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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (April 26, 1906)
PLEASANT MEMORIES. •b, the summer days back yonder, And the v hit© clouds in the blue, dear; Ok, the days I used to wander Off across the world with you, dear; Wbere the grasses were a-growing And wild flowers wore a-blowing And the cattle were a-lowing. And the world was made for two, dear. Ok, the days we spent a-roaming From the roseate break of day. dear, Till the shadows of the gloaming Led us down the homeward way, dear; And the birds were homeward flying And the wind was softly sighing And the day was dying, dying; Oh, the things w« used to say, dear. Oh, the looks we gave each other When no other one was by, dear; Never si6ter. never brother. Near enough to question why, dear; And the summer sun was sinking And night’s first wee stars were blinking; The home-going and the drinking. And your mother's homemade pie. dear. —J. M. Lewis, in Houston Post. THE RENUNCIATION By MARTHA HENDERSON GRAY bjr Joseph B. Bowie*) Rev. Philip War* looked thoughtful ly around the sitting-room of the tiny flat. It was very homelike; there were evidences of a woman's fingers in every little nook, and over all was the soft rose light from the lamp. She had come into his parish six months before, and he had made his first call upon her In his capacity of minister. He had called many times —very many times, but these were not altogether in the capacity of minister. This was noted by his devoted par ish, and on this account the newcom er was promptly disliked by several. There was one girl who disliked her particularly; a tall dark girl, with beautiful hair, and the face of a saint. Besides, the report had been spread abroad, started by some one who ' knew her before she came to M i hat she was separated from ner hus band. Kev. Ware thought of all this as he waited. It would be very simple, he rea soned. He would not stay long, they would have a pleasant, friendly chat at first, and then as he was going, he would tell her. She would under stand; she was a woman of the world, and would know what he meant with out his telling it all. Then feeling that he was not alene, he looked up and saw her standing In the doorway. She was looking at him with a peculiar intense expression in her eyes, and he caught the look be fore she had time to veil it behind her usual laughing manner. At that look Rev. Philip Ware lost his wonderful self-control. Springing to bis feet, he strode determinedly to the door and clasped the soft, woman ly figure in his arms She quivered a little and then was very still. Silently he laid her head against his shoulder and laid his lips upon hers. Some now he had forgotten about the friendly chat and the little message just before he went. Suddenly the sound of a bell in the next flat brought them to conscious ness. It was the woman who started back. "Let me go. Philip,” she said, quick ly and firmly; “let me go.” But he made no motion except to clasp her more closely. There was a dogged look in his eyes which she did not like to see. "Philip,” she pleaded, and there was a ring almost of desperation in her voice, “for God’s sake let me go.” At that name—the name of the King whose ambassador he was—=ome con sciousness of what he was doing came to Rev. Philip Ware, and for God's sake—for His only—he let her go. “Listen to me, Marian.” he cried. “My love for you is stronger than any thing else, and—you must love me, you shall.” Rev. Philip Ware’s voice rang out as firmly and powerfully as was its wont when he read. “Thou shalt not.” in the Conmuandments. Perhaps the woman thought of this, for she Bhivered slightly. You know that to me, he went on more quietly, “death alone has the power to separate those who have been joined together; but since in your eyes divorce is lawful, I will wait until you are freed. So now there can be nothing to keep us apart unless you say that you do not love me; but you do—is it not so. sweet?” He beat nearer slowly, as If afraid of frightening her, but as he touched her hair she started back and. snatch ing away her hands, moved quickly to the other side of the room. Slowly she turned and faced him, and when she spoke her voice was calm and natural. "I think you must surely be forget ting your=elf. I did not know that I had ever given you cause to think that I loved you—until, perhaps, just now; but that was because—because you surprised me so that I did not