'
CHAPTER VI.
re next evening they are all out on the
tftflvety sward. The last glimpse of day
fcjgone. "Death's twin-sister, Sleep," has
Sr$eu upon the earth. Oue by one the
sweet stars come out in the dusky vault
above, "spirit-like, infinite." In amougst
the firs that stand close together iu a
huge clump at the end of the lawn, great
shadows are lying that, stretching ever
and ever farther, form at lasO a link be
tween the land and the sea.
"Ah! here you are, Stephen." says Kir
Mark, addressing the languid young man
they bad met in the morning, who is coni
5g to them across the grass. "Why
didn't you come sooner?"
"They wouldn't give me any dinnpr un
til abotit an hour ago," says the languid
young man in a subdued voice. He glances
from Portia to Julia Beaufort, and then
to Dulee. There his glance rests. It is
ivident he has found what he set-ki.
"Dulce, I think I told yon Stephen !
Gower was coming to-night," says Roger,
Imply. And then Dulce rises and ssile
up to bim, and, filled with the determina
tion to keep sacred a promise she had
made to be particularly nice to Roger's
friend, holds out to him a very frieudly
hand and makes bim a warm welcome.
Then Portia makes him a little bow,
and Julia simpers at bim, and presently
be finds himself accepted by and admitted
to the bosom of the family, which, indeed,
la a rather nondescript one. After a f"w
moments of unavoidable hesitation be
throws himself at Duke's feet, and, lean
ing on his eibnw, tells himself country
life, after all, isn't half a bad thing.
1 "What a heavenly night it is," says
Dulce, smiling down ou him. Perhaps
he is hardly aware how encouraging her
mile can be. "See the ocean down
there," pointing with a rounded, soft,
bare arm, that gleams like snoif in the
moonlight, to where the sea is sh ning be
tween the trees. "How near it seems,
AMfb we know H is quite far .way."
Js la nearer to you than I am," says
SSSoww, in a tone that might imply the
tt that he thinks the oceaa In better
i than himself.
foil, not just now," says Dulce,
V at Just now," returns he. echoing her
..V "I suppose we should be thankful
for stobII mercies; but I wish the Fens
was a little nearer to ibis place that it is."
"Portia, can you see Inca's Cliff from
this?" asks Dulce. looking at her cousin.
Ton remember the spot where we saw
the little blue flowers yesterday, that yon
ao coveted. How clearly it stands out
sow beneath the uiiMWibeia."
"Like burnished silver," says Portia,
dreamily, always with a lazy motion
fling her black fan to and fro. "And
anfie flowers bow I longed for them,
, vr.jjjcipally, I suppose, because they were
-.."-Wid my reach."
"JV'here are theyT' asks Roger. "1
''r remember seeing blue flowers
-."h! yon wouldn't notice them," aays
fiance, a fine touch of petulance in
s? tone that makes Gower lift his head
to look at her; "but they were there, nev
ertheless. Tbey were the very color of
the Alpine gentian, aud so pretty. We
qnite fell in love with them, Portia and
I, Portia especially; but we could not get
them, tbey were so low down."
"There was a tiny ledge we might have
stood on," says Portia, "but our courage
failed us, and we would not try it."
"And quite right, too," gays Sir Mark.
"I detest people who climb precipices and
descend clins. It maet my blood run
cold."
"Then what made you climb all those
Swiss mountains two years ago?" asks
Julia Beaufort, who has talent for say
ing the wrong thing, and who has quite
forgotten the love affair that drove Sir
Mark abroad at that time.
"I don't know," replies he, calmly;
never shall, I suppose. I perfectly hated
It all 1he while, e-pecially the guides, w ho
were more like assassins than anything
else. 1 think llicy haled me, too, and
would have given anything to pitch me
ever some of the passes.
Portia laughs.
"I can sympathize with you," she says
"Danger of any sort has no charm for
me. Yet I wanted those flowers. I think"
idly "I shall always want them, simply
because I can t get them.
