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Mt *toa am*: - tafa to 'to* to* to-> *--**-* to*— tto |w4!*tral ■tola* Wto to—(to to*to •*•-• *1- to far*—* Htoa la •to —at to tra*a tto* W* a i-a It* -a—a l-ia * 8Bft0to3#*M0 irA lip# a— CMAWTVW KJtVHI—Ccatlmaed. Lacy." h» Mli "1 j tor* (naMh'tl t« Mt «f you" *1 will to It.* Lmt pmmfeKt With*- I ty. rat tor total’s 1-SMWta leeched. "Taa treat oe*_ Msf-.amlasilo larr (Jut to tlain Ttoa tto fere totia* wttot. “Do tw rwalr • tail we o*tw tod tufwttor rttt t told yea of ay eld [liv aaate AtoeT* Tie Utotuto Cashed furtouelv u ah# recalled that talk Itoa ato cod tod la a aailMNdtot manner "I re aoi ai>nr very nil.' ah* aaid. "ft »a* •to* I threw aywlf at roar head aad |w aaid yta Mat waal aa“ frimuh' ehoaltors aad hand* aad eye* waat epward together lato aa lalOMtlf toad feature, "What a torrar?” to cried. "Wtot aa turn peak ahia maitaar ts recoil act that talk* i Mow aaa ywa? Hoa cue you ba ao brutal to meT" Hath at them, at that, buret late tight-hearted la ash ter Lucy aaa (rare motoaaiy. "Vat yea bare sametfciag to aak ■a fitarda Tea i|Kdr of jw playmate to-ectlfcl Allis' "It la otlj yea whom ! could ask to to this Ma’.li moOnlle Lacy. 1 bare aanr uAd aaywma elaa about her. Only pee Laos of"- the sards came aloe If—V my lore tor tec Abe dora not know K. Alisa toea not lour. And I atayr ba killed, see »«ea. in thin fight tor the priaea. (dull* easily Aad Alisa will not know. I do aot like that la feet 1 naaoot bear U. So this Ik riot I aak of you. dear matomol satie" He hraaght oat a letter aad katd it to tor. "If yea toar that 1 an lOX. will yea sard H to A list*" Lacy took the letter aad tuned It tf»r toatotoUy "I to not like this awrt of pool mortem nr ni lea Inn. fraa eafe I feel as tf 1 were bolding your •es-bwarrant-* -bM it to not by • bit of writ: eg 1 ■haii onto my finish. ouMtoaolisUs I r-uotoo wot to die gw min 3is sooner for toot Verier It to only tbot It will «*l» mo happy to hoow yoo will send to" oMlag too letter flager!y, ao Francois not to go i by him • moment oad laid on hto coot sleeve "Fran w»at to tall yoo something " - yes. Lucy." ] “ j "This to It. tben"—and Francois smiling, waited sad there was deep toieocu In toe teg. coot, quiet drawing mcot k* os loag so o minute "This It to. them 1 don't know how I can be sc Wtofooom ahU but I am I love Harry —I as happy but 1 as quite—jealous of Aline. And 1 think yes are the most wonderful perwoo I hare ever known much more wonderful than Harry it there bad bees no Altne; 11 you had —liked se—I can ftaagine haring adored yoe 1 do adore you. Francois. PSew. bow to all that compatible with my joy in marrying Harry* I don't know how H la—but It la so ism s wicked tonful person—but It to so." The west time Lacy Hampton saw rrvscoa it was warn. white-roMd and onset to her enveloping mist of veil owe waot up toe chaao.1 stops of the tails Virginia country church, and twh.se up met a entile that was s htfWedtcOoo from the man whom she had Wired, who flood done now at toe dbdr of her lover, her husband. CHAPTER XXIX. The P*Joee*s Rrvpht Shadow. Thor* are old people 11 nag in Eng today who remember hearing four fathers and mothers speak of a jrgnr Frenchman of uncommon per goaiity. constantly seen with Prince L—to Napoleon during the last days «f his life In London In the year 1840 10*1 Constance Cecil nicknamed tote trmirhmir "toe prince's bright brotherhood between them. gwi the tradition runs that toe myu Ideal prince had a superstition that his luck went with him In the person of the CkevaHer Benepre. It was all as it should be; he was entirely happy. He had asked three v. lahes of the good fairies, as he had said long ego; that the prince should be •■mperor- that he might become "a marshal of France under another Bona parte" that Allxe should love him. 1%e first two he believed about to be realised The last? It was not now the time to think of that Allxe had kissed him good-by. Thai would more than do till the fight was over. Bo he sp-d back to London, missing Pietro. In* hopeful and buoyant. And In Lon don there was a letter for him from Virginia ' !h*ar Francois,” Lucy began. “To •htnfc that the first letter sent to you by Harryh wife should be to tell you •h*» she hm betrayed your trust In her 1 am dlstrwwed beyond words, V t bare made a mistake which may mean distress to you. You remember the letter In Allxe which you trusted to me t» send In case anything should happen to you? I had 11 1b my hand the week after