..i ■ Ini —
-
BY M.T.CALDOR.
INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION*
vnAriKn vii.—
"Have I told you how I raine to fall?
You aee. I thought I saw a anil off on the
water, and I forgot what I waa about
and lent forward too far. Perhaps I
waa right, and ye'll all get away to lib
erty as well a» me. Ye'd better light a
Are on the cliff at night If you make out
the sail. Poor little Hllle, don't cry so.
Tom’* dreadful sorry lo leave ye all so
lonesome here, but we mustn't rebel
ag'ln the Ix>rd, you know."
Immediately he ran off Into a ram
bling. Incoherent talk, that showed his
mind was away In the little hamlet of
bis native town. He laughed once,
and spoke his sister’s name In a quick,
glad way. like one who ha* come to «
happy meeting. Only once more he I
spoke—this time with something of hi* 1
old cheery heartiness.
"That's comforting," said he, "Oh, I
Mr. Vernon, how glad I am ye’ve come
to love the Bible better'n them rhyming
books. Read that again, please, sir, If
ye can see for the dark,”
"He thinks we are at our evening f
reading." whispered the swed, scarcely- I
breathing Walter.
Mr. Vernon looked piteously at the
aaby fare, and filmed, unseeing eye, and
then conquering hi* emotion repeated
solemnly the psalm "The laird Is my
Bhepherd." The words seemed to reach
the dying ears, for a contented smile
played round the pallid lips. (Moser
and closer drew the sorrowing group.
The glassy eye was fixed now; the lln.bs
no longer quivered; only a faint throb
bing at the throat told of life. In a
few moment* that had ceased too. In
shuddering horror Walter and Eleanor
Aung themselves In Mr. Vernon's arms.
Folding them closely In his arms he
groaned:
"flod have mercy upon us—we three
are left alone."
The seen* that followed I* too har
rowing to be pictured. Anywhere, at
any time, death Is sad and awful
enough, but there on that lonely Island
the strongest and stoutest taken from
their little number—no tongue can de
scribe the terrible loneliness. the
wretched gloom that followed.
They made his grave beyond the
spring, beneath the Hibiscus tree, and
never was mound more tenderly
smoothed or sorrowfully bedewed with
tears than the lonely Island grave of
Tosn Harris. It was not until the sec
ond dismal day after his death that the
Miiggestion of Tom's came to Mr. Ver
non's mind. The sail he had seen—
what had become of ItT Was It still In
view?
Walter had been Tom’s pupil In those
athletic exercises that become a sailor's
second nature, and was, moreover, nat
tirally active and agile. He volun
teered at once to ascend the flagstaff,
although his cheek blanched and Ills
-eye studiously avoided the spot where
poor Tom had fallen. Eleanor was
nearly frantic at the proposal, but his
father, after a few earnest words of
caution, consented that he should make
the attempt. It was now three days
since the accident, and there had been
no breeze on shore, and they had cher
ished the forlorn hope that If a vessel
toad actually been near them she could
not yet have drifted from sight. Wal
ter's face was gloomy enough as he de
scended. There was a faint speck on
the water as far as he could see, but be
did not believe It was a ship.
Mr. Vernon suddenly startled to a con
sciousness of the Insecurity of his own
life, had become morbidly anxious to
leave the Island. Without Tom's
-cheery, self-reliant nature to sustain
him. he felt Incapable of protecting the
youthful beings Providence had left In
his charge. Moreover, he had long
been aware of an Inward malady slowly
but certainly entlng away hla strength.
For himself he asked nothing belter
than a grave beside his faithful com
panion. For Ihe children’s sake the j
life on the lonesome island seemed In
\/wine iv i nr iivunv nun *»»-«*• wit "n
hymn my father taught ua. I will rock
you In my arma, my poor frightened
darling, till aleep ahall come; and then
my father shall aleep In Tom’a room,
ho you need not feel lonely, while I ahall
keep the Are blazing brightly all night.
Will you try and aleep, Ellle?"
He drew her gently down the cliff In
to the pretty parlor that waa called her
room, and aa he hud aald, took her In
hla arma, and aut down In the rocking
chair he hlniuelf had made for her, and
In hla clear, aweet voice began a low
hymn Hla aoothlng lonea atllled Iho
tumult In Eleanor's heart; the aoba
refuted, Ihe teara no longer trickled
down her eheek, and preaently the
weary, awollen eyellda cloned aoftly,
and her quint, regular breathing told
him ahe slept. Laying her carefully
upon the couch, Walter went back to
hla father, who atood with bowed head
and folded arms at the foot of the cliff.
