Daily Greencastle Banner and Times, Greencastle, Putnam County, 17 August 1897 — Page 2

THE DAILY BANYEK TTMES, GREENCASTLE, IXDIAlSA.

THEY BUT COULD. IJ"W ofton we hpnr ilisc'uiitf'iitiMl oneo tnlk Of erHinl opportunlti' S Inst, AnJ how by the waves of eondcmnable lack They’ve ever been ruthlessly tossed. They il tell in n sort of diseonsolate wny Of laboring nlwuys in vain. And how they would handle the contract if they Coaid live their lives over again. The man who has failed in his business affairs. The prisoner looked in his cell. The wedded ones battling with family cares. All have the same story to tell. Wherever we go that disconsolate cry We hear in a pitiful strain: “You’d see matters different with me if I Could live my life over again ” We should never weep over milk that b spilled, l!ut hustle around for some more. We cannot recall opportunities killed. Nor chances blown off from our shore. This word of advice is the best we con give: Don’t over the past sit and brood, But tackle the future determined to live The balance of life as you shoi^d. — Denver Tost.

gOOOOOOOOGOOOODOOOOOGDCOOO 8 Millie and Mollie. § OOOOOOOGDOOOOODOOOOOOOGOOO ’YE eotce to ask you for the hand of your daughter," said young Bromley, stumbling to the seat oft'ered him b y the girl’s father. “Which one?” asked old Dimmock, the coal merchant, laying down the newspaper which he had been reading, and eyeing the young man curiously. “Sometimes I think it is Mollie, and again I am sure it is Millie,” replied young Bromley, genuinely perplexed. The old coal merchant looked sympathetic. "You can’t have both,” said he, after an awkward pause. “They're splendid girls, good enough for anybody!" exclaimed the young man. “Well, I rather think!” said the old man, proudly. “I could be happy with either of them,” went on young Bromley. “I’m disposed to think,” observed old Dimmock, “that you have been happy with both of them.” “So they’ve told me more than once,” said Bromley, with the pleasant light of recollection in his eyes. “Well, can't you make up your mind which girl you want to marry?” The old coal merchant looked at the young man with the fresh color and the loyal blue eyes as if he would like to have him for a son-in-law. Young Bromley did not answer fora moment, and then he said slowly: “Which do you think sounds the better—‘Millie Bromley’ or ‘Mollie Bromley?’ Sometimes I’ve looked at it in that way.” “ “I don’t think there's much to choose,” returned the old coal merchant, weighing the question with every desire to he fair. “You know,” continued the young man, “there have been times when I’ve gone to bed perfectly charmed with the name ‘Millie Bromley,’ and in the morning ‘Mollie Bromley’ has caught my fancy. Millie, Mollie; Mollie, Millie—it’s an awful puzzle.” “Of course, you’ve proposed to one of the girls?” inquired their father. “Oh, yes, indeed," said young Bromley. “Then that is the girl yon want to marry,” exclaimed the old man, triumphantly. “Why, it’s simple enough after all. You’ve taken quite a load off my mind. Which one was it?” “It was Millie—I think,” aus%ered young Bromley, hesitatingly. “Think! Don’t you know?” The young man flushed, and looked reproachfully at the coal merchant. “Mr. Dimmock,” said he, “I’ll put it to you as man to man: Which is Millie and which is Mollie?” “Don’t cross-examine me, sir,” rejoined the old man “If you want to marry one of the girls, it’s your business to iind out.” “Heaven knows,” cried young Bromley in anguish, “I want to marry either Millie or Mollie, and have her all to myself. It’s trying enough for a fellow to be over head and ears in love with one girl, but when there are two of them it’s more than flesh and blood can stand.” “There, there, my boy,” said the old coal merchant soothingly, “don’t take on so. Either girl is yourshvith my blessing, but I want to keep one for myself. Let me sec if I can help you.” And going to the open French window he called: “Millie, Mollie! Mollie, Millie!” “Yes, papa, we’re coming,” sounded two sweet, well-bred voices from the shrubbery. There was a tripping of light feet along the stone walk under the grape vine, and Millie and Mollie bloomed into tlie room. “How do you do, Mr. Bromley,” they said together with the same intonation and the same merry glint in their eyes. Millie hail auburn hair and brown eyes; so had Mollie. Millie had a Cupid’s bow of a mouth, little teeth like pearls, and a dimpled chin; so had Mollie. Millie’s arms, seen through