my wedding when 1 had gone upstairs to get other letters for Kurope whhh my father had command ed me to send by the next packet. And la some stupid unexplainable way I slipped roues -your precious letter— among them In place of oae to my fa ther's agents In London, end I hur tled thiwn and gave the parcel to Sam bo who was waiting to rid* to Nor folk with them And then Harry and 1 west away on a visit to Martin’s Brandos for three days, and It was •>nly when 1 came back that 1 dlscor e-ed the dreadful mistake I had made 'an you ever forgive me? Harry and 1 thought over every possibility of stop ping It. bat there seemed to be no • hancs AY* you very angry with me, dear friend of Harry’s and of mine?" The letter went on with reproaches ar>d regrets and finally slipped Into a tale of a new happy life which Fran ci !• had mad* possible for the two. I* r*ad It over several times. His letter to Allxe, which should have been *« rt only aTer his death, had gone to her. What then? She would know that he loved her; that he had lored ‘ter alwaya; that he would kne her fttrsvar; that Iha on* wl*h of Ills life had been that she should love himself -not Metro. He had said that In the 1’ttsr; that was all. He was glad that »he should know, though he would never have told her In li/e. It was doa* and he would And out now If Metro Indeed cared for her, if she cared for Metro. And if not. then one had waited long enough; then at last —the Joy of the thought choked him. A knock came at the door of the room tn the London lodging where he sat with Lucy Hampton's letter before him. Frits Klckenbach stood there; his highness would like to see the chevalier. All personal thoughts were locked swiftly Into the drawer with Lucy's letter and "the prince's bright shadow** went to the prince. CHAPTER XXX. The Third Wish. On the day when Francois in Lon don read that letter of Lucy Hamp ton's which had awaited his return from France, a letter from Lucy Hampton reached Alize at the chateau of Vieques She carried It to Metro's room where he sat In a deep chair at a window which looked over Deles snontes valley and ths racing Cheulte liver, and the village strung on the shores. His elbow on the stone win dow-sill. his chin in his hand, he stared st the familiar picture. Alize, coining in without knocking at the open door, stepped across and stood by him. and he did not lift his head, bis listless eyes did not yet shift their gaze from the broad land Ths Gray Eye* Met Hera. reaper. Alixe, looking down at the black bead with its short curls set in thick locks—after the manner of the curl* of Praxiteles' Hermes—was ?tartl«d to see many bright lines of gray through the dark mass. Was ev erybody getting old? Francois with the broad band of white in his hair— and now Metro—big little Pietro, who had come to them and learned to ride Coq and played with them. Was Pietro getting old and gray? By one of the sudden impulses char acteristic of her, her hand flew out and rested on the curled head as if to protect it, motherly, from the whiten ing of time. And Metro turned slowly and looked up at her with eye* full of hopeless ness and adoration. Such a look he had never before given her; such a look no one could mistake except a woman who would not let herself un derstand. "It Is good to be up and at the win dow. Isn't it?" Alixe spoke cheerfully, and her hand left his head and she went on In a gay disengaged tone. "Ton will be downstairs in two or three days now, and then It is only a jump to betng out and about, and then—then in a minnte yon will be well again.” “Oh, yea;” Pietro answered without animation, “it will not be long before I am wait,” , “Look, Pietro;" AHxe held out the paper in her hand. “Such a queer let ter! From Virginia. From the little Lucy Hampton of whom Francois talks, i don’t understand it Will yon let me read it to you?” ‘“Surely;" said Pietro, and waited with his unsmiling eyes on her face. “My dear mademoiselle;" Alize read, “i am writing to beg your forgiveness, as I have begged that of the Chevalier Beaupre. for the very great fault I have committed. The chevalier trust ed to me a letter ft>r you which was to have been sent you only in case of a eertaln event; by a carelessness which, unmeant as it was, I shall never for give myself; t gave It with other let ters to our negro Samba to be posted at ocee. By now It may have, reached you. t eannot tell if 1 have made trouble or not, but in any ense, I can not rest without saying to you—as well as to the Chevalier—how sorry I am. If you eaa find It In your heart to forgive me, please do so; dear mademoiselle. That I should have i made trouble for one as dear to the chevalier as you are Is a deep grief to me. He has talked to me of you. With a very earnest prayer again for your forgiveness I am, mademoiselle, yours faithfully and sincerely.