‘"Grandpa, grandpa,” lisped my dar
ling boy.
Then came the words, half inarticu
late :‘*My children, it is paralysis. God
bless—remember, Claud; it’s there.”
And his eyes were directed to the
desk. There was a written sheet direct
ed to me. I raised it from She desk.
His eyes followed my hand.
"‘Yes. leave Chanson. I have seen a
vis—vision. Chanson will lie swal —
swallowed up by the waters that sur
round it.”
He made one effort to raise his feeble
frame and sank deeper in the chair. A
gasp, and Don Ignace had joined his
ancestors. I fsjre my weeping wife and
little Ignace from the room.
‘‘Coreta, darling, we must bear up
under this great bereavement.”
"'Oh, Claud! Claud! Now I have
inly you and our l»oy.”
The written instrument left by the
don was as follows:
Dear Claud—When you have laid my re
mains in the vault, do not delay, hut leave the
island at once. If not. 1 tremble for your safe
ty. Do not permit Coreta to visit the vault. 1
want no priest. Read the simple burial service
over my remains, and you and Pedro, Juan
and Manuel can lay me in the vault. I feel
that my time is short. Goodby. God bless
you. Coreta and my boy.
Ignace de Floremo.
Pedro was heartbroken, for he had
spent a lifetime in the service of the
don. The day after his death we pre
pared his body for its last resting place.
My wife, with little Ignace, had tak
en a last look at the features ot the
dead. I read the simple English burial
service over him in their presence and
that of the servants, and that night we
bore the body of Don Ignace down into
the vault and laid him beside his father.
Horror was depicted on the features
of Manuel and Juan. Pedro was one
who would have been surprised at noth
ing. After they had retired I was hours
bearing the contents of the casket over
which Martell had so long held guard
up to our room. I had to return many
times, but at last I had emptied it. On
the empty casket I replaced the skele
ton, shoved back the levers, closed the
wall and left the vault forever.
Up the ladder, the last of the jewels
about my person, the lantern in my
hand, I shoved back this last lever.
The iron sheet closed to with a clang.
Going through the armory, I took a last
look at the somber array of old time
weapons on the wall—weapons that had
taken human life. As I reached the
door two sabers fell to the floor. The
rust on the blades, to my fancy, looked
like human gore. One of them rolled
over twice. What caused it? “Ha,
ha, ha, ha! The last of the De Flore
most” Did I hear those words? I
glanced around. The weapons on the
walls seemed swinging to and fro. A
large glass decanter fell from the side
board and broke into dozens of pieces.
4-Ha, ha, ha, ha! The last of Chan
son!” Was I paralyzed? I managed
to insert the key in the lock. Were the
flags above my head waving from the
wall ? Surely some one was pounding
on the iron plate I had just closed.
“Ha. ha, ha, ha! Robber, robber,
robber! The pirates’ curse! The pirates’
curse! Take it! Take it!”
Thank God, the key was turned. I
passed out with a shudder, locked the
door and was soon in our room.
“Oh, Claud, dearest, do not leave me
again! But what ails you? You are
trembling like a leaf and are, oh, so
white!”
“Nothing, dear. I have but fulfilled
a part of the don’s last wish. Tomor
row we will fulfill the rest. We will
leave the island. It was his wish, dear
est. Do you regret to go?”
“What was his wish, Claud, and is
yours is mine. There is little to re
main for now.”
“True, darling; there is nothing but
the remains of our dear old friend. ”
I went to bed, but could not sleep,
and when I did get in a doze I would
start up in horror. A feeling seemed
On the empty casket I replaced the skel
eton.
to seize me that something terrible was
near. Of course the voice in the armory
I ascribed to overwrought imagination,
and the excited condition I was in led
to it. When the day had dawned, I went
down to our little pier. Our yacht lay
at the wharf. I placed a box in a pri
vate compartment, of which I had the
key, and during the day brought down
and placed in it the jewels and coin.
As - evening came on I had Pedro and
Manuel bring down some of my wife’s
trunks and my own, and I told Pedro
that we should leave him in possession
for a time, but that I would give him
his instructions in Coquombo. When
we had everything aboard, I noticed that
the water seemed a foot higher on the
pier than I had ever seen it before, and
I remarked it to Pedro.
