Daily Greencastle Banner and Times, Greencastle, Putnam County, 27 September 1897 — Page 2

THE D ATEY BAITNEft TIMES. H EEENCASTLE, INDIANA.

roi.LV'S liOIKIEK.

‘

T was Auguat one of

clout

morning:*, when the air in full of melting blue light, and the leaves flutter softly and the very brown sparrows dart in and out under the eaves in an

< of tiny delight. And the golden ia:’ of sunshine, peeping through the to.l>lo brown moreen curtains at No. ; Itarrel street, made a little aii:<,- ■ of brightness around Polly 11 :pk::. brown braids, as she sat with th' a Mint book in her lap and the top u! the pencil between her teeth. i.Tteen," said Polly, indistinctly, "n ,i ount of the pent 11, “and three .r. \ ien and three are nineteen! Three and three are six—and thirteen a • nineteen. That's all 1 can make

“Please sir." said she. trying to talk

: through her tiose in imitation of the

maid servant next door, who was trou-

a beautiful bled with catarrh, “here's the things." morning “Ah!" said the stout gentleman, who those deli- stood on the hearth with his bark to summer the place where the Are would have

been, If there had been any fire. “Put 'em down, my good girl. 1 say."

“Sir?"

“What's the name of your mistress?" “Which, sir?” “Are there two of 'em?" demanded the stout gentleman. “Oh. yes. sir. There’s Miss Musidora Hopkins she's a great genius ami paints pictures. And there's Miss Polly, that ain't a genius and keeps house." answered the "soi disant" domest Ic. "And which of ’em showed me up

here?”

"That was Miss Polly, sir." "Ah! the one that ain't a genius.” “Yes, please, sir.” “She’s a pretty girl, anyhow,” said the stoui gentleman. "You mav go

now, Betsy.”

And Polly scudded out of the room

* * *

LiiiU: loom-: of 1111-; ivKimiiki:.

So all the overt;, and grinding amt $*$$$$$$$

pinching came to an end. And Polly never told her husband until after they | were married of the little deceit she had practiced on him regarding the

question of Betsy.

"And you really blacked my boots?'' said Mr. Warrener, reproachfully. “Yes," nodded Polly, "because I did so want you to be suited.” “I'm suited now,” said Mr. Warrener, “for life.’’—N. Y. Ledger.

MAKING MONEY IN A NEW TOWN Ami It Wh»n't Dug Out of the Orouuii

Kit her.

White Pine. New, was almost un- I .. . , . . . . ...

known to the world until one day tu ; IStih. when a prospector struck it rich —so rich that the story of his discov-

Chilkoot Pass Correspondence New York World: Little Miss Bessie Lassarge will be the "Heroine of the Klondyke" if ever that proud distinction shall be won. 1 found her en route to the gold ilehls, traveling all alone, and among all the tales of courage, j perseverance and self-sacrifice of which ' o>'e hears in infinite variety, that of

it do what 1 will! Oh. dear!’’

i'.ii,.' what a noise you are mak- i like a mouse from a trap.

i r . _•' said a gently reproachful voice f ir. th' adjoining room. “How do ipimse I can got a divine repose '■n't my TCvangeline's’ face if you keep cr i haltering so?" I rose up. stowed the pencil be1. ad her ear. took the account book midf i her arm and went Into the other t nil where Miss Musidora Hopkins. Ic : elder sister, stood before an easel, v ilh her yellow hair colled carelessly art.'.nd her head and her slim, pretty i n enshrouded in a brown linen pain ing blouse. And at one glance it v...- easy to see that in the Hopkins f in. i. Musidora represented the idea! arc! Polly the practical. Musidora,’’ said the little brown- > ked, brown-eyed maiden, “is there si: hance of your getting n purchaser f ha; picture on exhibition at Monroe's?" ' ’ don’t know, I'm sure,” said Mus!t 1 ra stepping bark a pace or two 'o i Main a bi tter view of "Evangeline’s"

nose.

