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CHAPTER XXII Continued.
During this last brief interval that
elapses Dick has a chance to shoot
one glance upward. The chief en
gineer's house is back of them, and to
his alarm he sees a figure in a win
dow.
“Pauline, for heaven’s sake, girl,
hide!" he calls, and evidently the one
he addresses hears, for the figure no
longer stands there boldly in the win
dow, although he is positive Pauline
will remain where she can watch the
awful battle for the possession of her
birthright—the El Dorado Mine.
“Let loose!” suddenly shouts Dick,
as he fires his gun into one of the on
rushing groups.
A flash of fire runs along the line
of intrenchments, just as wild-fire
runs over the prairie, only there is
accompanying this the rattle of fire
arms. It must at such short range be
deadly in its nature, and the assail
ants stagger under the blow. In some
cases the sight of blood makes men
demons, and such seems to be the ef
fect now; instead of halting they rush
on more rapidly than ever, and their
cries are enough to curdle the blood
of honest men. A peculiar change
has also been effected in the situation
by that burst of musketry from be
hind the intrenchments. Strangely
enough nearly every marksman seems
to have picked out a torch-bearer for
his target—at least every man but one
of those who carry flambeaux is down,
and this sole remaining individual,
finding himself left as it were, the
focus of all hostile eyes, becomes
panic-stricken, throws his torch upon
the ground and flies from it as though
the inanimate object might be the
most deadly rattlesnake to be found
in all the jungles of Mexico.
In the midst of this weird, ghastly
eight, the followers of the Mexican
hidalgo are discerned rushing up to
the breastworks and engaging the de
fenders in a terrible hand-to-hand
struggle.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Shadow of the Cuchillo.
That is the moment when Colonel
Bob brings to bear his tactics. He
and his men have up to now taken no
part in the encounter, for the time
was not ripe, but when the others
reach the point that they are fighting
like tigers over the breastworks to get
in its work.
At a word from the colonel his men
pour a withering fire upon the foe—
not those who are in the advance, for
that would subject their friends to the
leaden hail, but a contingent of rioters
that hurries up to the assistance of
their companions gets the benefit of
the volley.
Bewildered, panic-stricken, they hard
ly know what has come upon them, or
in which direction to flee. Enemies to
the right of them, enemies to the left
of them, enemies behind them, volley
and thunder. Some roll over upon the
ground in their despair, while still
others turn and ..camped away as
though a legion of fiends pursue—
scamper off without weapons, without
hats, without everything that made
them so bold but a minute before.
They are lucky, indeed, who are
able thus to save themselves. Some
of their comrades lie upon the field of
battle who will never more lead the
charge or diminish the aguardiente
flask, for they have been met in the
midst of a crime-stained career by
Death on a pale horse.
Colonel Bob has made a good be
ginning, but Colonel Bob is not satis
fied. He knows his friends are being
hotl beset by the fellows who have
gained the breastworks, and his idea
now is to descend upon these wor
thies from the rear, with the fury of
the hurricane that sometimes sweeps
over the Sierra Madres. coming out of
that mystic gulf, the scene of romance
and history.
His first act is to bend down and
seize upon one of the torches; having
grasped this he waves the flambeau
around his head until the current of
air causes a bright flame to spring up.
Nor is it the only torch regenerated;
a number of his followers have profit
ed by his example, and at least half a
dozen lights are circling through the
air at the same time, describing all
manner of parabolic curves, and look
ing like meteors flying in zigzag fash
ion through space.
Thus what is akin to darkness falls
upon the scene, where men rush for
ward to grapple with their fellows in
a death-clutch. It is saved from being
absolute gloom by three things—in
the first place some of the torches con
tinue to flicker even while lying upon
the ground, then the occasional
flashes of lightning send a white light
over El Dorado, that comes and goes
with a dazzling intensity—last of ail
the blaze from the guns of the Ameri
cans is really a factor in bringing
some illumination to the scene.
All this has occupied but a fraction
of a minute, and then the torch-bear
ers leap toward the line where the
desperate hana-to-hand struggle goes
on—leap that way, bearing the blaz
ing light in one hand and a revolver
in the other, for they are determined,
these men who fight for Miss Pauline,
that the right shall triumph on this
night.