—Lucy Hamp ton Hampton." Pietro looked bewildered. “What is It about?" he asked. u! wonder/’ and Alixe laughed and frowned at the paper In her hand. "It seems Francois wrote me a letter and left it with Uttle Mistress Hampton to be sent in ease of a certain event.’ What event? What a strange thing for Francois to do! And then he came to us here and said nothing of mys terious letters left cooking la Vir ginia. I eannot make it out, Pietro— can you?” ‘‘Not I," said Pietro. “The letter of Francois has not come; that is certain; 1 wonder If the negro Sambo lost It.” "Probably,'’ Pietro said. "It should have come before this one. otherwise.” "U is a riddle/’ Altxe decided, “and I never guess them.” Then, dropping into a seat on the wide window-sill, “Pietro—you are letting yourself be depressed.” i ne gray eyes met tiers with some thing that seemed a wall of reserve In their Bteady glance, “I think poeslbly 1 infes having no exercise,” he said. “1 will feel more natural when I ean get about,” Alixe looked at him. ‘‘You are eat ing your heart out to be with Fran cois.” she said, and laid her hand on his. Pietro stared as If the light touch had shaken him; then slowly his large fingers twigted lightly around the email ones, and he turned his face again, holding her hand so. to the win dow and the view of the valley and the river and the village. A moment they sat so. the gtrl’B hand loose in the hollow of the man's; a slow red crept into AHxe's face; there was con fusion in her brain. She had laid her hand on that of her brother; her broth er had taken It In his—and behold, by a witchcraft It was all changed. This delicate big grasp that held her was not brotherly; through all her veins suddenly she knew that; the flush shot up to her eyes, to her forehead, and she tried, with an attempt at an every day manner, to draw her hand away. But Pietro, his set pale face toward the window, his eyes gazing out, held her hand. With that the world had reeled and was whirling past her. Pietro had caught both her hands in a tight grip and had urawn them against him, was holding them there, was looking at her with a face which not even she. this time, might mistake. “Alixe." he said, "I know you don’t care for me. I know you love Fran cois. 1 did not mean ever to speak, but when you put your hand on mine—” He held her pal me together and parted the palms and klesed the fin gertips, first of one and then of the other, as if he kissed something holy. "I shall never speak again, but this once I will. I always loved you—one must. I knew always that a slow si lent person like me would have no chance againet a feilowi like Francois. So I have kept still, and It was hard. It won’t be so hard now that you know. Are you angry, Alixe?” Alixe, witn ner bead bent so that Pietro did not see her face, with her head bending lower—lower, suddenly was on her knees by the chair and her face was on Pietro’s arm. ’’Alixe," he whispered, ‘‘what is it— what have I done?” But the brown waves of hair with the blue ribbon tied around them lay motionless on his arm. And suddenly a thought shook him. “It cannot be!” he gasped. And Alixe lifted her face, and the exaggerated black lashes lifted, and the blue glance lifted and rested on Pietro’s black hair bent down where the light shone on the sliver lines through it. lrp flashed her hand im pulsively, gently—as Alixe did things, and touched the thick lock with an in finitely delicate caress. “Your hair— is all turning gray,” she whispered in two quick breathe, and at that, in some occult fashion Pietro knew. For moments they had no need of that makeshift, language; the great house was very quiet, and one heard the horses stamping in the paved courtyard and the grooms singing, and yet one did not hear it. Distant sounds came from the village, but one only knew that long after, in remembering that morning. All they knew was that the ghost of a lifelong affection of brother and sister stood before them, changed by a miracle to a shining angel into whose face, for these first moments, they dared not look. Then slowly, exquisitely, courage came and, hand close in hand, they looked at each