Ligonier Banner., Volume 28, Number 43, Ligonier, Noble County, 1 February 1894 — Page 3

]gAJ ’“) : i RN S W i H {FB J~‘~l/<-, 20l j I E%/ /iy @fﬁfﬁ; R S RS2 W A ” I LA BIEE U o ez " IISTALR OF A CARAVAN e BRI D, CHAPTER XIIL—CONTINTED. The old man, knowing his son's tem- " per, did ds he was told, and William continued to potter aimlessly about the room. He was certainly trembling very much, and was almost overcome with a nervousness for which he himself could not account. For he was no coward. To get possession of a prize on the high seas he would have faced . a storm which might well make brave men tremble, not to mention that he " knew that he had on more than one .occasion humanely hastened ithe end ‘of the shipwrecked sailors whom he had found and pillaged on the shore. After these ncts he had been able to sleep the.sleep of virtue without being haunted by dead men’s eyes. But now the case was different. Ile had not to deal with a vietim without friends, a man whose body, described as that of a ‘“shipwrecked mariner,™ eould be buried and forgotten without more ado. yln all probability there would this time be a hue and ecry, and Wil"liam Jones trembled lest his share in the ghastly business might ultimately " be discovered. ' . True, he was not actually the culprit, and so even at the worst ‘he migzht escape the gallows; but to a ‘man of his. sensitive and affectionate nature the thought of transportation was not pleasant. It was this that marde him nervous—this t\hat made him start and tremble at-every sound. Presently a-thought struck him. “Where's Matt?® he asked. " “Den’t know,William dear; she ain’t been here for hoursand®hours. Maybe she's onthe shore.” o “Mavbe she is—l'll go and have a _look.” replied William. - - _ : '~ Itmust nct be supposed for amoment that William Jofies -had become at'Hceted with a sudden and tender in-terest-in Matt—he merely wanted to get quit of the cabin, that was all, and he ~aw in this a reasonable excuse for walking out alone. He accordingly made his escape, and went wandering oif along the shore. \ ) It was ten o’clock when he returned; he wwas still pale, and drenched to the skin. The old man was dozing besidethe fireoand alone. g ) ) “VWhere's DMatt?” asked, William acain, _ e “Ain't yvou seen ‘her, William dear? Well, «he ain’t here.” - S Willinm Jones @id® look a Ilittle unex=y this time, and it is but due to him to contoss that -his uneasiness was caused by Matt's prolonzed absence. Irratic as she was in her movements ‘she had not been accustomed to stayinz out so late, especially on a night wlien the rain was pouring, and not a glimmer of star or! moon was to be SEOn. - “Wender what she’s a-doin’ of?” 3aid Willinm: “suppoese I'd best wait ap for ~her. Here, old man, you go tobed, " @'ve hear—you ain’t wanted danyhow® ‘The old man accordingly went to Cbed, and William sat up toawait Matt's wrottra. Ile sat beside the heanth, nlooled into the smoldering fire and li~tened to the rain as it poured down steadily upen the rocf.. Oceasionally Lic got uip and ‘went to the door; he. could fee nothing, but he heard the poiter of falling rain, and the low, dreary moan of the troubled sea. ' flour after hour passed, and Matt did not come. William Jones began to doze by the fire—then he sank into a heavy sleep. - ’ . He awoke with a start, and found that it was broad daylicht. The ﬁl;e was. out, the: I'ain;had, ceased to fall, and the morning’s'sun was creeping-in s oa / e g /\\Q;\g’ st AN Pzl il AST SR M g Fiaiitel b bt A it gl o ey~ e 4[5“ S | =”/”/’>"”f/"§’ i s G rf % %:Jl’f:ﬁ' ".’&; Yo~ ',{(/,,'7?""" M [ YN I AN ﬁ ! >\ﬂ e L/ e \")’/'/"/;"i ‘i‘-\\/ L 1 < ), 4,:»'?/ NN Lok - ’K‘i 7 R L’J)’ j WAL 7el RS - 4 . \ i e Y/7 /;'fr?/"%“ T A | “\VHERE IS MATT 2" UE ASKED.