re alize what you were saying and do ing.” Had she thought of it she would have been amused at herself for falter ing—she to whom this was an old story. But as she glanced at him th're wa= something in his eyes that 'he could not bear to see—those eyes from who'o depths sh» would have kept away the shadow of pain with her very life, fihe only knew that she loved him bet ter than anything in the heavens above or the waters under the earth —the phrase came to her unbidden— and that she had given him his death blow. Why could she not go to him as he sat there, with his head buried in his hanclB, and tell him this—tell htm that she would do what he asked, would go with him anywhere? If she alone were to be considered, she would do it; but be must be kept safe; his honor must never be blem ished. nor his career as a priest of God be spoiled. So this woman, of whom the world spoke so slightingly, nerved herself to begin the struggle against him and her other self. "I have alwaya been called heart leaa,” she said in aa unemotional tone, “and I must be if I have made yon be lieve that I love you, for I do not; 1 never have: I never can.” The last was uttered with difficulty, for he had lifted his eyes to her faee. and she saw that they were haggard and drawn, even In the soft lamp light. “Marian,” he mid, “must you take all? I have given you my love, my honor; must you take my faith, too? For if you have deceived me there Is no one whom I can ever trust Pity me, Msrian! have mercy! tell me that you did not deceive me, that you do love me—only that dearest; only that A man can live without love or hope; lie can even die without them; but he can neither live nor die without faith." Slowly she gathered her scattered senses and looked up at him. "You are right. Philip.” she said softly. "I—I thought I was doing it the best way, Lut I didn't know, fot I’m—I'm not good, you know. It i» not because I do not wish to—to dc as you want me to do, but because 1 will not, and I will not because I love you, dear.” "Oh. Philip, my darling, my life. 1 love you so—more than anyone else could ever love you. Yet you will marry her—the girl who hates me so. the girl who has always been good How long would she love you If she knew of this, do you think? She love? you only because you are noble ancr reverent and good, while I”—her voice was harsh with pain—"ch. Philip. I would love you in heaven or earth of hell.” The man could bear no more. He caught her hands and pressed the palms passionately to his lips. His very touch seemed to soothe her. for she drew them gently away, and when she spoke her voice was low and sweei. “I have never loved anyone, you know. dear, so perhaps that is what makes it so hard. I married because I had no home and he was good to me. Since then I have not cared whether men loved me or not. They were rather amusing, and I was not good enough for the w men to care for me.” she added bitierly. “But when you came into my life I knew then what it would have been to have the love ol a good man.” She paused and look d at him longingly. “Philip ” she said, pleadingly, yet with a note of shyness In her tone, ‘ may I run my fingers through your hair? Y'ou must be very, very quiet and not touch me.” The man looked at her with mute eyes that reminded her somehow of the eyes of a dog. “I have always wanted to do this.” she said. “You have such pretty hair, so thick, and black, and wavy. I be lieve that I love it best of all, but then I love all of you best.” She paused a moment and looked at him critically. “If you were Iras good, Philip—if you had made no struggle against it— perhaps I would have heard you, for I love you so. Now I will go back to him, the one who the law says is my husband, and you will marry the beau tlful girl who does not know what wickedness means. I could never sat isfy all of you. for I am not good enough.” Her lip quivered a little. "Philip.” she cried, “why did God for get to put a soul in me when I was "viOOD isiuHT.” I made? Perhaps he did give me one, ; but there was no one to help it to j grow. Do you think.’’ she asked sud ; denly, “that she would have loved you I enough to give you up? ’ | But just thtn the clock chimed the I hour. There were many strokes, and each one seemed to beat upon their consciousness the fact tuat now they must part. I “You must go, Philip," she said gently. The man rose. “This is the end?" he asked in a hard, dry tone. “This is the end." she repeated soft j ly. and held out her hand. | He drew a quick breath and looked at her hand reproachfully. “Not that way; surely, not that way dear? May I not at least tell you good-by as I want?" She wa- er<=c an nstant. but looked up into his face with a brave smile. “No; it wouid do no good and only make it harder for both of us. I know a better way—the way your mothei would tell you good-by. Lean down » minute. Philip.” She slipped her arms around tali neck and rested her soft lips for an insiant on his forehead. "Good-by. my life." she whispered so low that he scarcely heard it. “Keep good always.” He took her hands and reverently lifted 'hem to his lips, kissing them in th= pretty pink palms. “Just cne thing, Phi’io” she said, wis fu lv. ’To you think hat I have harmed you mu h? I world ba e to harm the only one I have ever 1 ved, y ou kn ,w ' she added with a pathetic little break in her voic°. String man as he was. his was too much r h.m. Tears choked -lis vote so that he could not answer, but he shook his head. “Good-night.” she whisp red. and watched him as he slowly descended the stairs without ever turning tack Then she mechanically went to her own ar-artmen . The pretty rose-col ored lamp went out and laft her In merciful darkness. “When you awake in the morning and find the streets strewn with old shoes.” remarked the observer of events and things, “you are not abso lutely certain whether there was a wedding or a eat fight In the immedi ate neighborhood the night before.”— Yonkers Statesman. THE NEW ENGLISH SMOKING CAR FOR WOMEN. Interior view of the new coaches which have been put on the railroads in England for the accommodation of women passengers who smoke, and w'hich startling innovation has caused such a sensation in this country. NEW WORLD MUMMIES SOME IN MUSEUMS TAKEN FROM CEEFF DW.i_Lx.EB RUINS. Remains of Aztecs and Toltecs Un earthed in Canyons of Arizona —Traces of Anc.ent N ohiEty. Many persons who have an interest in archaeology will be surprised to know that not all the mummies to be seen iu museums have Leeii taken lrom iaraway tomos in Egypt or other eastern lands. Vtell preserved mummies have occa sionally been taken trom the ruius of the cliff dwellers in the mountain canyons in Arizona, and also in New Mexico and southern California. These mummies, states the Pittsburg Dispatch, though poor specimens of the mummifying art, are considered great treasures by scientists because they give the anthropologist a vague idea of the strange people who had the earliest civilization on the American continent. The best of them are almost entirely ig norant of who the Aztecs and Toltecs were, how they looked and lived, and why they have been so entirely oblit erated from the fact of the earth. The reason for this ignorance is found in the fact that no satisfactory remains of the dead Aztecs have been found. These people were cremationists, and they probably burned household effects with the dead, leaving little or nothing for the scientist to build a theory upon. Frequently a party of explorers in the valley of Arizona will come upon sealed jars of burned bone dust. But the mum my which was found by two gold mine prospectors in a lonely canyon along the Gila river, in the heart of the coun try once occupied by the Aztecs and Toltecs, has excited much attention. The hollow in the rocks was about seven feet deep and four feet high. It was evidently made for the purpose of burial of the body found there, for no other mummy has ever been found with- ; in inn miles of this lonely sepulcher. At the rear of the cave the miners found what appeared to be a chamber in the solid granite wall. The mouth of the chamber was sealed. When the cement like substance was broken away and a flat stone lifted it was found that a hu man mummy was within. There was a smell of rosin and balsam when the min ers raised the little body which had lain there for 500. perhaps 700 years. | The body was evidently that of a child, ' the offspring of prehistoric royalty. When the coverings had been removed it was found that the body was that of a girl about five years of age. There was no doubt that she was tff noble family and that her costly and elaborate burial, instead of cremation, had been for some extraordinary rea son. Wrappings that filled five bushel baskets were unwound from the re mains. As the hands were removed peanuts and mesquite beans rolled out. ! B^th were in as good state of preserva- : tion as If they had been placed