her muslin sleeves, were round and' white; so were Mollie’s. From waist to tips <if their little feet the figures of Millie and Mollie were the same, line for line, and both were dressed in white muslin, with lilac bows behind their white necks and lilac sashes at their waists, lilac stockings without a wrinkle, and each wore white satin shoes. Their hair was loose over their fair brows and was braided down their backs, of just the same length, and tied at the end with lilac ribbons. Millie tied Mollie’s bows and Mollie tied Millie’s. “Well, papa?” “Young Bromley tells me,” began old Mr. Dimmock, after lie had taken draughts of their fresh young beauty by looking first at one and then at the other, and then dwelling upon the features of Imth with one eye sweep, “that he proposed to you last night.” “Oh, not to both, you know,” Mr. Dimmock,” interjected young Bromley. “He asked me to be his wife,” said Alii lie demurely. “He told me that he couldn’t live without me," said Mollie mischievously. “How is this?” said the old man, turning to young Bromley with a severe look. The young man blushed furiously and lifted his hands in protest. “I’m sure,” he stammered, “one of you is mistaken. I asked you, Millie, to be my wife in the summer house— and—and—1 kissed you. That was before supper, and later in the evening, when we sat on the front steps, I said that I couldn’t live without you and that we must get married. “Before we go any further,” interrupted the old coal merchant, “which is Millie and which is Mollie? When your dear mother was alive she could tell the difference sometimes, hut I don’t know to this day.” “Oh, how dull you are, papa!” said the girls in duet. “I think that is Millieon the right,” spoke up young Bromley. “Why, Mr. Bromley,” said she, “I am Mollie.” “Very good, now let’s go on,” said their father, “where were we? Oh, yes, young Bromley says that he asked you to be his wife, Millie, and declared he couldn’t do without you.” “I beg your pardon, papa,” said Mollie, “he told me that he couldn’t live without me.” “Well, let’s get our bearings,” continued the old coal merchant. “Bromley, you asked Millie to marry you down in the summer house, and you kissed her! That’s correct, isn’t it?” “There’s no doubt about that, sir,” said Bromley eagerly. “And after supper when you sat together on the stoop you told Mollie that you couldn’t live without her?” ife 'Thnt I deny, sir. Oh! I bey your pardon, Mollie, you needn’t look so angry. I meant no offence.” “Did you kiss Mollie?” went on the old man relentlessly. “No, sir. I—’“ “Yes, you did, Air. Bromley,” flared up Alollie. “I admit," said the young man, struggling with his emotions, “that 1 kissed her when I said I could not live without her, but it wasn’t Alollie.” “Oh, Mollie!” said Alillie, “how could you?” “Now, Alillie, do be reasonable,” said Alollie. Old Mr. Dimmock looked mystified. “It seems to me,” I said, with a show of impatience, “that if I were in love with one of those girls I could tell the difference between them. So far as I can make out, young man, you have asked Alillie to be your wife, and have tried to make Mollie believe that j’ou could not live without her. Now, to any one who does not know Alillie and Alollie your conduct would appear to be perfidious. Of course, as between you and Alollie, I must believe Alollie, for the girl certainly knows whether you kissed her.” The old man eyed both bis daughters hard. Alillie was biting her nether lip and so was Alollie; but Alollie was trying to keep from laughing. Old Air. Dimmock had an idea. “I would like to clear up this thing to your satisfaction aud my own, Bromley,” said he. “Let me ask you whether Alollie kissed you when you told her you couldn’t live without her?” The young man got very red in the face. “You mean Alillie, of course,” ho replied, with embarrassment. “Perhaps she wouldn’t mind my saying that she did kiss me in the summer house. But she didn’t kiss me on the stoop. I kissed her.” “How is that, Alillie? Alollie?" asked their father. “Papa,” said Alollie decidedly. “I couldn’t keep Air. Bromley from kissing me, hut I assure you 1 didn’t kiss him.” Alollie looked her father straight in the eye and then she shot an indignant shaft at Bromley. Alillie hung her head and her face was as red as a poppy. “I think,” said the old man dryly, “that it’s plain I’ll keep Alollie, and we’ll have that marriage before you make another mistake,young man.”— New York Sun.

