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SYNOPSIS.
A detachment of the Eighteenth In
fantry from Fort Bethune trapped b>
Indians in a narrow gorge. Among them
is a stranger who introduces h:mself by
tfie name of Hampton, also Gillis, the
post trader, and his daughter. Gillis and
a majority of the soldiers are killed Uur
dtiring a three days’ siege. Hampton and
«jbe girl only escape from the Indians.
They fall exhausted on the plains. A
company of the Seventh cavalry, L4eut.
Brant In command, find them.
CHAPTER IV.—Continued. *
An if by some magic discipline the
rude, effective litters were rapidly
made ready, and the two seemingly
Bfetees bodies gently lifted from off
the ground and deposited carefully
within. Down the long, brown slope
their advanced slowly, a soldier grasp
ins the rein and walking at each
horse's head, the supporting blankets,
securely fastened about the saddle
pommels, swaying gently to the meas
ured tread of the trained animals. Be
neath the protecting shadows of the
flrst group of cottonwoods, almost on
the banks of the muddy Bear Water,
flie little party let down their sense
less burdens, and began once more
their seemingly hopeless efforts at re
suscitation. A fire was hastily kin
dled from dried and broken branches,
and broth was made, which was forced
through teeth that had to be pried
•pen. Water was used unsparingly,
the soldiers working with feverish
eagerness, inspired by the constant ad
monitions of their officer, as well as
their own curiosity to learn the facts
hidden behind this tragedy.
It was the dark eyes of the girl
which opened first, instantly closing
again as the glaring light swept into
them. Then slowly, and with wonder
ment. she gazed up into those strange,
rough faces surrounding her, pausing
in her first survey to rest her glance
•n the sympathetic countenance of the
young lieutenant, who held her half
reclining upon his arm.
“Hero,” he exclaimed, kindly, inter
preting her glance as one of fear, “you
are all right and perfectly safe now,
with friends to care for you. Peters,
bring another cup of that broth. Now,
miss, just take a sup or two of this,
and your strength will come back in
a jiffy. What was tM trouble? Starv
ing?"
She did exactly as he bade her,
every movement mechanical, her eyes
fastened upon his face.
“I—I reckon that was partly it,” she
responded at last, her voice faint and
husky. Then her glance wandered
away, and finally rested upon another
little kneeling group a few yards far
ther down stream. A look of fresh in
telligence swept into her face.
“Is that him?” she questioned, trem
blingly. “Is—is he dead?"
“He wasn’t when we first got here,
but mightly near gone, I’m afraid.
I’ve been working over you ever
since.”
She shook herself free and sat weak
ly up, her lips tight compressed, her
eyes apparently blind to all save that
motionless body she could barely dis
tinguish. “Let me tell you, that fel
low’s a man, just the same; the
gamest, nerviest man I ever saw. I
reckon he got hit, too, though he never
said nothing about it. That’s bis
style.”
The deeply interested lieutenant re
moved his watchful eyes from oft his
charge just long enough to glance in
quiringly across his shoulder. “Has
the man any signs of a wound, ser
geant?*’ he asked, loudly.
“A mighty ugly slug in the shoulder,
sir; has bled scandalous, bi\t I guess
it’s the very luck that’^goin’ to save
him; seems now to be cornin’ out all
right.”
The officer's brows knitted savagely.
“It begins to look as if this might be
some of our business. What hap
pened? Indians?”
- “Yes.”
“How far away?”
“I don’t know. They caught us in
a canyon somewhere out yonder, may
be three or four days ago; there was
a lot killed, some of them soldiers. My
dad was shot, and then that night he—
he got me out up the rocks, and he—
he was carrying me in his arms when
j I—I fainted. I saw there was blood
^ on his shirt, and It was dripping down
on the grass as he walked. That’s
about all l know.”
“Who is the man? What’s his
name?”
Ihe girl looked squarely into the
lieutenant’s eyes, and, for some rea
son which she could never clearly ex
plain even to herself, lied calmly. “I
don’t know; I never asked.”
Sergeant Carson rose stiffly from
his knees beside the extended figure
and strode heavily across toward
where they were sitting, lifting his
hand in soldierly sglute, his heels
clicking as he brought them sharply
together in military precision.