“Have you any hope, father?” he
asked calmly.
“Yea, my son, the hope that depend*
upon prayer. Heaven know* bow I
have poured out my *oul In petition that
help may come to you. Joyfully, gladly
would I propose that the price of your
safety might be my own worthies* life.
1 am content If the ship will come to
take your two fresh young heart* to
human companlonuhlp, though I myself
may never set foot upon the land of my
birth. I have ho much hope, Walter,"
"You talk so lightly of your life it
grieves me deeply. What It ha* been I
know not; you have never told me, hut
that It la now our greatest consolation
and Joy. I feel more deeply than word*
can say.”
“Some time, Walter, you shall know
all. Perhaps It Is aelAah In me that I
would hide the past till the laat mo
ment. It wll not be long before you
will understand everything. Go In
now, and leave me to tend the Are.”
"No, Indeed,” waa Walter’s decisive
reply. "I am young and strong. At for
night watches. Besides, Eleanor I*
i » ni,i» no uii'i iim h;iio, it iii.ii nu*j ounvun
you can beat comfort her.”
The last suggestion overruled hla de
termination, and Mr. Vernon went back
to the house.
What eager eyes scanned the empty
horizon when morning broke over the
tea! What dispirited faces gathered
round the breakfast table! What list
less melancholy pervaded the whole
lay!
Without a word of explanation, just
before nightfall, Walter went to work
uid gathered a fresh pile of brushwood.
Mr. Vernon's head was bowed upon nis
hands, and he did not notice the move
ment; but Eleanor followed sadly, and
pointing to the charred, blackened
rock, said mournfully;
"It Is like our hopes, our lives, Wal
ter."
Walter's lips quivered. He would
not show the weakness to her, but leap
ing lightly upon the rock began to ar
range the wood. Heedlessly hts eye
fell upon the distant sea, and lo! a wild
transport dashed off his black look of
despair; an eager light Irradiated his
eagle eye.
"Saved! saved!" shouted he, reeling
Into the arms of tbc astonished Elea
nor, weeping like a girl.
She thought him crazed and shrank
back In terror. Recovering himself, he
cried earnestly:
“The ship Is there- she Is coming.
Oh. Ellic, we ure aaved!”
When Eleanor at length compre
hended his meaning, she bounded for
ward to the rock, and satisfied that It
was Indeed a large ship—masts, hull
and all plainly visible-- she flew llk» a
frantic creature to Mr. Vernon, anil
flinging her arms around his neck,
robbed herself In a transport of delight.
Walter had grown more calm, und
hastened to state the Joyful Intelligence
dearly. Mr. Vernon took their hands
und solemnly lifted his eyes upward.
Sever catue prayer more thrillingly
tolerable.
"it will do m» harm.” wild he
promptly; "let ug kindle a lire on the |
cliff every night Ur a week or more."
With diurnal alacrity Walter and I
Kleanor gathered the dry timlerbriuh
and muee. and reared the pile on .heir
pretty white . oral throne and aa noon aa
duak arrived, with eye* that hurtled
fevertahly enough to lave kindled >he
pyre, Mr. Vernon piled the Under and
flint ami In a few momenta the ruddy
beam ahot up, ffaahtng a yellow path far
off Inn* the M-a cl, * 4 to.y Kiow an a i h»l
the darkened ahy. Thoae three anxioua.
terribly earneat fate* and atrtktng
lot tu> atoud out dlalln.il> and wildly
In the (taring light Kten In the mldai
id hta own harrowing anapenae Wal
ter a arttai eye look In the grand >ab
limit) of the even*, and made a mental
memoranda that waa thereafter to |,*e
In ufld)lng relora Tb* leara were at
leatly at ream mg u»*r Kleanoi a «t>*- h
Walter turned and drew her fondly la
bta aide It waa not the time no* to
think of format pi odea * or Iw refoae
'the eympathy ei mock needed
« "tlh Walter we are fearfully in earn
mat now It warn aa If we moat all
Ckh If no abtp ta n< »r t orn a d. nb
■Male otir tclaad III* Intolerable
Tfllnh flow horrible It »III bo tn be the
^ l««t one’ ’ Aad. abw.tdertflg aflo tong
* eMimldtrh to bta arm
4 He atrnhed whly the trembling
V , **tfo*t are rtbauated with grief and
m •mcvma With • ». Hce.nl K ite Tfllnga
* flrtH look MMHV . haorful by and bye
• iwim ui" uiiiwi »uui i iiuu it»w i'll
the twilight itIr from Hint lonely laland.
