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CHAPTER XVIII.—Continued.
He begins to experience a feeling
that up to this time has been foreign
to his nature—fear becomes a factor
In the game. What if this American
downs him before all these people—
will Barcelona, the pride of all Mex
ico, the hero of a hundred victories
in the arena, ever dare to lift his
head in public again?
He would give years of his life for
a chance to beat this accursed gringo
to a jelly in the presence of the peo
ple. How fiercely he would send
those powerful fists of his into that
face which mocks him now with a
smile—he would mar the good looks
of the other forever.
Back and forward they push, cau
tiously sparring, and each watching
for his chance, though every unedu
cated eye can see that Barcelona's
only hope lies in a sudden coup de
grace, by means of which he will fin
ish his antagonist.
Dick does not desire to prolong the
affair beyond a reasonable time—be
has already done what he wishes with
the bullfighter—held him up to the
Tidicule of the people. The oppor
tunity presents itself, which he instant
ly s€!»*-s—those who watch him see
him make a feint which dazzles Bar
celona, who attempts to parry it, when
from quite another quarter comes a
thundering blow that strikes him on
the side of the head:
It is a knockout, a quietus.
The Mexican king of the bull-ring
goes reeling back in a most undigni
fied manner, finally falling in a heap
near the edge of the platform. He
moves not—insensibility has doubt
less resulted from the American's
blow.
Dick has kept himself ready, and
had the other gained his feet and at
tempted to draw a weapon he would
have found himself confronted by a
revolver that meant business.
“Gentlemen,” cries the American,
in Spanish, “you see victory has de
clared for the lady. You are chival
rous, you will wish her success in
dealing with these scoundrels who
would cheat her out of her birthright.
Yes, you will escort us as a guard of
honor to the Hotel Iturbe. so that the
friends of yonder groaning bullfighter
may do no harm. Am I right?”
He has struck the popular fancy,
and is the idol of the hour—a shout
arises, and our friends find them
selves convoyed to the caravansary in
triumph by at least two-score of Mex
icans. who cheer the American senor,
the ladies, and Colonel Bob. until all
are safe under the friendly roof of
the hotel, when the excitement dies
away.
Our friends are then left to obtain
what rest they can after the exciting
episode of the night, and in contem
plation of what lies before them, for
on the following day they leave the
comforts of the city, and start upon
the dangerous road that leads to the
mines.
CHAPTER XIX.
On the Road to the Mine.
Pick is awakened on the following
morning by the strange cry of a vege
table vender shouting his wares along
the street. It is early, but there is
much to be done, so he hurries out
and begins the labor of the day.
Miss Pauline has left everything in
his charge, and when the caravan
finally reaches a point of readiness,
about half-past ten, it is as complete
an anair as couia wen De imagined.
Every man is well mounted and
armed, bronchos carry tents and
stores, and there are riding horses for
Miss Pauline and Dora, strong, gentle
.beasts, capable of doing much work.
Had Miss Westerly the selection of
her mount she might have purchased
an animal with more spirit In him, for
she is a natural horsewoman, and nev
er more pleased than when breaking
in a steed inclined to be vicious. She
even gives Dick a reproachful look
when shdwn her steed. That worthy
hastens to prove hoi? wisely he has
chosen—their course lies only now
and then through valleys or over
plains—as a general thing it is up the
rugged sides of mountains and over
the roughest of country.
Miss Pauline sees the point, and
laughingly declares her confidence in
his wise forethought—his practical
experience in this line ought to be of
great benefit to them all.
So they leave the city about an hour
before noon—a small crowd to see
them off, and quite a number cheer
the American senor who afforded
them such rare sport on the previous
night.
About the same time another expe
dition is getting ready in a hurry—
of course it is Lopez and his adher
ents, also bound for El Dorado. WThat
■was begun on the Alameda may yet
be concluded at the mine, for the
plotting Mexican has men there who
are under his ihumb, and who will
obey his beck and nod.