av the windows. He looked around and saw ilat he was still alone.. Ie went into Matt's room—it was empty. She had not returned. ' e was now filied with a vague uncasiness. Ie made upa bit'of fire and - was about to issue forth again insearch of the truans, when all further troublewas saved him-—-the door opened and Dlatt hexself appeared. . She seemed almostas much disturbed as William -Jones himself. = Her face was very pale, hier hair wild, her dress in great disorder. She started on seeing him, then, assuming a devil-may-care look, she.lounged in: o - “You're up early, William Jones,” she said. . e ; S “Yes, T am up ‘early,” he replied, grufily; ‘“’cause why?—'cause I ain’t been to bed. And where have you been?—jest you tell me that.” : “Why—l've been out, of course,” returned the girl, defiantly. ; ~ ““That won't do; Matt,” returned William Jones. “Come, you'll jest tell me where you've been. You ain't been out all night for nothing.” , ~ The girl gave hima look, half of defiance, half of curiosity; then she threw herself down, rather than sat, upon a chair. : ! : G “] am tired, I am,” she- said, “and hungry and cold!” ‘ ' ~ ““Will you tell me where you've been, Matt?” eried William Jones, trembling with suspicicus alarm.’ _ “’Course I will, if you keep qaiet,” said the girl in answer. ‘“There ain’t much to tell neither. I were. ajway along to Pamcroes when the heavy rain came on, then I lay down behind a haystack and fell asleep, and when I woke up it was daylight and I come Boméie s e os e William Jones looked at her steadfastly and long; then, as if satisfied, he turned away. About an hour later he left the hut and walked along the shore straining his eyes seaward. But now and again to gaze uneasily about

{ turned ;iale. 1n truth, he was becom- | ing a vetitable coward—afraid almost | of the spund of his own footsteps on the Sandg. 7 ‘ ’ ; . CHAPTER XIV. T T%E CARAVAN DISAPPEARS. Several| days passed away, during which Wiiliam Jones showed a strange and significant affection for his own fireside. He went out a little in the sunlight; but directly night came he locked and barricaded the door as if against thieves, and declined, on any inducemeny, to cross the threshold. Even had a| three-decker gone ashore in ‘the nei%hborhood he would have thought twice before issuing forth into the dreaded darkness. _ | EX . . ~ For Willipm Jones was genuinely ‘afraid; his (hereditary caim of mind was shal-;en,\not so much with horror at a murderdus deed, as with consternation that {his life-long secret had been dis’covtmd by one man, and might, sooner or later, be discovered by others. ]*le“ did not put implicit faith even in{Monk; it was his nature to trust nob%y where money was concerned. . , As to returning back To the cave until he had quitie recovered his equanimity, that wag out, of the question. Even by daylight he avoided the spot with a holy hotror. Only inhisdreams, which were datk and troubled, did he visit it—to sed‘ the face of the murdered man in ithe darkness, and the hand of the murdered~man pointing at him with cold, decaying finger. - The day aftér the murder he had been greatly unsettled by a visit from Tim Linney, who demanded news of his mas*er and siid that hé had not returned to the ca‘::Lra\'an all night. Tim secimed greatly tréubled. but gave vent to no very violent ebullitions of grief. When he was dong Matt sat by the fireside and looked ‘\long and keenly at Villiam Jones.” | - “WWhat are you ‘s.‘tairing at?” cried he, fidgeting uneasilyjunder her gaze.“Nowt,? said Matt; I were only ‘wondering”— . | o “Then don't gp wondering,” exclaimed the- good “man, ratlier inconsistently. *“You mind your own business and don't tﬂ a fooll” And he turned testily and“i gazed at the fire. But Matt, whose dyes were full of a curious light, was n&l)t to be abashed. “Ain’t you well, “isilliam Jones?” she aslked. _ ‘1 i | ~“I'm well enough—l am.™ . “lits queer, ain’t ity that the painter chap never ccme hon‘io‘?", e _ “IHow should I knoyw?™ growled William. “Maybe he’s ;%'one bagds where - he come from.” | “QOr maybe he's dr(%wnc‘wd‘.’ “Or maybe summat else has hgppened to him?” suggested Matt. 1‘ ' . Never you mind hixin. my gal. Ile’s all right, necver fear. | Anddf he ain’t it’s 1o affair o’ yours, *7l‘ mine neither. You go along out and play.” : MMatt went out, as girccted. and ‘lt was some hours befor¢ she returned. She found her guardizln seated in his old place by the fire, lopking at vacan‘cy. He started \'iolentlﬁ as she entered and made a clutch at the rude pioclp of ship's iron which served as a poker. - “Be it you, Matt? Lor, how. you startled me! I werc~—l% were—taking s, doze.™ !é ' “I've becen up yonder, ’isaid Matt. - “Up where?” i! 2 “Up to the painter clap’s cart. He ain’t cdome back, anﬂ.};_ the mah is searchin’ for him all up and down the place.” il : P : l’ortuzmtclj@; it was ’vi_ery dark, so that she. could not sec the expression of her hearer’s face. Slz"e wallked to the fireplace, and, taking | a box of lucifers from a ledge, bedan toprocure a light, with the view of ligniting the rushlight fixed to the table. Butin a moment William blew od__t the match and snatched the box fi;mri hrer. - “YWhat are you doin’ of?” he cried. “YWasting tHe matches, jas 'if they cost nowt. You’'ll come t(’)ithe workus’ afore you're done.” = The days passed and t}?ere was no news of the absent man.{ Every day Matt wentup to the caratan to make inquiries. At last one afterncon she returned, looking groaﬂ]}' troubled; her eyes were. red, too, as| if she had been crying. - : P “What's the matter nowpP” demanded Willidm, who had left his usual seat and wasstanding.at the dopr. “Nowt,” said I\igtt, wipibg Ler eyelids with the back of her hand. . “Don’t you tell mo lies. You've heerd summdt? Stop! What's that there under your arm?” } ' All at once he had perceivied that she carried a large roll of lsomething wrapped in brown paper. e took it from her and opened it neryously. It was the crayon portrait of lilerself executed by the defunct artist, “Who gave you this hdre?” cried William Jones, trembling linore than CVEENE | ‘Lfi'im-,, l, “YWho's he?” i : “Him as come looking arter his master. The painter chapain’t found: and now Tim’s goin’ away in the ecart to tell his friends. And he givel me this—my pictur’; he. give it to mie to keep. His master said I were to ha{'e it; and I mean to keep it now he's depd!” William Jones handed bagk the picture, and seemed relievefd!, indeed, when it was out of his hands.| - “Dead?” he muttered, noff meeting Matt’'s eyes, but looking right out to sea. ““Who told you he was (‘%ead?" " Matt did not reply, but 'gazJ:d at Williamy so long and so” significgntly that the man, conseious of her |serutiny, turned and plunged intp the|darkness of his dwelling. : An hour later aloud voice shmmened him forth. He went to the, ‘door, and there was Monk, of Monkshurst. It was the first time they had rhet sincae they parted on the night of |the mur. der. Monlk was dressed in a dark summer suit, and looked unusually spick and span. : : - “Where’s the girl?” he cried, after a whispered colloquy of some |minutes. “Matt, Where are.you?”’ : In answer to the call Matt appeared at the door. No sooner did she perceive Monk than she trembled violently and grew very pale, -~ | “Come here, Matt,” he said, with an insinuating smile. “Sge! I'vel hrought something for you—something pretty for you:to wear.” = b As he spoke he drew from hjs waistcoat pocket a small gold ring, [set with turquoise stones. But Matt still trembled, and shrank dway. L - “I don’t want iti—al sha'n’t wear it,” | she cried. Geieal el it’s a ring fit for a lady. Comé, let me put it o' your finger.” © | | _ 8o great secmed her agitation, 8o | R e T AW T A AR N - ST AN A N WM. . TN 3

waist, he slipped the ring on her fingar before she could resist. But it only re» mained there a moment. With a quick, sharp cry, she tore herself free, and, taking the ring off, threw it right away from her upon the sand. Then with a wild gesture of fear and loathing, she rushed into the ecottage. - - William Jones walked over and picked up the ring, while Monk stood scowling darkly after the fugitive. “What the devil ails the girl?” eried the jatter, with a fierce oath, pocket~ ing the present. ; : “Dunno. She’s never been the same since—since the painter chap went missing. I'm afeéred he turned the gal’s head.” : “He’ll turn no more heads,” muttered Monk under his breath. He added . aloud and with decision: ““There must be an end to this. She must be married to me at once.”