The crash, when Colonel Bob and
his men come in contact with their
enemies, is like a sharp and distinct
clap of thunder, only more disastrous.
Men are seen running in all directions,
fire arms rattle, and that terrible
shouting continues, as though the
Americans would add terror to the
flight of their defeated foes.
Ah! the field is won—the victory
theirs!
Gradually the sounds of battle die
away; the men of the New Mexican
sheriff cease fighting because they can
no longer find enemies against whom
they may launch themselves.
Colonel Bob suddenly awakens to
a startling fact that gives him much
(.CQttiaiGBZ&ZZ if JZBSTdszmo
uneasiness. He cannot find his com
rade, Dick.
He rages around, seeking informa
tion, and at last strikes a clew. Dick
was seen heading for the house of the
chief engineer just when the last line
of the Mexicans broke and fled, so it
looks as though he might be there.
Without waiting longer Bob Harlan
rushes away, and a minute later en
ters the house.
Once inside the doorway he pauses
to listen and hears sounds that indi
I cate a desperate engagement of some
sort. That arouses Colone Bob, who
I cannot stand by when there is any
fighting going on; he rushes headlong
I for the scene of the disturbance, for
a wonder holding his tongue. As a
general thing, under similar circum
stances, he would be shouting as he
ran, telling those who fought not to
bring the little affair to a finish until
he came, but something momentarily
palsies his tongue now. Perhaps the
thought has struck him that the mis
erable Professor John, that bulldog of
a naturalist, may be in the house with
the intention of running off with Dora,
and the idea is so staggering that it
has actually taken his breath away.
At any rate, it has not deprived Bob
of his powers of locomotion, for he
gets over the ground in a way that is
surprising, and in a few moments
bursts upon the scene.
It is essentially and peculiarly
dramatic, for the characters engaged
form a complete company. That trag
edy has also entered into it can be
seen at a glance, nor is the comic
side missing—Dora attends to that.
The combatants are those old-time
bitter foes, Barcelona and the man
against whom he holds such a bitter
grudge, the man for whom he has
waited so long, the man who has on
several occasions done him up hand
somely—Dick Denver.
Stretched upon the floor is Senor
Lopez, with the blood oozing from a
wound in the breast. The pistol that
did the awful work is not three feet
away from his hand—it belongs to
Barcelona, and the Mexican has by
some terrible accident shot his em
ployer just as the man the bullet was
intended for leaped upon him.
Bending over the fallen Mexican are
two female forms, one being an old
woman, the other a young girl whose
face and figure betray the beautiful
Juanita. Where they have come from
is a mystery; but, perhaps, knowing
something of the mission of the senor,
j they have entered the horse looking
for him; some other motive may have
stirred Juanita to action, some deep
| feeling of the heart, for she is a girl
S of singular impulses.
Colonel Bob's gaze does not stop
here; he looks for something beyond.
Dora—where is the only and delight
i ful Dora? A cry reaches his ear in a
voice he knows, and turning his head
Bob sees a sight that causes a broad
grin to spread over his face—a sight
that is certainly humorous enough to
cause a hearty laugh, although serious
for one poor individual.
Dora is there, very much there; she
holds in her hand a revolver which
this same Colonel Bob gave her re
cently with which to defend herself.
Dora has taken a few lessons with this
weapon, but she is woefully at sea re
garding its use, and although she
swings it around in a truly dramatic
style she has neglected to draw back
the hammer.
Crouching before her is the little
bug-hunter, who dodges his head in
I great alarm every time that weapon
comes in line with her eyes, all the
: while keeping up a jargon of beseech
ing exclamations, calling upon all the
gods to witness the fervency of his de
votion. and anon begging the adora
ble, the charming Dora, not to murder
him in cold blood, he whose only fault
; is in loving her not wisely but too
j well.
Quite a strange scene, taken all in
all—tragedy and comedy combined.
Colonel Bob hardly knows whether to
laugh or look serious. He sees that
his comrade is in rather a bad predic
ament, and makes one step toward
helping him, when he hears Dick say;
"Stand back. Bob; I want to manage
this chap alone if I can. Stand back,
old fellow.”