“The fellow is getting his eyes open,
sir,” he reported, “and is breathing
more regular, thirty weak yit, but
he’ll come round in time.” He stared
curiously down at the girl now sitting
up unsupported, while a sudden look
of surprised recognition swept across
his face.
, “Great guns!” he exclaimed, eagerly,
“but I know yon. You’re old man Gll
11s* gal from Betbune, ain’t ye?”
“Yes,” sbe acknowledged simply,
"but he’s dead.”
. "Never mind, little girl,” the lieu
tenant said, with boyish sympathy. “I
knew Gillls, and, now the sergeant has
spoken, I remember you quite well.
\ Thought all the time your face wee fa
miliar, hut couldn’t quite decide where
, I had seen you before. So poor old
OllUg has ■one, and you stre left'ill
alone in the world! Well, he vm an
eld . soldier, could not have hoped to
Xv» much longer anyway, and would
father go Igbtiug at the end. Wen
take you back with us to Bethune, and
tho ladies of the garrison will look
after you.”
The recumbent figure lying a few
yards away half lifted itself upon one
elbow, and Hampton’s face, white and
haggard, stared uncertainly across the
open space. For an instant his gaze
dwelt upon the crossed sabers shield
ing the gilded “7" on the front of the
lieutenant’s scouting hat, then settled
Upon the face of the girl. With one
hand pressed against the grass he
pushed himself slowly up until he sat
fronting them, his teeth clinched tight,
his gray eyes gleaming feverishly in
their sunken sockets.
“I’ll be damned if you will!” he said,
hoarsely. “She’s my girl now.”
CHAPTER V.
A Now Proposition.
To one in the least Inclined toward
fastidiousness, the Miners’ Home at
Glencald would scarcely appeal as a
desirable place for long-continued res
idence. But such a one would have
had small choice in the matter, as it
chanced to t>e the only hotel there.
The Miners’ Home was unquestionably
unique as regards architectural de
tails, having been constructed by sec
tions, in accordance with the rapid
development of the camp, and enjoyed
the further distinction—there being
only two others equally stylish in
town—of being built of sawn plank,
although, greatly to the regret of its
unfortunate occupants, lack of season
ing had resulted in wide cracks in
both walls and stairway, while strict
"Now Miss, Just Take a Sip of This.”
privacy within the chambers was long
ago a mere reminiscence. Without
the Miners’ Home put up a good front,
—and was In reality the most preten
tious structure gracing the single clut
tered street of Glencald. Directly
across the street, its front a perfect
blaze of glass, stood invitingly the
Occidental saloon, but the Widow Guf
fy, who operated the Miners’ Home
with a strong hand, possessed an an
tipathy to strong liquor, which suc
cessfully kept all suspicion of intoxi
cating drink absent from those sacred
ly guarded precincts, except as her
transient guests imported it internally.
Mr. Hampton during the course of
his somewhat erratic career had pre
viously passed several eventful weeks
in Glencaid. He was neither unknown
nor unappreciated at the Miners'
Home, and having on previous occa
sions established his reputation as a
spender, experienced little difficulty
now in procuring promptly the very
best accommodation which the house
afforded. That this arrangement was
accomplished somewhat to the present
discomfort of two vociferous eastern
tourists did not greatly interfere with
his pleashrable interest in the situa
tion.
“Send those two fellows in here to
argue it out,” he said, languidly, after
listening disgustedly to their loud la
mentations in the hallway, and ad
dressing his remarks to Mrs. Guffy,
who had glanced into the room to be
again assured regarding his comfort,
and to express her deep regret over
the unseemly racket. “The girl has
fallen asleep, anct I'm getting tired of
hearing so much noise.”
"No, be hlvings, an’ ye don't do
nuthin’ of thet sort. Bob,” returned the
widow, good-naturedly, busying her
self with a dust-rag. “ThiB is me own
house, an’ Oi’ve tended ter the loikea
of them sort er fullers afore. There’ll
be no more bother this toime. Be
soides, it’s a pacetul house Oi’m run-!
nia’, an’ Oi know ye’r way of sittling
them things. It’s too strenurous ye
are, Misther Hampton. And what did
ye do wid the young lady, Oi make
bould to askr*
Hampton careltosly waved Us hand
i toward the rear room, the door or
which stood ajar, and ble* a thick
I Cloud of smoke into the air, Ida eyes
continuing to gane dreamily through
to know a Brant in the Seventh, but
he was much older; it was not this
man.”
