United Kingdom" outside of royal cir
cha, the Baroness Burdott-('ou-; led
the list, with Ellen Terry secomj inul
Mme. PatM third.
7
1
KM'
- -1