THEATRICAL TOPICS

SAVINGS AND DOINGS OF THE PLAYERFOLK.

New Plays Are In Great Drumitd This S«*ason -As a Rule Actors Make the Best Dramatists Going Into the \ audeville. AST year a groat many promises of novelt i e s were made, hut a large percentage of them did not materialize, or if they did. proved disappointing. Now the cry of all the managers is once more "plays, plays- a fortune for him who has a good play." There was j n time when A. M. Palmer was crying out alone for plays and telling the | world at large that *50,000 would be a small sum to pay the man who could J write the successor of "The Two Or- j phans.” Those were the days when the ; famous Union Square company was declining for just the reason that today many a managerial venture is threatened. Perhaps, however, it Is a healthy spirit, this great need for plays, and it may result in making managers bestir themselves. Certain it is that the man who has a decent manuscript does not have to wait long to have it read. Managers are greedy to read plays. It seems to me, too, that they are beginning to look in the right direction for the play makers—to the ranks of actors. If Henry Arthur .Tones and Bernard Shaw be excepted, the greater number of men writing successfully for the stage today in London were actors before they were writers. Arthur Wing Pinero served quite an apprenticeship and climbed to his present eminence by hard and persistent work. Henry V. Esmond is still an actor. If Louis Parker is not, he usually collaborates with Murray Carson, who has been an actor for years and is still playing. Sutton Vane, one of the most successful makers of money-earning, sensational melodramas, was a South African actor and manager. J. Comyns Carr has already been associated with theaters. Robert Buchanan always works of late with his sister-in-law, Harriet Jay, who was an actress.

on. and at the end of the season she was an establish d favorite, commanding a salary that many a leading woman In a New York theater does not get. Lillian Burkhart has a very winning personality. She is young, ambitious, conscientious and attractive. Her audiences take a real fancy to her, and of all the young players in vaudeville who are doing straight light, comedy turns, really legitimate, dainty plays in little, devoid of exaggeration or vulgarity, no one Is better liked than she is. Another thing which may be truthfully said about her which cannot be said of all ihe artists who essay her particular lines Is that in addition to her gifts as a player sho Is a genuine, big-hearted, honest little lady, and as dainty in her dress as she Is in her manner. Just now Lillian Burkhart is In Europe, but she will return within a few weeks to begin another season in the vaudeville, where she has set an admirable example and to which she Is a credit In Boston summer shows were less in number than usual. The maiden effort of Charles Emerson Cook, a young newspaper man, and Lucius Hosmcr. entitled “The Walking Delegate," had things about its own way, and for several nights it was a very striking way. for they packed the Tremont theater to suffocation. The most attractive feature of the cast was Christie MacDonald, whom most people all over the country recall as a member of Francis Wilson’s company for some seasons. Miss MacDonald decided not to re-engage with Wilson though her former position was offered, when she learned that he was to again take out "Half a King.” She did not like her part in that successful piece as well as Wilson did his. So for next season she will make another connection. In the meantime her Woo-Me in “The Walking Delegate” was the best thing she has ever done, and easily the best thing in the show. Indeed it is the first downright opportunity of any importance that she has had, and she took hold of the opportunity firmly and made a real hit. The great successes of the past yeai have been made by writers who were actors first. "Secret Service” is the work of an actor. William Gillette was several years in the theater before he