"Yon shall have then in three seconds,
If yon will only say the word," says Dicky
Browne, who is all bnt fast asleep, and
who looks quite as like descending a rag
ged cliff as Portia herself.
"I am so glad I don't know the 'word,' "
ays Portia, with a little grimace. "It
would be a pity to endanger a valuable
life Ilk yours."
Dulce turns to Mr. Gower,
"Yon may smoke if yon like," she says,
sweetly "1 know you are longing for a
cigarette or something, and we don't
rind.''
"Where la Fabian V (ha asks suddenly,
peering through th ilia? gloom. "Are
yon there, darling T
Bat no one answer her. It seems to
them that, tiring of their company, be
ha taken himself to solitude and the
house once more. No one ha seen him
go, bat, daring the last few mlnntes,
grajr-blark cloud has been slowly wan
errj over the pile-fed moon, and
Mf nc .tr. n.T ? rr.'re !o''-'-.
lei hp i'viiia, ft ha M sitting oa
. 1 -'.nter edge of the group, might have
"-' :'id his departure, bnt if so, sha says
tog of It ,,
e nibs on. Rome one yawaa, and
" trlas valaly to turn it lata a sigh.
M feaU from soma distant sfsa to ska
ustlt stamherina? Tillage far below la the
psata loll slowly, wi.erniily, as thongb to
war tbm t'j it cleve" wri bottn )
snppeu into tne great and fathomless sea
of Eternity.
All. k.j lute!" says Dulce. with a little
start. "II. iw swiftly time has gone to
night. I never saw it tiy with such hot
haste. That proves I have Iwu happy
does it not?"
She smiles down upon Mr. Gower, who
is still at ber feet, and he smiles up only
too willingly at her. At this uiomrnt :
dark figure emerges from amongst th
moaning firs, and comes toward them.
Portii, whose eyes have been upon this
newcomer for a full minute before the
others noticed him, only turns bcr bead
away, and lets it sink a degree more laz
ily into the cushion of her chair. The firs
mounting high into the sky, stand out
boldly against their azure background
rabian advances with more haste aud
says:
'It is only me," In his usual dear, slow
voice.
I assing by Portia's chair, he drops into
her lap a little bunch of dark blue flow
ers.
"Ah:" she says quickly, then checks
nerself. laking up the deeply dyed blos
soms, she lays them in her pink palm,
and, bending her face over them, exam
ines them silently. Sir Mark, regarding
her curiously from the background, won
ders whether she is thinking of them or
of their donor.
" by, those are the flowers we were
talking about," says Dulce, with a faint
contraction of her brows. "Fabian! Did
you risk your fate to get them?"
"l'our life!" gays Portia, in an Inde
scribable tone, as if the words were drawn
from her against her will. I think she
had made up her mind to keep utter si
lence, but some horror connected with
Dulce'g hasty remark has unbound her
lipR. She turns her eyes upon him, and
he can see by the moonlight that her face
is very white.
"It was the simplest thing In the
world," says Fabian, coldly. "There was
the ledge Dulce told you of, and plenty
of tough heather to hold on by. I assure
you. If there was the smallest danger, 1
should not have attempted it. And, be
sides, I was fully rewarded for any trou
ble I undertook. The view up there to
night Is miignificent."
To Portia it is an easy matter to trans
late his last remark. He is giving her
plainly to understand that be neilher
seeks nor desires thanks from her! The
view has sufiiced him.
With the flowers still In her hand, Por
tia has wandered way from the others,
and entering the drawing room before
tbey have mounted the balcony steps,
goes up to a mirror and regards herself
attentively for a moment.
A little gold brooch, of Indian work
manship, I fastening the lace at her bos
om. She loosens it, and then raises the
flowers (now growing rather crushed and
droopingl as if with the evident intention
of placing them, by means of the brooch,
against her neck. Yet, even with her
hand half lifted, she hesitates, glances at
her own image again, and finally, turning
away, leaves the brooch empty.