Because, if there isn't,” added Polly, .iesperately, “we can’t pay the rent

— ' hat 's all.”

ery could not he kept secret, and the whole western country was interested in the developments that followed. Six months after that memorable strike one point in the camp—Treasure liill—had a population of tlb.OOO. and the whole district was the scene of a memorable bonanza excitement. As usual in such booms the gamblers followed the rush for the new camp, uml among them were two young men who came originally from Illinois, and who were introduced as "Jeff" and "Al" Hankins. The newcomers opened an establishment on a modest scale in a business block, tip-

id. and here’s the first week's pay in ' '”1 got along so well that they advance, and we can settle our rent : icon urpught out their brother, George,

now! Three cheers for the new lodg- i ^ aa»ls.-:tant.

er!”

And Polly spun around on her foot like Fanny HUsler.

.Musidora was still dreaming in front of the unfinished canvas, when her sister darted in. waving a crumpled ban.;

note in the air.

"Polly," said Musidora, ‘"vliat is a’l

tills about?"

"We've got a lodger," said Polly, triumphantly. “The furnished room is |

i he thiv-'brothers continued in busi- I she had bought with the money

ness until an accident happened which ! | brought them prosperity and changed i

their pians so radically that they felt Judith ! in moving ':o Chicago. Affording to eu old miner who knew the boys at the time, Jeff and Al had been away on business. Returning to the camp by stage the rig was upset and both the hays were thrown out. Jeff had ills leg broken and Al turned up in camp the next day carrying a cane and showing symptoms of suffering when

"Perhaps he won't be suited! Perhaps ho won't stay!" said Musidora,

dubiously.

“But then again, perhaps he will,”

chirped Polly;

The stout gentleman did stay. He made himself friends with every one. He treated the deaf old lady's sick canary in a manner which filled that ancient personage’s venerable bead

with joy; he suggested new subjects to j ;u;ybody was around to observe MUBldora, the genius; he told Polly of , . , v ft]onx this way Hntil an excellent way to take the spot of t | luo ( . a ,„ 0 fo| . (he trllll of suit3 for in _ kerosene out of the carpet. lie paid urv , )n .. r , ht bv „,,, Hankinses

his rent at t! o'clock precisely every

i stands oit,t in golden letters. If Miss | Lussarge does not think herself a he- ■ rolne, there are thousands of people here who do. She has set an example | that many a man would hesitate to

; follow.

I learned that s'.x years ago this girl, | then thirteen years old, went to Taj coma with her mother from New York. : Times had been hard in the East, and the mother, a widow, saw no apparent escape from the slough of despond ini to which she was steadily sinking. Like many others, site looked to the West, and. gathering her little possessions together, started to make a new

home there.

But in Tacoma the mother found it impossible to make both ends meet, and so it became necessary, a year or two after her arrival, to place a mortgage on the little cottage which

still

remaining, in order that she and her young daughter might keep the wolf from the door. Before many months the mortgage falls due. It is this that has spurred Bessie to reach the mines. I doubt if any other woman who has come Klondyke-ward lias a nobler object to attain than this

perilous journey, not so much for the gold as for what the gold will bring. She has come to save her mother's home. She hopes to lie able to lift the mortgage from the little Tacoma cottage. She has come gold hunting not merely from the avaricious desire to possess riches, but rather to insure to her mother the comforts she seems destined to have to give up. I have heard many expressions of admiration for her pluck, hut what has most impressed everybody is her heroic unselfishness. If Miss Lessarge doesn't ha/e many an offer of a friendly hand along the hard, rough trip to the diggings, it won t be because her nerve is not appreciated, and nerve on tile Chilkoot trail just now is at a premium. "I think it is a great deal better," she says, “that 1 should have u hard time for a little while than that my mother should lose her home. Anyway. I am going to try and see what I can do, and surely if 1 fail I shall be no worse off than I was before. If I succeed in making some money, enough to pay the mortgage, why then no matter how hard it has been I shall be so very happy that It will not matter at

all.”