"Yes, senor.” said he, "the sea is
high. The white caps are dancing a
dirge to my good old master. I never
saw the waves run as high before. A
storm must be brewing. Here between
the island and the mainland it is not
so bad, but once we run below the is
land, where the full strength of the
white caps will reach ua, I fear for the
yacht. And, senor, if the senotita and
little don go, I beg you stay yet till an
other day.”
"Well, we will wait till 6 o’clock.
Pedro, and if by that time it is not less
rough we will not go tonight.”
As the time pa:»-d the sea seemed to
ran higher. I could not expose my wife
and child to its fury and reluctantly
said: “Pedro, we will go tomorrow,
but you and Manuel must remain aboard
the yacht tonight. Do not leave it on
any account. I will send Juan with
your supper. ’ ’
“Yes, sc/or."
Aud I knew he would never forsake
bis post.
When 1 returned to the lonely castle
—prison it seemed to me now—I found
Coreta, my boy and Aralda. the maid,
ready, and whm 1 told my wife that
we could not go till another day tears
came into her eyes.
"Oh, Claud. I feel as you do—that
we inhst go."
“A few hours,” said i, “can make
no difference. 1 cannot Irust your liv.: ~
to this tempestuous s«a."
So Aralda brought our tea to cur
room, and we retired early, as we had
slept but little for several nights, and
fatigue had had its ( fleets. We were
soon sound asleep. How long wo had
slept 1 know not, but when I awoke it
was with a feeling of ularm.
What was the sound I heard ? It was
as of the waves of the ocean dashing
with irresistible force at my very feet.
I rushed to the window. It was a
beautiful moonlight night. 1 laised
the curtain. One glance caused inv
heart to stand still. The waves of
the restless sea were dashing against
the walls of the castle, and as each
succeeding one came on it seemed to
shake the old structure to its founda
tion. Before me was nothing but a
vast expanse of water, of hungry, dash
ing waves. Not a shrub, not a bowlder.
We were being swallowed up by the
briny deep!
“Coreta, darling wife, we are lost!
Ob, God, mv boy!”
“What, Claud? Oh, Claud!”
“Dearest, the sea has risen in its
might. Don Ignace’s vision has proved
true. We are too late!”
Her arms were around my neck.
“Darling, we can die together—you
and I and our boy. our boy. O God,
must it be?”
“Quick, dearest, dress yourself and
Ignace too. Do not leave the room! 1
will see if there be yet a chance. ’'
Rushing through the hall, I called
Aralda and sent her to her mistress and
then rushed down the stairs. Before 1
knew it I was waist deep in water. The
roar of the waves as they struck the
house were deafening. I could not open
the front door. It would have been
useless. The windows, where not pro
tected by iron shutters, were dashed in.
Nothing to do hut to return and die by
my wife and boy. Back, up the stairs
again 1 rushed, Coreta and her maid
were kneeling on the floor praying.
“Darling, we are lost! No hope, no
hope!” I clasped my dear boy in my
arms. But Pedro, Manuel, Juan, where
were they all ? Doubtless gone to the
bottom of the sea with—ha, the jewels
—the pirates’ curse! Don Ignace’s fa
ther's warning had come true. The jew
els were a curse to him who touched
them. Again 1 rushed to the window
and glanced out. Surging, dancing
waters, higher, higher, creeping stead
ily higher, but somehow the terrib’.
force of the waves seemed broken. Tin
moon shone calmly down. The ocean
seemed calm compared to what it had
been before we had retired, yet here it
"Coreta, ipc arc saved!”
was at our very feet, all around us.
What is this trickling under the door
of our room? Water, water of the
ocean!
“Coreta. Coreta, our time has come!
See. see, the carpet is covered! What's
that? What’s that? A shadow in front
of the window!"
“Senor Claud! Senor Claud!"
“Thank God! Thank God! Faithful
Pedro and the yacht at the window
ledge. ”
They dash in the sash and grapple
with their hooks.
“Haste, haste, senor!"
"Saved! Saved! Coreta, we are
saved!"