A Boy** Curloftity. James Alosher, aged fourteen, employed by Tailor Sullivan, of Meriden, Conn., walked out on a roof. Seeing a box on an electric wire pole, he procured a ladder and went up to examine the contrivance. He took hold of a wire loaded with 1000 volts and was about to grasp it with his left hand, when he felt a burn on the wrist of that hand and found that he could not release his hold with his right. He was drawn upward so that he lost his footing, and Ids weight broke his hold. He fell ten feet. Air. Sullivan hearing his fall hurried to him. The right hand vas burned to the bone aud the lift wrist badly scorched.

Christie McDonald.

Effie Shannon made her first hit as Edith Ainsley in "Tangled Lives," with Robert Mantell, in the autumn of 1886. Later her performance of Rose, in the unsuccessful dramatic version of "Robirt Elsmere," inspired Dan Frohman to engage her for the Lyceum theater, w’here she remained until two years ago. This season she has been playing with W. H. Crane in Miss Morton's "Fool of Fortune,” which role pretty Percy Haswell of the Daly company will act next season. A great many people have gone into the vaudeville within the past year,

RELIGIOUS READING.

RELIGION AND REFORM ALL OVER THE WORLD.

The Secret of the Keligloun I.lfe— How a liraven Can He Createit I pon This Karth—The Sin of Impurity Threatening the Nation.

God In Everywhere. TRODDEN daisy, from the sward. With tearful eye 1 took. And on Its ruined glories I. With moving heart did look: For, crushed and broken though it was. That little flower was fair; And oh! 1 loved the dying bud! For God was there!

T stood upon the sea-brat shore, The waves tame rushing on; . The tempest raged in giant wrath, i The light of day was gone, i The sailor, from his drowning bark, 1 Sent up his dying prayer; | I looked amid the ruthless storm, j And God was there! I sought a lonely, woody d« H, ! Where all things soft and sweet, j Birds, flowers, trees and running streams, 1 Mid bright sunshine did meet; I stood beneath an old oak’s shade, I And summer round was fair; j I gazed upon the peaceful scene. And God was there! j I saw a home a happy home— • pon a bridi.l day. And youthful hearts wire blithesome there, And aged hearts were gay: ■ I sat amid tin* smiling band Where all so blissful wire— Among the bridal maidens sweet— And God was there! * J^° 0( l beside an infant’s couch When light had left its eye— I saw the mother's bitter tears, I heard her woeful cry— l saw her kiss its fair pale face. And smooth its yellow hair; And oh! I loved the mourner’s home, T'or God was there! I sought a cheerless wilderness— A desert, pathless, wild— *i?/L re verf U ,r, ‘ grew not by the streams, Where beauty never smiled; V\ here desolation brooded o’er A muirland lone and bare. And awe upon my spirit crept or God was there! I looked upon the lowly flower. And on each blade of grass: I P° n the forests wide and deep, I saw the tempests pass; I gazed on all created things In earth, ami sea, and air: Then bent the knee-for God, in love, Mas everywhere! —Robert Nicoll.

ANNIE RUSSELL but only a few have gone to stay. Among the fow new comers, who have really made a reputation there, is Charlie Dickson’s dainty blonde wife. Lillian Burkhart. At the begnning of last season her engagement on what is known In the east as the Keith circuit was made on the reputation of her husband. But when legitimate work took Mr. Dickson out of the vaudeville. Inducements were made for her to keep