“Now, Hun. we must work. Waller,”
*al<l hi* father quietly. "Night la elow
at band, and the it-ef I* dungeron*. I
think you and I ran get poor Tom a
canoe out Into «m»otli water and warn
them from the »uoken rot k*. At *nch
a time a* thl* Kleanor will not ahiink
to bn left alone to tend faithfully I he
tieacon light Our prtoervara mu*, nut
•ttlvr for uta*y log our «lgnal uf die
tree*
Walter waa already on hr way u> the
beach The experience of the laat few
day* had awept away all trace of boy
lab lit**. With the Arm eia*Hr tread uf
con Aden t manhood be daahetl down to
• he boat A *tgb went out to the a.< m
my uf him whoa* hand had ta*t teemed
the rope of barb, but the eagle eye we*
Axed ateadfnatly on the outer a*a and
tbta waa Horn for action and no’ for
i lamenwtton Ilia father, with wao
! thing of youth a rigor leaped to alt
•Ida. tarrying a bun b of the haota they
Had long ago prepared for eientbg II*
luminatton. the kam»< of one amona
ihem atteamlag up «uhly and pale in
the waning dny light
W bar Wild, exultant hope* aha a t
Miter mentor tew etlrrvd tboaa two to
mult mom* heart* whu *ball **( * Itol
the oar* were piled In alienee, and »i
lenity, loo when a freak tueewe eprang
up wan Ike lltlle eel! rataed. an t la fun
the dnaky wing* brooding abut* h»m
folded Ike while tall* ef tketr hope
ftmn tight Ikey bed galaed the drelred
station close beside the treacherous
reef, and with their little torch flaring
brightly over the gray ridges of leaping
water, moored their tiny lighthouse as
securely as possible, and waiting, gazed
not at the burning stars above, but far
over the sea to the flickering gleam
where the unknown ship hung out her
signal lamp, or back to the cliff where
Eleanor tended faithfully the rosy bon
fire.
Eleanor was lonely and Intensely ag
itated, but no thrill of fear mingled
with her sensations. Vigilantly and
steadily she kept the blaze bright
throughout the night, now straining her
ear to catch a fancied hallo, now tin n
ing sadly In the direction of that new
made ferave, whose cold, unconscious
occupant could hear never more the
glud huzza of rescue for which he hoped
so long.
CHAPTER VIII.
ITH the first wel
come glimpse of
daylight to her we
ary eyes came a
sound that brought
her heart fluttering
to her throat—a
cheery shout ming
led with the meas
ured dash of oars.
Eleanor threw
down her torch, and
sweeping back the cloud of damp
curls that fell heavily over her
face as she ran, she flew down
the path to the little rove where
the boat was kept, which was the
natural Inlet, since no other was free
from surf or convenient for Undlng. A
strange boat, packed closely with men,
was aiming steadily for the shore. Her
eager eye ran rapidly over the company
to find Walter and his father. They
were there In the stern. In earnest con
versation with a tall officer In the lieu
tenant's uniform of Her .Majesty’s serv
ice. Eleanor stood on shore, half shy,
half dignified, the early morning light
playing softly around her graceful fig
ure, the light breeze dallying with her
robe of native cloth, and stirring a gold
en sunshine of their own among her
curls.
"A romantic picture, truly,” cald
Lieutenant Harry Ingalls, looking ad
nilslnolo ....... .I.f l. .1#
child, half woman, poised there upon
the rock as lightly as a bird, fit Ideal of
the tropic loveliness of the whole scene.
“By my sword, one might believe yon
der was another Aphrodite freshly risen
from the foam, ft were worth treble
the voyage the •Hornet' has made to res- I
cue and return so fair a flower to Eng
land's generous heart. In truth, young
sir, I have done pitying you for this
long exile. In faith, I should ask noth
ing better myself with so fair a com- 1
panion."