Fabian, entering the drawing room at
this moment with the others, has had time
to notice the action, the hesitation, every
thing. Thn comes bed honr. The men pre
pare to go to the smoking room the
women think fondly of their own rooms
and their maids.
Fabian, lighting a candle, takes It np
to Portia. They are all standing In the
hall now, beneath the light of the hang
ing lamps. She smiles her thanks with
out letting her eyes meet his, and let him
place the candle in her left hand.
"Have you hurt this?" he asks, lightly
touching her right hand as he speaks.
. 1 pause a moment, and then
slowly opening her closed fingers, show
him the blue flowers lying therein.
"They are lovely," he says, in a low
tone, "and I did wish for them. But
never never do that again."
"Do what again?"
"Endanger your life for me."
"There was no danger and yon had
expressed a wish for them,"
CHAPTER X71.
"Where are yon going, Uncle Christo
pher?" ask Dulce, as Sir Christopher
enters the small drawing room, booted
and spurred a if for a loug journey.
Portia, in the distance. Is bending over
an easel; Julia 1 forming some miracu
lous flower, that never yet was seen by
land or sea, on a coarse towel, with some
crewel woods; the Boodie I lying on her
little fat stomach, drawing diligently
with a slate and pencil; Dulce, charmingly
Idle, Is leaning back in a lounging chair,
doing nothing.
To Warminster," says Sir Christopher.
"What shall I bring you girls from that
sleepy little town'"
"Something sweet," say Dulce, going
up to him and laying her soft arms loving
ly round his neck,
"Like yourself," says Sir Christopher.
Just at this moment Fabian enters the
room.
"Going to drive to Warminster?" he
asks hi uncle.
"Yes."
"Not Bess, I hope?" alluding to a very
objectionable young mare In the stables.
"Yes," sny Sir Christopher again.
"Why not?"
"She is utterly unsafe. About the
worst thing In chestnuts I ever met. I
took her ont myself the other day rode
her straight from this to Orange, and I
confess I should not rare to do It again.
Take on of the other bora, and let that
beast 11a quiet until you can get rid of
her."
"Nonsensel" says Sir Christopher,
scornfully; "I wouldn't part with her for
;- m ney. fje Is the greatest beauty
ril side of the, county."
" 'Willful man most bava hi war "
quote Fabian, with a slight shrug. "Be
fore I go out, shall I look aver tboaa ae
coasts with MymeT" ,
"Where art yoa goingF
"To th warm with the athars. to
bare a few shots at tba rabbits ther
overrun the place."
"Very good. Just ask ftlynsa aboat lb
accounts, nf the by, he gets more Irreg
ular daily."
"Mure drunk, du you mean?" says Fa
bian, 'lb i;e are moments wheo bis ui a li
ner is boih cold and uncompromising.
"es! '. just so,'' sajs S;r Christo
pher, hastily. "But for the melancholy
story that attaches itself to him and
that, of course, is some excuse for him
1 really should not feel myself justified
in keeping hint here much longer."
"What story?" asks Portia.
"Oh, well; it all lies in a nutshell. It
is au old story, too; one has so often
heard it. A bad son dissipated in per
petual hot water. A devoted father. Then
one day a very bad story comes, and the
sou has to rly the country. And then
some time afterward, news comes of bis
death. Slyme never saw him again. He
broods over that. I think: at least, he has
never been the some man since the son,
Matthew, left Kngland. It was all a
very unhappy business."
"For the father, perhaps. For the son,
he had more than ordinary luck to d.e
w hen he did." says Fabian. He does not
spink at all bitterly. Only hope'essly, and
without heart or feeling.
'Aobod.v knows how old Gregory got
him out of the country so cleverly," says
rir ( linsiophor. "It was a marvel how
be managed to elude the grasp of the
law."