The two men struggle with the pow
er of giants, and Barcelona, seeing a
companion near by, ready to give his
antagonist assistance if necessary,
realizes how desperate his tase is,
A scream thrills Bob; he turns his
head just in time to see a figure flash
before him. and realizes that it is the
maid of Mexico—lovely Juanita. He
sees her spring between Barcelona and
Dick Denver just in time to receive in
her bosom the murderous cuchillo that
is launched forward, intended for the
American.
A cry of horror rings out—even the
bull fighter appears half stupefied at
what he has done—at the persistency
with which fate steps in between him
self and Dick Denver.
The stricken girl staggers and falls
across the form of the Mexican. Then
a human figure flies at the bull fighter
like a crazy thing; It Is Dick, win, has
been more than ever aroused by the
sight of Juanita sent bleeding and dy
ing to the floor at the hands of this
fellow—Dick, who now assaults him
with irresistible power, who dazes the
Mexican ty the brilliancy of his ac
! tions, and presently crushes him to the
floor with several sledge-hammer
blows that render the humiliated and
; doomed athlete almost senseless.
One figure Colonel Bob has not no
| ticed before—it is that of Miss Paul
ine, who has been standing just be
! vond a table. She now darts forward,
and when Dick turns after so quickly
disposing of Barcelona, he discovers
i her bending over the fallen girl, en
deavoring with trembling hands to
stanch the flow of blood.
“Was—he—hurt?” the Mexican girl
gasps.
“Dick? No. no—you saved him,
dearest Juanita.”
“For you. 1 ought to hate you. Paul
ine Westerly, for you have stolen what
1 thought belonged to me, but I cannot
do it; where I would hate I love—I
know not why.” gasps the stricken
j girl.
Dick reaches her side—upon his
! face is the deepest concern, but Juan
ita smiles.
“It Is just as well—I could never
have lived and been happy, knowing
y ou loved her. Now I have saved you
for your Pauline. I gave my life—
| twas all I had. This is fate—it was
| my destiny to suffer.”
A groan is heard, but it does not
proceed from the dying girl. Senor
Ixtpez struggles to raise himself, and
manages to gain a position where he
I can look upon the face of his child—
I his lips move, and they hear him utter
! strange words:
“It is the decree of fate! She saves
1 him for the other. Come closer, you
; against whom Manuel Lopez has
fought so bitterly—come to my side
I and hear the news I would tell you.”
The old Mexican's strength is fast
leaving him, and it is only a question
of time when he must yield up the
ghost. He realizes this himself, and
musters all his powers to aid him.
“Pauline Westerly, before I die I
would hear you say you forgive me.
The fierce desire to see my family re
gain its old time prestige must be my
only excuse for doing what I have
done. With the EL Dorado in my
hands I could have stirred up all Mex
ico. and perhaps placed myself in the
i chair the usurper Diaz holds. I am
proud, but when death hovers near all
pride is leveled. I beg that you will
forgive—it is easier to do so because
all of my plans have proven failures."
“Rest in peace. Senor Lopez. I can
not comprehend how a man of honor
can war upon a girl for the sake of
power: but Heaven has seen fit to baf
fle your purposes, and far be it from
Pauline Westerly to cherish feelings
of malice against a defeated enemy. I
only grieve because this wicked
scheming has brought one you love to
pain and sorrow, perhaps death. Poor
Juanita!” and she strokes the luxur
iant hair of the Mexican maid tenderly
as she speaks, while over the face of
the dying girl there passes.a look that
is akin to holy love.
The old senor experiences a new
sensation—tears flow from his eyes—
he weeps.
“Strange, mysterious decree of
Providence, that one should die to
make the other happy. Who can say
the hand of Fate is not in it all,” he
mutters
Dick and Bob exchange glances.
Surely the old senor must be feeling
the cold hand of approaching dissolu
tion: he raves! They continue to lis
ten. and hear more strange things.
“Senorita Pauline. I am about to
make a disclosure that will give you
joy and yet bring perhaps the keenest
pain. I solemnly assert that I did not
myself suspect the truth until very re
cently. and it was my intention to util
ize the fact if the plans which culmin
ated so disastrously this night failed
to place me in possession of the
mine.”
Pauline hears and holds her hreath
in suspense What news can he im
part that will bring to her the greatest
of joy and the keenest of suffering?