We are soon in the yacht—Coreta.
my boy, the maid and I—my d?ar wife
fainting in my arms. The yacht is
shoved clear of the castle walls, her
sails fill, and we are off for Coquoinbo.
Faithful Pedro! He and Manuel were
dozing in the cabin when they were
startled by a tremendous lurching of
the yacht. They rushed on deck to find
that she had broken the fastening that
held hpr to the pier and was drifting
out to sea.
“Senor Claud," said Pedro, “the sea
bad risen so high that the pier was
many feet below the yacht, and only
for its breaking loose we would have
been deep down under the water.
“We speedily hoisted sail, when to
my amazement I saw the gray walls
of the castle in the distance with the
waves dashing against them. We had
drifted past the castle. Then I real
ized that iantead of drifting toward the
mainland we bad drifted across tbe
island, past the castle and out to Bea.
I knew not if you were lost, but after a
time the sea seemed not so rough, and
I ran the yacht to the chamber win
dow. Von know the rest. The sea in
its might has risen in a night and swal
lowed up Chanson. Poor old Chanson 1
My dear old master! Juan and the lit
tle don’s pony—where are they ? But
look, senor, look!”
Wo gazed back in the direction of
Chanson. Only the towering chimneys
and high gables of the old castle metjour
view, and even as our eyes rested upon
them they disappeared forever from
tbe sight of man. Higher and angrier
grew the waters. A tremendous wave
seemed almost to lift us from the bosom
of the deep and hurl us farther on.
‘‘Chanson! Chanson! My dear old
grandfather!' ’ said my dear wife. ‘' Are
yon lost forever, or is it but for a
night?”
‘‘See, Senor Claud,” said Pedro, ‘‘the
lights of Coquopbo. ”
“What, Pedro? What? Coquombo:
There, Coquombo, and the coast of
Chili, and not engulfed beneath the
waves! 1 see it ail. Coreta, darling,
it was not the rising of the waters that
hid Chanson from view. Our island
home has sunk beneath the sea forever.
The waves of centuries have done their
work. The foundation gradually has
washed from beneath those huge bowl
ders that held the isle together, and it
has sunk to rest. Deep down in the
ocean lies Chanson. There the old cas
tle, tenantless save by the fishes of the
sea, may strive to raise from its watery
bed. It is there forever. There is the old
armory and there yet on the walls that
vast array of weapons of other ages will
hang, never to be removed by human
agencies, but swayed back and forth by
the action of the mighty deep. There
is the vault with the bones of the pirate
kings. There is dear Don Ignace, the last,
of his race indeed, to find a resting
place ’neatk the soil of his ancestral
home. The island and Don Ignace dis
appeared together. There old Martell
still holds his vigil over the treasure
chest—the treasure chest? Ah, it is
empty. Its millions are in the coffers
of the yacht. ’1
We reach the pier. The waters are
no higher than usual. My dear wife
sits sobbing by my side, and my boy lies
sleeping on my knees. We are soon in
the hostelry of Don Miguel.
At dawn of day I leave my wife and
boy sleeping and visit the pier. It is
thronged with people, all talking wild
ly, gesticulating and gazing in the di
rection from which should loom up the
castle walls of Chanson. Naught but
a vast expanse of old ocean meets their
gaze. The white caps are dancing mer
rily over the island of Chanson. Only
once more do I gaze in that direction
and that is when, with wife and boy,
the maid and faithful Pedro and Man
uel, I stand on the deck of an ocean
steamer whose destination is New York.
We wave a last farewell to the locality
where once stood Chanson.
The treasure of the pirate kings goes
with us. Perhaps the curse will not
arise to follow it from the bosom of the
sea.
THE EXI>.
A Story of Walter Scott.
New stories of Sir Walter Scott are
continually cropping up, just as they
are of Abraham Lincoln, and I am
strongly of the belief that many of them
have been invented since the death of
those great men.
Recently I heard the following story
of Sir Walter in Edinburgh, and my in
formant vouched for its truth:
Sir Walter was sitting in his library
one day when a tall highlander who
had been building an inn near by came
in and said:
"May it please yon. Sir Walter, I am
going to call iny place ‘The Flodden
Inn, ’ and as ye’ve writ a poem on Flod
den Field it struck me and the guid
wife that you might gie us a line for a
motto.”