She answered something, lingering
for a moment at the door, but he made
no response, and she passed out si
lently, leaving him staring moodily
through the open window, his eyes ap
pearing glazed and sightless.
An hour later he was still sitting on
the hard chair by the window, a cigar
between his teeth, thinking. The low
ering sun was pouring a perfect flood
of gold across the rag carpet, but he
remained utterly unconscious as to
aught save the gloomy trend of his
own awakened memories. Some one
rapped upon the outer door.
“Come in," he exclaimed, carelessly,
and barely glancing up. “Well, what
is it this time, Mrs. Gufty?”
The landlady had never before seen
this usually happy guest in his pres
ent mood, and she watched him cu
riously. \
“A man wants ter see ye,” she an
nounced, shortly, her hand on the
knob.
Loneliness of Great City.
No Interested Friende to Enter Into
Joys and Sorrows.
If you lire in a large city you are
lost. You are swallowed up hy the
ocean of people around you. You
go down into the deep and that’s the
last of you, except perhaps an occa
sional bubble that may come to the
surface near where you were last
seen, says the Fremont (O.) Post.
There are so many people who can’t
escape drowning. Ton can’t make
friendships as you do in a smaller
place, where the individual isn’t en
tirely effaced by the mass. Society
is not what it i« in the smaller place,
where the humhn element enters in
altogether. In the larger place your
comings and goings are not noted by
year friends sven, and never by the
newspapers, ualsss yon ire one of the
' high financiers -• or.packing-house
hunch. The births and weddings in
your family are of no more intampt
outside yaw own flat than are dm
wreaths of smoke curling up Into the
empyrean; no merry crowd of in
terested neighbors with their warm
congratulations. The deaths bring lit
tle sympathy from the rumbling, rat
tling world outside; no sorrowing ac
quaintances who have stood by you
through the long sickness; there is
little or none of that evidence of lov
ing kindness that comes from neigh
bors and real friends, in a small city
or town, where the dollar mark is not
written so large and so indelibly on
everything. It is paradoxical law that
where there are so many people there
are fewer friends, and when you di
minish the number to a frontier com
munity where neighbors are miles
apart your friends are ready to ♦»>»
their lives in their hands tor yon.
___«_
Had Origin In Icebergs,
The origin of the Great Banks of
htaponadlaad tc said to have bee* in
the boulders carried down by iee
betgi. The bank la tM tottas Joag
-***"!*.■
the open window toward the distant
hills.
“Who’s running the game over at
the Occidental?” he asked, profession
ally.
“Red Slavin, bad cess to him!” and
her eyes regarded her questioner with
renewed anxiety. “But sure now,
Bob, ye mustn’t think of playin’ yit
awhoile. Yer narvea are in no fit
shape, an’ won’t be fer a wake yit.” *
He made no direct reply, and she
hung about, flapping the dust-rag un
easily.
“An’ what did ye mane ter be doin’
wid the young gyurl?” she questioned
at last, in womanly curiosity.
Hampton wheeled About on the
hard chair, and regarded her quizzing
ly. “Mrs. Guffy,” he said, slowly,
“you’ve been a mother to me, and it
would certainly be unkind not to give
you a straight tip. Do? Why, take
care of her, of course. What else
would you expect of one possessing
my kindly disposition and well-known
motives of philanthropy? Can it be
that I have resided with you, off and
on, for ten years past without your
ever realizing the fond yearnings of
my heart? Mrs. Guffy, I shall make
her the heiress to my millions; I shall
marry her off to some eastern nabob,
and thus attain to that high position
in society I am so well fitted to adorn
—sure, and what else were you ex
pecting, Mrs. Guffy?"
“A loikely story,” with a sniff of dis
belief. “They tell me she’s old Gillis’
daughter over to Bethune.”
“They tell you, do they?” a sudden
gleam of anger darkening his gray
eyes. “Who tell you?”
“Sure, Bob, an’ thet's nuthin’ ter git
mad about, so fur as I kin see. The
story is in iverybody's mouth. It wus
thim sojers what brought ye in thet
tould most ov«it, but the lieutenant,—
Brant of the Seventh cavalry, no less,
—who took dinner here afore he wint
back after the dead bodies, give me
her name.”