He turned his gay blue eye to Walter
merrily, but a frown was on the latter’s 1
forehead, and his looks were bent
gloomily upon the water, and It was his
father who answered quietly. Just a lit
tle reprovingly:
“We have endeavored to do our duty :
faithfully toward one so gentle and |
good, especially never to forget amidst ;
the unavoidable familiarity of circum
stances the probable high birth and ele
vated position of the young lady. The !
same respect and delicacy, I trust, will
be observed by all others, until she Is
safely under the protection of her own
relatives,"
The young officer colored a little, and
replied frankly:
“You need have no fear of me, my
good sir. I trust a British sailor knows
what Is due to his own character, as
well as what Is required by a beautiful
woman in need of hts protection. Our
queen herself could not be more hon
orably dealt with than will this young
lady on board our ship. Come, boys,
bend to It steadily—a long pull a stron
pull, and a pull all together,” he folded,
turning Ills eyes away from the shore.
;to hb comtivubo.)
HOW IT STARTED,
AnnOter *'»•• of "Uow Those lla
Eove tine Another.''
Flukey—How lovely! I see you have
I one of those splendid new Nonesuch
1 bikes.
Ethel Yes, Isn’t It a dear? What
j make do you ride?
Fin key Oh, I rid* a Score he in.
Ethel They’re magnificent.
Flukey Yi^s, so light uud durable.
Ethel How much docs yuui wheel
We 1*11 ?
I’lnkey Twenty-two pound*.
Kthel Twenty-two pound*'’ Why,
' mien only wi itch* twenty one.
i'lnkey Hut then your*, you know,
: la not mi durable.
Kthel The Noneauch not durable?
Whv, that I* admitted by everyone.
I’lnkey NoneeUeh' A friend o( mine
bought one aud It went to pietrg iu a
mouth
Kthel I don't believe It
I'lnkey What * You don't believe
: me"
Kthel No. | don't OR* Nuurauih
will outlaet a doaen M* jt h> to» They're
\ the woret looking mttle trap# I ever
laid eyaa on
I’lnkey tinttouvlv > Yw'i* a horrid
veutempitbie thing and I hop* you'll
never apeak to me again!
Kthel itouipl*.ently» Hunt worry
I wuulln t tetup tom lee myaetf by
apenklng In anyone who *ode a M>ervh
*n»
"Thetv • « tamoi In llte eongiega'
lion, anol the demon, "that yen Weal
•lumatiug wh*n you were in tlkaay " .
It la 1 ‘ tttti •Under ’ replied the par
mu “I ateiely attended one meeting
al a I* guiatlve Investigating mnnlb!
lew.” Traill
• Herd Ham al Meat# tail*
Heavy play eta ate wane al UmU
I’nrU and piohu are deereaaing
THE TWO BRIDALS.
PCAN laugh grimly
at the world, wrote
Kyrle Harding In
hla prison dairy. I
am leaving It to
morrow. I shall be
hanged by the neck
7> till I am dead.
Once I would have
called the prospect
g h a s tly—In ' the
days when my
blood wan buoyant and generous, and I
was filled with the passion of gallant
living. But now the seat of life Is
gone. It bas bored me and left me
spiritual nausea. I have lived too
much; lived at too high a pitch and
strain. I was too high-handed and
free-headed for the world. I am sick of
it. And I will die contented. Bshaw! I
am mad. What of poor Ethel? I write
wildly. She makes life still dear.
Life!—I look back upon some bril
liant and daehlng hours of It. I go
back—far back. Down In Kelvin five
years ago what a royal rage there was
when Mrs. Whymper came amongst
us! How she stirred our quiet little
seaside place; she was so hold, so be
witching, so unconventional! Ah! how
—But wait awhile; let me dwell on the
beauty and Illusion of the first stage.
I wonder how many lovers she had!
A score, probably. I was only 18 then,
and decidedly, I was the most reckless
of any. She was, 1 admitted, nearly
twice my age, but In my fever and
fascination that, I tblnk, was only an
added charm to a wealth of charms.
The pride of winning her, the thought
of a mere youth carrying her off from
the run of gallantly equipped com
petitors in the field appealed with a
brave force to my conceited boyhood.
What a wooing was mine! How my
kind mint and guardian was distracted.