"He satisfied the one principal creditor,
I suppose .' says Fabian, indifferently.
"Oh, iinposMble," says S.r Christopher.
'It came to hundreds, you know; and he
hadn't a farthing. Well, good-by; I'm off.
Expect me and the bon bons about din
ner hour."
He nods to Portia and Julia, who smile
at him in return, and, kissing Daice, quits
the room. Fabian, following him, goes
on to the library, and, having desired one
of the men to send the secretary, Slyme,
to him, sits down at oue of the tables and
turns over leisurely the pages of accounts
that lie there.
After a brief examination he tells him
self impatiently that tbey are somewhat
muddled, or have, at least, been attended
to in a most slovenly manner. He has
just discovered a serious mistake in the
row of figures that idorn the end of the
second page, when the door opens slowly
and Gregory Slyme comes in.
"W ait a moment, Slyme," says Fabian,
ithout looking up from the figures be
fore Him. A moment passes in titter si
lence. Then Fabian, still with his eyes
upon the account, says soniew hat sharnlv:
"Why, it Is altogether wrong. It has been
attend" to with extreme carelessness.
Did you, yourself, see to this matter of
Younge's?"
He waits apparently for an answer
but none comes. Lifting his eyes, he fixes
thern scrutinizingly upon the old man be
fore him, und having fixed them, lets
them rest there in displeased surprise.
Myme, beneath this steady gaze, grow
visibly umnsy. His eyes shift uncom
fortably from one object In the room to
another; his limbs are unsteady the hand
resting on the tablet near him is shaking.
His face betrays vacancy mixed with a
cunning desire to hide from observation
the heaviness and sluggishness that Is
overiwwering him. The old man mutters
something that is almost unintelligible,
so thick and husky are his tones. His
eyes grow more restless mechanically,
snH as though unconscious of the act, he
leans his body stupidly against the book-
case near him.
You are drunk," says "abian, with
slow scorn "leave the room."
"I unsure you, sir," began Slyme. Bnt
Fabian will not listen.
"(Jo." he says, briefly, with a disdainful
motion of the bund, and in a tone not to
be disobeyed. Klyrne moves toward the
door in his usual slouching fashion, but,
as he reaches it, pauses for one Instant,
lifts his heavy eyes, and lets them rest
upon the young man at the distant table.
Ibis one instant reveals his thoughts,
In his glance there is fear, distrust, and.
above all. n malignant and undying hat
red such a hatred as might project Itself
from the eyes of the traitor upon his vic
tim. There is, too, upon Klyme's fnce a
contortion of the muscles, that It would
be sacrilege to call a smile, that I re
vengeful, and somehow suggests the pos
sibility that this mat, however impotent
he may now appear, has in some strange
fashion, acquired a bidden and terrible
powr over the young man, who a moment
since had treated him with such scorn and
contumely.
The old secretary's countenance for this
fateful moment is one brilliant, if wicked.
phantasmagoria, In which the ghost of
long-sustained thoughts appear and disap
pear, going from fear and it brother,
hatred, to lasting revenge. Then all van
bib; the usual sodden look return to the
man's face; he open the door, and once
more, instead of the evil genius be looked
a second ago, a broken-down, drunken
old creature crosses the threshold, sham
ble over the hall, and 1 lost presently
among the many passages.
CHAPTER. VIII.
The afternoon wanes; day Is sinking to
iu rest. Behind the tall, dark firs "the
gre.it gold sun-god blaring through the
sky, may still be seen, but now he grows
aweary, and would fain give place to hi
suiter, the pale moon.
"Ths sweet, keen smell the sighing
sound" of coming night is on the air. The
restless ocean is rolling inland with a
monotonous roar; there Is scarcely sum
cient breeze to rutlle the leaves of the
huge chestnut that stand near one cor
ner of the old house, not far from the bal
cony outside the drawing room windows,
where Mrs. Beaufort and the two girls
are sitting.