Dick halts his caravan some miles
outside the city for dinner. They are
still in the beautiful valley of Los
Remedios, though heading up in the
direction of a gap which leads in the
direction of the far-away mines.
Looking back, they can see the tow
ers and domes of the capital, on the
right perched upon a hill is the sanc
tuary, Chapultepec on the left, and
the towns of San Angelo and Tacu
baya. Farther down is the Church of
San Esteban and the famous tree of
Noche Triste, under which Cortez is
said to have wept on the night of his
disastrous retreat from the City of
Mexico, July 1st, 1520.
In plain view are also the cones of
the several volcanoes, their snow
capped tops standing out against the
sky, and looking intensely weird in
■this tropical country which has never
known such a thing as frost.
When dinner has been eaten, the
course is resumed, and quite a num
ber of miles placed behind them ere
(COfrzXZTT.jgg?' &jrSZBE27C2ZrZB3
the sun. reaching the horizon ahead,
warns them that it is time to go into
camp.
Not a trace of civilization remains—
they are surrounded by what is per
haps the grandest and wildest scen
ery on the whole American continent;
great masses tower above them, while
below is a defile hundreds of feet in
depth.
A camping place is near, and they
hasten to reach it; then the tents are
hastily thrown up, fires made, the
horses corraled, and all preparations
made for spending the first night out.
Dick studies his men. Some are j
strangers to him, although probably j
recommended by ethers, and he de
sires to know them as well as possi
ble, so that in time of trouble he will
be able to station them so as to get
the best work done.
All seems merry enough; provisions
are plenty, the fire cheerful, and more
than one man sings a popular song,
picked up. it might be, on the great
Mississippi, the ocean, or some for
eign land.
Then a request is respectfully made
that the ladies sing. Dick bears it i
himself from the men. They are j
Americans in a foreign land, and Pau
line is at last induced to gratify their
desires.
Then the mighty hills and gulches
echo, probably for the first time since |
they were created, with a woman's
song. Pauline gives them numerous
selections, just as they came to her
mind, but the one that takes them by
storm, and which is repeated by re
quest, is the ballad “Comrades,"
which was just having its run in
London and Paris at the time our
friends left France for Mexico, and
which Dick joins in rendering.
Later on some of the voyagers
sling hammocks; indeed most of
them dread sleeping on the ground in ;
this country, where snakes of a pois- j
onous nature, tarantulas, centipedes,
and the like, roam about.
Dick had posted hi;; guards, and on
this night it is easy enough to man
ipulate matters, since on one side of
their camp the trail runs along what
is really a shelf of Tock, where one
man can protect them from a surprise.
No precaution is neglected; they
have too great an interest at stake for
that. The hour grows later and the
ine’s question, and noticing the look
of surprise she gives him he laughs
lightly as be says;
“1 had uoped you would not hear
the name mentioned—Huggins was in
discreet to speak of it in your pres
ence. As you suppose, there is a grue
some story connected with this weird,
uncanny looking, gloomy vale.”
Miss Westerly turns her eyes upon
Dick, nods a little, and smiles. That
is enough—although he does so under
protest, Dick is compelled to obey.
“Well, the truth of the matter is,
years ago, when the El Dorado was
in the Lopez family, and yielding
more than any mine in Mexico at the
time, a party heading toward the capi
tal with a relay of mules, laden with
the richest ore, almost pure metal,
was surprised in this valley by the
desperate bandits wtc abounded at
that time, and though they fought
bravely they perished.”
“All?’’ gasps the interested Dora.
“Ever}’ living soul of that band,
save a boy who had secreted himseif
in the sage bushes, and who saw the
whole dreadful carnage. I heard the
story from his lips—he was a white
bearded man when he told It, but I
could see him shuddet as if again he
saw in imagination every detail of the
awful massacre. Enough—let us talk
of something more cheerful. You
know now why the Mexicans call it
the Death Valley.”