“Brant of the Seventh?” He faced
her fairly now, his face again haggard
and gray, all the slight gleam of fun
gone out of it. “Was that the lad's
name?”
“Sure, and didn’t ye know him?”
“No; I noticed the ‘7’ on his hat, of
course, but never asked any questions,
for his face was strange. I didn't
know. The name, when you just spoke
it, struck me rather queer. I—I used
“Ob, I’m in no shape for play to
night; go back and. tell him so.”
“Sure, an’ it’s aisy ’nough ter see
thet wid half an eye. But this un isn’t
thet koind of a man, an’ he’s so
moighty perlite about it. Oi list cudn’t
sind the loikes of him away. It’s
‘Missus GufTy, me dear madam, wud
ye be koind enough to convey me com
pliments to Mlsther Robert Hampton,
and requist him to grant me a few
minutes of his tolme on an important
matter?’ Sure, an* what do ye think
of thet?”
“Huh! one of those fellows who had
these rooms?” and Hampton rose to
his feet with animation.
The landlady lowered her voice to
an almost inaudible whisper.
“It’s the Rev. Howard Wynkoop,”
she announced, impressively, dwelling
upon the name. “The Rev. Howard
Wynkoop, the Prasbytarian missionary
—wouldn’t thet cork ye?”
It evidently did, for Mr. Hampton
stared at her for fully a minute in an
amazement too profound for fit ex
pression in words. Then he swal
lowed something in his throat.
“Show the gentleman up,” he said,
shortly, and sat down to wait
The Rev. Howard Wynkoop was
neither giant nor dwarf, but the very
fortunate possessor of a countenance
which at once awakened confidence in
his character. He entered the room
quietly, rather dreading this interview
with one of Mr. Hampton's well-known
proclivities, yet in this case feeling
abundantly fortified in the righteous
ness of his cause. His brown eyes
met the inquisitive gray ones frankly,
and Hampton waved him silently to
ward a vacant chair.
Our lines of labor in this vineyard
being iso entirely opposite,” the latter
said, coldly, but with intended polite
ness, “the honor of your unexpected
call quite overwhelms me. I shall
have to trouble you to speak somewhat
softly in explanation of your present
mission, so as not to disturb a young
girl who chances to be sleeping in the
room beyond.”
“It was principally upon her account
I ventured to call,” Wynkoop ex
plained in sudden confidence. “Might
I see her?”
Hampton’s watchful eyes swept the
other’s face suspiciously, and his
hands clinched.
“Relative?” he asked gravely.
The preacher shook his head.
“Friend of the family, perhaps?”
“No, Mr. Hampton. My purpose in
coming here is perfectly proper, yet
the request was not advanced as a
right, but merely as a special priv
ilege.”
A moment Hampton hesitated; then
he arose and quietly crossed the room,
holding open the door. Without a
word being spoken the minister fol
lowed, and stood beside him. For
several minutes the eyes of both men
rested upon the girl’s sleeping form
and upturned face. Then Wynkoop
drew silently back, and Hampton
closed the door noiselessly.
“Well,” he said, inquiringly, “what
does all this mean?”
“Let us sit down again,” said the
minister, “and I will try to make my
purpose sufficiently clear. I am not
here to mince words, nor do I believe
you to be the kind of a man who would
respect me if I did. I may say some
thing that will not sound pleasant, but
in the cause of my Master I cannot
hesitate. You are an older man than
I, Mr. Hampton; your experience in
life has doubtless been much broader
than mine, and it may even be that in
point of education you are likewise
my superior. Nevertheless, as the
only minister of the gospel residing in
this community it is beyond question
my plain duty to speak a few words to
you in behalf of this young lady, and
her probable future. I trust not to be
offensive, yet cannot shirk the require
ments of my sacred office."
The speaker paused, somewhat dis
concerted perhaps by tfie hardening of
the lines in Hampton’s face.
“Go on,” commanded Hampton,
tersely, “only let the preacher part
slide, and say just what you have to
say as man to man.”
“I prefer to do so,” he continued.