there a I few months before. A child’s plaything, a curious bone affair, was found placed between the arms. The little shriveled hands were clasped about bits of mes quite wood, and a thick mass of raven black hair, much finer than that of an Indian, covered the head. The legs were drawn up in the position of a child creeping. The finger nails were perfect and the teeth intact. The nose, ears and ' eyes were cone and the skin was broken on the right knee and on one of the wrists, exposing bones, sinews and dried flesh. So fine a mummy had probably never been found before in the vallevs of Ari zona. It has been photographed more than 100 times. Many scientists and archaeologists have trave'ed long dis tances to see it. and say it is the most interesting and instructive of all things found in that part of the country in a de—.de. It has been made a gift to the Smithsonian institution. Crown of Gold. “The late Paul Lawrence Dunbar, ! the negro poet,” said an editor, “once j addressed a Sunday school in New j York. An odd incident happened, i though, at its end, an incident that | Dunbar laughed at as heartily as the rest of us. “Dunbar, toward the close of his re marks, said: “ ‘And. my little frie—ls, if you do all these things some day you will wear a gold crown. Yes. each of you some day will wear a gold crown.' “A little chap in the front row, catching the poet’s friendly eye, piped: “ ’My fader wears one now.’ “‘No!’ said the poet. “•Yes. he does—on his toof,’ said the little chap.” MARINE NOISE MAKERS. Tin Eoms, Mechanical Fog Horns and Other Modern Con trivances. Tin horns, such as venders bring out by the wagon load in the city’s streets on election night, are stock articles of saie the year around in the stores of dealers in marine supplies, says the New York Sun. Thousands of tin horns of various sizes are annually sold to fishermen, oystermen and men using boats, in many waters, in various pursuits, and such horns are sold, as well, for boats used for pleasure. A big horn of this kind might be heard a mile. For larger vessels, such as schooners sailing in open water and not equipped with power with which to blow whistles, there are provided mechanical fog horns that can be operated by hand, and that can be heard three or four miles away. With the multiplication everywhere within recent years of pleasure craft there have been introduced still other sorts of noise makers. One of these is a bellows horn, with the horn attached to the top board of a trimly-finished bellows of oblong shape, to the top board of which also is attached a handle. This bellows horn can be put down any where and operated simply by pressure. Though not as big as the mechanical fog horn it can be heard for a considerable distance. A still smaller bellows noise maker has in place of a horn an air whistle. Another whistle contrivance has a small upright metal cylinder in which air is compressed by means of a handle worked like a plunger. The whistle, which may be one of a single tone, or a chime, is attached to the outside of th” cylinder. Still another modem noise maker is an air-blown whistle with a licht con trivance attached. When the whistle cord is pulled the light shows as the whistle blows. Obviously the light at tachment is for use at night to locate the boat from which the whistle is blowing. While these later sound producers, de signed more especially for yachts and launches and tenders and other pleas ure craft, are rather more elaborate they are used for precisely the same purposes as the old tin horn, namely, tn give warning in case of fog. for signal ing in crowded wa+erwavs, for blowing for landings or for bridges. THE APARTMENT HOUSE. Result of a Growing Inclination to Evade the Cares of a Household. Considering the tremendous fashion —for it really can be called nothin? else—of the apartment house, it come like a cold douche to hear its neigh bors would curb its vaulting ambitions if not seriously objecting to its neat presence, says the Boston Herald. The erection of apartment houses is the re sult of a growing taste for immunitj from household cares; not that the demon worry can be excluded from them, but the burden of living is miti gated by degrees when one occupies a teacup of a flat or suite in an apartment house. It is painful, then, to hear that owners of “whole houses” are resentin? the invasion of their neighborhood bj these popular human hives, for it bode.1 ill for the social community if antagon