Dick sees the ladies to their tent—
then he goes in quest of Colonel Bob,
whom he finds smoking a villainous
Mexican cigar, which he takes from
his mouth with every puff and exam
ines with a glance that is solicitous,
even while it speaks of intense dis
appointment
Dick can read his comrade like a
book, and he knows the man from
New Mexico has something weighty on
his mind.
“Look here, Bob. you’re up to your
old tricks.”
“Eh?” exclaims the other, as Dick’s
hand comes down upon his shoulder.
“Net a bit. old man. I’ve just been
waiting until all was quiet and the
ladies had retired. I knew, as cer
tain as two and two make four, that
you’d be after me for a consultation,
and then I meant to tell you what I
knew.”
“I understand,” says the other,
quietly; “they will attack us to-night—
Senor Lopez and his gang of disrepu
table characters. One thing is cer
tain—the City of Mexico was never so
clean as now, since I.cpez has carried
away every rascal whom a few pesos
or reals could bribe into a crime."
“Yes, they're coming to-night—sev
eral things tell me so; among others
•“Explodes with a Flash and Boar.”
fires die down; the breeze rustling the
leaves, or perhaps a cry from some
wild beast in the ragged defiles of the
mountains, is the cnly sound that
comes to the ears of the guards, who,
at a specified hour. a~e changed.
The night passes without an alarm,
and when morning comes Dick is
pleased to hear Miss Pauline declare
she slept well upon the cot prepared
for Dora and herself in one of the
tents.
After an early breakfast they start
forward, as the cay promises to be
a hot one, and they will want to rest
several hours—between twelve and
three. Animated nature is seen
around them, plenty of gay plumaged
birds, some deer, and even a bear is
sighted across a barranca.
So they go along, making good prog
ress all the while, an? plunging deep
er and deeper into the wilderness.
With nature so love;y and prospects
so bright, with those they adore in
their company sixteen hours out of
each day, is it any winder the two
comrades are happy?
True, they never forget that danger
hovers over them—that one of the
most remarkable schemers is pitted
against them, and that even while
they sleep he is endeavoring to weave
his spider’s web about them.
Eternal vigilance is the price of
safety, and they do not mean to be
caught napping.
Thus three days pass—they have met
one mule train coming from the mine
laden with pure ingots of the precious
metal, for the El Dorado is now equip
ped with crushing machinery, the
most modern stamp mill, and all that
the best mines of Colorado could
boast of. This train of pack mules
has a convoy of soldiers, who have
been actually hired by the owners of
the mine to protect their treasures
en route. Think of hiring out soldiers
for such a purpose!
“We are nearly there,” says Dick,
when they make camp the third night,
“by noon to-morrow we will be at the
mine.”
It happens that on this night their
camp is pitched in the valley. A
queer formation rises in the middle of
it, and upon this they have hit as the
place to rest. Tents are raised, fires
lighted as usual, some of the escort
fish in the stream with good success,
while others, who are hunters by na
ture, wander off to see what game
they can scare up.
"I am told this is called the Valley
los Muertas—the Vie of Death—do
you know where it received the
name?” aBks Pauline, after they have
had supper, and while they alt about
the fire, a cheery blaze that does
much to dispel the darkness.
Dick Denver frowns a trifle at Paul
the fact that just when we came to
this spot and all were busily engaged
preparing for the night. 1 happened
to cast a glance backward, and at the
point where the train passes up the
defile and over the mountain I had a
glimpse of several mounted men.
There was no question in my mind as
to their identity, for I was expecting
them.”
‘‘Those words mean something.
Why do you believe we are to be at
tacked to-night?” pursues Dick, who
would make a good lawyer, he is so
quick to seize upon a point.
“My informant is Tampa Garcia,
one of the two Mexicans we have in
our train. He is a first class plains
man, but has been rather wild in his
day, so that Lopez believed he would
join them. Tampa tcok his money
and was in doubt what to do. The
songs of Miss Pauline have driven the
bad devil out of his heart—he says
she made him think of his earlier
days, of one who is with the angels
now. He threw the tenor's gold into
the river we passed yesterday, and
to-day resolved to confess all to me.”