All 1 peace nntil tartling Interrup
tion occurs. Firt opon the air the re
port of two gun being Bred off quickly,
one after the other! then the quick, flinty
ouna or a horse s galloping hoof.
Nearer they come, and (till nearer, with
that mad haste belonging to them that
suggest unmanageable fury In the brute
breast; and a all on the balcony rise sim
ultaneously and press forward to see what
may be coming, Bess and the dog cart
turn' the corner near the chestnut tree
and dash onward toward the lower lawn.
Sir Christopher, grim and full of rage
a the animal In whose power he now
8nd himself, I itiil holding tba reins
bnt more for form' sake than anything
else, as he has no control whatever over
the Infuriated chestnut, that, with red
dened nostrils snd foam-covered flanks,
is rushing madly dow n the green slope.
A sodden rise In thtt velvet lawn caus
ing th dog cart to sway rather moch to
on aid unseat tba groom, who la fluag
somewhat heavily to the ground. Being,
fortunately, however, anhart, kt rtos
hastily m4 raw frantically ator the
mare, a the la fool lab bap tht b
tsisy i ertakt ber ud b of sots swrto
to his maatsr
ttkbwwa,bytasiUMWiiri,
a river, small, but swlrt d turbulent,
that flows fur to miles through the park,
aud waving field, and glowing valley, lo
throw itself dually info the arms of the
thirsty ocean. Toward this the horse is
rushing madly. Once on ils bank, who
shall tell what next may happen? There
will iie a mad Is. und, a cr.iU, a cry, r
liaps, that will pierce through ail oilier
Sounds, and then
As tbese thoughts fon e themselves up
on the girls tbey shudder, and involun
tarily move closer to each other, Dulce
covers ber face w ith her hands, as though
to shut out some dreadful sight, and a
low, dry sob escajiea her. Portia, deadly
pale, is clinging to the balcony rails, aud
gazing in speechless fear at the chestnut,
lbat every instant is bringing .iciirer to
the fateful goal. Julia, from time to time,
emits short little shrieks of terror.
Onward (lies the mare with Sir Chris
topher. Nearer and nearer to the brink
of the stream they draw; now they are
within a few yards of it: soon help will
be of little use, and the panting groom
and two young men who are following
him w ill only be in time to witness more
closely the disaster. All seems, iii'lc-d,
hopeless, when a man, springing from be
hind the lhi''k laurel hedge that crows on
the right, rushes forward, and, seizins
Bess by the head by sheer force of mind
and body, forces ber upoi, her haunches
It 's Fabian!" says Portia, in a vide
sharp s ith fear. There is positive agony
In her tone.
And now ensues a struggle between
man and beast; a struggle sharp but
short. The beast, frightened, or perhapt
with fury exhausted, it may be, compelled
against its will to acknowledge the supe
nor power of mind over matter givei
way, and after good deal of prancing
stands tolerably quiet, though still trem
bling from excitement and violent fin
per. By this time the groom, w lib (Sower
and Dicky Browne, have joined them.
(To be continued.)
Foot Weariness.
A (Treat m.my years ago th? old-fash
ioned iMiek-eoiintry housekeeper learn
ed that when ahe had work to do thai
Involved a crcat deal of standing on hei
feet In one place she was the gniner bj
fo!d!ns a piece of carpet on a rug and
placing It on the floor under h-r fet,
Bay the New York ledger.