"I learned in Paris what your mis
sion was. and having already an ink
ling of the truth I set about discover
ing facts. Years ago. for revenge upon
your father, I hired a woman to steal
away your little sister Beulah: it was
believed she was drowned: I myself
never doubted it, for the woman swore
to the fact when I paid her. Years
later this same woman entered my
employ again—she brought with her a
child to whom I took a strange fancy
—I adopted her."
“Merciful heaven!” cries Pauline,
bending upon the dying Juanita a look
of startled eagerness and supreme
anguish—“that child—Juanita ”
“I have since discovered is the Beu
lah stolen from your father in the
past. Antoinette Duval, stand forward
and testify to the truth of my words.”
“What Senor Lopez has stated is
the truth, every word. Mon Dieu! I
hope I may be pardoned for the part I
took in the wicked business. I swear
by all that I hold sacred that this girl
is none other than Beulah whom I
carried away years ago from the West
erly home, where I was employed as a
nurse. Look upon her. Mamselle Paul
ine—for she is your sister.”
(To Be Continued.)
A SETTER.
This that follows is reaJly funny. It
is told by a Georgia "gentleman of
the old school,” who is noted for his
rare humor:
"I heaid a good story the other day
about a horse, and must tell it to the
children. A man had a horse who
would sit down whenever be was
touched in the flank. He would squat
on his hind quarters like a dog. The
man tried to break him of it, but he
couldn't, and nobody would buy him.
One day a sportsman came along and
made his acquaintance, and they took
a ride together to hunt partridges.
When they found a covey, the man
touched his heels to his horse's flank,
and he sat down. ‘What makes your
horse do that?’ asked the sportsman.
‘Why, he’s a setter,’ said the man. ‘He
sets birds Just like a dog.' So the
sportsman thought be was a most won
derful horse, and he swapped for him
and gave |50 to boot. And he got on
him, and after awhile they came to
a creek that was pretty deep, and as
the sportsman held up his legs to keep
them out of the water, he touched the
horse in the flank, and down he sat in
the water. When he got up and out
and was all dripping wet. he was as
mad as a wet hen. and said: ‘Well,
sir, what made this horse do that way
in the water?' ‘I forgot to tell you,'
said the man, ‘that he sets flsh just
as well as he does birds.' ’’
In Silent Testimony.
A romantic story is told of the latg
count of Flanders: Every day he went
for a long walk, and always passed a
house where a white hand was waved
from the closed windows in return tc
his deep salutation. He never entered
the house. The occupant was a lady
to whom he was attached before fat
was married, but whom he had never
seen since. Before parting they ar
ranged that when in Brussels he
should pass her door once a day. and
this testimony to an old love wai
faithfully carried out.
TO SAVE INDIAN CAPITOLS
PLAN TO MAKE HISTORIC BUILD
INGS MUSEUM REPOSITORIES.
When Statehood Wipes Out Indian
Territory Effort Will Be Made to
Preserve Official Mansions of
Old Capitals.
Nov/ that Oklahoma and Indian Ter
ritory are to take their place among
the sisterhood of states, and will have
but one capital where heretofore there
has been two, some concern is felt for
the old capital towns of the two ter
ritories, and the question is being
asked what will become of the old
state buildings? Sentiment is reluc
tant to let the historic buildings pass
into oblivion.
Especially is this true in the Indian
Territory, where it is said a movement
will he inaugurated to preserve the
histone capitol buildings of the five !
civilized tribes.
In line with this movement it has
been suggested, and the plan seems to
have met with general approval, is
that each building be made the na
tional museum of the nation wherein it
is located. In this manner they would
become objects of Interest and attract
visitors from all parts of the world.
The Creek Indian capitol building at
Okmulgee was erected in 1867, and has
been the center of all that was im
portant in the Creek nation during al
most a half century.
Okmulgee means ‘‘springing water.”
Around the council house and the
trees which surround it are memories
of a proud but vanishing tribal gov
ernment, once warlike and warring,
but whose sun Is now setting, and
whose existence is now merging into
that of general government. Cluster
ing about the council house are recol
lections tinged with pathos of former
splendid gatherings of the great coun
cil composed of two bodies—the house
of kings and the houses of warriors—
now only empty names. It was here
the sentences of the Creek courts were
executed The prisoner was tried, con
victed and sentenced to be shot to
death at a given date, and then re
leased with the admonition to return
and receive his penalty on the day of
execution. History or tradition does
not record an instance in which the
condemned man failed to appear and
take hir punishment manfully. After
bidding his friends farewell he took
his station under the old maple tree
and the unerring aim of his dearest
friend sent his soul to his Maker.