began to write, and has remained an actor all through his play-making experiences. Each of his greatest successes "The Private Secretary,” “Hehi by the Enemy,” "Too Much Johnson.' were like “Secret Service,” successes | for actor as well as for writer. "The [ Heart of Maryland" is the work of a j man who has lived in the theater from the time he was In petticoats, for David Belasco was a child actor before he was a call hoy in the California theater, and he has been a star actor and manager all his life. Next season Miss Russel is to play with Sol Smith Russell, when he presents Martha Morton's "Bachelor’s Romance,” in New York. I understand that Miss Russell is to be paid one of the largest salaries ever paid a leading woman to play the role of Sylvia, and those who remember her as “Esmeralda," as "Hazel Kirke,” and who saw her as "Sue" can easily guess what charm she will give the part and what a different thing “The Bachelors Romance" will become because of her. In the meantime Mrs. Ryley is doing a new play for her, a comedy with more body than "The Mysterious Mr. Bugle.” Kindly and versatile Mart W. Hau ley, long the manager of Edward Harrigan. and now holding a like relation to Robert Mantell, has made a contract to produce or control all plays written by H. A. Du Souchet, the man who leaped to fame and fortune through his lucky hit in "My Friend from India.” The Era, paraphrasing David Garrick’s remark to Tom King, says that when Marie Wilton’s husband was knighted, she said to him, “Well, my dear, we have done the trick!” That’s about it: but the trick was done by reading Dickens for the hospital funds, not by acting or management

The Secret of the Religion* I.lfe. Learn but one secret, and learn that secret by heart; then you will become transformed and transfigured. Put envy and covetousness under your feet and tread them into the sod. Take your life as '’ou find it, and make out of it the best that materials allow. No man is alone who is in God's company, and no man's work is of slender importance if he is doing it in God's way. You may not be the pendulum which makes the clock tick as It swings; you may not be the bell whose hammer sends the silvery sound throughout tho city; but who dare say that the smallest wheel in all that complicated machinery has not a function on which the completeness and the value of the whole depend? The pendulum ceases to swing and the bell is dumb unless that smallest wheel recognizes Its responsibility and fulfils it. You may be little, but you can also be great. Grandeur of soul is the prerogative of every man that lives. No matter what your station, the bottom of the ladder up which we climb is within your territory. Nothing that you do is of small consequence. Therefore, do little things with a noble purpose, and nobility of heart and sweetness of life will be your recompense. You are poor? Well, even poverty has its opportunities. A kindly word is possible. The flowers will grow in your window as well as in the conservatory of the rich, for both depend on the same sunshine. And their perfume will be as grateful to you as to the prince. So good deeds may be planted in the little corner in which you live, and perhaps one of them may shape some young life. Therein lies the secret of the religious life. It bids you be patient and loyal and honest. It teaches you to love all mankind. And that state of mind, consecrated by the blessing of God, sends forth a thousand magnetic currents, which stir nobler feelings in lives of which you have never heard. Goodness is within reach of all, and goodness is true greatness.—Geoige H. Hepworth

Stc*«ily Nervi** anil a Clear Conielenee. Steady nerves to the highest results should be conjoined with a clear conscience. Many have the first requisite, but not the latter; while others have the latter, but not the former, in either case there is a proportionate lack of power. He who has both essentials in prope.' relation, and in happy adjustment, is best equipped for the grandest accomplishments. The fact Is they act and react upon each other, being mutually Incltive and cooperative. The good nerves give the power of performance, and the clear conscience directs the energy in right channels. The ability to do has the superadded incentive of an inner moral approval. “A clear conscience,” or, ! as the Bible has it, “a good conscience,” is a conscience "void of offense toward God and man.” It is God's viceregent in the soul. He who obeys Us dictates pursues noble ends by noble methods. He becomes a blessing to himself and to others. In our busy, pushing, restless, ambitious and struggling age there Is no greater need, both in state and church, than of men of steady nerves and a clear conscience.

I which comes to ''.his profession in diseased men and ruined girls. The crowded divorce courts, and, yet more, the divorce lawyers, tell the same story. Mrs. Maud B. Booth, several years ago, on the basis of abundant information gathered by the Salvation Army, estimated that there were in this country 230,000 professional prostitutes. Adding the apprentices, there was even then a full quarter million, supported by more than a million male prostitutes. In this, as in other crimes, the offenders are not more than one-tenth women. They follow the awful trade but five years on the average. That means 50,000 deaths a year, and 50,000 seductions to fill their places—1,000 a week. No other vice more swiftly and surely ruins body and soul, and none has been so fatal to national life. Babylon, Greece, Rome, all were destroyed by this plague, and France Is dying of it today. In no other civilized nation is impurity so bold as in France, and in no other is the birth rate falling below the death rate, a warning to individuals and nations alike.