When she went aboard the Mexico, at Seattle, all she had was contained in her grip, which did not weigh more than forty pounds, and with this outfit she believed she would reach and exist In the Klondyke gold fields. She bought a steerage ticket for Dyea. Fortunately, the steward was a man of heart, and gave her cabin aceommoda-

brave little girl. For she is making the i tions without extra i liarge. F. 11. L

rent

Pollv,” said Musidora, in despair, j Saturday evening, and never found out , ••!.. ,nc can hope to be a genius with "'at »t was Holly who hung the fresh I , s ; stcr a8 y OI) To conceive a I toweis over his door knob, and blacked

g.'und idea one's mind must hr entirely at case. To portray that idea one

the hoots lie put out every day. with a

ten eent piece beside them.

i,c free from every lurking care.

'But the rent must be

--d Polly.

S* '.i something, then.”

Mu' what?”

Th. little silver teapot.” : old that last week," sighed Pol

"Somebody must do it." said Polly,

paid," per- 1 " hen Musidora reproached her with ttu

i menial task. "And as lung as we can't

j afford a servant, why not I?” She was a little surprised, though, when Mrs. Jenks, the deaf lodger, told

gainst

the S; .go company. They both proved that they had received serious and permanent injuries in the accident, and that the Stage company was re iponritde for them, i he jury returned in favor of tiie plaintiffs. Jeff got Sld.000 are' Al $8,000. Just as soon as the empany had settled with them Al had one of tin most remarkably sudden recoveries on lecord. It is currently believed In 'White Pine to this day that

he barometer. i hat is already offered in Schneider's window.” Aunt Janet’s gold beads.” We paid the grocer yesterday with v ut Janet's gold beads.” something then anything. I don r < are what. Didn’t that old lady ih’.'idt to take ihe furnished room ups;airs?" Po.ly shook her head dolorously. • Then are so many furnished rooms to It - -aid she. • Well, then, we had better sell the furniture.’’ said Musidora, frowning at lie palette. But don't lie vexed. Musidora, afti we've eaten and drank and lived that out." i hen." said Musidora. tragically, • v il starve! At all events, Polly, Pave me in peace now until I’ve <!:' amt d out 'Evangeline's' face." And Polly trudged downstairs, saying t herself: l wish 1 was a genius like Musidora i raises don't feel care and debt and A verty like other folks do." as this fancy was passing il.rough her Imad, she found herself fa to face with a stout gentleman In . with a ruddy face and a clear blue

ty ■

Hello, little girl," said he. good burn redly, “don't run over me! Where’s tlv woman of the house?" 1 am tiie woman of the house." aid

p .!y. with dignity.

You?" said the middle-aged gentle in .i . Whew-w-w!' Beg pardon. I'm <•; hut the sign on the door ” A furnished room to let," said Pol eagerly. "Quite right, sir; would

. like to look at it?"

I don't mind.” said the gentleman the house quiet? Any other lodg-

her that slu had heard from Mrs. Ste- ! M thu w his cane away within thirty phen Sudbury, who had it from old seconds U'ter he was paid, but «f Miss Pelican, who knew all about the | course this is only gossip. Anyway, it family, that Mr. Dudley Warrener (the , "as only a short time afterward that

stout, middle-aged gentleman) was a rich bachelor, with everything that

The hous-e is very quiet, sir,” said }■ ;iy. “And there’s only one old lady v quite deaf and rather near : ante.! and only goes out on Sundays

- Mrs. Jenks. her name is.”

That will suit mo to a T," said the . .a gentleman, surveying the neat 1 ■•Jr* room, with its pale green carpet. 1 ■ suite of cottage furniture and the water color drawings on the wall, “and 1 Ike tho room. It seems clean and i oei. and its windows open to the south 1 like a southern aspect. It’s as good for people us it L for peaches! How

they ail up the famous.

went to Chicago and opened establishment that became

IGNORANCE.

much a week?

c. ’irse?"

Five dollars, s

]. tantly.

“it's a bargain,"

In advance, of

said Polly, rx-

said the stout gen

i man, pulling out a bill. "Here's tho i week. My trunks v. ill come this a.'<rnt 'in. Please end up towels and i •: water at once." ! ,,ll> went down stairs, secretly v iiidering what she should do. J!e want's towels and hot water,” s i! she to herself, "and I’ve no maid t send with 'em. Very '.veli! Lodg- < don f grow on every hush. I'll he t .* • maid.” \nd Polly ti d a great tin hell gitigk.itn apron above h* i dresr, obscured i.rad and fui 1 it a Shaker bonnet, g. vc the end of her nose a dab wi'.h • stove blacking ; • c! went upstairs again with half a dozen clean towels •. er her arm and a pitcher of hot water in her hun' 1

heart could wish and a spice of eccen-

tricity thrown in.