ism is aroused by living according to out means. Everybody can’t live in a “colonial mansion,” nor does he want to. He maj prefer a chalet or a villa, and he maj even like the fifth floor, with elevatoi attachments, better than the imposing establishment where servants nevei cease from troubling. Therefore, it be hooves the apartment house to keep up its highest standard and make itself a; choice and agreeable as possible to anj neiehbor it may have to overshadow. There are citizens who should retire to desert islands for comfort and con tentment. but as lone as the world’; spaces continue to shrink, let us try tc make the best of the apartment house’; proximity. Who knows but you’ll haw to live in it yourself one of these days? First Woman Voter. Beatrice Sacchi. a professor at Man tua and the holder of a doctor's de gree. Is the first woman to vote in Italy. It seems that there is no law there to prevent a woman from vot ing. Miss Sacchi discovered this and went to the polls and voted. Plurality in the Future. "Really,” said the callow youth, “1 am no longer a mere youth. “I’ve got a little hair on my lip now." "Tes,” replied Miss Peppry, "and perhaps In a few weeks you may have another one.”—Philadelphia Press. YOUNG AMERICA TOO MUCH IN THE FOREGROUND. Children Are Wont to Blurt Out Tact less Bits of Truth—Parents Are Often Loath to Check These inop portune Speeches—Well-Bred Chil dren Must Be Taught Not to Inter rupt Conversation — American Children Too Much in the Fore ground — Impertinent Questions Should Never Be Allowed—Hotel Bred Children Likely to Be Pre cocious. BY MARGARET E. SANGSTEK. Everybody is familiar with the en fant terrible. Du Maurier occasional ly drew him for our amusement, and he figures in many jests and anec dotes. i ms sometimes uncomlortable spe cimen of childhood is not necessarily disagreeable or spoiled. He simpiy at his best state has a habit of appearing on the scene when he is not wanted, and of blurting out bits of truth that more tactful elders know enough to suppress. A child of this variety was one day sent by bis mother to carry an extremely beautiful pair of slip pers to a gentleman living in the neighborhood. She wrapped the gift in tissue paper and placed it in a box, with her card, addressing it carefully, but she forgot to tell her little mes senger to leave the box at the door, and return directly. The boy had his own friendliness toward the neighbor, and waited to see how he would re ceive the gift. "Tour mother is won derfully good,” raid the gentleman. "These slippers are just what I wanted most. It was lovely in her to make them for me." “Oh," exclaimel the child, "mother didn't make them for you; she made them for my fatter, and as they did not fit him she was so vexed she did not know what to do. At last she thought she would send them over here, and she wouldn't need to bother about buying you a Christmas gift." This rather dulled the edge of pleas ure in the case, and made the recipi ent's thanks a tritie perfunctory. "Ask your father,” said Bobby's mother, “if he does not want to come to the library and see dear Aunt Fan ny, who is soon going away.” OK rushed the child, .o be back in a min ute. saying: "Father does not care about coming in to see Aunt Fanny. He says she is an old cat.” When a little later, with an air of gentle bon homie, Aunt Fannie’s nephew by mar riage presented h'mself, the situation was awkward and the old lady's man ner a little strained. At a table where several friends of the family were gathered, a young lady remarked to little Percy, eight years old, "If you won': play games with me I shall not come again.” "I hope you never will,” frankly answered the child. "I don’t like you, and I shall be glad when you go away." There lives In a southern family a tradition that soon after his famous duel with Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr was a guest beneath its hospita ble roof. Duelling was not in those days regarded in southern households ■ as necessarily disgraceful, If prelimi- ■ naries had been duly arranged, and the affair of honor had been conducted according to the code. Nevertheless,! a good deal of comment of an un k’ndly nature followed Burr after that; fatal ending of his duel with the pop- ! ular Hamilton. The survivor was less | fortunate than the victim. A child of the house wandered into the guest’s 1 room and, seeiug there a silver-mot nt ed pistol, possessed himself of it and. entering the drawing rcom abruptly inquired: "Is this the pistol. Col. Burr. Wiui which you killed Gen. Hamil ton ?” One may imagine the confusion and dismay of the older people at the in nocent and inopportune temark. m m m m m Conscientious parents are often puz- I zled what to do v.