What womanly warnings she gave mo
igalnst the flighty widow! Door aunt;
[ believe I drove her to her grave. May
flap It was well—before she knew the
worst.
But I won Mrs. Whymper, The bold
tea throbbed In the moonlight that
light by the quiet shore, when 1 11m
_ .1 __4 . I
ovely avowal of love. She wan a
charming picture there, by the beat
ng and love-murmurous water, whith
er wo had wandered. I can recall the
whole picture, the brooding sky beyond
he reaches of the sea, the hills at tho
jack, the lights of the little town In
he distance, and nearer—and how
learer!—the love-confessing beauty be
ore me. o, mad and memorable night!
Ours was a runaway match—and a
icnsatlon It was, beyond all doubt.
)ur whereabouts were unknown, but
hat did not spoil the dramatic interest
>f the situation, It Is needless to say.
I read In an enterprising paper the
whole story of the romance the very
evening of our wedding in the distant
leaport whither I had proudly borne
ny bride. What an eve that yvas! Kven
jet the glamour of the Impression
iangs around me, lives within me, and
nocks me. The depths of poetry and
jasslon within us are unknowable, but
nine was stirred to a wonderful deep
;hat evening. Illusive time!
The spell was soon over. A few days,
ind my wife was tired of It. The fever
lad passed. She took little pains then
to disguise from me how old and worn
In reality she was, and how deeply she
liad deceived me. I saw that I wearied
iter, that she thirsted again for the
conquering plane she had left. Whun
1 1
“I HAVE COME TO VOIIK WED
DINCJ.”
alio went abroad she was all charm
attain, and seeming Joyous young wom
anhood, for she was an adept In the
arts of deception. The transformation
she could accomplish was simply mar
velous. In the new town she ittnde
another sensation, and won a troop of
admirers who made the life of her boy
husband Intolerable. Wit, coquetry,
flash and fascination abroad, weariness,
annul, nausea In the privacy of home—
the gods know It was a horrible time
for me,
For (wo year* I lived in ludescrtha
Me winery. After the first year the
arts of my wife to beautify herself
grew valu. She could no longer con
ceal from the outside world the dreaded
story of age. and attraction's death.
As the bitter realisation of her fate
grew upon her, a deadly rage, a hideous
■pell took possession of her. and a
season dragged on when foul days were
ours. I became degraded and shamed
In nty uwu eyes; a sickliness came be
tween me and all the worlds light;
ambition, faith, and all things noble
died within me
One night nty whole spirit of sudor
gave died. There was g passionate
»cMt*. and a struggle uvsr whh h I draw
a veil I left nty wife wounded and I
knee beyond hops of recovery, I fled
far Into the country
Months passed I had secured a see
retoryship in e growing town by will
and distant but boldly ptrtoreague hill*
A winter passed, and spring came, and
with tta green unfolding my heart
lightened and espouded too I had got
but meager details of my wife's fate
from the local papera Mhe recovered
from her wound, hut a drink menu
netted her, and her condition became
deplorable llhe Mill persisted la bey
fa (write habit af rawing Keen la la
tasWaled stages ska would tabs bet lit
tie boat, and put out tala I ha aster*
One evening lbs empty boat was found
drifting In the bay. "She carried hei
daring one stage too far," said th<
townsfolk, and then with sorry humor
"she was not one that loved water foi
Its own sake; yet it has given her a
grave." Then I heard no more newt
from the old place. I wanted no more,
I tried to bury Its memory.
With the green unfolding of spring,
as I have said, my heart and my life
expanded. Up among the mountains,
In the prettiest of cottages, I came to
know one who brought back all the
delightful fever of the fine young world.
Ethel Wilson was 18, an only child,
and the tenderest flower In that In
somewise primitive mountain land. A
wild thrill runs through me as I recall
our dear, gracious evenings In the lit
tle flower-garden fronting the cottage,
or on the bold mountain road that ran
beside It. The summer grew, and May,
and June made a glowing and holy
setting to our love. After a lurid,
fiend-haunted night I had awakened In
the sacred flush of songful morning.
Ah, Ethel, Ethel*
Memorable memories arise of the
wedding morning when we sped away
to the lake country. Lovely memories
come of that glorious stroll in the gath
ering night, and the return to our hotel,
like a return Into Eden. Hallowed
times of tenderness, fringed with peace
—though peace, as the stars peeped out
In a shining setting to our wedding
Joys, was a little pensive.