“And people do say," added the leaf lady, "dial lie's in love with one of you j

girls.”

"Musidora. of course,” said Polly. I lie often goes to sit in the studio of an j afternoon. And nobody ceould help falling in love with Musidora." And Polly went up to her own room and cried a little, probably at the idea

of losing Musidora.

"It would be so lonesome,” said she to herself. "Oh. so lonesome, with Mr. Warrener gone and Musidora." She was making a custard for tea that afternoon, when Mr. Warrener'a footstep rang on the kitchen thresu-

hold.

"I beg your pardon Miss Polly," said he, looking somewhat disconcerted. "I 1 wanted Betsy to post a letter for

me.”

"She isn't in just now," said Polly, turning very red. "Can I come in?" said Mr. Warre-

ner.

"Why. certainly,” sai 1 Polly. So the stout gentleman came in and seated himself on a corner of the kitchen table. “Miss Polly.” said he. "Sir?" said Polly. "I'm just forty years old." "Are you. sir?" said Polly thinking within herself, "Now. lies going t > ' 11 me about Musidora. "Should you consider that too old to marry?” went on Mr. Warrener. solicitously. "Oh. dear, io," re pond d Polly. "Should you think any young lady would accept me if I were to propose?" lie queried. "Oh, dear, je«!" Polly an-werel. "Would you?” “I?" said Polly, •koppiny her iron custard spoon in astonishment. “Yes. you." "But I thought It was Musidora that you liked.” T do like Musidora." ciid Mr. Warimer, "hut I love little Polly.” Polly Hopkins never know how it was that she found herself crying on he >"i<idle-usn-d lodg t .- hou'.der, and ho was pacing hei head and soothing hei as if she were a child. “And so you really do like me a littP ," raid Mr. Werrener, in a voice that sounded husky. “My gem—my dear little pearl of Pollys!”

{•uMh* Who til** of Sihui

\huut l.oiiilon lliid Trouble.

The King of Siam has proved himself to be familiar with English history, lit* has not passed a regular examination, but has shown himself acquainted with the occupants of the tombs in Westminster Abbey, which is about the same. The King was shown about England's Valhalla by Canon Wilberi force. He coldly passed by the statues i of Pitt. Livingstone and Herschel in ! the nave, hut paused before that of Darwin. "Darwin, great man, 1 know him." lie remarked. The helmet worn by Henry V. at Agincoun was shown him. He looked at it c arefully and inquired its weight. He seemed surprised when told that it weighed nine pounds, twelve ounces. When shown the flags of the Knights of the Bath, he asked for the Duke of Wellington's. Queen Elizabeih's tom!) impressed him greatly. \!1 of a sudden he* said. "Where Is Mary?" No one knew exactly what he meant. Then he went on, "Mary

Mary. Queen of Scots."

"She was beheaded." he added. Thi> - ircumstanc e seemed to impress him. for in a moment he said: "Where is the other?" Soon it was understood that decapitation was the connecting link and that he wished to see the tomb of Charles the First. IL was disappointed to learn that Charles wa. buried at Windsor. In the Poet's Corner Tennyson and Scott received most of his attention. At St. Paul's he was shown the memorial of General Gordon. hut shocked his guides by inqulr- | lug with great sincerity: ‘ Who was General Gordon .’" "Oh. he was ti man ! very well known in the East." was the only ai.sr thought necessary. Alto- | gether Chulalongkorn showed himself 1 to li" a prett> fair historian, but bettc; ! pi ." ,j in ancient than modern events.