-ith the enfant terri ble. He would lie less formidable 11 they remembered two time-worn and j homely adages, uamely, Little pitch ers have big ears and. Children should be seen and not beard. Well-bred children do not Interrupt conversation, say disagreeable things, or repeat what they should early learn will wound the feelings of others. American children are far too much in the foreground. Their piace is not where it should be in the happy pri vacy of the horn? for foolish parents trot them out and make them shtw their paces until they are puffed up with vanity and importance. The pendulum in its swing tram the sever ity of an earlier time, has gone too far in an opposite direction. Children are not happier lor having unlimited liberty of speech. Unless a child b" exceptionally stupid, and the enfant terrible as a rule Is exceptionally clever, he does not put himself In evi dence when he ought to be silent. The parent in whose eyes truth is to be cultivated at any cost, ra her pr d»s herself on the candor of her offspring, when he tells a visitor tnat she has a wart on her no.;e or asks her why she wears such a queer bonnet. “Do your teeth come out at night?” inquires one of these little terrors, to the annoy ance of a bashful man, who does not wish attention called to his looks. And the child gees unreproved because h's mother is afraid that reproof may tend to make him deceitful. The fact is that virtues and good <ualities are relative and that in train ing children we must n t lay the em- 1 phasis on one point more Ftronilv 1 than on another. What we need to do I Is to teach children the a”t of sp“ ik- j ing only the truth at all times, while i at the same time they must learn the j lesson that all truu. jb always to be spoken. Neither has anybody, child or adult, the right to ask Imper tinent questions o» make impertinent comments. Truth is one item in home training, a foun fatlon-stone in char acter. Charity and courtesy are foun dation-stones equally as indispensable in preparation for the intercourse of the family, of business, and of society, a b • • • One of the greatest misfortunes that can occur in a child's life is the loss at a sweet and simple home-life. When children are bronaht un tn hotels and boarding houses, are more or less no ticed by strangers, and accustomed to; publicity, or when they are very much left to the cars of servants, they are. likely to develop the traits that makel childhood unlovely. Wo say of such children that they know too much, that too soon the exquisite veils ot childish innocence have been torn, away. When patents are forced to bring their children up in the glare in stead of In the shade. In hotels instead of in quiet home';, extra pains should be taken to keep them modest, shy, and silent in company. Certainly they should never be permitted to push themselves and their affairs to the front, while their parents and friends await their convenience before going on with their own proceedings. Another specimen of tne enfant ter rible seems to have inherited the traits of the savage. This child Is fat worse than the o'her, lor he is cruel to cats and dogs end takes a barbar ous delight in killing or maiming squirrels and birds. This child is a degenerate, and 's taking the initial step on the road that leads downward to the criminal court. A less hateful but noi less unwelcome specimen Is the child with a passion for hacking and destroying whatever comes in his path. He tears books, breaks furni ture, uproots flowers and leaves the mark of his little hatchet wherever he goes. Happily, hir energy being only misdirected, may be turned into safer channels; for him manual training is a boon, and he will probably emerge from his present state of vandalism in to useful and attractive boyhood later on. The cruel child must be taught in the only way that will appeal to him; If need be. he must suffer In his own person that he may learn what suf fering means. No parent is without blame who does not take the enfant terrible in hand and reduce him as soon as possible to good order. (Copvrleht. 