“This is good luck," remarks Dick.
“So, you see, it was resolved before
we left the city to attack our camp in
Death Valley. Forewarned is fore
armed, and we'll see that the yellow
boys are warmly received. To-night
they will be taught a lesson never to
be forgotten—to-night old Mexico
will learn what Yankee guns, backed
by Yankee arms, can do.”
Bob is not boar.-jng—he means
every word he says, and the time will
soon come when the proof must be at
hand.
“You had an object in not telling
me before?”
“Yes—I didn’t want to alarm the
ladies—perhaps it wc-uld have been
better, though, to have let them
know. You see where I put their tent
—not a stray bullet can strike it.”
“I admire your selection of the
ground. Bob—it couldn’t be bettered.
But we have work to do—the men
must be warned, and our defenses im
proved.”
“That is so—we don’t want to be
caught napping. Come, we will be at
it.”
(To Be Continued.)
-.—
“Will Return Early.”
Mr. Rounder (tenderly)—Do you re
member, dear, during out courting
days how I used to tell you the ‘old
old story?’
Mrs. Rounder—Yes, and you still tell
me the ‘old, old story.'
Mr. Rounder (in surprise)—WheiT
dear?’
Mrs. Rounder—When you start for
the club.—Chicago Dallv
Plum INSECTS
ANTS ABE NOT SO WISE AS
THEY ABE CLEAN.
Solomon's Advice to the Sluggard Is
Disparaged by German Scien
tist—facts of In
terest.
According to Dr. Escherich, a
learned entomologist of Strasburg uni
versity, Solomon erred in commend
ing the ant to the sluggard as a shin
ing example of wisdom and industry.
The German savant thinks Solomon
would have better justified his claim
to be regarded as the wisest man that
ever lived had he exolled the ant as
an exponent of cleanliness. He has
just published the results of an ex
haustive study of these wonderful in
sects. He combats the views of those
investigators who assign to them al
most human intelligence. But as ex
ponents of that virtue which stands
next to godliness he maintains that
ants stand preeminent, and if the hu
man race would pattern after them in
this respect haif the diseases on
which doctors thrive would vanish.
Ants, he declares, abhor dirt in any
form about their bodies. Nature has
provided them with implements that
serve the same purpose as combs and
brushes in the bands of civilized
folk, and they make far more effective
use of them. They are never too busy
to clean themselves. No job is so im
portant to an ant that he won’t knock
off work to clean himself. He does
not wait until his day's labors are fin
ished to perform his ablutions. He
is never too tired to lend another ant
a hand—or, rather, a leg—to effect a
thorough scouring. He will toledate
loafing occasionally, for the profes
sor asserts it is a mistake to suppose
that ants are everlastingly bunting up
jobs, but he won’t put up with dirty
neighbors. Cleanliness is the supreme
law of the community.
But the professor rather detracts
from the credit one would otherwise
be disposed to give them for the prac
tice of this most exemplar}- virtue by
telling us that ants are driven to it
by the conditions of their existence.
‘‘Without the most scrupulous cleanli
ness,” he says, “they could not recog
nize each other nor communicate
anything. The cohesion of the indi
vidual with its fellows is maintained
solely through the medium of the
sense of smell. If the ant is covered
with dust the possibility of its being
recognized is diminished to an extra
ordinary degree. The antennae in
particular must always be kept clean,
for it is only with their aid that the
ant remains in close communication
with its tribe.”
It is their highly developed sense of
cleanliness, the prolessor says, which
also explains the ants’ "funerals”
about which so much has been writ
ten. Ants, it is well known, carry
their dead to definite burial places,
where they arrange them in most
careful order. “The little creatures j
do not. however, do this with the ob
ject of providing their dead comrades
with the last resting place.” Dr. Es
cherich states; “they merely obey
the instinct of cleanliness which im
pels them to remove all refuse from
the nest and carry it away to a defi
nite spot.”