Impurity IncreaKing. “Impurity is increasing apac^ in all parts of the land.” This was the verdict of a recent convention of physicians, based on the awful evidence

PRINCE DEG ALANTHj

THE MAN WHO IS TO

THE JERSEY LILY.

l.lUe Mr*. l.angtry He H a » || a( ,

MARRy

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monial F.xperlenoeg of m s ^ Prominent Sportsman \Vhot« .. i Arc Well Known on KuglUh T '

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Reverence.

The wider the circle of what we can revere, the greater the measure of our own life. As the sentiment of reverence grows in us, the richer life becomes. the wider the realm of beauty, and the more assured the conditions oi truth. What we cannot respect and admire has for us nothing of worth. When we see the beauty, grandeur and sublimity of nature, it becomes to us a priceless source of joy and pleasure. When we find what there is loving, noble and self-sacrificing In men, humanity becomes to us a constant source of help and strength. Then we enter into real sympathy with the world around us. and we feel the true spirit of brotherhood which binds us to all our fellows. What we revere is what we love, and is that which gives us the grace to live as men. Loyalty of soul is greater than knowledge, and no gain of wisdom can atone for loss of reverence.

A Illciiacri Secret. It is a blessed secret, this living by the day. Any one can carry his burden, however heavy, until nightfall. Any one can do his work, however hard, for one day. Any one can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly and purely until the sun goes down. And this is all that life ever really means to us— just one little day. “Do today's duty; fight today’s temptations, and do not weaken and distract yourself by looking forward to things you cannot see, and could not understand if you saw them.” God gives us nights to shut down the curtain of darkness on our little days. We cannot see beyond. Short horizons make life easier, and give us one of the blessed secrets of brave, true, holy living.

character in £... ope. although not I well known j, America. jp, J prominent in I tria and is v<,J

favorably known at the court of ►, I country. Tho Jersey Lily i prou.! tdal for her partiality to sporting mi; I and it will be no surprise, therefore I to say that the prince is one of tq| fi remost horsemen of Europe, niil racing stock is well known on thi| tracks of the continent, and his ii.c 5 J is sufficiently large to make the f,e Jt bloods of Paris jealous. Prince Pa;' for that is his Christian name, is dg srended, by an odd dispensation c! fate, from the earls of Jersey. hM mother was a daughter of the fifth ean of the island of which Mrs. Langtrr has been justly called the lily. B 0!i| parties to the proposed match havi rot been without experience in tb»| way of matrimony. Mrs. Langtry’s his. lory and adventures in that respect aril very well known. It is different, ho*, ever, with Prince Paul. It is n 0( known, in America, at least that bil has been twice married. Both of hJ wives are dead. The second was a prii,

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SuccrBHftil Soul-Winning* Nearly every regenerate person can trace his religious life to the agency of some individual. Sometimes it is a mother's prayers, sometimes a father's caunsel, sometimes the holy living of one of God's children. But even more frequently our religious experience can be traced to a word directly spoken by some one in whose Christian character we had confidence. An unsaved person may sit under the most faithful preaching for years and remain unmoved, while the simple question, directly spoken, “Are you a Christian?” may do more to awaken his conscience than any number of sermons.

The* Ftftthrrtioori of (loci. The Fatherhood of God is only rightly understood by those who have been transformed by the Spirit. The mysteries of God’s provinces are read In clearer light. The greatness of His love grows more and more impressive. The thought of holiness becomes an aspiration. Sin shrinks from holiness, but love longs for it. The narrow way in not lonely, nor gloomy, nor thorny, nor distressful. It is not devoid of beauty. It has sights and sounds which are rapturous to the eye and ear of him who has been transformed.