1906. bv Joseph B. Bowles.) ATTACKED THE HEART Awful Neuralgia Gaae Cured to Stay Cured by Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. Neuralgia iu any form if painful lint Wlieu it attacks the heart it is frequently fatal. Complicated with indigestion of a form that affected the vital organ it threatened serious consequences n. mi in stance just reported. The case Is t hut «.f Mi. F. L. Graves, of PleasantLit., who tells of his trouble and Cute a* follows: “ 1 traveled considerably, was exposed to all kiudsof weather audwasinegmlnr iu my sleeping and eating. Is pose this was the cause of my sirl.i: s, ut any rate, in May, 1905, I had j , n had that I was conijielled t« quit v, ; d take to my bed. I had s f ml i ' ,r and took his medicine faithh.i y but grew worse. I gave up hope of l tting better and my neighbors thought 1 was surely going' to die. ••X had smothering spills that it is awful to reeall. My heart finite cd and then seemed to cense beating. I could not lie on my left sale at all. M' hand* and feet swelled and so did n v face. After reading about Dr. ‘Willie s' Pink IJills in a newspajier I decided t > try them and they suited my case exactly. Before long I could see an itnj rto mi nt and after taking a few boxes 1 \\..« en tirely cured. 1 ara glad to r til.c this statement and wish it could canx- every sufferer to try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills.” Dr.Willinins’Pink Pills do m r simply deaden pain;they cure the trouble which causes the pain. They are guaranti ed to contain no narcotic, stimulant or ornate. Those who take them run no defter of forming any drug habit. T; • v act directly on theblood and it is only tli rout h the blood tliut any medicine cun reach the nerves. Dr.Williams' Pink Pills are sold by all druggists or will be sent, jtosttiairi, on receipt of price, 50 cents per box. six boxes for f-X 50, by the Dr. Williams Med icine Co., Schenectady, N.Y. Nearly Even on Measles. An English journal notes the curi onfilv fivpn spy riistrihut nn nf muslp* FASHIONABLE PRINCESS. Slender Figure Must Make Use of the Little Fancy Coats Designed for Princess Gowns. No slight figure should attempt a princess with a yoke that covers the entire top of the shoulders. If fehe wears a princess skirt only, that is a different matter, but a full frock should have the fabric carried well into the shoulder spams. This gives a chance to fill the ugly hollows at the side of the arms, which are far more fatal to a good figure than a lack of bust, though many women do not think so. The women for whom the princess Is still no severe should always wear a loose j cket of laee or embroidery. Thesi are the last smart things In clothes. They can be made at home or bought at the shops. Some are in pre cious Irish weaves, or even duchess, but you can also get them in the cheaper makes. The trouble is that one Is apt to get them too patrhy when made at home. Still If you have fine bits of lace or embroidery, here is your chance to use them. They are nothing more or less than shortened pelerines—just what we always have called zouaves. The sleeves make them different from a bolero. These are wide and short, usually cut circular. They are made In chiffon velvet, by the way which seems a queer choice for sprine unless one sees the remarkable amount of velvet u«ed this season. Taffets g^wns are heaped with it. But there Is nothing new In clothes, really, for ‘his was a dominant fashion many years ago. These .lttle jackets are worn over sc many various kinds of frocks that one would he a good investment for any woman. Over all white and pastel col ored lin'e’ie frorks they are charming, and afford just that amount of warmth needed on summer evenings. PRETTY INITIAL LETTER. Every Good Housewife Likes Her Lireu Nicely Marked and We Show an Attractive Model. The initial K shown here is worked in crcss-stitch with a scroll of long -. i i i I I I III | I i ATTRACTIVE LETTERING. stitches running through. It is suit able for marking house linen, and should be worked with flax thread, washing-silk, or ingrain cotton. Southern Farm Values. It is computed that farm proper ties in the 11 states that once seced ed from the union have risen in value more than $1,000,000,000 in two years. The average yield of these lands since thi3 century began is $200,000,000 a year greater than it was in the preceding six years. Sweet-Scented Smoke. The “Egyptian” cigarette is made of Turkish tobacco and paper manu factured in France or Austria and is rolled by Greeks. REDUCED TO ZERO. - 3 “Ah, Lammohen, now goes it since you’re married?” "Badiy, very badly! I'm not allowed to emoke, and I can It drink wine or beer, and I can't leave the house evenings.” “I suppose then you’re sorry you mar, ried?” “O, no! I’m not allowed to be sorry for anythin*!”