Decatur Democrat, Volume 50, Number 37, Decatur, Adams County, 15 November 1906 — Page 6

■: The Tone of the I i Neighborhood I I »x » tt*. CrabvforJ Sherlock ;l; “It’s simply outrageous,” declared Mrs. Bagby emphatically. “To think that such people should have moved to West Park Is just awful!” “It’s worse when you live opposite them,” moaned Mrs. Pratt “I saw that detestable man sitting on his porch last night in his shirt sleeves, smoking a miserable clay pipe.” “That isn’t all,” chimed in Mrs. Waters, who managed to gain more information about her neighbors’ doings than any one else tn West Park. “His wife actually scrubbed the porch this afternoon in full view of every one. I saw this Mr. Smith—l believe that’s his name—grooming his own horse this morning. They’re just common people, that’s all they are, not to have servants to do such things.” “I wish Mr. Elder had not sold them his cottage,” deplored Mrs. Bagby. “I iiin.JW 1 I Paw i z~\ ufrnf/n W w\ AT THIS MOMENT Mil. JOHN SMITH DBOVE PAST. didn’t think be would let any but nice people have it. It’s a shame to ruip our property' this way.” “Much Mr. Elder cared,” retorted Mrs. Waters scornfully. “He got his price for tie cottage; that’s all he wanted. Something must be done or the tone of the neighborhood will be lowered.” Mrs. Pratt and Mrs. Bagby were of the same opinion, but they could make no suggestion as to how relief could be afforded. At this moment the topic of conversation, James Smith, who had recently occupied a cottage in the fashionable suburb of West Park, drove past the house of Mrs. Bagby in a runabout. He was a short, stout, red faced man, wearing an exceedingly loud suit <of clothes and an air of indifference to the opinion of the world. “He looks like a gambler.” sniffed Mrs. Waters contemptuously. “He’ll have all sorts of low companions down here, and West Park will be exclusive no longer.” “I'll tell you what we’ll do,” remarked Mrs. Pratt, who, on account of her proximity to the objectionable neighbor, was more anxious for his removal from West Park. “We’ll buy the Elder cottage from this man and sell it to some desirable person. We will have to pay more than it’s worth and sell it at a loss, but it’s better to lose a little than to have our homes ruined. Wo’ll get some of the other residents to join with us. and the share of each will not be much.” “But it will take a great deal of money,” objected Mrs. Waters. "Who will advance such a sum?” “I will,” declared Mrs. Pratt, who was a widow of ample means. “All I want is for every one to stand by. me and pay a proportion of whatever loss we have. It won't be much if It is divided amc-tg so many. The men shan’t have anything to do with it. They’d get some one to buy the cottage who wouldn’t be any better than this Smith is.” Having been promised the required I support. Mrs. Pratt, accompanied by h Mrs. Bagby and Mrs. Waters, waited l| upon Mr. .Tames Smith with the purpose of purchasing the Elder cottage. / As the ladies approached the house / Mr. Smith, who was sitting upon the porch in his shirt sleeves, arose and greeted thorn cordially as be knocked the ashes from his clay pipe. “Just take seats on the porch. It’s cooler out here. Wait a minute, and I’ll call Marthy.” J“Hoi rid creature!” murmured Mrs. Waters as Mr. Smith disappeared in search of his wife. “He thinks we have come to pay a social'call.” Marthy, in response to her husband’s vigorous calls, speedily made her appearance. and the party were soon comfortably seated upon the porch. “Ahem! Mr. Smith,” began Mrs. Pratt somewhat awkwardly, after politely declining Mrs. Smith’s urgent request for the removal of the visitors’ hats, “we’vu come upon a matter of business.” “Jim ’ll be glad to do anything he can for you.” observed Marthy assuringly. “He’s the most accommodatiugest man In the world. Always likes to be friendly-like.” “That's so, mem,” assented Mr. Smith affably. “Let’s hear what your business is, mem.” “You're very comfortably fixed here Mr. Smith,” continued Mrs. Pratt, “and I don't know just how to tell you. There are some people very anxious to