In the history and chronicles of the
Creek tribe there is no more interest
ing story than that of the Red Stick
wrar. This happened many, many years
ago. at a time when the wily Chief
Tecumseh, of the Shawnees, w’as at
CREEK INDIAN CAPITOL AT OKMUL
GEE.
outs with both the English and the
Spaniards, and he was determined to
have revenge and lift a few scalps.
He had visited nearly all the Indian
tribes for the purpose of organizing a
federation and destroying the white
people. Among the tribes that were
favorable to a war of extermination
was the Muscogees, or Creeks, and, al
though many of the leading men ol
the tribe advised against the war, yet
the advice of the sages was not heed
ed, and Tecumseh's cause was es
poused by a majority of the Creeks.
They hocked to this wily chieftain’s
camp, ready to follow him. The med
icine men of the Creek recruits or
dered a long pole to be painted blood
red from top to bottom. This was
planted, and around it the warriors
danced night and day, when not listen
ing to war speeches. Tecumseh joined
in all these proceedings.
A tew miles from the town of Sapul
pa, in the Creek nation, is a high
cliff, known to all the people for miles
around as "Moccasin Track” cliff.
This name is derived from three moc
casin tracks on top of this cliff of
stone. The tracks are of different
sizes, and the legend is as follows:
"Years ago, during the formative pe
riod of this cliff, there lived near a
beautiful Indian maiden, who loved
and war loved by a young white man
who had found her in her home while
on a hunting trip in the Indian coun
try. He wooed her and she was to
be his bride, but the laws of the tribe
prohibited the match. The white lover
also incurred the dislike of the girl’s
parents. Often the lovers would steal
away to this cliff, and on one occasion
the girl’s little sister was sent to find
her. They crossed this cliff together,
making the three different sized moc
casin tracks. The sun hardened the
stone and the tracks have endured to
tell the tale. The legend further re
cites the fact that the young white
lover fell asleep on the cliff and fell
to his death on the rocks below.
Sir Thomas Lipton s New Cup
MAGNIFICENT TROPHY FOR
MASSACHUSETTS RACES.
The vision which will not fade from
the eyes of Sir Thomas Lipton is that
of the America’s cup reposing among
the trophies of the English Yachting
club in London. Three times the
Englishman has tried desperately to
wrest the coveted prize from his
American cousins, and each time
failed.
It has been intimated from time to
time of late that Sir Thomas was plan
ning to build a new boat and to send
i ■— — — - i
THE NEW LIPTON CUP.
(Prize Which Has Been Offered for Yacht
Kaces on Massachusetts Bay.
another challenge to this country for
a series of races in 1907, but nothing ]
tangible has been done. This, how
ever, need not lead Americans to sup
pose that the matter is to be dropped,
nor should American yachtsmen be so
short-sighted as to be led to believe
past victories make certain the results
of possible future races.
Sir Thomas has a long vision this
time, end he is going to learn some
thing about American yachting before
he again tries to lift the must-be-won
cup. With this ultimate object in
view the persistent Englishman has
appeared in Massachusetts as a cham
pion of the rating rule of the New
York Yacht club, and under which
rule he seeks for another race for the
America’s cup, for he believes that he
would stand a better chance of win
ning under that rule than he did un
der Lhe length and sail area rules, un
der which his three previous matches
for the trophy have been sailed.
He ts making a study of this new
rating rule, and is going to try and
bring out the good and bad points of
the iule by practical tests in racing.
As a step to the accomplishment of his
purpose. Sir Thomas last winter had
as nis guest in London, Winfield M.
Thompson, a Boston yachtsman,
through whom he offered to the
yachtsmen of Massachuse ts bay a
handsome cup, to be raced for under
the new rules.
The cup stands three feet six inches
in height, and is valued at 11,000. It
was designed by a well-known firm of
London silversmith.
On one side of the cup is a shield,
surmounted by the British and Amer
ican flags, bearing the words: ’’The
Sir Thomas J. Lipton Championship
Cup for Massachusetts Bay, 1906.” Un
der this shield are the private signal
of Sir Thomas Lipton, a shamrock
on a yellow ground, within a green
border, add the flag of the Yacht club.