BROWN. AN ALABAMA HERO. Ni-grn Wbo Wear* a (futil Watch G!v#u by a Snnriuv School. From the Atchison Globe: There have been many shocking stories in the papers of late descriptive of atrocitic s perpetrated upon negroes accused of crime in the South. It is, therefore, ; specially pleasant to recall a recent incident that has the effect of vivid contrast. Scott Brown was a hig. awkward negro, who lived in Montgomery, Ala. He was one of the happy kind who are properly objects t emy to the dyspeptic white man. Scott was always a cheerful creature to look at. but nobody thought of him is at all an uncommon specimen of his race. Perhaps he isn’t. He was walking along Commerce street, in Montgomery, one afternoon, when suddenly there was an uproar, and Scott saw the cause of It rushing toward him. A runaway team was coming at a breakneck speed, and right in he truck of the* maddened horses were two pretty little children crossing the street. Scott is said to have reached the middle of the street in one jump. There wasn't time to make two. The leaping horses seemed to he absolutely upon the children who stood perfectly still, dazed. Scott gave one of them a push that sent her out of reach of danger, but there was not time to repeat the act. So, swiftly clutching the other child to his broad breast, he fell forward, bending over her, shielding her with his body. In a fraction of a second the horses were upon him. over him, with n crash and a pounding of hoofs. The spectators saw him half rise and then fall weakly back, the child still clasped in his arms. She was entirely unhurt, but Scott was pretty nearly killed. However, he recovered iu a few weeks and was substantially rewarded by Mr. J. W. Branscomb, the father of the two children. Then the little folks in the First Methodist Sunday school, to which tiie Branscomb children belonged, got up a fund, and when Scott was well enough they gave him a reception and also a gold watch hearing the in- I scription. "Court Street Sunday School | to Scott Brown for Jlis Heroism June

12. ISfl?.”

SOME GOOD JOKES. ORlCl NA ,

AND SELECTED.

An »•:»« fur Proportion -A i , rol..t r | (| R ■ ult — Took thn Uoltl «: llre or Vl ^ Tempted lo iio lo the Klondyke tl ,

Country

riii* Country Kitteu. 1’ M AS a . umnier boarder. W | lo Inflated high wi( | pride. Strolled out at dmk In order to Inspect the coontry side; And ah, ii i s * p |, Dial This hero of my song Espied H penile kit-ty-eai, A-s a u n t e r | n > along. A playful, prancing kitten, A dainty, dancing kitten, A most entrancing kitten. Meandering along. It was the summer boarder, who Admired the kitty-cat. And sweetly he implored her. L>o Turn close enough to pat. Oo're such a 'lute lieauty, dear, Turn closer to me, do. cio won’t? Well, then, my duty clear Is dust to do to oo: Go pretty, purry kitten. Oo funny, furry kitten. Oh. please don't hurry, killen. I'm* doin' to turn to oo."

Il was the summer boarder, who Held tight ids dainty nose And w ished ho could afford a ic w L’nscented suit of clothes. And in an earthy bed he made His proud array he sunk. And cot a suit of "ready made” Hy marketing his trunk. An Lye for Proportion

LITTLE MISS BESSIE LLSSAKGE.

rr:

TYRANNY OFTHE “400. ’

1;allied Ills IliiHlness. “Yea," suiil the agitator, “I insist that this ucw tariff bill is the worst thing that ever happened. They say i: is going to provide a Job for everybody. but that's false. ] can show you one man right now that it has actually deprived of m opportunity to make a living.” "Where is he? What's his name.’" Here h ■ is! I am the man." "How lias it hurt you?" How has it hurt me? Why, I can't get anybody to listen to me any more. Confound it, the people that I used to harangue are all being forced to work for a living again. It's u shame, so it is!” And he walked away.--Cleveland L idor.

Tit for Tut. You don't know much about ha city, do you?" said the city cousin, in his superior way as he was showing his country relative around. I “No more'n you do about the farm," ! was the prompt reply.—Chicago Post.