Moral Ilrrolgin. That moral heroism is often greatest ! of which the world says least, and which is exercised in the humblest spheres and in circles the most un- 1 noticed. Let us. therefore, turn our youthful imaginations into the great j picture galleries and Valhallas of the heroic souls of all times and all places, i and we shall be incited to follow after good, and be ashamed to commit any sort of baseness in the direct view of i such a “clt—d of witnesses.” The Unbridled Tongue, Speak well of every one. if y 0 u cannot. then speak no ill. Silence h«re Is golden. This does not mean that no criticisms are permissible, but never say of others what you would not be willing to say to them or in their presence. There are ample reasons why we should keep ourselves always we.l in hand. No study is more important than the study of ourselves The great lesson is to know ourselvesherein all wisdom lies.

PRINCE DE GALANTHA. cess of Croy, who passed away in 1SJ Prince Paul’s son by his first wife ill now an officer in the Austrian arm? I Mrs. Langtry's prospective husband is I 51 years old but It is said that he doe; I not look or feel his age by tweet? J years. His marriage, like that of Mil namesake in the comic opera may pro ! yoke no end of comment in continent!| journals, but, with his coveted priKl won, it is highly probable that thfel veritable Prince Paul will c.iro li::> I what the “confounded journals ’ say I about him. Mrs. Langtry's recent ill-1 •'orce leaves her free to wed. Whistler and Irving;. Many of the pictures of Whistler, tli artist, are vague, both in treatmec. I and subject. The public may be pa: doned for not understanding some ! | these pictures after hearing the following amusing anecdote of the pain:er: One night Whistler dropped into Sir Henry Irving’s rooms to dinnor Other guests were present, but Whistler alone was silent. Two of his land-1 scapes adorned the walls, and appar-1 ei tly he wanted no further entertainment. Every few minutes he woul! I jump up from the table to get a better view of his own work. At length, after a prolonged examination of these stiff ies in moonlight and moorland, h< cried out, “Irving, Irving, look what | you’ve done!” “What's the matter?” inquired Irving, calmly walking up to the pff turcs, “Matter," thundered Whistler. "Why the matter is that these pictures have I been hung upside down, and you have never noticed it. I suppose they have ^ been like this for months?” ® "I suppose they have," replied Irving. “But I think I might be excused, since It has taken you—the man who painted them—over an hour to <Dtover that they are upside down.’’

Training Children. The hope of our country, socially politically, morally and rell K iou 8ly a £ in the training of the children ' it i* an important step toward the eradlen Uon of a number of evils whiS havi Brown to such magnitude ns to threat en the downfall of our republic The adequate training of the children will not only cure these evils but will hn price lees kle.,lc M to (ta „„„„ br £* i Harris.' ° *°* iTS

For >t Life of (inotl Work. Six years ago, when Miss Kate Ad ams was 21, she was called the be! of Topeka, and it was commonly su;-. Posed that she was the heroine of I society novel written about that tin [ by a Topeka minister, in which seven I other well-known people figured coi l spicuously. Now she has given up | eiety to devote her life to nursinf | When she went to Philadelphia t« years ago to enter the deal-one'?'* house of the diocese of Pennsylvania genuine sorrow was expressed by bf friends, and many hoped that befot' her two years of preparation had ended she might change her mind. But she did not and the service by wb' 1 sho will be set apart as deaconess wi take place next January In the Epi* 0 -' pal cathedral at Topeka. Miss Adamhas been called by Bishop Millspa 11 ^- to do special work in Kansas this su®’ mer, but she will return to Fhila<i ei ' phia in October to take the thr-’ months’ hospital training which wll complete her course. Fountain* In I.nntlnn- _ Arcording to the Jewelers ctruscs 11 I gold set with moonstones is a con n? ^ fad. And the “hoop" style will be fi" favorite. A hoop for tho wrist, a h no l ) for the throat, and—most barbaric revival! hoops of gold for the cars, an the order of the hour

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