! buy this house, and they would be willing to pay you something over what was paid for it. It won't make much difference to you, as you have no children and one place is as good as another.” “As to children, mem,” responded Mr. Smith thoughtfully, “there will be five of them down here next week. ’Twasn't right to bring ’em till we got things fixed up a bit.” Consternation reigned in the breasts of the visitors. Five little Smiths running wild in West Park! There would not be a whole pane of glass in the place in two weeks. The necessity for getting rid of the Smith family was greater than before. “We will give you $250 more than you paid for the property,” offered Mrs. Pratt in a businesslike tone. “That will be a good profit in so short a time. Will you take it?” “Couldn't think of it, mem,” returned the affable Mr. Smith. “’Twouldn’t pay for the expenses of moving both ways.” “Will you take $500?” Mr. Smith had never moved in good society, but he was nevertheless a man of keen judgment. A faint smile appeared around the corners of his rather large mouth, and his gray eyes twinkled merrily. “This place was for sale a long time before Mr. Elder sold it. warn’t it. mem?” he questioned, eying Mrs. Pratt closely. "It's a pity your folks didn't buy then.” “They didn't want the house then,” replied Mi's. Pratt evasively. “Will you take the SSOO, Mr. Smith?” “Then there's two or three houses in West Park, just as good as this one, that can lie bought for the price this ’ere cottage cost.” continued Mr. Smith, not heeding Mrs. Pratt’s question. “I can’t quite make it out, mem, unless”— “Unless what?” demanded Mrs. Pratt, not relishing the searching glance Mr. ' Smith fixed upon her. “Unless, mem,” continued Mr. Smith slowly, “you don’t sorter think me and Marthy good enough for West Park and want to get rid of us.” “Oh, Mr. Smith!” demurred the three visitors in chorus, but the telltale flushes on their cheeks betrayed the consternation that had been wrought by the unexpected words. “What makes you think such a thing?” “Well, ladies,” returned Mr. Smith, without the slightest trace of ill feeling. “I saw one of you pass the other evening when I was a-s'.ttin’ here in my shirt sleeves, and that one’s nose was turned up so far that I was ’fraid it would get out of j’int. 'Then, when another of you folks saw Marthy a-washin’ off this 'ere porch, that one’s mouth got all puckered up as if she had been eatin’ persimmons. I guess you think we ain’t good enough for you. don’t you?” “We look at it this way, Mr. Smith,* stammered Mrs. Pratt nervously, feeling devoutly sorry that she had undertaken the plan of purchasing the cottage, “we don’t think you are—ahem—well, accustomed to such society as there is in West Park. We don't mean any disrespect, Mr. Smith, but every one likes to mingle with those who are congenial. You don’t keep any servants and you won’t enjoy it down here, so we thought we'd make you this offer. What do you say?” “It’s very kind of you to think of me,” returned Mr. Smith, in no way offended. “I'm sorry, mem, but I must say that we're goin’ to stay in West Park,'.’ “Good evening,” chorused the visitors, indignant at the failure of their plan and crestfallen at Mr. Smith's correct surmise of their view regarding him. “One moment, ladies,” called Mr. Smith as his visitors descended the steps. "Me and Marthy won’t lower the tone of this neighborhood. We don’t own this house—not much! Marthy she’s the cook, and I’m the gardener. We just come down to fix up. the place for Mr. Norwood, who’s cornin’ down next week with his wife and children and three more servants.” The .Gamy Blnefiah. Along the Atlantic shore the devastating bluefish has terrorized the menhaden schools gnd delighted the spray swept yachtsmen for generations. His personal prowess “needs no bush.” It has been the relish and crowning touch i of excitement to many a vacation. The i peculiar charm of the churning waters, riotous gulls, swift trolling—a contaI g'ous atmosphere of motion that sets ■ the veins aglow—has cast its spell I upon many. But despite the thrill and . exhilaration no form of handling can justly be termed sport on the same > basis as rod and reel angling, it being > too nearly akin to the methods emI ployed in strictly market fishing. I The bluefish, taken from a stationary vessel on a light rod and fifteen strand 3 line, furnishes magnificent sport, but j as this is often accompanied by the nauseating stench of “chumming” with menhaden, it is somewhat marred by j the discomfort in vol red. —The vast > school of myriad individuals of this tribe have an indefinite migration and , a wide distribution. In a general . way they move north and south with , the birds, though at all season they have i>een seen at many points between Key West and Halifax.—Field „ and Stream. L i ■ i’ Paternal Provocation, 1 I. It is 10 p. m. They are seated in the 3 parlor. “No,” she says, bowing her head. Q "Pa says I am too young to become ene gaged.” ii. '* 1, •. It is just 1:30 a. m.’M"hey are still r seated in the parlor. Suddenly from upstairs > a gruff voice shouts. “Heikfietta, if that ] fellow waits a little longer you’ll be . old enough to accept his proposal.”— o Woman’s Home Companion.