"Have you read the poem:” asked
Sir Walter.
"No, sir. I'm na a reader.”
"Then yon know nothing about it?"
"Nothin, but I’ve heert them say a3
knows that it’s a vera fine thing.”
"Well, I would advise you to take a 1
verse from the poem itself.”
"And what’ll that be!”
“Drink, weary traveler—drink and
pray."
“But my inn wnll na be a kirk,"
said the man, "and the more prayin
there is the less drinkin there’ll he. and
I na want that. ’ ’
"Oh.” laughed Sir Walter, "1 think
I can fix the verse by leaving out one
letter, an r. ”
“How will it be then?"
“Drink, weary traveler—drink and
pay.”
“Be Ailsie craig, that’s just the
thing!” shouted the man, and he went
away delighted.—Exchange.
Helping the Barber.
“Some men think that if they draw
down their upper lips it helps us in
shaving the lip, but it doesn’t.” said a
down town tonsorial artist the other
day. “On the contrary, it really makes
matters worse, as it is then almost im
possible to get at the comers of the
mouth properly. I always hate to say
anything aliont it, for some people are
easily offended, you know, and then |
they are doing their best, as they think, ,
to help us along. ”—Philadelphia Call, j
A Scotch Rebuke.
A Scotch minister is said to have re
buked his wife for sleeping during his
sermon in this fashion: “Susan.”
he exclaimed from the pulpit, in a voice
that awakened her, as it did all the
other sleepers, “Susan, I didna marry
ye for yer wealth, sin ye had none.
And I didna marry ye for ver beauty—
that the whole congregation can see.
And if ye hae no grace I hae made a sair
bargain in ye indeed. ’'
Afghan chroniclers call their people
Bani-Israel, the Arabian for children of
Israel, and claim descent from Saul, the
first Israelitish king.
WOMAN’S WORLD.
FEMALE SUFFRAGE AS VIEWED BY
SOME NOTED CANADIAN DAMES.
Now He Appreciate! It—A Sneer Kenented.
Practical Hints In Economy—Hiding
Hon Fashion—White Stockings—Stiffly
Starched Skirts.
it is instructive to read the objec
tions to female suffrage made by Cana
dian women in onr esteemed contempo
rary, The Coin dn Feu of Montreal, for
the reason that they are jnst the kind
of objections to it that used to he made
in this country 20 or BO years ago.
Mme. Chapleau says that women ought
to reign in the home, while men ought
to attend to the government. Mme.
Marchand says that women have not
the opportunity of studying complicated
political questions, and so must seek to
gain an influence like that of the women
of the gospels. Mme. Desjardins has
no other ambition than the happiness
of her family, and willingly leaves the
franchise to her hnsband. Mme. Dan
durand believes that women are most
free when the public business is trans
acted by men. Miss Cowan does not
desire that women shall have the privi
lege of voting, as even men abuse that
privilege. Other Canadians who tfere
interviewed on the subject by The Coin
du Feu said that women should keep
away from the noise of politics, and
that the family circle should be saved
from political pollution, and that wom
anly virtues would be lowered in poli
tics, and that the ideal of womanhood
is apart from politics, and that women
ought to be content with their lot as
the angels cf the home. Lady Aber
deen said that “in her capacity as wife
of the govern«r general of Canada” she
preferred to refrain from expressing any
opinion on the question.
Yes, these Canadian objections to
woman suffrage are just like the Amer
ican objections to it that used to he
urged years ago. All of them are very
familiar to everybody in this country
who has taken any interest in the de
bate on the subject. Yet the cause of
woman suffrage has advanced in many
of the states and has gained a com
plete victor}- in at least two of the pro
gressive states of the abounding west.
We are not aware that womanhood has
ceased to flourish on account of that
success.—New Y'ork Sun.
'
Now He Appreciates It.