ENTIRE CANON FOR CHURCH
Religious Rights and Observances of
the Hopi Indians of Grand
Canon.
The Paradise or Spirit House of the
Hopi is in Grand Canon, and there is
sent, during certain important cers
monies, a messenger priest who makes
a votive deposit in the shrine erected
there, tenders a prayer offering of sa
cred cornmeai to the rising sun and
carries back with him certain waters
and herbs for use in further rites,
writes Louis Akin, in the Craftsman.
Shrines are everywhere in the vicini
ty of Hopi towns. Some are shrines
to distant mountains, rivers, the
ocean, some to prehistoric or tradi
tional homes of ancestors or clans,
and in nearly every field is some man
ner of shrine in which to deposit es
pecial prayer offerings prepared by
the priests for the purpose, which the
fortunate ones proudly carry to the
fields with perfect confidence in their
efficacy. The indoor religious cere
monies are held in underground
chambers known as kivas, of which
there are 14 in Oraibi. Each man be
longs to some one of the fraternities
occupying these kivas.
ANOTHER VIEW.
The Sun Fish (to the bass)—Sorry,
old man, it’s against the law for you
to bite so early in the season. These
angle worms are certainly delicious.
Keeping from Close Bange.
"Why are you not at school?” stern
ly inquired the parent, meeting his
son in the street
The lad was not much embarrassed.
"Fact is, dad,” he responded.
There’s something the matter with
the teacher’s temper, and I’m giving
it absent treatment!”—Modern So
ciety.
NO TWO HATS EVER ALIKE
Made 1-y Machinery or by Hand
There Is Sure to Be a
Difference.
There are no two things alike In
this world—no two atoms alike, no
two blades of grass alike, no two
peas alike, no two faces alike, won
derful—most -vonderful of all—no two
ladies' hats alike! Has this thought
ever been impressed upon you while
sitting in an assemblage of women?
Oh. the wisdom and forethought of
nature, for were each woman to have
a hat similar to her neighbor’s what
an infinite variety of additional woes
and heartaches and tears the human
race would have had to bear!
And, yet, Mathew Softleigh, born
and bred in New York, says the Sun,
knew naught of this. His tender brain
could not conceive the fact that every
thing in this world is infinite in its
revolutions and ramifications, partic
ularly ladies’ hats, so Matthew backed
his poor judgment with real money
and made a wager with his friend
Silas Cute, that he would soon find
him two hats that were alike.
Matthew and Silas selected a warm
spring day and they walked up and
down the great White Way, they
promenaded Fifth avenue, they visit
ed the parks, they strolled to the east
side, the west side and every other
side, they visited the theaters, the
concert halls, the churches; from day
to day the quest continued until both
were weary and footsore. They saw
Gainsboroughs, picture hats, sailors,
hats of straw, hats of felt, hats with
ribbons, hats with feathers, hats with
aigrettes, but no two hats alike. They
saw dreams of red and blue and green,
as well as nightmares and incubi of
Arabian Night’s phantasy. There was
poetry and prose, music and flowers
typified in every one, but no two
alike! What ingenuity they repre
sented, what ceaseless brain activity,
what thought, what feeling, what deli
cacy in some, which if put into a
poem or a symphony would earn him
or her a place in the Hall of Fame!
Matthew lost his bet. and it is well
that he did. There should be no two
hats alike, there are no two hats
alike and there never will be two
hats alike. Nature, like woman, is
feminine; she has a variety of moods;
of expression, of beauty, of color, of
form and figure, and a woman’s hat is
the embodiment, the epitome of hei
every thought, her every wish, hei
every desire. Not one woman is like
another; neither can her hat be. And
when the time comes that two hats
are found alike then will genius have
reached its limit and the world will
have lost all its beauty and all that
makes life worth living.