Ethel had gone ror a moment to the
Inner room, and I watched tho fair
prospect from the window of the other.
Ah, I was full of the passion and rap
ture of a new, full-hearted life.
Huddenly there were heavy steps on
the landing, the door was thrown open
quickly, and with a rude, accursed
laugh Mrs. Whymper—as I always call
ed her—staggered In. Her face told a
melancholy story of drink and degra
dation.
"Ha!" she said, In the malignant note
I can never describe; "you see I have
come to your wedding."
I have but a vague memory of the
ensuing scene, with the blackness and
the madness that came over me. One
thing only will I say In my own Justifi
cation. My deepest rage arose at the
thought of the position In which I had
placed poor Ethel. Heaven knows I
was Innocent of the shadow of an In
tent to wrong her. How was I to know
that my flrst wife had been rescued?
I had seen no later papers from the old
place. I had had no tidings, and want
ed none.
As Ethel returned to the room, white
faced and terror stricken, I had struck
Mrs. Wbymper her death blow. • • •
And so I die tomorrow. Dear, dear
Ethel, but for you, how gladly I would
leave the wounding world! Ha! She
comes. It is the hour of our last In
terview. Now tbs gods give me true
endurance.
• ••••••
Kyrle Harding was wrong. The vis
itor then was not Ethel. It was the
messenger with the tidings of reprieve.
“Penal servitude for life" was to be his
fate.
“They will release you yet—after
years, after years!" sobbed Ethel, a few
days later, as she sobbed farewell; "but
Kyrle, I will watch and wait with a
brave heart." • • • That was many
a year ago. Today they are pensively
happy in distant Australia.
W. P. R.
Some liereafnril Starlet.
A laborer once wrote to Lord
Charles Beresford saying that his wife
had Just had twins—a boy and a girl
—and he wanted to call one "Lord
Charles Beresford Brown” and the
other “Princess of Wales Brown.”
Lord Charles gave his permission, and
obtained that of the Princess. Four
months later the man wrote again; "I
am happy to Inform you that ‘Lord
Charles Bereeford Brown’ Is well and
strong, and that ‘Princess of Wales
Brown' died this morning."
Lord Charles Is a man of few words,
and those very much to the point. In
the house of commons one day, speak
ing In reference to the Arab slave
dealers, he said, with great emphasis;
“Mr. Speaker, we ought to catch these
men. give them a fair trial and then
hang ’em."
Unconventional Lord Charles has al
ways been. Koceivng an Invitation to
dinner at Marlborough House one even
ing. he replied by wire;
"Sorry can’t come. Lie follows by
post."—Strand Magazine.
A IMpInmat of Ability.
Young Bankclerk -“Mr. Hlchman, l
have called to tell you that 1 have tak
en the liberty to-"
Mr. Kichman (interrupting)—“Yes,
yes; 1 know! You have taken the lib
erty to fall In love with my daughter
i and now you've come tor uiy cuneeut
to marry her. Well, you tau t have
her! You'll have to excuse mo now,
I'm buoy.”
Young ilankcterk—' Excuse mo, olr,
but yon'ro mistaken. I wauled to My
' bat I took the liberty to keep up the
margin on tlut D. U. * X. stock,
which you bought yesterday. It drop
ped eight points about an hour ngo,
but It has recovered since end lo now
four points above the Mure at which
>oU bought II. I'd s.lvlso you lo sell."
Old Hhhman My hoy. I've Intend
ed my daughter f»r you all along Now
tlave that deni Take a month s voca
tion and whenever yeu happen to need
money draw on me "
Young llvnkderh (outside) Uood
thing he never reads the papers and
pretends that he deean'l speculate Oth
erwise he'd btf sure l» dud out that that
*to»k never dropped a point." Cleve
land laad»r
A Inige asrollte reeently evpl ated
sh>ive the stty of Madrid u I M s m
I "There was a vivid glare of light and a
i loud report, says Me tepee Uu.ldti.gs
were ehahea and man* windows were
| shattered According to the idklalr uf
. the Mndrtd sheervtvlory. the esploelon
! everted twenty ml ms shore the vnrtfc.*
Mackerel m la Itallene.