On the reverse side is the official in
signia of the Yacht Racing association
of Massachusetts, showing a yacht un
der tail, and a head of Aeolus. This
is decorated with the same arrange
ment of flags as the shield on the
obverse aid?. The base is of ebony,
to which are attached shields in sil
ver, cn which the names of yachts
winniug the cup will be inscribed. The
cup becomes the property of the own
er first winning two class Q champion
ships, and, once won, cannot be raced
for again unless put up by the owner.
...W'
QUEER PLACE FOR. WELL
^uerrjvaie, n.an.—unfe oi me Dlggest
water wells ever drilled in this part
of the country is in the vicinity of the
smelter here. The location was pure
ly an accident. The smelter owners
were looking for a supply of water for
the horses, and decided that it would
be better to go to the top of a hill and
run a gravity line down to the works
than to drill on the flat and Install
pumps. The drill had not been work
ing more than three hours when the
water came with a great rush and
nearly blew the tools out of the hole.
A six-inch pipe was put in and this is
barely sufficient to contain the vol
ume.
The pressure is so great that the
tank over the fire engine house is filled
without pumping, and then the well
is not working more than one-fourth
of the time. If it were to work all the
time It would not only supply all of
the departments of the smelter, but the
entire town of Cherryvale.
The capacity of the well 1b a mat
ter of guess, because it has never been
allowed to run all day, but it Is said
to be at least 4,000,000 gallons a day.
The drilling of the well has been the
talk of the farmers in the neighbor
hood, and more wells will be drilled in
the hope of finding the same vein.
The big well is another of the freaks
which have been the bane of geologists
since the discovery of oil and gas in
this part of the state. If there was
any other range of hills around here
the presence of the water so near the
surface of the ground on top of the
hill to the northwest might be ex
plained, but how it happens that the
water is within 12 feet of the highest
hill in the whole country and with no
other hill at all within reach, is some
thing the people who think they know
something of geology have been un
able to explain.
Not to Blame.
"Now, sir," said Willie's father,
“don’t be a little jackass.”
“I can't help bein’ little pa," re
plied the bright boy, “an’ it ain't my
fault that I’m your son.”—Philadel
phia Press.
A DELICIOUS VEAL ROLL.
somewhat Complex to Make, But the
Result a Very Toothsome Dish
Worth the Trouble.
One slice of veal from the leg cut
half an :.nch thick. Wipe it, remove
the bone, the tough membranes be
tween the muscles and around the
edge, and cut the fat in small pieces.
Lay the meat on a hardwood board,
scatter the fat over it, and pound it
out very thin, lapping it over where
broken, and pound the fat into the
meat. Keep the meat in rectangular
shape, with the edges even. Cover the
meat with a thin layer of finely
shaved cold boiled ham. Chop fine
two thin slices of fat salt pork, mix
it with four butter crackers rolled
fine, season highly with salt, pepper,
lemon, onion juice, and, if you like,
ad$ a slight sprinkling of thyme.
Moisten with hot water or veal
stock till it wiil hold together, add
one well-beaten egg, and spread the
mixture over the surface of the meat
nearly to the edge. Roll the meat
over tightly, and tie securely, leaving
a little room for it to swell. Wrap
a piece of cheesecloth round it, and tie
it at the ends. Put it in a kettle with
a trivet underneath; cover with boil
ing water; add one sliced onion, a
half inch of bay leaf and one tea
spoonful of mixed whole spice, also
the bones and clean trimmings from
the veal, and let it simmer three
hours. Let it cool in the liquor un
til you can handle it; then remove it
and put it in a brick loaf pin with
another pan. weighted, on top of it.
When ready to serve, remove the
strings and cloth, trim off the edges,
and if the whole is likely to be used,
lay it on a platter and carve it in
thin slices, but keep them together
line tx vuuie run. ouew wain
cresses lightly around the edge, with
overlapping slices of tomato on one
end and a mound of whipped cream
flavored with grated horse radish and
lemon on the other end.
Or slice only what will be needed,
and arrange it on a platter with a
garnish of cress and radishes.
The veal will be delicious in sand
wiches. Shave it very thin, and
sprinkle with horse radish, and put
between buttered bread.—Mary J.