Dn«* Must Conform to Th**ir Standard or

Kemaiu OutMldt*

“We may. if we choose, sneer at snobbery and scoff at social stragglers,” writes Elizabeth Bisiaud In the Ladies' Home Journal, “but when a man Is ambitious or a woman is proud he or she desires to secure for himself or herself, and for their children, the privilege of being received as an equal anywhere. And however much one may rail, the fact remains that wealth and fashion do set, and have always set. tin standard in social life, and that if one wishes a free admission everywhere one must conform one’s self to that standard. A great many people who are not what is known as ‘in society,' are fond of pointing out with triumphant rancorousness that ‘The Four Hundred' are no more cultured, intellectual, wealthy or witty than many whom they refuse to admit to association with them in their pleasures. and these resentful folk demand in bitter amazement why any one admits their pretensions, or struggles for their recognition. The answer is not far to seek. A man may have all the intellectual attributes, and yet not lie of .■otllii lent importance to be admitted lo the orchestra of society, and the musicians may say. ‘We admit that you are good and clever, hut you can’t play the violin, and you can't become a member of our orchestra.’ ' Now the swell,' as he is commonly termed, is the man who is an artist in living: lie may have neither moral ideas nor standards, nor bo overburdened with brains, hut he knows how to live, as far as the ceremonies of life go, brilliantly, gnyly, imposingly, and lie collects around him others who have the same talent, and together they succeed in forming a sort of orchestra of society, all of them playing in tune and in time with one another, and making a magnificent harmony of ceremony and social intercourse. And when a person comes along who insists upon joining their orchestra they are generally extremely rude in their refusal, and cause much enmity, or else they listen to the instrument he plays and find it well played, and so take him into their, band, and cause still more amazement and envy to the others who have been denied admittance. And that is the whole answer to the conundrum Mrs. B weeps over. Mrs. A knows how to play the social instrument, and Mrs. B does not, and unless she learns to play it she will stay for-

ever outside of society tnat society which spells itself with a capital S.” Kiritiiff :in Ostrich. “1 don't believe Die stories told about tin natives of Africa and Australia riding ostriches.” said a California man Die other day. “Americans are the best riders on earth, but they cannot ride ostriches. I saw this pretty thoroughly tried on one occasion. A cowboy who had vanquished every pony he ever undertook to break in was j induced to try an ostrich. After an hour's hard work he succeeded in ; mounting the bird, which at first tried ! to shako him off. then to get away by | running, but these tactics, of course, | had no effect upon tiie cowboy. Then, ; in spite of all the man could do, the | ostrich succeeded in getting its head around and seizing the man by one leg. He doubled his feet under him, and tiie ostrich reached over his wings and got hold of his back, throwing him 1 ravily to the ground and tramping on him. It took three of us to chase the infuriated ostrich away, and we accomplished it barely in time to save the* man’s life. I don't 1 relieve Die native Australians ride ostriches.”—C'.ii*

eago News.

I'Viiiinitio Simrpne«s. The author of "A Letter of Posterity” tells the following story of Mrs, Ashley, a beautiful Southern woman who was afterward the wife of the Hon. J. J. Crittenden. She was a belle In society, and was dowered with unusual tact and charm. “Always give men brevet rank.” said she lo a young girl who had just come out. “If they are captains, call them colonel. They will forgive you.” But she could say sharp tilings when occasion demanded. A certain lady who had always been envious of her once bought from her a French toilette, which Mrs. Ashley, who was going into mourning, could not wear. But the purchaser, after having worn the slippers, brought them back with the remark: "They are too big. I could swim In

them.”

Mrs. Ashley took them, and answered quietly: “My dear, I am a larger woman than you are in every respecs.”

WHERE DIAMONDS COME FROM Hrti/.ll unit Soul It Afrlii I iii-nUli tho I*nlU of t Iu* I*i millet* For centuries the only source of diamonds was India, the chief of which was the region of Golconda. The phrase "diamonds of Golconda" refers not to the mines but to the town where they were tak^i for sale. It is now little more than an abandoned fort, the Indiau mines being largely worked out. In 1734 diamonds were found in Brazil and for 120 years diamonds were brought from that source. After various attempts to work these diamond mines by Individuals, about a century ago the firm of Hope & Co. of Amsterdam undertook tho work and for the privilege assumed the government debt of Brazil. Amsterdam thus continued to hold her position as the center of the diamond cutting industry.. employing, directly or indirectly, from 30,000 to 40,000 people. Of late Aniwerp, Paris and Ixtiulon have been overtaking Amsterdam in this industry. Antwerp cutting one-quarter of the world’s yield today. Within the last thirty years the product of 'lie Brazil mines has declined to the extent of $150,000 annually. The introduction of new machinery must again render these mines important, but they are now undersold by the African diamond field. The African discoveries began in 185(1 and have had several distinct stages of development. Probably had it not been for the diamonds the African gold mines would not have risen to their present importance. The first diamonds were found on the Gong Gong liver in the neighborhood of the Orange river, and the method followed there is the same as that in Brazil, two or three men forming a company anti working on their aceont. These mines, known as the "river diggings," are now of limited