THE WAYS OF BOGOTA I PECULIAR CUSTOMS OF THIS AMERICAN CITY. Conrteour Method* of Dealing: With Its Vast Army of DcMin-Value of Creased Govrne—How You»g People Court Each Other. The house in Bogota in which I lived for fifteen months was one of the oldest and the largest In that Spanish built city. It was two storied and had thirty-four rooms, surrounding three patios, or courts. The ground floor rooms were shops and storage places; the family living rooms were up one flight of stone stairs. Only four of the apartments looked on the street; the others opened off corridors which ran around the patios. From the street one entered by enormous double doors of heavy oak into a short stone passageway or vestibule; thence a smaller door led into the first patio, an inclosed gar- ■ den, with a fountain in the center and flowers growing everywhere. Into this patio every day of all the months that I lived in the place came beggars with their baskets, and as my room opened off the corridor above I could sit within my door and hear the very characteristic manner in which alms are solicited—and refused—in Colombia. The street dooKS were never fastened except at night, so in would walk the beggar (usually an aged Indian woman) without knock or ring. The senora, through the open door of her room off the corridor, would look down and see "the suppliant standing below in the patio. An Anglo-Saxon woman in those circumstances w’ould either at once have tossed some dole to the beggar or have said curtly from where she sat, “Go away; I’ve nothing for you!” and that would have ended the matter. The Spanish-American woman's method of dealing with the situation was far otherwise. It did not matter if twenty beggars had already been there that day, and if there were every reason to suppose that twenty more would come during the afternoon, the ceremony (it was nothing less) of the refusal to give was never curtailed nor varied by one word or inflection of the voice. First the senora w’ould get up, leave her embroidery or whatever she was doing, go out from her room to the corridor, and, leaning over the railing, would say to the beggar very courteously: “Good day!” “Good day, your graciousness,” the beggar would respond. “How do you dot” “I am very well, thank you.” “And the gentleman, your husband?” “Also very well, thanks be to God.” “How good that is! And your family?” “They are all well, thank you very much. And you? How do you do?” “Oh, I am as usual, your mercifulness; many, many thanks to you.” Then the senora, as if she had never seen a beggar before and had no idea for what purpose this woman had come into the patio, would inquire: “And What is it that you wish?” “For the love of God, your grace, the very least thing that you have to give —a very small piece of bread.” The senora appeared very much surprised to learn the visitor's errand and at the same time was overcome by regret that she could not possibly comply with the request. “A piece of bread?” she would repeat. "How much pleasure I should have in giving it to you! It is really almost too unfortunate that you come today, when we have not been able to get anything from the market, and the cook is so ill that we have scarcely had meals for the family. Any other time I would give to you gladly. There is always enough, except this one unhappy day on which you come. It gives me pain to refuse you, but”— spreading out her hands—“what can 1 do?” The beggar would take it all as if she had never heard it before and believed every word of it to be true. “Oh. well,” she would say, “it is nothing. Do not let your grace be disturbed. Another day will do quite as well. So. then, hasta lubgo” (“until a little while”). “Hasta luego.” said the senora. “Que le vaya muy bie:i” ("May you go very well”). “Many, many thanks, and you also and your family.” So the beggar would go away none the richer. The senora was poorer by ten minutes cf time, but what is time to a Spanish-American woman? It was quite a while before I learned to take the pretty speeches of the Colombians for what they were worth. The men used to assure me, “Soy a los pies de usted” (“I am at your feet”), when, as a matter of fact, they were nothing of the kind. If I expressed the slightest admiration for anything, Trohi a to a diamond necklace? it was immediately offered to me with the protestation that it was mine, as the owner cared nothing for it and I should be doing a favor by accepting it. No one would have been more surprised than that owner, however, if I had taken him at his word. Soon after my arrival in Bogota I was invited, with the family with whom I was staying, to spend the evening with some of their relatives. It might always be taken for granted that our entertainers would be relatives, for the Caravallos had so married and intermarried that there was scarcely a person among the upper disses that was not some kind of a cousin. The marriage of those closely connected by blood is very much more common than it is with us. On the morning of the day of the' little party to which we had been bid- ’ don I took out of m.v trunk the dress that I intended to wear, and as it had