It has tnken the business men a lonj
time to learn Just wliat a great many
of the grandmothers and auntlea of
this world knew rery long ago name
ly, that ptople who stand In one plan
for any length of time would nave t
great portion of their foot and leg wear
lnesg Lf they arranged for something
soft on the floor. One sensible man
spread a thick coating of tan bark oe
the floor of his warehouse; anothei
used stwdust and found It a groat ad
van.tafc'6. Where those substances can
not introduced with safety or con
venlencea light platform of rather this
boards for the men to stand on has beet
found of groat value In the saving ol
strength. In office where men are con
stant'y on tholr feet thick manilla mat
ting la helpful In avoiding that extre-rm
weariness to whirl) active people art
subject. Wearing loose shoe with I
thick Insole of felt Is recommended I
when floors are extremely bard an
nnylelding. A little attention to som
of wha appear to be the minor deta'li
of life will oftentimes repay the pain
taking employer in lucrea-scd useful
nes and the ability to accomplish
greater amount of labor.
Circus Man' Iteool lections.
"Giants,?" said the old circus man
"Oh, yes, we've had some big men It
the show at one time and another. Out
of the blgget we ever had use to conil
his hair with a section of a picket
fence. That was a part of the atree(
show when we made the parade In i
town. Usually we had an arrange
ment In advance with the owner of tb
fence, and had a panel loosened, s
that the glunt wouldn't wreck tot
much of the fence In picking up thi
pnrt be wanted to ntte. When th
(show came along to this spot the giant
would step up to the fence, take off hit
hat and pick up the piece of fence li
always looked an if he had rreniondo'u
strength, too and raise It up and com I
bis Lair with It. Aud then be would
put the big comb down again and pui
on bis bat and nwve on. This alwayi
tickled the people Immensely. And hi
certainly wu a big man, sure; bnt wi
bad a bigger man once. I wouldn't dan
tell you how IaIb thla other man waa
because yon wouldn't belleva lt,"
New York Bun-
Peaches with Itanana Skin.
William P. Winter, a retired oarpen,
ter, who lives at 82(5 North Carey street,
Bnltlmore, has entered heart and soul
Into the wizard bualneas with remark
able results. In a cozy little back yard
of Mr. Winter's borne grows a peach
tree that has produced annual crops of
luscious fruit for a numlicr of years.
Two years ago Mr. Winter grew weary
of the conventional covering of thi
peaches In his limited orchard, and de
termined at least to produce a peck
minus that o'ojectlonal nap or down.
He began a series of experiments, and
that year produced a peach clothed In
th ordinary raiment of the banana;
but, not satisfied with the result of bli
startling assault on nature, be has suc
ceeded In producing a crop, which Is
Inst now rip, that looks for nil th
world like a tree full of apples. The
skin of the fruit la perfecily smooth
and of tiark red hue, shading grad
ually Into a yellow that Mr. Winter
claims la a remnant of the banana skin.
"Next year," said na, "I'll have an
orange akin on them."
Uit Plata.
8cn Oermaji art gallery. IWant
Woman (noticing an artist copying on
of the old mastera)- Why do they paint
this picture twice T
liar Hua band Why, tbafa quit
plain. Wbaa th mw ptctnra la doo
tfecT bang Issl oat tba wall aad throw
th old om away. nt-Blta.
Thar In aUMtlvar Mary cotag around
ttat w doa't baiter: that a asotbat
erar nada a danghtar many a
ajalaat bar wQL
T(W& nPUAMFM'l
WOMAN COUNTY PHYSICIAN
Al KKSHA COI'NTV. Wis
onsin. has a county physi
cian of the gentler sex. Tills
woman Is Dr. Muylielle M. Park, who
was elecied by the county lioard of su
pervisors after a spirited contest, bcr
opponents Icing three male physicians
of most conservative antecedents und
practice.
Miss Park wns born at Dodge's Corner.-
. a village In the southern part of
Waukesha County. Miss Park gradu
ated from Carroll College, in Wtinke
kba, and then attended the State I'ni-
I'AKK.
versity, w here she received I lit- degri-t'
of bachelor of science In IM1. The en
suing autumn she matriculated at the
Woman's Medical College of Pennsyl
vania at Philadelphia, and graduated
In the three years' course. She then
took the Pennsylvania Slate examina
tion, one more dreaded by the young ;
M. D. than any oilier college ordeal.
After she bad passed this examina
tion with distinguished ucci-s, she ;
0M-ned an otlice in Philadelphia, and i
uIko began a course of study in the
Post C.radunte School of Ilomi-opathlcs
She received from this institution the
degree of 11. M. tmasfer
of hoineo-local'-d
In
patiilcsi, after which tbe
Waukesha.