importance.

l ;.liri< » ■■ ml Trimming* for Winter (tuwns The popular fabrics for winter costumes will he satin cloth, serges, cheviots, Scotch homespuns and tweeds. Fancy designs or plaids arc not ax* popular as they were. Velvet and velveteen will he more worn than ever before, while for visiting and dinner dresses black satin maintains its vogue, though satin brocades, either in one color or in soft shades that hanaonlzo, are also counted good form. The colors favored are dark navy blue, gray, a very deep goklen-brc v.n a darker green titan emerald, a pretty dark reel and royal purple. Buttons are profusely used, but they are chiefly the large fancy shapes in horn, gutta percha or mother-of-pearl. The various braids and the narrow satin ribbons, especially in black, are used to produce original effects on skirts and bodices, a decoration fancied being a contrast obtained fiy means of an outlining with white braid. For street wear the suit that is, the costume in one color continues to obtain. The jaquette blouse is the new bodice of the season.—Isabel A. Mallon in Ladies’ Home Journal. Hv Virtue of III* Ollier. Spectator (at the picnic—“Nothing poos to suit that chairman of the committee of arrangements, lie's kicking about something or other all the time The Other Spectator—Well, he's one of the big guns. He has a right to kick.” —Chicago Tribune.

She—Oh, Mr. Jones those two lovely poems of yours in this week's a —a Ho (a poetical star of the sevetr.h magnitude)—You mean my two s .niir'.i fa the Weekly Sundew. She—Yes. How exquisite tl:e> V. th are! He (much pleased)—And which d l you like the best? She—Oh—the longer one!" Took tin* Qoltl Two men met on a Broadway Cable car yesterday and one said "Hello!' to the other. The other responded in lit*: manner and then the first man said “I haven’t seen you in some time' Where have you been?" “Been taking the gold cure " “ 'S that no? Never knew there was any necessity for it in your c.i“<‘!" "Oh, I don’t mean the kind you mean. I made tip my mind to go to Klondike and got as far as Kansas City, i thought as they were paying $b'> a day wiiges in ‘the diggings’ I might catch onto a job and make a good thing of It until I could hunt around and strike a rich claim. In Kansas City the canfirmed the st ’.lenient about the $15 per. but they hitched on the information that the days were thirteen months long there. That cured me and 1 cantc 1 back. Fifteen goes into thirteen nit times and nit over.”—New York Commercial Advertiser.

Outte rrohuhlt*.

Sure to Suffer. “There is one Industry that is sure to suffer by the Klondike harvest." “Which one?” “Gold bricks.” — Cleveland PlaiuDealer.

Mint H:»»o ItiM-n Another. He—So you are the girl of his choice, are you? She—Not at all. H e j s man of my choice. Ho—Then who was the girl of his choice?—Tp-to-Date.

'5\ N *V 'f Mr. Muinblechook (singing)—di’* me good-by and go Miss Effle Sharp- If you're going to sing It like that on the night they won't stop to bid you good-by.

Vurird .ll**! Iiod*. “I suppose,” said the young woman with the inquiring mind, “that people who go in search of gold It by working the creeks and chasm* "Mostly, miss,” replied Derringer Pete, “though once in a while soro< fellow gits a lot of It by working ^ bluff." Washington Star. Laxity Beguiled. Brown—Premier Canovas states i he still has confidence in WeylerSmith—Has he? Well, if Canovas ever runs up against a confidence m-tn. he’ll he buncoed, sure.”—Puck-