"It will render my unpleasant task
much easier, and yield us both a more
direct road to travel. I have been
laboring on this field for nearly three
years. When I first came here you
were pointed out to me as a most dan
gerous man, and ever since then I
have constantly been regaled by the
stories of your exploits. I have known
you merely through such unfriendly
reports, and came here strongly preju
diced against you as a representative
of every evil I war against. We have
never met before, because there
seemed to be nothing in common be
tween us; because I had been led to
suppose you to be an entirely different
man from what I now believe you
are.”
Hampton stirred uneasily in his
chair.
“Shall I paint in exceedingly plain
words the picture given me of you?”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Long Record of Usefulness.
After 39 years of faithful and effi
cient service as president of the Young
Men’s Christian union, of Boston, Wil
liam H. Baldwin has resigned the of
fice on account of advanced age. i
FOR THE DESSERT
FINISHING TOUCHE8 TO END THE
DINNER.
German Apple Cake Can Always Be
Counted On—Directions for Serv
ing Junket—Making Pies
With Sour Cream.
German apple cake makes a good
dessert now. Without any sprinkling
of currants it is quite as attractive.
Serve best tot* cinnamon bun. Use
either cream or hard sauce with it, or
none, at all. Cream cheese accords
with it.
Junket may not be turned out in
shape. It must be set in cups in which
it is to be served, or else helped from
one large dish with a spoon. It is
nice plain, or with cream. If desired
more elaborate, then make it in indi
vidual cups of pretty glass or china,
and at the last place a little mound of
whipped cream upon each, surmount
ed by a cherry or piece of Jelly of a
bright color.
Junket with ginger bread makes a
good home dessert. Those who like
nutmeg—and it is recommended for
some invalids—use freshly grated nut
meg on it.
Sour cream may be used for pies
—just sour cream, not thick clabber,
is meant. The clove used for spicing
it makes it unlike cheesecake pie.
For a cupful of the sour cream allow
the beaten yolks of four eggs, a cupful
of sugar and one cupful of chopped
seeded raisins and a half teaspoonful
of ground cloves. Cook this like a
custard over water until thickened.
Have a freshly lower shell of crust
baked to receive it, and make a mer
ingue from the whites of four eggs
and a little sugar. Brown in the oven
very lightly as usual. Instead of try
ing to see how smooth the meringue
can be made, leave it tossed into hill
ocks, or drawn around in swirling
lines, more or less parallel with the
crust edge. This crust should be in
dented and rather high, to support
the filling and meringue.
Pumpkin Fruit Basket.
Cut a good sized pumpkin in the
form of a basket, with a handle. Re
move the contents and line with white
tissue paper. Fill with yellow fruits
—oranges, apples, bananas and
grapes—letting the grapes fall grace
fully over the side. Tie a huge bow
of yellow tarlton ribbon (the kind
used by the florists) on the handle.
Place on a doily in the center of the
table.
For each guest make a pumpkin
blossom. Buy paper cases at the con
fectioners and cut petals from pump
kin colored tissue paper, crinkle with
a sharp knife. Begin at the top.
paste four rows around the outside
and green at the bottom. Place be
side each place, to befilled with salt
ed nuts or ice cream.
Oyster Soup.
.One-half gallon of water and one
quart of oysters will make three
quarts of soup. Put cold water in the
soup kettle, season with salt and serve
when the water comes to a boil. If de
sired rich add a pint of milk and as
soon as boiling point is reached turn
In the oysters. When it boils up once
serve. Do not let boil after the oy
sters are in as it makes them tough,
season with pepper. For an invalid,
when but little nourishment can be
taken at a time, use milk, a tiny bit
of butter, salt and pepper to taste.
Bring the milk quickly to boiling point,
turn in the oysters, cover closely,
place over a brisk fire and as soon as
the oysters raise to the top serve at
once with dry toast.
~ 1 " ■ ■ •
Blue Point Rolls.
Cut small, shapely, thin slices of
cold rare beef and spread them spar
ingly with mixed mustard. Cover each
one with a similarly shaped, transpar*
ently thin slice of bacon and finish
with a plunlp oyster, lightly dusted
with salt and pepper. Roll and fasten
with a tiny skewer; dip in melted but
ter, arrange on a buttered broiler and
grill over a slow, clear fire until the
bacon and oysters are cooked. Turn
the rolls often, every time dipping
them in melted butter. Serve with
brown butter to which lemon juice is
added, one teaspoonful of juiae to four
of melted butter.