—Fliegende Blaetter. in twenty years at Aberdeen. There were 20 287 males and 20,087 females. Deafness Cannot Be Cured hr !ocal application*, a« they cannot reach iLe al*> portlo« of the ear Tnere Is only one wav to cure deatueas. imd that Is by conailtutl nal remedies. D«**fneM 1* caused by an inflamed condo u of the ni'icoua lining of the Lu-imcTil an Tul*«. When this tube Is Inflamed yon have a rumbling sound or im* perfect hearing, ami when It 1* entirely clo-rd Deaf ness l* the result, and uniesa the mflamman u can be taken out and this tube restored to lu normal condi ti u. hearing will be destroyed forever, nine ca-e* on: of ten are caused by i ararrh. which fs nothing but an Inflamed condition of the mucous surfaces. We win give One Hundred Dollars for auv ca*e of Den rness (caused by catarrh - that Cannot be cured by Hall's Catarrh Cure. Send for circulars, free. ¥ .1 CHENEY <fc CO.. Toledo. O. Fold by Druggist*. 7!*c Take Hail’s Family Pill* for constipation Never try to appear what you are not.—Chicago American. Important to Moth ora. Examine carefully every bottle of CABTOHIA, • safe and rare remedy for infanta and children, and aee that It Bear* the Signature of In Uae For Over 30 Ycare. Xhc Kind Yon Have Always Bought. Choolate in Spain. The Spaniard's usual breakfast is a cup (as small as an after-dinner cup) of chocolate, a small roll, and a roll shaped piece of sweet, white sub stance like the outside of a meringue. The nourishment is in the cup of chocolate, which is so thick that it is eaten instead of sipped from a spoon. To the one cup goes an ounce of sweetened and cinnamon flavored chocolate inerted over the fire, with just enough water to stir it smooth. Village in Crater. About 20.000 people live in the crat er of an extinct volcano, thirty miles from Kumamotu, Japan. They dwell in this pit-like town surrounded by a vertical wall 800 feet high. The in habitants rarely make a journey into the outer world, and practically they form a little community all by them selves.. Coffee Shows Coming Weather. A naturalist is said to use his morn ing cup of coffee as a baronuter. If the sugar be dissolved undisturbed, air bubbles rise and remain on the surface. If they form a frothy mass, he reckons on clear, fine weather. If the froth col ects in a ring round the edge of the cup he expects showers.. Cruelty to Animals. For swinging a monek round his head by its tail, George Brown, a showman, was sentenced to twenty eight days’ imprisonment in Liverpool. A EUSY WOMAN Can Do the Work of 3 or 4 If WellFed. An energetic young woman living just outside of New zork, writes: "I am at present doing all the house work of a dairy farm, caring for 2 chil dren, a vegetable and flower garden, a large number of fowls, besides manag ing an extensive exchange business through the mails and pursuing my regular avocation as a writer tor sev eral newspapers and magazines (de signing fancy work for the latter) and all the energy and ability to do this I owe to Grape-Nuts food. "It was not always so, and a year ago when the shock of my nursing >aby's death utterly prostrated me and leranged my stomach and nerves so hat 1 could not assimilate as much as a mouthful of solid food, and was in even worse condition mentally, he would have been a rash prophet who would have predicted that it ever would do so. “Prior to this great grief I had suf fered for years with impaired diges tion, insomnia, agonizing cramps in the stomach, pain in the side, consti pation, and other bowel derangements, all these were familiar to my daily life. Bledicines gave me no relief— nothing did, until a few months ago, at a friend's suggestion, I began to use Grape-Nuts food, and subsequently gave up coffee entirely and adopted Postum Food Coffee at all my meals. "To-day I am free from all the trou bles I have enumerated. My digestion is simply perfect, I assimilate my food without the least distress, enjoy sweet, restful sleep, and have a buoyant feel ing of pleasure In my varied duties. In fact, I am a new woman, entirely made over, and I repeat, I owe It all to Grape-Nuts and Postum Coffee." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. There's a reason. Read the little hook, “The Road to WellvUie“ Inpk*.