IT HAPPENED IN JERSEY
There Was One Man Who Didn’t Know
About the San Francisco *
Earthquake.
Not all the world knew of the San
Francisco earthquake. Within the
range of vision one has from the top
of the Fiatiron building there was dis
covered the other day complete igno
rance of the calamity, says the New
York Sun.
The discovery came as a joke tc
some literary folk who live the sim
ple but busy life in a cottage among
the New Jersey hills an hour’s ride
from New York. With the rural free
delivery bringing the city paper on the
day of issue they keep in touch with
the outer world, and it was only the
morning after it occurred that they
learned of the earthquake and fire.
The nearest habitation to the cot
tage is a farmhouse whence daily vis
its are made for the purchase of milk.
During the visit of Wednesday, the
day of the earthquake, none of the
farmer’s family, all gossips of the
usual bucolic type, mentioned San
Francisco at all. On Thursday night,
the visitor, while waiting for the milk
pail to be filled, remarked, apropos of
a threatening sky, that she hoped
there might be rain in San Francisco,
too.
w ny, asKed the farmer, don t
they have rain out there.'”
Amazed that anyone should not’
know about it, the visitor told in a
rush of excited words of the blow that
had fallen on the Pacific coast city.
The farmer stopped milking to listen
open mouthed.
“Durned if I heerd a word about it,”
he drawled, when the visitor conclud
ed. "You see, I hain't been daown to
the village sense Monday, an’ don’t do
much readin’ here. The Boonville pa
per comes every week, but Samanthv’s
eyes hez been so bad lately guess she
hadn’t read the last copy.”
The next evening the visitor brought,
besides the milk pail, a bundle of New
York papers.
“Now,” she said to the farmer’s wife,
“you can read all about the earth
quake in San Francisco.”
“Land's sake!” cried Samantha,
“was it San Francisco? Silas said it
was Cincinnati.”
Compliment for English.
Chinese Commissioner Shang Chi
Heng before leaving England for
France recently paid the British quite
a compliment in a farewell interview.
He said: “What has chiefly impressed
me is the dignity and solidity of your
nation. There is a compactness of
spirit and conservatism which in spite
of any political differences keeps the
race well together. You remind me oi
the Chinese in this respect.”
Detective Story.
■With unerring accuracy he fastened
the crime on the beautiful woman.
“Aha!” he cried, as he wiped hif
brow and closed the last loophole.
For then did Jones thankfully real;
ize that he had his wife's waist but
toned all the way up the back.—N. Y
Sun.
Varying Conditions.
“What sort of a man is Jinks?”
“The impression you get of Jinks
depends on the circumstances under
which you mee- him. If you’re there
to collect money, you won't like him,
but if you’re there to pay money he
seems a lovely character.”—Washing
ton Star.
Preliminary Profit.
Mrs. Glub-dub—Did your daughter
marry well?
Mrs. Flim-Flam—Yes, indeed; she
had a trip all over Europe before the
divorce.—Life.
SPREAD AND PICNIC
SCHOOLGIRL SHOULD KNOW
HOW TO SERVE DAINTILY.
Schoolgirls Can Cook as Well as Ca
terers—Hew to Make a Sandwich
a Work of Art — Old-Fashioned
Cookies Are a Toothsome Relish—
Be Good Tempered When on a
Picnic; One Cross Person Can Spoil
the General Pleasure — Arrange
Every Detail Beforehand—A Picnic
Where the Lunch Was Left Be
hind.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
(Copyright, 1906, by Joseph B. Bowles.)
1 wonder if you girls read Husain?
Of course you know that John Rus
kin was a great critic and essayist,
the close friend of several great art
ists and as well the friend and cham
pion of working men. Besides all this
Mr. Ruskin wrote books which are
models of good and beautiful English,
so that no class in English literature
can afford to neglect a study of his
graceful and vigorous style. In one of
his books, Sesame and Lilies, Mr.