Sea Foam Fudge.
Two cups ol light brown sugar, one
cup of water, the white of one egg,
flavoring to taste. Boil the sugar
and water until it will mold, but not
until it is brittle and yet not as soft
as for ordinary fudge. Have the
white of an egg beaten stiff and pour
in the syrup slowly, beating constant
ly. with a patent egg beater. Drop
on pans from the point of a spoon,
giving a poited appearance to the
top of each of the candies.
Scotch Apple Tart.
Peel and core a half dozen tart
apples and place in a crock in a slow
oven, adding neither water nor sugar.
When tender mix in Sultana raisins,
allowing a quarter of a pound to each
pound of apples. Turn Into a deep
baking dish, sprinkle with sugar and
grated lemon; cover with a top crust,
pricking well, to allow for the escape
of steam, and bake in a quick oven.
Serve with milk.
Cleaning Bran.
To clean chased brass trays wash
the tray with soap and hot water and
dry It thoroughly. Cut a lemon In half
and with it rub the brass till clean.
Then rinse in warm water, dry and
polish with a wash-leather. The same
treatment is right for brasB bowls and
other ornaments which are now so
popular with artistic folk.
Onion 8ouffle.
Chop two large onions Into fine
pieces and soak one-half cup bread
crumbs In one-half cn>- -ilk. Mix the
two and beat well, i tf* stir In the
yolk of an egg, beaten .cry light, and
the Whites of two eggs beaten to a
■tiff froth. Put this mixture into a
'deep dish, grate cheese over the top
and bake for twenty minutes.
Carrot-'Frfttera.
Meat two smaU belled carrots to~a
B«lp. Add four WSU beaten eggs, stir
la half a cup of flour. moisten with a
jni. mra. rat to tra.
vrararawtutUM
f————
.
‘
AnSiTING GOWN
\mC£FUL EMPIRE GOWN
'*v*iSfcA.
/I PRETTY NEW DESIGN
Fashion absolutely defies economy
even in matters sartorial, and just as
we have grown used to short sleeves
and have had our coats cut off to
the elbow, the fickle jade declares that
we shall revert once more to long
sleeves. Many a dinner-dress, for in
stance, with a low decolletage shows
the sleeve worn over the wrist. Tak
ing it all round, especially in tailor
mades, I consider the long sleeve is a
boon to the generality of womankind.
To begin with, it is practical, and
nothing was more incongruous for or
dinary everyday use than a sleeve
which left exposed half a bare arm!
When a blue serge frock was finished
just above the elbow and the glove
was not long enough, it did not seem
to me to savor of good style, to say
the least of it, for traveling, or indeed
for any occasion on which we wear
the tailor-made.
Among the definite fashions for the
fall and winter season are longer
sleeves and shorter skirts, with coats
tending towards greater length* In
graceful garments, and especially in
furs, the kimono sleeve is giving place
to what is known as the “bat” sleeve,
consisting of a wing-like drapery
which in reality is not a sleeve at all
but forms a cope effect. At the same
time, the kimono has by no means
died out, but is produced in other
forms and is relegated to the superior
fabrics rather than to the cheaper
ones. I must say I should like to
hedge a little in the matter of sleeves.
Although a great many long, tight,
mitten sleeves will be worn there are
some people they do not suit, and
these will try to remain faithful to
the puffs. But the puff cannot be said
to be a future vogue. The Empire puff
is seldom seen, but rather popular is
a little plain, tight sleeve consisting
of open-work lace and trellis-work of
jet or embroidery. Further pic
turesqueness is attained by wing-like
draperies at the top of the arm weight
ed by a fringe—for, by the way,
fringes of every fcind are a feature
which many dressmakers will try to
revive. There is some sense in the
fringe, and tunic, polonaise, and prin
cess effects are infinitely improved
when weighted with heavy silk or
chenille fringes.
Though there is no very startling
change to chronicle in the general
fashioning of furs this season, there
are any number of distinctive details
which will proclaim the wearer of the
really up-to-date coat or wrap. The
kimono continues to exercise on furs
the all-powerful influence which it first
displayed on cloths and satins, and it
certainly makes for grace of outline,
as well as comfort, and as a carriage
or theater wrap finds practically no
rival. Its wide sleeves also figure on
the sacque coatees which are to be
very much worn, though, once again,
fashion has been most thoughtful of
Old-school Farmers.