On a recent afternoon a young pian
ist, who is considered a musical genius
by his friends, was introduced to a
handsome woman by one of the teach
ers at Stein way hall. The teacher had tc
leave the room for a time, and the lady
asked her new acquaintance if he would
not play something for her. The young
man sat down at the piano and played
several pieces. The lady listened with
a critical air, and when he had con
cluded. thanked him very heartily.
“Now, ” she added," won’t you please
play something of your own composi
tion?”
He complied, rendering a pretty song
which he had composed not long be
fore. The lady expressed herself very
much pleased again, and said:
“If you will transpose that, I will
i 6ing it at my song recital in Boston.”
The young man bowed politely, but,
being unwilling to commit himself to
a comparative stranger, said nothing.
A silence ensued that would have been
embarrassing had it not been fortunate
ly interrupted by the return of the
j teacher. The lady had some business
1 to transact with him, and the pianist
| was relieved. When she turned to
! leave, she shook.hands with him heart
ily and again expressed her gratifica
tion at having heard him play. When
she was gone, the pianist turned to his
friend and asked carelessly:
“Who is that lady?”
“Why, 1 told you. That is Mrs. ;
j Story.”
“Yes, 1 know, but who is Mrs.
Story':'”
"Good heavens, man! Don’t you
know that Emma Eames is Mrs. Story
: in private life?”
The pianist now appreciates the com
! pliments he received.—New York Let
! ter.
A Sneer Resented.
What the writer evidently consider
ed a knockdown argument was publish
ed lately at the expense of women vot
ing when, as was sneeringly asserted,
more than one girl had been questioned
as to the term of office of a member of
the legislature, for instance, and could
not tell how long it lasted. The au
thor of this stinging satire seemed to
forget that there are women and women
as well as men and men. Moreover, it
is not so very strange that a question
which does not bear upon them, while
they are not voters, should be pushed
aside by other matters that do come in
contact with their daily lives.
One woman who has, from lifelong
connection with a newspaper office, be
come pretty well acquainted with poli
tics, is astonished, on her part, by the
profound ignorance of the average man.
Yet she does not, on that account, be
lieve that none of them should be allow
ed to vote. Those of us who questioned
our brothers and husbands and lovers,
a few months ago, at the beginning of
the silver talk, as to what it all was
about, were not very greatly enlighten
ed, were wer The fact is that, outside
those whose bread and butter it is, and
outside the repeating a catchword or
two in a wise way, there is not one man
—or woman—in a hundred who knows
what his or her party principles are
or should be. But this is of course be
tween us women!—New York Mail and
Express.
Practical Hints.
Many must practice economy every
day, but this year there is more urgent
need than ever. The simplest way to
make over a dress for house wear, if
you have any sort of a full skirt, is to
cut the basque off, allowing only an
inch or so below the waistline, and
gather the skirt to this. Rip off all (
superfluous trimming, arrange the neck
surplice fashion with a bit of lace or ]
embroidery basted*a, and you will have ■
a neat dress. Another way is to gather
a full width to the back of the basque,
cut the front yoke fashion and make a
full loose front which can be confined
by a ribbon. With most made overs
this will require piecing, but if done
near the waistline the ribbon will con
ceal it. A ruffle of different material
will seem to lengthen the skirt. Both
these can be worn without corsets, and
are very easy if there is any fullness in
the skirt.
When a basque has done good serv
ice, rip it apart and make an under
waist out of the lining. This will serve
to keep the underclothes clean while
doing housework. The lining of skirts
can be utilized by making into aprons.
They are a great saving, as they are
easily washed, require no starching and
not much ironing. Stockings that are
past repair can be roughly sewed to
gether and make acceptable scrub
cloths. If you cannot use things your
self, do not keep them to look at, but
give them to some one less fortunate.—
Minneapolis Housekeeper.
Biding Man Fashion.
The popularity of bicycle riding
among women has made it more possi
ble for women to accept the idea of rid
ing en cavalier, an idea which is being
put in actual practice in the west. In
other words, cross saddle riding with
divided skirts has gained a certain
amount of recognition in a number of
localities. It has been found that la
dies look well, ride more safely and get
better exercise in the new way. The
practice of side saddle riding is attrib
uted to the vagary of a queen who was
too deformed to use the cross saddle.