Ruskin devotes a good deal of atten
tion to young girls and gives them in
his charming way no little excellent
advice. He rays among other things
that a girl's work, her mission in life,
is to piease people and to feed them
in dainty ways.
You are pretty sure to please people
1- you set before them the things they
like to eat served in a manner that
tempts appetite. No young girl can be
considered well educated who does
not know how to cook.
I have been told that cooks are born
and not made, but I do not beneve a
bit of it. Any girl with a clever brain
ani two hands may learn how to
make everything that is needed in an
ordinary meal and every girl who at
tends a cooking class will tell you that
the art of cooking includes no end of
fun. To cook admirably and to waste
no good material is a real feminine ac
complishment.
“That young girl writes a good
composition,” I once heard a man say,
“but does she know how to broil a
beef steak?” I could have told him
that the girl who could write and
speak correctly and wno stood high
est in her classes was far more likely
to be an adept in broiling and baking
and preparing a salad or a pudding
than her stupid neighbor who never
set her mind on gaining intellectual
culture. Whoever cultivates her brain
most carefully will likewise excel
when she tries manual training ard
will show the best results as an all
round girl.
• * * » •
I will suppose that you intend giv
ing a class entertainment.
To do this successfully you should
have a spread of some sort and your
guests will appreciate the repast all
the more if it be of home production.
Instead of contributing mere pocket
money and ordering everything from
a caterer, why not do as good house
keepers used to in years gone by,
and make ready for the feast your
selves? A school spread need not be
very elaborate, but you will want
plenty of whatever you decide to offer.
Sandwiches in variety and abun
dance, cake and lemonade will furnish
an appetizing bill of fare. Now note
that a sandwich may be a coarse
make-shift or a work of art. If one
takes a loaf, hacks off a couple of thick
slices and butters them in lumps, put
ting between them an unsightly frag
ment of meat, she will have the trav
esty of a sandwich. It will satisfy a
famished waif, but it will not please
the palate of anybody who is refined
and fastidious. To make sandwiches
prcperly for a spread, you should have
a sharp knife and a steady hand.
Bread one day old is better than bread
freshly baked. Carefully remove t.ie
crust and first buttering each slice
before cutting It. spread it with
minced ham or chicken, or with nuts
finely chopped, or with a paste of hard
boiled egg, or with leaves of lettuce,
crisp and green and flavored with a
mayonnaise dressing.
A girl who can make a dainty may
onnaise is already a good cook, and
| shows herself possessed of a fine in
telligence.
The pile of sandwiches placed on a
great platter may have a touch of
beauty if every one is tied with baby
ribbon of your class: colors.
Do not be too ambitious about the
cake you provide for a school spread.
Nothing for this purpose surpasses old
fashioned ginger snaps and nicely
browned cookies made from your
grandmother's recipe. Ask her to give
it you and you will acknowledge that
I am telling the truth. Sugar cookies
have a toothsome flavor that is just a
little heightened by the addition of
nuts chopped and liberally sprinkled
into the dough. ,
m m * m *
A picnic differs from a spread in the
important item of environment. One
may have a spread in the classroom
or in one's own room or at a friend’s
house. A picnic implies an excursion
to a selected objective point. It may
be by rail or by water or one may
prefer as a picinlc ground a place
within walking distance. We picnic
out of doors.
One of the most delighful picnics in
my experience was on the Long Is
land shore at a point where the
waves of the great Scuth bay comes
rolling and tumbling in. We started
on the picnic at four in the afternoon
driving to the shore, a merry com
pany of boys and girls with an aunt
or two and a mother and a jolly old
sailor uncle, and w-e unpacked our bas
kets at six and ate our supper in the
sunset light. We boiled the kettle
and made tea and we feasted on cold
broiled chicken and ham, bread and
butter, biscuits cheese and pound
cake, and later went home by moon
light singing all the way.