been packed during the whole of the five and a half weeks of our journey I from New York to the Colombian capital, I naturally found it full of folds and creases. I shook it vigorously and then hung It over the railing of the corridor outside my room, hoping that the air in some measure would restore ! the freshness. To have had it pressed would have been out of the question, as all of our laundry work was done at least two miles away from the city and there were no irons in the house. In a moment or two Sofia came from her room out to the corridor. “What is this?” she asked when she saw my gown over the railing. “Well,” I said, “It is the dress I am hoping to be able to wear this evening. It is terribly mussed, as you see, and if the air does not take out some of the wrinkles you will be ashamed of your American friend.” To my utter amazement, Sofia darted at the garment, removed it from the railing in the twinkling of an eye and it back into my room again before she took time even to speak to me. “What in the world are you doing?” I gasped. “Do you want people to suppose you have your clothes made here in Bogota?” she demanded. Then she went on to explain: “Every one who can afford it has her dresses sent from New York or Taris, and of course the things are wrinkled when they get here. We are very glad when they are, because that shows that they’re imported. If I have a gown made here, I always put it under my mattress and sleep on it for a night or two befcre I wear it. Then it looks as if it had been packed and sent from abroad. And you would actually have put your real New York dress out in the air!” I went that evening looking, as I thought, a fright, but I believe Sofia was very proud of me. About thirty persons were .at the party, and only two besides myself were not related to all the others. There were six engaged couples present, and they sat—as I afterward found out was the Invariable custom —side by side on sofas, as far as the sofas held out, and those who arrived too late to secure sofas had chairs placed two by two as close together as it was possible to put them. Thus »t he couples sat immovable throughout the evening, talking to each other in low tones, perfectly oblivious of the rest of the company. It was oue of the funniest things I ever knew to look around the room and see those six pairs gazing into each other’s eyes and forgetting that there was any one else in the world but themselves. But engaged couples can never, nevei see each other alone, not for oue moment, and if they did not sit arid talk together in public they would not talk at all, so who can blame them for not wasting any of the little time that they have in each other's company by conversation with outsiders? We had charades that evening, and the unengaged young people went out of the room and then came back and acted, but the pairs never moved from one end of the affair to the other except when they! were obliged to go into the dining room to get something to eat. If a girl’s fiance chances to call when she is alone in the house she must in- [ struct the servant to say that she is not at home, for she could not possibly receive the man without a chaperon. It was a mystery to me how young people ever got engaged. I asked Sofia, and,she said it was usually at a dance, I in the midst of such a crowd that the two were practically alone. “Do they never, never kiss each other, then?” I inquired sympathetically, | “Oh, well,” said Sofia, her eyes cast down, “sometimes there is away.” It goes without saying that the preliminary courtships are carried on be-' fore the eyes of the world; indeed, most of the wooing up to the time when the man goes to the house and formally ! asks the father for the girl’s hand is done in the street. Whenever the girl goes out to walk, with her mother or other chaperon, the man walks a little j distance behind or sometimes on. the opposite side of the street. If the seno- ■ rita is favorably inclined toward her ! follower she lets him know it by a glance now and then or the slightest possible turn of the head in his direc-' tion. When she is in the house her j suitor walks up and down under her balcony for hours at a time, while she peeps out at him through a shutter. j The lover always has a friend (called his “candelero”—literally, candlestick), I who accompanies him and helps him with his courtship. Thus, when the principal is forced by his duties else ! where to leave his post under the girl’s balcony the candelero remains in bis place, and should the girl come out of her door in the time of her lover's absence the candelero hastily seeks his friend and informs him of the direction that the girl and her chaperon have taken; then both hurry after as fast as they can go. This sort of woo ing is kept up for weeks, during which' time not a word is spoken between the couple until at last the admirer finds some way of being introduced into the girl's home. , | When the young couple become en-' gaged a betrothal dinner is given. On the afternoon of the day of the din-; ner the man sends the girl an engage-! ment ring. Oue that I saw was sent with some rare and beautiful flowers, I made into a fan, the sticks of which ' were tied with ruby colored ribbon. 1 and in the knot of the ribbon was the , ring, a large ruby surrounded by dia-’ monds. The whole thing was carried on a tray by a servant to the girl’s house. Fancy an American man giv-! ing an engagement ring in that man- ! ner! At the dinner the couple ex- ( • changed plain gold rings, but no ring is used with the marriage ceremony.— ' Mary B. Sheldon in New York Tribune. j