There has been a vague idea that any
other method would be injurious. As a
matter of fact, the practice of using the
side saddle has been adopted because it
adapts itself to modern dress, and be
cause without a special dress no other
method would be suitable. But cross
saddle riding is the safer way, it per
mits of a better and freer use of the
limbs and makes the exercise more ef
fective. All this will not make women
adopt it, however. A large number of
lady riders take the exercise to avoid
the unpleasant effects of too much fat.
Side saddle riding does not make fat
women thin, however, but if anything
enlarges the hips. Cross saddle riding
is more effective, because a wider range
of muscles can be used and harder rid
ing indulged in.—New York Medical
Record.
Whit© Stockings.
Next to the threatened return of the
crinoline, the revival which 13 making
the most sensation in fashionable circles
is the return of white stockings. For
months past there have been various
prophecies and not a few announce
ments of the coming of this revival.
But for various reasons, and possibly
the good sense of women, with the ex
tra expense of white stockings, which
must be changed more frequently than
colored ones, the coming has been post
poned. Dark hosiery has had a long
span of life, and a remarkable one,
when it is remembered that in former
times only servants wore colored stock
ings. It was not until the end of the
last century that a lady of fashion en
deavored to introduce black stockings
into vogue, and she did not succeed.
Even now there are many dainty and
elegant ladies in France who never wear
colored stockings,but leave them to their
servants. Without doubt black and
colored stockings will be worn for walk
ing out of doors all through the winter
months, but by next summer those near
the throne announce that white stock
ings will be universally worn “where
money is no object” and laundry bills
are beneath consideration.—Fashion
Journal.
Stiffly Starched Skirts.
A swell dressmaker confessed recent
ly that the reason why some of the flar
ing skirts hung out around the bottom
with such a graceful flare was because
of a flexible steel a quarter of an inch
in width which runs through the hem.
Some of the latest silu petticoats have
two of these wires run through the
folds, one at the hem and another a few
inches above. Evening skirts are now
made with heavy flounces stiffly starch
ed in the old fashion, and more than
one skirt is worn. Some of the new
white starched skirts have three over
lapping flounces reaching from the belt
to the hem in the back, and one full
flounce extending all the way around
the skirt to the knees. All these flounces
are stiffened, but not to the point of
rattling, and help to hold out the light
skirts of the evening gown. Indeed it
is claimed that the starched white skirt
for daytime wear will soon take the
place of the silk petticoats that have
been popular during the past few years,
because those colored skirts have been
copied in cheap material, and besides
there is something in the freshness of a
starched skirt dainty and luxurious.—
New York Correspondent
An Inveterate Smoker.
Ever and anon crops up in print tbs
question of women smoking. London
Truth has just published a story from
Paris, by that most reputable of corre
spondents, Mrs. Crawford, to the effect
that in continental Europe, although
the cigarette has not quite fcnnd its
way with after dinner coffee into the
drawing room, it soon will. “At all
the houses setting up to stylo it is
served at intimate dejeuners and small
and lively dinners. Nobody is shocked
at ladies smoking, not merely one cig
arette apiece, but two or three A
minister of Queen Christina told me
that that highly respectable and re
spected royal lady is an inveterate and
a veteran smoker.”
Home Ideas.
A beautiful table cover for a very i
dainty apartment is of cream white
cashmere, with an artistic border of
autumn leaves painted upon it. Still
another cashmere one Bhows the shower
rose leaf design, a bunch of rows paint
ed in *«e corner, with their loose petals
dropping all over the square. Lovely
colored linens are shown for bedspread
and pillow cases in pale pink and grays.
These made charming sets for the pretty
enameled wood and metal bedsteads.
Tea cozies hold their own faithfully. A
black satin one, made with four panels,
is painted with a circle of children,
hand in hand, whose gowns nml eu
vironment indicate the four seasons.—
Detroit News.
Kom«* Iiernharilt (iowim.