Lincoln.
HOME DRESSMAKING.
Here are a few hints which the
home dressmaker will appreciate and
which, some of them, the professional
would do well to store away for use.
To prevent the otherwise inevitable
sagging of the circular skirt, hang it
up by the binding, or better still, on
the form, before the bottom is finished
and allow it to remain for three or
four days or even longer. Then trim
it off to the desired length and even
ness and you may rest secure in the
fact that it will remain a “good hang
ing skirt.”
In sewing a lace frill on the stock
don’t attempt it German fashion, “over
and over.” It will stay “over” if you
do. Hold it straight with the collar
and run it on, then, even though close
ly gathered, it will stand up as it
should.
If sleeves are too long or too full,
don’t rip them out. First take a tuck
or fold in the tops, making them the
desired length, and baste. Try on, and
if right, then cut off the superfluous
material.
Keep a tiny vial of powdered slip
pery elm in your work basket, and
thrust the needle into, it occasionally.
It helps to make sewing a pleasure.
Make a proper selection of needles.
That is, do not attempt to make a
coarse needle do fine work nor a very
fine needle carry coarse thread. The
rule works both ways—wrongly.
Beyond and above these “hints.” re
member to sit properly and to take a
“breathing spell," if only a couple of
minutes, whenever there is a feeling
of exhaustion.—Boston Budget and
Beacon.
Berry Pudding.
When blackberries appear make this
berry pudding, which is a favorite one
at the Boston cooking school: Beat one
third ot a cup of butter to a cream.
Add gradually half a cup of sugar and
the beaten yolks of two eggs. Sift to
gether two cups of previously sifted
flour, four level teaspccnfuls of baking
powder and half a teaspoonful of salt.
Add this to the creamed butter, sugar
and eggs. Put in half of the flour mix
ture, mix and then put in half a
cupful of cold water. Mix in the rest
af the flour, etc. Beat thoroughly, and
last ot all told in the well-beaten
whites of two eggs. Sprinkle a cup
ful of blackberries with a little flour,
and add them to the batter as It is
dropped, a spoonful at. a time, into the
mold, which should be rubbed with
unsaited butter. Steam an hour and
a half, or bake 25 minutes, and serve
with a blackberry hard sauce. The
sauce is made in the usual #ay, with
half a cup of butter and a cup of
sugar. A.dd to this half a cupful of
crushed berries.
Price of Health.
Nature's price for health is regular
ity. We cannot safely bottle up sleep
to-night lor to-morrow night’s use, nor
force our stomachs t.t one meal be
cause we expect to eat sparingly at the
next, nor become exhausted in work
ing day and night, expecting to make
It up later. Nature does nothing be
fore ter appointed time, and any at
tempt to hurry her invariably means
ultimate disaster. She takes note of
all our transactions, physical, mental
and moral, and places every Item to
our credit There Is no such thing at
cheating nature. She may not present
her bill on the day we violate her law>
but if we overdraw our account at hei
bank end give her a mortgage on our
minds and bodies, she will surely fore
close. She may lend us all we want
to-day, but to-morrow, like Shylock,
she will demand the last ounce ol
flesh. Nature does not excuse man
for weakness. Incompetence or igno
rance. She demands that he be at
the top of his condition.
Crepe for Kimonos.
Japanese crepes for kimonos and
dressing sacks have cherry blossoms
and dragons, quaint little Japanese
maidens and butterflies in a confusion
of gay colors, with a disregard of pro
portions and probability that is as at
tractive as the soft, crepy cotton stufl
they are printed on.
NEW HOMES IN
THE NORTHWEST.
•Shoshone Reservation to Be Opered to
Settlement — Chicago & North
Western R’y Announces Round
Trip Excursion Rates from
All Points July 12 to 29.
Less than one fare for the round
trip to Shoshoni. Wyoming, the res
ervation border.
The only all rail route to the res
ervation border.
Dates of registration July ISth to
31st at Shoshoni and Lander. Reached
only by this line.
Write for pamphlets, telling how t*>
take up one of these attractive home
steads.
Information, maps and pamphlets
free on request to S. F. Miller. A. G.
F. & P. A.. Omaha. Neb.
FROM A CYNIC’S DICTIONARY.
Rouge—Face suicide.