An essential thing for the success
of any social function, whether it be
an informal spread or a formal dinner,
is good temper. A single cross or fret
ful person may act as a wet blanket
on everyone concerned. There is no
surer way to spoil a good time than to
carry along somebody who is selfish
or blue or disposed to find fault and to
try for the best place and the least
labor. Very possibly there is no such
girl in your school, but once in a
while she strays in at a picnic or a
party from some other locality. For
ourselves the best recipe for good
times is a sunny disposition united to
a brave heart and real unselfishness.
Everything in this world goeB bet
ter if judiciously planned for and
managed according to system. Before
inviting people to a function be sure
that you have arranged every detail.
If you are going on a picnic let it be
thoroughly understood at what time
you start and from what place, how
much it will cost each person for car
fare or steamboat ticket and at what
hour you will set out for home.
If possible always on such occasions
have the company of a teacher, a
mother or an old friend. Emergencies
sometimes arise when the presence of
somebody with experience is a com
fort and a safeguard, and a sympa
thetic older friend adds to the enjoy
ment of the hour instead of detracting
from It.
Do not leave the provisions in thd
care of an absent minded person who
may blunder into forgetting their
when she steps from the boat. This
once happened at a picnic where I was
a guest, and we all stood forlornly or
the beach watching the departing boat
that carried away our lunch baskets
and left us lamenting because the con
tents of our combined poeketbookS
were not sufficient to purchase any
thing except a few dry crackers at a
country store.
A NEAT LITTLE FROCK.
The Color Is a Dr.rk Shade of Straw
berry Pink and a Black Silk
Sash Is Worn.
A simple school dress is shown in
this number; it is in a dark shade
of strawberry-pink foule. The bodice
has a long-waisted lining of sateen;
the material is then arranged in three
wide box-pleats hack and front. They
are each stitched, and the fastening
is made under the center back one.
The spaces between the pleats of the
material is tucked from the neck to
the bust. The waist is pouched and
sewn to the lining. The full skirt,
which is sewn to the lining, is also
tucked and pleated like the bodice,
only the stitching on pleats is carried
part way down. A black silk*sash is
worn round the waist. The cuffs and
collar are faced with lace.
Material required: Three and one
half yards 46 inches wide, yards
lining, and a silk sash.
w
A SCHOOL DRESS.
BEAUTY “DO’S”
See that not a night passes without
your windows being open, so that
your lungs may receive pure air and
feed to the blood a plentiful supply of
oxygen all night long.
See that you never sleep in the un
derclothes you have worn all day, for
they have absorbed much of the per
spiration and effete matter thrown off
by your body, and need to be turned,
shaken and aired all night. To sleep
in them would be but to give your
skin a chance to reabsorb these waste
stuffs and that you know is bad even
without my telling you.
Let never a morning pass that you
do not draw a cloren deep breaths, ex
panding and lilting the chest with
every one, before you leave your bed
and take a few brisk arm exercises,
trunk bendings and some tiptoe work
on rising-only a minute, perhaps, but
you do not know how much it may
mean to you to form the habit.
At night give at least five or ten
minutes to this work and emphasize
the chest work and trunk bendings at
the waist line, tie weak part of your
anatomy just now and possibly mads
so by the fashion of wearng two-p;ec«
garments, skirts and waists, as well
as by the corset, which more or lest
restricts activity just at the waisi
line.
Keep the skin clean. A daily spongt
and hard, brisk rub will not only pre
vent your taking cold so easily, but
be fine exercise for your arms, stim
ulate the skin to better work, strength
en your heart and increase your ung
capacity.
Be sure to go out some time during
the day. Fill your lungs and exercise
your body in the open air and sunshins
for at least ten minutes daily. Never
let rain keep you in, for as long as
you are able to be up and working
about the house you are able to run
out for a bit into the open.
Your Share of the Globe.
If the suriace of the globe were di
vided up and allotted in equal shares
to each of its inhahitnats, it would ha
found that each wot Id get a plot ad
23% acres.