Mine. Sarah Bernhardt wears some
gorgeous gowns at the Renaissance the
ater. There is a widow’s second mourn
ing gown of pansy satin, embroidered
with jet spangles and bordered with
velvet pansies in relief. The under
dress is composed of black tulle, starred
with jet, and a jet veil of black sjmngled
tulle falls from the yet coronet. Another
marvelous robe is of tournesol satin,
embroidered with gold and outlined
with yellow rose petals, which opens
over a tablier of yellow tulle worked in
gold. The sleeves are yellow satin,
covered with gold guipure 6et with
turquoise, and a puff of black satin at
the elbow falls over the cuff.—Petit
Journal.
She Amassed Over Two Millions.
The late Mrs. Elise Frank was a re
markable woman. She left an estate
estimated at $2,000,000, and this vast
fortnne was amassed for the most part
by her own shrewdness and sound judg
ment. For the greater part of the last
89 years Mrs. Elise Frank has been a
power in Chicago financiering. She
appeared to know instinctively what a
good investment was, and she mad"
money and grew rich because ber in
telligence saw all the profits to be de
rived from a combination.—Chicago
News.
Louise Chandler Moulton.
Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton, the
poet, is decidedly English looking,
with fine complexion and stately bear
ing. She has now returned to Boston,
after her usual annual visit in England,
and receives her friends in delightful
fashion once a week. Mrs. Moulton’s
poetry is even better known in Eng
land than in this country. By the best
foreign critics she is regarded as the
representative American woman poet.—
Boston Letter.
Mias Moreland's Pictures.
The pictures of women created Ly
Miss Alice Moreland have such deli
cacy, femininity and grace that they sug
gest flowers. This dainty artist of water
colors, odd as it is, has no especial
penchant for painting posies, yet her
women, in their soft gowns, represent
ing the gossamer textures of chiffon,
mull, rich silks and downy velvet,
easily remind the observer of a group of
variegated blossoms.—New York Ad
vertiser.
An Observant Empress.
Empress Elizabeth of Austria recent
ly W'as out riding and noticed a pile of
stones placed across the track over
which the Buda-Pesth express was to
pass in a few minutes. Springing from
her horse, she ordered the groom at
tending her to remove the obstruction,
she herself assisting him. The work
was hardly completed when the train,
crowded with passengers, passed over
the spot.—San Francisco Argonaut.
Mrs. Williams’ Fail.
Mrs. George Henry Williams of Port
land, Or., whose husband sat in the
senate and was attorney general in
President Grant’s time, is said to be at
present the high priestess of a small sect
of fanatical religionists, to have with
drawn entirely from ’’the world,” to
live for 40 days at a time on crackers
and claret exclusively, and to be
prophesying the end of the world.—
Portland Letter.
Equality In France.
The question of the social and legal
inequality in the standing of men and
women has been much debated recent
ly in Paris. Several women petitioned
the senators, not long ago, to repeal the
laws which are unjust to women. But
the fathers told them the complaint w i -.
fanciful and said for them to write to
the papers or call a meeting or dou. -
thing of that sort.—Paris Letter.
Ad Interesting Trio.
There is an interesting fa:'y group
living in South Tbomaston, Me., con
sisting of three old ladies, the eldest,
Mrs. Lucretia Estes, being ‘JG years
old. Her two companions, Mrs. Julia
Ash and Mrs. Miriam Hiilli, are both
over 70. The trio earn a comfortable
living by tilling a small farm.—Lev
iston Journal.
Furman university, the great Bap
tist institution, at Greenville, S. C., has
opened its doors to women who wish to
pursue special studies or to stand for
degrees. Progressive views regarding
the education ot women are gaining
wonderfully in southern colleges.
Lady lieene Hastings, who was re
cently married, enjoys the unusual dis
tinction of having hunted a pack ol
hounds for a season. She gave up her
role of mistress of the bounds at her
marriage, though the Coin tesse de Paris
had set her a different exam pi
A piece of chamois skin cut to fit the
inside ot the shoe will not only prove
very comfortable in cold weather and
to tender feet, butit will save wear upon
the stockings.
Rose Cleveland, the president's sif
ter, has returned from two yeais’ travel
abroad. It is understood that she Las
been gathering material for literary
work.
A woman jeweler is doing a thriving
business in Georgetown, Mo. But tv
others are known to be in that business
in the United States.