; SOME RELICS FROM i THE NILE I I - .... - By C. B. LEWIS I Copyright, 1906, by M. M. Cunningham ; ® ® Any one of the reading public of Lon- , don could have told you that the Hon. t Charles Bingham was a man seventy ■ years old; that he had wealth; that he was democratic and rode around on top , of omnibuses; that he had fads; that the greatest of his fads was picking up , relics and presenting them to museums of natural history throughout the kingdom. There was seldom a w’eek that his name was not in the papers, and enter any museum you might and you would be sure to run across cases labeled with his name and filled with his gifts. At his own expense the Hon. Bingham had sent expeditions to the four quarters of the globe, and the only reason he had not purchased some of the largest pyramids of Egypt was because of the difficulties of transportation. If the chief of an African tribe had warclubs for sale the Hon. Bingham bought them; if a child in the east end of London found a petrified bone it could be turned into cash in twentyfour hours. Hundreds of persons had taken the Hon. Charles Bingham for an easy mark and sought to work him. Man, woman or child could find access to his house at any hour of the day, but as for taking the old man in with imitations, that was different. He had made a few mistakes early in his career, as might have been expected, but after he had passed fifty his decisions settled the question w’ith all museums in Europe. There was a weak spot in the armor, however, and it was curious that no one found it out for many years. One day there came to London an American who had been exploring the Nile for years. He had letters from American and British consuls abroad. He even had one from the secretary of tlie khedive himself. He had gathered many wonderful t hings during his stay on the banks of the historic stream. He must have known of the Hon. Charles Bingham, but he did not call upon the man or open correspondence. He dropped in at a club or two, said very little, charmed everybody with his modesty and refused all interviews with reporters. It was not until the Hon. Charles had sent one messenger and then written a letter over his own signature that Explorer Blake grudgingly consented to a meeting. At that meeting be named a few of his souvenirs, but only a few. Nothing whatever was for sale. The whole bag was to go to the New Y’ork Museum of Natural History. The attitude of Explorer Blake was churlish, and yet after a few days he softened enough to invite the Hon. Charles to a private inspection of his treasures. This invitation would not ! have been extended to any other man iu the world. He appointed the hour when he would call with a carriage, and he was there to the minute. It was the [ general idea that his stock of finds was , in a warehouse, and he was supposed to be stopping at a hotel, but no one . was certain of these things. The Hon. Charles didn’t care where lie was taken, so long as the relics of I the Nile were at the other end of the journey. He paid no attention to the | streets they passed through and very little to the house at which they finally I arrived. He was ushered to the top story, talking as he went, landed in a j room about twelve feet square lighted by a skylight, and when he looked about for the stock in trade he failed to find it. The only furniture in the room was two old chairs. Explorer Blake , took one and lighted a cigar, and the Hon. Charles took the other and wondered what was coming next. He soon ascertained. “My dear sir, I shall be very sorry to • put you to any trouble,” began the ex- ■ plorer. “but the fact is I am hard up ■ and must raise $25,000. That is £5,000 I in your money. I don’t want to turn burglar or murderer. I want to be ! gentle and nice about it.” j “How long have you been planning this thing?” asked the Hon. Charles as he looked around the empty room and j “tumbled” to the fact that he had been taken in. I “All of six months, aqd it has cost me considerable hard cash.” “And your figure is £5,000, is it?” ! “Not a penny less. When you have given me a check for the amount and' the same has been cashed, you will be ■ restored to liberty. I shall not demand as one of the provisions that you prom- j Ise not to go to the police about it. In the first place, I have made my arrangements to dodge them, and in the next you won’t care to give yourself away and be made a laughing stock 1 ’ of.” j “You reason logically,” replied the Hon. Charles as he also lighted a cigar. "I have bad this house hired for the | last five months. I am supposed to be a bachelor and fairly well off, having 1 only a man to cook and wait upon me. His name is Thomas, and be is an ex- ' cellent servant. You can rest assured that he never will bring you into ridi--1 cule over this affair.” : “To sum up, iriy friend, this is a pot J up job. I have been lured here in order that I may be forced to buy my i liberty. You want £5,000. * I must con--1 fess that, while the price is not extravagant. I cannot see my way clear to ■ paying it just now. What conclusion I may come to after three or four days I cannot say.” ' “Very well.” replied the explorer. “It is thirteen feet to the partly opened skylight, with no chance whatever of , your reaching it. Thomas will bring 1 I