other astonished, glad. It was Pietro and Alixe still, the ancient play fellows, the childhood friends—all the dear familiarity was there yet, but no longer were they brother and sister And then, after a while they began to compare notes of things hidden. “When did you begin—to like me—' this way, Pietro?" “I don’t know,” answered Pietro stupidly. “Does it make any differ ence?” “A great deal,” Alixe insisted. "It’s important. It’s historical." “But this isn’t history," said Pietro. Allxe, however, retained to the charge. "Last year?" “Last year—what?” Pietro asked; he had already forgotten the question. "Oh—that I began to—non dlen—no. Last year! Why, I think It was the day I came and saw yon riding Coq.” “Oh, Pietro—If you will talk only nonsense!" Alixe’s voice was disap pointed. “But why, then, didn’t yon ever say so before this? We are both a thousand years old now. If you— loved me”—she spoke the word In a lower voice—“why, then, were you ae quiet as a mouse about it all these years?” “I thought you cared for Francois." Pietro said simply. And added, “Didn’t you?” Allxe considered. “I don’t—think— I ever did, Pietro. Not really. I thought I did perhaps. He dazzled me —Franeols—with his way of doing all sorts of things brilliantly, and that wonderful something about him makes everybody love him. He believed in his star; there was around him the romance of the emperor’s prophecy and the romance of the career which is, we believe, about to begin now; there was always a glamour about Francois." ‘‘Yes,-’ Pietro agreed. “The glamour of his courage, Allxe, of loyalty and un selfishness; the qualities which make what people call his charm. Francois is unlike the rest of the world, I be lieve, Allxe;” Pietro talked on, the silent Pietro, ae if delivering a lecture. He had read much and thought much; It was sel Suddenly a Thought Shook Him. dom he spoke of the speculations which often filled his scholarly mind; today it seemed easy to talk of everything. Joy had set wide all the doors of his be ing. Alixe opened her eyes in aston ishment “Pietro! You are—talking like a book! But It is true; something of that sort hae come to me. too—which proves it to be true. I have felt al ways that Francois had notes in him which are not on our pianos.” Pietro smiled, looking at her. "And yet Alixe, you do not love Francois, with all these gifts and all his power over hearts—but only com monplace me?" Alixe straightened against his arm. “Monsieur the Marquis Znppl, the gen tleman I—care for, is not common plaoe. I thank you not to say it," she shot at him. and then, melting to a sudden intensity, she put a hand on each side of his dark face and spoke earnestly. “Pietro, dear, listen. I be lieve I always cared for you. When 1 was little it hurt me to have Francois forever the one to do the daring things. Do you remember how I used to scold at you because you would not fight him?" Pietro smiled again "Then he was captain of the school and you only a private, and I cried about that when I was alone at night. And when you went off to Italy so quietly, with never a word said about the danger, I did not know that you were doing a fine deed —I thought it a commonplace that you should go hack to your country, til! Francois opened my eyes.” "Francois?" Pietro asked. “Yes. The day before he went to join you we were riding together and he told me what it meant to be a patriot in Italy under the Austrians. That day I realized how unbearable it would be if anything happened to you. But I thought I cared for Francois; if he had spoken that day I should have told him that I cared for him. But he did not; he went—and was in prison five years." "And all that time I believed you loved him, and were mourning for him," Pietro said gently. “I half believed It too.” Alixe an swered. “Yet all the time I was jealous for you, Pietro, for it was still Francois who was the hero—not you. Then when there came a question of his rescue I was mad with the desire to have you do it—and you did it” Her voice dropped. She laid her hand against his shoulder and spoke, in a quick cautious way. “But all that is immaterial. I just love you—that’s the point” A mo ment later she spoke again. “I want to finish telling you—and then we need never speak of it again. I did think you were—commonplace. And yet I knew in my heart you were not, for I resented your seeming so. So I urged you into danger. I wanted you to be a hero. I had that echo of a schoolgirl’s romance about Francois in my