Am Italian fashion for cooking fresh
mackerel Is to make a dressing from a
tablespoonful of butter, mixed with a
little minced shallota, parsley and the
green tops of young onions. Spread
this on the fish, wrap them well in
strong white paper, saturated with
olive oil, and boil or bake them in a
quick oven. Garnish them with lemon
and parsley. Sweet peas, seasoned
with shallot and minced parsley, are
also sometimes served with fresh mack
erel Salt mackerel is very good cooked
after the English fsshion, that is, by
immersing it half an hour in water
containing a handful of fennel and
dash of vinegar. Drain and serve with
hot gooseberry sauce.
Too I ste to Mend.
There Is a point beyond which medication
cannot go. Before it Is too late to mend,
persons of a rheumatic tendency, Inherited
or acoulred, should use that benignant de
tente against the further progress of the
super-tenacious malady rheumatism. The
name of this proven rescuer Is llostelter's
Stomach Hitters, which, It should also be
recollected, cures dyspepsia, liver com
plaint, fever and ngue.debimy and nervous
ness.
To Suit Any Weather.
A pretty, yet aervlcsble gown, which
was imported lately, would suit any
kind of ordinary weather. it was
tnad in moss-green canvas, lined with
a bright shade of pink. The tight-fit
ting basque bodice had long, square
revers of white satin, over which fell
cascades of coffee-colored lace, and the
vest, of white chiffon, was also veiled
with lace, l’ink ribbon encircled the
waist and the neck, which was finished
with pointed motifs of lace.
Hall's Catarrh Care
la a constitutional cure. Price, 76c.
The Measnn Why.
Party with Demijohn—Why don’t
you lay in a stock of whisky for Hun
duy on Saturday night, the same as I
do?
Other i’arty—Man alive, do you sup
pose 1 would he able to sleep if 1 knew
there was whisky in the house? I’d j
be walking the floor the whole night
—Truth.
flogomaa’eCamplmr Ice with UlyrerlBs.
ami Save, Cold Sore,,, Ac. C. If. Clark <;o.,.N.HavenJC6.
An K.lo<|uent speech.
A pretty little story is told about
Mrs. A. A Johnson, the dean of Obcr
11 u college. It Is said she never leave*
American noil without carrying with
her a silken American flag. At a din
ner party in Hcrmany on one occasion
the host asked each of the ladies pres
ent what in her country she was most
proud of. Mr* Johnson could not
speak Herman very fluently, but a hap
py thought striking her she left the
table for a moment and returned with
an American flag, which she waved
while all applauded.
Health
Is Impossible without pure, healthy blood. Puri
fied and vitalised blood result from taking
Hood’s
Sarsaparilla
The best - In fact the One True IJIood Purifier.
Hood's Pills for the liver and bowels. -J5c.
Nothing
>0 CltAIlf
to Durable,
to Economical, /J*
to Elegant ^ TPfckpjfr
/.»V> BIA3
V0% VELVETEEN
SKIRT BINDIN05..
You have to pay the same price for the
“ just as good.” Why not insist on
having what you want—S. H. 8t M.
If your dealer WILL NOT
supply you we will.
Sanplee mailed free.
" Home Dressmaking Made Easy.” anew 72 page
look by Miss Emma M. Hooper, of the Ladies' Home
lournal, tells in plain words how to make dresses at.
, nome without previous trsinlng: mailed for 25c.
I S. H. * M. Co., P.O. Box 60v, N. Y. City.
_ EDUCATION A I_i._
Omaha Business!^" H
swe™ MISSOURI.
The beat frail section la the West. No
drouths A failure of imps uovi r known.
Mild climate I’radurtlvo solk Abundance uf
good pure water. -g
Kur Map* ami Circular* giving full dcserlp- v
ttoa of the Kick Mineral. Krult and Agileuliu
ral Lund* tu smith SVest Ml-s.iurt, write to
.loll > *1. I t bid, Manager of the Mu-ourt
I (.and sad Live slink t'ouipuny, Necnho, New
! too Co., Mtaaourt.
1.200 6II.
UK IB,
no.
*. * at 00*10,
0«*MMU Blurt,.
lava,
STEADY -
sum TMfs
w vsr\|\ «•*•**•*■»'***
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OPIUM
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JJf' **• 0.i >»M AH V ~ST~lams
I 'V h*“ ,,Wal <• »*tvarliMra, kimlly
inJiil.iiu ihu i>a|wr
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