“It is astonishing what faith the old
school farmer.used to put in his al
manac," said a farmer of the new
school, a graduate of an agricultural
college.
“My father was an old-school farm
er, and in June he would consult his
almanac to see if we were going to
have a clear Christmas. What though
the almanac usually went back on
him? Sometimes its predictions were
true, and one accurate prophecy
counterbalanced, in my father’s mind,
50 miscues.
“Once I crossed the ocean with the
old man. We sat at the captain’s ta
ble, and the first night out my father,
laying down his spoon, said anxiously:
“‘Captain, her ye got an almanac
on board?*
"‘No,’ the captain answered.
"The old man frowned and shook
his head.
. " ‘Then, by gosh,* he said, ‘we’ll Jest
hee to take the weather as she
comes.' ** . 1
* •> * -- )--i
•• NsterAmod,
Ton are a man, remember, not a
The Seesaw of Living.
The first thought of almost every
wage earner, overtaken by his perplex
ity, is that somehow his income must
be increased to meet the enhanced
cost of living. But after employes
have been painfully convinced, and
after successive ranks ttf workers, in
all callings, have been granted an In
crease of pay computed to offset the
general increased level in the prices
of the necessaries of life, it is just as .
like as not that the old problem stilt
remains to be faced. For when all
employers have to pay high wages,
they necessarily, in most cases ad
vance the price of product or service,
so that the increased wage buys no
more than the old one.
How the Rattles Are Worn.
The rattles lie edgewise. It is evi
dent that they muBt do so, inasmuch
as they ate but continuations of the
backbone. The snake carles the rat
tles on the ground except when he
raisee them to sound hlr warning.
This will be evidenced by the fact that
in every snake m
killed the rattles are werp $rot|jpb'on
tht nadir nidi.—Forest n iinr ftftfcaOV
her followers’ varying figures and re
quirements, and so includes in her list
for the season a smartly simple and
short basqued coat, which fits closely
at the back and has straight, double
breasted fronts and long sleeves.
And now a word about the dresses
displayed in our illustrations. The
tailor-made shown in our larger pic
ture is made of reseda green cloth,
and is trimmed with braid in a darker
shade, tiny brass buttons being used
most effectively as a final trimming.
The blouse is of coarse white lace,
while the hat is of white crinoline
with dark green and white striped
ribbon.
The modified Empire styld will still
be very much in evidence in evening
gowns, and I have seen some charm
ingly pretty bodices with just that
rounded fullness of effect which is'so
much desired by the fair wearer. One
new model, in white Oriental satin, Is
gathered below a little chemisette of
chiffon and has all its soft fold's en
circled by crossed bands of palest
green satin, set with clusters and
trails of wee pink chiffon roses and
green silken leaves, a border of tho
embroidered flowers being the , only
trimming for the plain, gracefully
hanging skirt. The design shown la
simple and yet beautiful. The waist
band can be either in souple satin or
silver and pink tissue, the ends crossed
in front and fastening with tiny flow
er-like rosettes. This waistband cgn
be lowered to the waist-line in front
if one chooses and still keep the up
ward Empire line at the back. •
The hat pictured for you this week
. is strikingly smart, and is of a fine
. quality of felt with a mushroom brim
raised on a bandeau, and its attrac
tiveness is enhanced by the fact that
the crown is a very becoming large
shape trimmed with full bows of silk
glace.
The coat and skirt costume dis
played in our single column illustra
tion shows an effective style for those
who cannot wear those very fashion
able long coats because of lack of
stature. Fashion is delightfully ac
commodating this season, and every
one’s figure can be suited if a little
discretion is used. The striped mate
rial will also tend to give you the ef
fect of an extra inch or so, and as to
j colors, purple or green and black or
dark blue and brown would be both
smart and serviceable, the color of
the stripe being repeated in the vel
vet of collar and cuffs.
Horse as Executioner.
A farmer named Courtois, whose en
gagement was broken off recently,
hanged himself from his horse’s neck.
He was working the plow, and he tied
the reins of one of the horses round
his neck. The horse, tossing his head,
broke his master’s neck.—Paris Dis
patch in London Express.