Queen f Uie Kitchen.
A Pennsylvania woman declun that
she would rather lie the cook iu a fash
ionable bouee than be mLstress of It.
This queen of the kitchen has met with
many reverses, but lust end of growing
old and morose she ha grow n philo
sophical and Is making the tt of life.
which she finds Isn't half U'id. She
manages to take In the opera from the
bal'-cjiiy or from the gallery, wi a good
play now and then, reads books which
are beyond the comprehension of her
mistress, feeds on the fat of the land.
and all without the worry of Ix-lag a
fine lady.
"As for tn-lng a saleswoman In a siore
or a typewriter or a clerk, I wouldn't
like It al least, 1 would rather le
where I am," she says. "My weekly In
come may not be u large as Mime of
these, but then I am well fed aud com
fortably sheltered without cost and
w it bout price. Nor do I have to rise
earlier than the lady clerk,' nor ait up
later, aud my room Is more comfort
able than hers, and I am quite mire my
work Is not half as tiresome uor as dis-
agitvable. Besides, when 1 have squar
ed at-counus at the end of the month, I
have more money In my pockut than
she."
Htrnin of Wedding Present.
A bride of a year w as recently beard
to say that ten of her acquaintance
were to be married soon, and that a
the parent of all of them bad sent her
expensive wedding gifts she and her
husband were In much perturbation
about the customary return. There Is
food for rellet tlou iu her comment that,
as they lived In a small rented houne
and kept but oue servant, their valu
able silver was stored In the vault
where it bad been placed at their mar
riage; that although the glftx repre
sent ml over f.'I.(Xl the yomw husband
bad to struggle for their livelihood; anil
that the most modest present tLcy
could select for tbplr ten friend would
take his whole mouth's salary.
What Koyul Women Weigh.
The Empress of Austria wulgbg les
than any other crowned royal lady In
ICuroix?, her weight being only 102
pounds, In spite of the fact that her
majesty Is extremely toll. The Queen
of Knglaud, when laat In Nice, weighed
224 poumbi, more than twice as much
as the Austrian em pre, who Is so
much taller. The Queen of Italy weighs
1M pounds; the Queen Regent of
Spain, 157 pound; the ex-Queen Isa
bella of Spain. 2,'8 pounds; and the
Queen regent of the Netherlands, 2l:i
pounds.
Kdltor of London Queen,
Miss Elizabeth Lowe, who died re
cently In London, bad been the editor
of the London Queen for thirty-three
years. Her brother trained his slsler
In Journalistic work at a period when
the woman Journalist bad scarce ap
peared on the acene. When Miss Lowe
took the editorship of the Queen the
paper contained sixteen psges; now It
numbers from 100 to nearly IfiO and Is
the moMt ImjiorLant of English papers
devoted to feminine lntereata.
Will War oa WtsUfcy.
Kansas University girl belonging to
tbeyoung women's fraternities bar or
ganlced a war on whJaky and Intoxicat
ing liquors. The una of the latter at
parti flvtnj by the male s''id'"i'' fr-
DR. JIATI1KLI.K M.
I tertiitl.-s at the Lawrence Inst Itiit1o
will be steppe', ir the girls to the nuru-
l r of thirty five, together with tins
wives of n number of the professors of
Ibc liiMltiillon and a few of tlx- ma'
truns of the city, can prevent. A re0
: luilon was passed declaring that at th
in-t fraternity party at which a tn-ent
of liquor was detected the young lady
imil itig the dls4-overy was to give a
i sign, at which all the young liiIis pros
cut were to nt om e leave for home la
; a body.