mind, and I clung, all along, to the idea that I loved him and that per haps he secretly loved me but would not say it because he was poor and a peasant; that he was waiting till his j future was made. Then, one day, only the other day, he told me that he had asked three wishes of life—‘of the good fairies’ he said. One was to make Prince Louis Emperor, one was to be Marshal of France; the third—” she stopped. “What?” Pietro demanded, his mouth a bit rigid. Alixe flushed and smiled and took Pietro’s big hand and covered her eyes with it. “That I should—love you. Monsieur. He said he had wished that all his life.” “May heaven grant him his wish,” said Pietro fervently, and then, reflect ing, “It seems a strange wish for Fran cois. You are sure, Alixe?” “Yes, he .said so,” Alixe Insisted. “Our dear Francois," she went on soft ly, and the blue intensity of her eyes grew miBty. “Dear Francois,” she re peated, “it is only he who could have had those three wishes. The single one that was for himself was not be cause he cared for it himself, but be cause It was the Emperor's prophecy." “I always thought,” Pietro spoke slowly, “that It was not indeed for himself that he wished to be a Mar shal some day, but, because it might make him. In a manner, your equal. It was for you.” "For me!” Alixe was astonished. "I never thought of that. I think you thought of It, Pietro, only because you —cared for me—and thought Fran cois must care also.” “Yes, I thought he cared,” Pietro considered. “I ean not believe other wise yet" “You may believe it.” Alixe was firm. “For he said that what he had wished always was that ! should—love you. I did It mostly to please Fran eois,” she added serenely. And Pietro's response to that was apt, but not to be given here. The minds of these two happy lovers were full of that third who had been so elose always, to each of them. “Pietro,” Alixe spoke earnestly, com ing back to the same subject, “you I know that I love Francois—of course. But you do not know In what way. I love him as If he were one of the saints—but also as If he were a help less little ehild. Yet not—Pietro—as If he were—-the man I love. 1 would give my life for him In a rush of de light, If he needed It. But I know now, whatever were my vague dreams in past years, that It Is not In Francois to care for a woman as a human man.” “I am not so sure,” said Pietro, and shook his head. “You know I am not abusing our Francois,” Alixe protested. “Why, Pietro, my father believes, and I be lieve, that if affairs should so happen that he has his opportunity he may yet be one of the great characters in history. My father says he Is made up of Inspirations, Illuminations—and limitations.” “Yes," said Pietro thoughtfully. “He has the faults of brilliancy and fear lessness. He judges too rapidly. If he were afraid ever—If he saw the other side of a question ever, his judg ment would be safer. It may well hap pen that he will be one of the great | men of Europe; It may also happen i that by some single act of mismanage | rnent he will throw away his career— | or his life. God keep him safe!” Pie- • j tro said simply. And Alixe echoed It—“God keep him safe!” And then, “I am going to write ! him, Pietro—about us. My father knows where to reach him at Bou i logne I am going to say just a word— I that what he has wished for all his | life is true. It will get to him the night before the battle.” “Are you sure you are right, Alixe?” ; Pietro asked doubtfully. “Sure," said Alixe buoyantly. “Give him my love, then,” said Pie I tro. CHAPTER XXXI. The Night Before. Out In the dark, in the harbor of Boulogne, the ship Edinburgh Castle lay rocking in the wind. Prince Louis Bonaparte, who had chartered her. and | the handful of his iollowera who had sailed with him on her from England '■ had disembarked quietly at twilight, ! and in small companies had succeeded In entering the town and the quarters of the officers who were, in France, i the nucleus and the hope of their at tempt. In the rooms of Lieutenant Aiadenize. the host of the Prince, a short council had been held to go over once more the plans which had been discussed and settled by letter for weeks already. The work was care fully arranged; there was almost noth ing to be changed, and the little com pany of men who were trying so large a fate, scattered, with grave faces, with quiet good nights to the Prince who might tomorrow be their Em peror, to the Prince for whose sake they might tomorrow night be any or all