“Do you mean it, master?. When you spoke on it fust I thought you was jolking.”

~ “Then you were a fool for your pains. She’s old enough and‘ bold enough and vixenish enough; but I’ll tame her.. I tell you there must be no ~delay. My mind’s made up, and I'll “wait no longer.” not | ~ Sinking their voices they continued to talk together for some time. Now Matt was erouching close to the threshold, and had heard every word of the above conversation, ard much that followed it. When M{)nk walked away and -disappeared, leaving William | Jones ruminant at the broken gate, | she suddenly reappeared. ‘ i Curiously enough all her excitement had departed. Instead, of weeping or protesting, she looked at William Jones—and laughed. - - Monk had lefthis horse at the coast~ guard station. Remounting, he rode rapid® away through the sand hills in the direction of the lake. As he ap--proached the spot of the old encamp- ! ment, he saw that the caravan had gone. N % He rode on thoughtfully %ill he gained the highway, when he put his | horse into a rapid trot. Just before he gained the gate and avenue near to which he had first encountered Brinkley, he saw the caravan before him on | the dusty road. . : : He hesitated for a moment; then hurried rapidly forward, and, arriving : close to the vehicle, saw the Irishman’s | head looking round at him from the i ‘ | ]fi{ ' , . LA =AW || e./ 1) = | )i i Y/] % i T SV g / _VA S=g i DB i VR == W N b= Tes | kg iy __:‘:.f/f%///:-;*v‘-‘-.;r?::m, Wb A =Gy 77T | *',f;\,«?,’(z I 7 1S {5{?!'“:l/ir1“’;‘1]”@“‘[3‘\5:5%,;‘ i :_i;j |/ //ﬁ;?,i-'/,’;a’;i : '[';/4 /1;; Ty 'l;‘:f‘;g L - ~uER Y 2 VI e l/t/’“/[\_‘ ;/ /;)// 7 N’ri f, !’n’” ” \ L= o 7 1. |l i | i NN s AL ~UM >y | \\"fca B L=jlla>=~7 RN Sl “WHO GAVE YOU THIS HERE!) CRIED | WILLIAS JONES. i driver’s seat. He beckoned, and Tim pulled up. - e , ! ‘“Has your master returned? I am in- | formed that he has been missing for some days.” S g Tim shook his head very dolefully. .| “No, sir; sorra sight have I seen of him for three days and three nights. | I'm:going back wid the baste! and the | house, to-tell his friends the bad news.. | Maybe it’s making fun of me he is, [ and I'll find him somewheres on the | road.” .- ' 4 E ‘T hope you will,” said Monk, sym- | pathetically. “I think —hum —it is quite possible he has, as you suggest, wandered homeward. Good day to youw.” ' 3 ] o saying, Monk turned off by the gate which they had just reached, and rode away up the avenue. : | Tim looked after him till he disap- " peared. Then the same curious change ' came over him which had come over Matt after she had been listening to ! the colloquy between Monk and William Jones. , i) He laughed! ‘ = : | : CHAPTER XV. = A DRIDAL PARTY AXD A LITTLE SURPRISE. -A week_passed away. The shadow of the caravan no longer fell on the green meadow by the lake, and the |, struggling population of Aberglyn. unsuspicious of foul play, had already forgotten both the caravan and the ‘owner. : : 5 And if facts were to be taken into consideration in estimating the extent of her memory, Matt, too, had forgotten. It was common talk now that she, ‘the grammarless castaway, the | neglected protege of William Jones, | was to be married to the master'of the ! great house! - Nay, the very day was ' fized; and that very day was only two | sunrises distant; and Monk, of Monks , bhurst, had in.his pocket a special | license, which he had procured, at an ! expenditure of five pounds, from Lon- | don. e 5 | [TOO BE CONTINUED.] i | . Caste'in ¢« Bootbiack, 8 [ Tha idea of caste and elass ezvends ; even to the bootblacking frat.