Curious Customs.
A curious marring!' custom obtains
In the island of Iliinla, just oppoart
the islands of Kliodcs. The iJn-cks, by
whom it Is. peopled, earn their living
by the ssjnge fishery. No gfl'l In this
isl mil U allowed to mairy until sho
has brought up a certain number ut
sponge, which must be taken from a
certain depth. In boiiic of the other
Creek Islands th; demonstration of
ability is recpiircd of the men, and
if I here are several suitors for the hand
of a maiden Iut father ln-stows her on
the tiinn who chu dive lst and bring
up the largest nuiiitx'r of ssuges.
Tuleutcd Hoonirr C irl.
M iss Mcb CullxTtsou is a daughter of,
Indiana of which the State Is very
proud. Ilcr beuuty Is simply perfect.
Her portrait appears In the "Book of
Kngllsb Beauties" with the Duchess of
Sutherland and other handsome and
high-born women of these time, bat
MUs CullM-rlson Is nut only a beauty.i
She Is a geiilu.s, too. She Is a sculptor
of great performance and greater pron-1-h'.
She has studied that neglected art
In those centers where scuplture baa IU
best high prlexta to-day. She hna ex
hlbited iu the Paris salotia. She origM
iriaied the custom of modeling h&ndai
and arms of noted people. She did Coi-i
ou'.'l Inglinoll, Mme. Calve, F.Ila Whoe'
er Wilcox, and General Iew WaltncW
in this way. She has wrought In nuu
ble the clasped hands of Susan B. Ann
ony ami Llizabetb C'ady StantouJ
, - MUa Culbertsou is the daughter of that
MISS WEB CCLHKBTM).
late Dr. J. W. Cullx-rlson, the eminent'
eye surgeon. Her mother Is the daugh
ter of Major Anthony llllborn, a well
known British olllcer. Kixdally Mia
CulbertKoii is much sought for. Her
beauty, her genius, her broad undo
standing, her fascinating manners gir
her all that Is of value for association.
Severe critics predict for this young
lady a Ugh position In the world of
art.
Brave Kntclinh Woman.
During Uie defense at Fort GuHataa
or Cavagrarl Iu the Sam ana rang
mum, uy uie uniuin irooiss agalnat aa
assault of the Afti.
d I s, an English,
woman named
Wlsa Magrata,
showod corutplcn
oux bravery. Sh
attended tb
wounded through.
"Of the st.-r.rgia
ya U'a.PVV . """w
uuuer an unnas.
"r " "-" uiw
' Without the leaat
HAOIIATH. fear ,ue rnellt(H,.
ly went to tho front with water fop
wounded men, aad many times knelt
down and bandaged the wounda of th
fallen soldier on the apot where tbtyt
fell. She came out of the struggJa
without a scratch.
Note About Women.
A woman has made the Journey from
South Africa to South Dakota to sua'
for divorce.
Mis May Channlng Winter has boa
ftp-pointed a niemlKT of th PhJlada.
phla Board of Education.
TUe Prlweaa of Wale has no panic,
lar liking for outdoor games, eicctlng
croquet, of which she 1 very fond.
Mrs. Joseph Meek, who died recenU
In Africa, was the Prlncea Jejesl, of
the first royal hoiuteof the Zulu nation,
Mrs. Humphry Ward, who has baaa
writing for only ten years, and baa
produced very few books, hss earn
A Now York woman baa a display ad
rtrJocuiL'Jit In one of the oapur, 0f thai
city, announcing tba graining to her of
a divorce from bar bmband by a Norm
Dakota court
. Miaa Julia Clark, of Da tag, Taxaa,
Is a survivor : tba days of '49 In Oa
fornla. Kbe waa tbe ooly wocaaa tm
the gold bunting party which laat Utm
Orleans in July of ttet yaar.
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