ruined men or dead men. Ho sat erect and listened. Thelin was brushing clothes with energy in the bedroom, and through another door there came a light sound of a paper turned, of a gay song sung softly. And a glow suddenly warmed the Prince's heart; here was some one who had known his mother, who had been, in deed, for a few days her son; here was some one who cared for him, he believed it, with a half-consuming flame of devotion. Since the man's arrival from Virginia six weeks before, to have him near himself had been a pleasure to Louis Bonaparte; he seemed to bring back the freshness of his early days, of the young confi dence when his star shone for him. distant perhaps, but undimmed by the black clouds which drove now across it He was a bit snperstitlous about Francois as well, with an Idea, which he spoke to no one, that a pivotal In terest of his career rested In the mod est figure. He rose, this night In Boulogne, as the paper rustled and the little French provincial chanson sounded from the room where Francois Beaupre. now his secretary, had been Installed, and stepped to the closed door. “De tons cote's l’on que Je sals bete." Francois sang softly. The Prince smiled. As he opened the door the singing stopped; the young man sprang respectfully to hts feet, a let ter grasped in his hand, and stood waiting. "Sire!” he said. Prince Louis flung out his hand with a gesture of Impulsiveness strange to his controlled manner, yet not out of drawing to those who knew him well. ‘‘Ah, Francois,” he cried. "Let the titles go for tonight. Say, ‘Louis,’ as on that day when we first saw each other; when the four children played together In the old chateau ruins. And Francois smiled his radiant exquisite smile and answered quietly. "But yes, my brother—Louis.” And went on, “I believe I shall not sleep tonight. Louis. I believe I am too happy to sleep.” As one reads a novel for relaxation In the strain of a critical business af fair, Prince Louis caught at the dis traction of this slrle issue. The next morning was planned to the last de tail; there was nothing to do till day light, yet he could not sleep at pres ent. Here was a romance of some sort. He sank back on the cushions of the coach of Lieutenant Aladenlze's smoking room and put his feet up lux uriously, aDd siowlj lighted a cigar of Havana. “Tell me.” he ordered, and the gen tleness of appeal wae in the order. “Sire”—the young man began—and corrected himself. “Louis.” he said. The Prince smiled dimly. “Since our landing I have known that a wonder ful thing has happened to me. It Is”— he spoke lower—“it Is the love of the woman who Is to me the only one in the world.” “1 congratulate you, mon ami,” Louts said gently. “Is it by any chance the delightful little Mademoiselle Alixe of the old chateau?” Beaupre turned scarlet. He was a marvelous man. this Prince Louis. How had he guessed? “She loves me —I have here a letter in which she tells me that she lov.vs me. Will his Highness read it?” With an impetu ous step forward he beid the paper toward Louis Napoleon. I thank you, the Prince said grave ly. He read: “Francoie. what you have wished all your life is true. The good fairies have granted one of your wishes be fore the battle. That they will give you the other two on the day of the battle is the belief of yovr "AUXE." And below was written hurriedly, “Pietro sends his love.” The Prince gave back the letter with a respectful hand; then looked at Francois inquiringly. “ 'What yon have wished all your life,’ man ami?” Francois laughed happily. "One must explain, if it will not tire his High ness.” And he told, in a few words, of that day when his self-restraint had given way and how, when his guard was down and he was on the point of telling his lifelong secret love, some spirit of perversity—but Francois did not know it was an angel—had caught Alixe, and Bhe had accused him of wishing always that she might love Pietro. And how, meshed in that same net of hurt recklessness, he had an swered In her own manner—"Yes,” he had said, "it was that which had been the wish of his life—that Alixe might love Pietro!” And Francois laughed gaily, telling the simple entanglement to the Prince, the night before the battle. “One sees how ehe is quick and clear-sighted, my Alixe,” he said. “For she knew well even then it was not that I wished." He stopped, for In the quiet contained look of the listener an intangible something struck a chill to his delicately-poised sensi tiveness. “What ie it, Louis ?” he cried out. “You do not think I mistake her —Mistake—Alixe!" (TO BE CONTINUED.) Philosopher’s Purpose. “I am looking for an honest nun; said Diogenes. “What do you want with one?” “Oh, nothing in particular. My real philanthropic purpose is to sbow the world how to conduct a long and re sultless investigation with as little ex pense as possible.” ART OF TREE SCULPTURE Old English Custom That Called for the Cutting of Fantastic Shapes. Very many years ago it was the fashion of England and on the con tinent to have great gardens of ever green trees trimmed and clipped into curious and fantastic shapes. To such an extent did the craze develop that these gardens were filled with crouch ing lions, pigs and even hens and chickens, all laboriously sculptured from living green and kept in trim by constant use of the knife and the shears. A few of these gardens were es tablished in this country and one still remains in perfect condition. It is located on the famous Hunnewell es tate at Wellesley. Mass., and is vis ited by people from all over the world. The garden is on the side of a terraced hill dropping away to a beautiful little lake. Evergreens of many kinds are to be found there and each summer a force of workmen with long ladders care fully prune and trim the branches in order to preserve the strange shapes which have been developed with the utmost patience.—Popular Electricity. Use 30,000,000 Boxes. Cigar boxes are a negligible quan tity to the average smoker, but how many ever stopped to think of the number used each year or where they come from? Thirty million is the total supplied to the manufacturers of the seductive weed each year. The best boxes come from Cuba and are known as Spanish cedar. After the war with Spain the supply of this wood was greatly diminished and its price" raised, so that for a time cigar dealers were obliged to find a substitute for this kind of cedar. Various woods were tried, but trou ble was found in selling these boxes, because connoisseurs insisted that a fine cigar was spoiled by putting it in any but a box made of Spanish cedar. This wood always retains the flavor of a good cigar. Indeed, some persons assert that it improves the flavor. The reason given is that it grows in the same localities. I As She Is Spoke on Clyde. The best English is said to be spoken in Scotland—but not on the Clyde! A Londoner, just returned from Scotland, sends a Daily Chronicle cor respondent this example of Firth of Clyde language: “Poo-pa-poo: aw-ma noo, gaur-pa-poo.” The strange sounds are supposed to be uttered by a wee Macgreegor in a rowing-boat with his parents; and the interpretation is, “Pull, pa, pull; oh, ma, now, gaur (make) pa pulL” The Chinese-like exhortation is a good companion for “Flaflaflarry”— which is sound Glasgow tor “Fellow fell off a lorry.” An Analysis. A Boston broker said the other da; of J. Pierpont Morgan: “We’d never have had these New Haven troubles if Morgan had lived. Morgan was a wonder. Whatever you were—banker. Investor, politician—ha could turn you instde out. “Morgan, after a great victory, once said to me with a grim chuckle: “ ’The financier’s strength is other people’s weaknesses.’ ” From All Sides. “Can you send a dog by parcel post?” “I am afraid there would be a howl about It if you did.” I>r. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets first put up 40 years ago. They regulate and invigorate stomach, liver and bowels. Sugar-coated tiny granules. Adv. Cut and dried is the way a man feels after a barber school student gets through with bis complexion. Smile on wash Bay. That’s when you use Red Cross Ball Blue. Clothes whiter than snow. All grocers. Adv. Trusts are like babies—they go after j everything in sight. TWO WOMEN AVOID OPERATIONS By Taking Lydia E. Pink . ham’s Vegetable Compound. Chicago, 111. —‘ ‘I must thank you with i all my heart for Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable. Com pound. I used to go to my doctor for pills and remedies and they did not help me. I had headaches and could not eat, and the doctor claimed I had female trouble and must have an opera tion. I read in the paper about Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veere table (Jctt pound and I have taken it and feel fine. A lady said one day, ‘Oh. I feel so tired all the time and have head ache.’ I said. ‘Take Lydia E. Pink, ham's Vegetable Compound,’ and sho did and feels fine now.”—Mrs. M. R. 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