Benedick—A penitent bachelor.
Courage—Marrying a second time.
Love—The banked fires of passion.
Divorce—The correction of an error.
Altruism—Mowing your neighbor's
lawn.
Suspicion—Testing the engagement
ring on window glass.
Jealousy—A tribute to man’s vanity
that every wise woman pays.
Furious—A word expressing the
pleasure a girl experiences when she
is kissed.
Conscience—The internal whisper
that says: “Don’t do it; you might
get caught.”
Widowhood—The only compensation
some women get out of marriage.—
Henry Thompson,
Water Wagon—A vehicle from which
a man frequently dismounts to boast
of the fine ride he's having.
BLOATED WITH DROPSY.
The Heart Was Badly Affected When
the Patient Began Using Doan’s.
Mrs. Elizabeth Maxwell, of 415 West
Fourth St., Olympia, Wash., says; “For
over three years I suffered with a
— dropsical condl
tion without be
ing aware that
it was due to
kidney trouble.
The early stages
were principally
backache and
bearing down
, pain, but I went
along without
worrying much
• u a in uruyay set
in. My feet and ankles swelled up. my
hands puffed, and became so tense I
could hardly close them. I had great
difficulty in breathing, and my heart
would flutter with the least exertion. I
could not walk far without stopping
again and again to rest. Since using
four boxes of Doan’s Kidney Pills th6
bloating has gone down and the feel
ings of distress have disappeared.”
Sold by all dealers. bO cents a box.
foster-Milbum Co., Buffalo, N. Y.
Glass That Keeps Out Heat.
An Austrian inventor, Richard Szig
mondy, is reported to have made a new
kind of window glass whose chief pe
culiarity is that it prevents the pass
age of nine-tenths of the heat of the
sun’s rays.
It is well known that ordinary win
dow glass allows nearly all of the heat
derived from the sun to pass through,
but, on the other hand, intercept^ all
heat coming from non-luminous
sources, such as a stove or the heated
ground. This is the reason why heat
accumulates under the glass roof of a
hothouse.
If covered with Szigmondy’s glass a
hothouse would, it is claimed, become
a cold house, since the heat could not
get into it. One advantage set forth
in favor of the new glass is that a
house whose windows were furnished
with it would remain delightfully cool
in summer. But in winter, perhaps,
the situation would not be so agreeable.
Accept Signatures in Irish.
Irish language revivalists have just
scored a notable victory. The direc
ters of the National bank have agreed
0 accept checks signed in Irish, pro
vided the signature is repeated in
English. One of the advantages of
this system, as the bank points out.
Is that it acts as a double protection
against forgery.
Foreigners, in their ignorance of the
language, so often mistake the sul
tan's trades for tirades.—Albany Ar
gus.
DOCTOR’S SHIFT.
Now Gets Along Without It.
A physician says: “Until last fall
1 used to eat meat for my breakfast
and suffered with indigestion unti.
the meat had passed from the stom
ach.
“Last fall I began the use of Grape
Nuts for breakfast and very soon
found I could do without meat, for
my body got all the nourishment
necessary from the Grape-Nuts, and
since then I have not had any indi
gestion and am feeling better and
have increased in weight
“Since finding the benefit I derived
from Grape-Nuts I have prescribed
the food for all of my patients suffer
ng from indigestion or over-feeding
and also for those recovering from
disease where I want a food easy tc
take and certain to digest and which
will not overtax the stomach.
“I always find the results I look
for when I prescribe Grape-Nuts. For
ethical reasons please omit my name."
Name given by mail by Postum Co..
Battle Creek, Mich.
The reason for the wonderful
amount of nutriment, and the easy di
gestion of Grape-Nuts is not bard tc
2nd.
In the first place, the starchy part
Jf the wheat and barley goes through
various processes of cooking, to per
fectly change the starch into Dextrose
or Post Sugar in which state it is
ready to be easily absorbed by the
blood. The parts in tbe wheat and
barley which Nature can make us6
of for rebuilding brain and nerve cen
ters are retained in this remarkable
food, and thus the human body is
supplied with the powerful strength
producers so easily noticed after on6
has eaten Grape-Nuts each day for a
week or 10 days. “There’s a reason."
Get the little book, “The Road to
Wellvllie," in pkga.