you oread ana water nrree times q day, and at night yon shall have a mattress to rest on. Three days hence I shall appear again. There is no hurry about thia thing. After my next appearance the price of your liberty will be added to at the rate of £IOO per day. You can afford to pay, and I can afford to wait.” It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon when the Hon. Charles Bingham was left alone in the garret room. He did not waste his energies by crying out or tramping round. He did not look up at the skylight except at long intervals. The American was no fool. He had taken his precautions before bringing a prisoner to the house. At 6 o’clock the man Thomas came in. One look at him was sufficient to prove that he was loyal to his master. He had a frank and honest face, but he also had a keen eye and was stoutly built. He brought bread and water. He was respectful in his demeanor. “Sorry for your poor fare, your honor,” he observed, “but it only depends on you to get better. The evening papers may help you on a bit. I’ll bring in the mattress later. Also a candle.” “A faithful servant is a jewel of rare value,” replied the captive as he ate and drank and seemed very much at home. Later on the mattress and a light were brought in, but not another word was spoken. The Hon. Charles was not a man who jumped at conclusions. That £5,000 could be paid without feeling the loss, but he wanted to think things over a bit. Was he worth the ransom money to himself or the public? Was the American prepared to proceed to extremities in case he did not get his money? The Hon. Charles held that the London detective was the sharpest man on-earth. The great man would be missed and a hue and cry raised. Would the sleuths strike the trail and follow it up? The room was rather warm that night, it being summer, but the captive managed to put in a very comfortable night. He was up and ready to bow to Thomas when the bread and water and morning papers were brought in, and he was in fairly good spirits at the end of the third day, when the explorer called for his answer. It w r as not ready for him. On the contrary, the captive pleasantly observed: “You see, m.v dear sir, this experience is so unusual with me that I must have a little more time to think it over. At the end of another three days I shall doubtless be prepared to give you a definite answer.” He was told that the three days would add £3OO to his ransom, but there was no argument over that. His captor retired, the same food and old mattress were brought in, and as the evening grew old the prisoner stretched out for a rest. He was falling asleep when he heard the skylight softly raised. Then he caught sight of a head and heard a voice asking: “Is there anybody down there?” “Only me,” answered the honorable as he realized that the voice belonged to a young girl. “Are you rich or poor, old or young?'“I ani fairly rich, and I am a man seventy years old.” “That won’t do,” said the girl. “I am an orphan, living with my aunt in this row, ten doors below. If I am to rescue anybody, he must be young and rich and ready to marry me, the same as it is in the books. I’m sorry for you, but I must say good night." “But hold on a minute,” called the captive. “I can’t turn myself into a young man, but I can give some nice young iran money to marry you on. That will amount to the same thing, won’t it’” “Why, yes; I suppose so. Will you give £5?” “Yes—a hundred.” The girl ran away without another word, but fifteen minutes later she dropped a rope down the opening, with one end made fast to a chimney, and the captive soon stood beside her. He I found her a girl of only thirteen, but 1 he dowered her liberally. He did not I go to the police, but straight home, i He did not seek the arrest of the explorer, but wrote him a polite note to say that, owing to unforeseen circumstances, it would be impossible to make any further appointments with him regarding the Nile relics. Curious Customs. In many parts of England there exists even today a very curious custom which makes it imperative for the girl friends of a bride to drench the doorstep of her home with boiling water if they wish other marriages to follow very quickly. At the wedding, therefore, great kettles of hot water stand ready for this strange ceremony, and long after the rest of the guests have dispersed the young girls of the party may be seen keeping the threshold warm as long as the water supply will last. Likewise, in Iceland, where various interesting and fantastic superstitions abound, there is an ancient custom that every bride must invite all her friends to a dinner in her own home, and every article of food must be prepared by the bride herself. If she succeeds in pleasing her critical guests she achieves not only praise for her own skill alone, but she helps along her own younger sisters, who are then assumed to be equally well instructed tn the intricacies of the culinary art and consequently have their chances of immediate marriage more than doubled in this northern country. HU Bearings. “Who is that big man?” asked the Stranger. “That,” replied the native, “is Mr. Pompous.” “Only plain ‘mister?’ Why, he has the bearing of a major general!” “Yes, and the overbearing of a young lieutenant.”—Philadelphia Ledger. >