-nity. | YThis i» illustrated by a recent,.eccur- | rence in Broad stveet. - : i An Irish shoe polisher has a stand in dront of Delmnonico’s old restamrant. !' Not long since he entered a broker's | office to render professional services, In his absence a dandy young negro i seated himself in the chair and awaited his return. When the bootblack again appeared on the scene he was horrified. As he approached his stand the negro said: ! “Shine ’em up, please, and be quick f about it.” : : | § “Not if I know myseli,” replied the i ibootblaclk, with an oath. ‘‘Get-out of that chair,” he continued. ‘lt'sbad enough for me to be shining boots all me life, but I've got this to say, I never shined shoes but for ons of my own eolor.,’=N. Y. Horald, = o = The Ultimate Sacrifice. - Two tramps were trudging along the | dusty roads on a hot aft&rnoon because the harvest hands wouldn’t let them | stop in the shade to rest, and they had | had nothing to eat or drink since the | Mpieberors. “Hungry?” askedone. | me T'm drier,” was the gloomy | fepeaeed .. 00 ] ~“What| would you give for a nice, | earnestly, “I'd slmost work for it.” ' Sh el e S S e e B S s

ELLEN OSBORN’S LETTER. Discussing the Trousssau of a Little Woman with a Ring. : About Propriety ‘in Clothes—Beware of Ruffles and Things, Says Wisdom—The Pretty Girl in Church—-The ' Cam-~ : . paign for Simplicity. ; ; s [COPYRIGHT, 1804} ~ By the new calendar, Twelfth night comes on January 6. By theold calender it would come upon what we now %all January 16. - This is a beautiful arrangement. If any lady, who wants it badly, fails to get the mystic ring in her slice of cake of January 6 she canery ‘‘no fair” and tempt the fatesagain ten or eleven days later. : Thus did alittle bevy of girlsin that set which others call ‘‘swell” or ‘‘swagger,” but which to those who are included in it is simply kncwn as ‘‘the” set: Last night—it should by striet chronology have been tosnight, but convenience ruled—they gatnered with mystery and a chaperon about a huge cake, somewhere in whose capacious depths lurked a ring whose finder, runs the sign, will wed within the year.. Other viands had gone before but little regarded. The cake was cut in thick slices and the eating, if one may so call it, began, only the chaperon holding aloof.| = _‘ . One splendid imperious beauty there was who slyly seized piece after piece and crumbled them beneath the table with slight pretense of eating—-shock-ingly bad form, you know, but circumstances were exceptional. And finally when scarcely a ecrumb remained, there. came a squeal of surprise; from a demurely pretty little creature. who had said not a word, but had gravely munched her cake to the last bit. ‘ “Oh, girls!” she cried, “I've actually got it! I mever dreamed of such a: thing! I never do get anything, or find anything, or win anything.” f “All the more reason why it must tell true,” eried the girl who had unblushingly cheated, ‘“‘and. who is the man?”’ oL “Oh, bother the man,” said the chaperon, a pretty married lady whose card'is always full at balls. ¢Tell us something:more interesting.” - “My trousseau, you mean? Well, I'll have’—and as she said it you might have seen a dozen pairsof bright young eyes opened wide and full upon her—“T’ll have a whole lot of thingss. That’s one comfort in getting married; you

) hge };;«%;g,;;;‘{;f:,,%‘g’ﬁ S3t [ . R e B ) R - ‘ frfgrﬁ” e B G Y TR - : ¢ . Hgi u*“f*}?g}‘// ¢ "’% ' ' ) SN A i O2w : 1 3 i .%;‘,. iy ; i L 1 ot e ‘ o ) R i ~"' é//:ﬂ | es‘ W g : g ‘f%’ s?;:4}‘;*’ e ,é._,. 7%{‘*”"s’ S s QRS o S e s Sodiiat ; 0 Wi K‘%’ﬁ%«’ti D o AN L el *“m}“l’; 7 '~§-ﬁ',} ﬂd"g ‘ﬁ'& . : i by 5 \:-‘k"*'}g W{‘» el \"(f T N 2 eSE ! : e ] pve Nﬁ*‘}\;,’\ TN R S e 278 *\Qﬁﬁf?;{._,(f 5 ( ’ eWU JI S Ranan Ry : L T R e N AT Y ?/ [ STy sNN 'LCJ‘ R % ?’{'ﬁ&'x’ﬁm“” = i gl %@&? ol e se,T PN 1 P S e ' M) ereaay dal o e el RN T LG R T CRSH SN R ) [ S| }li Il '2\%‘%2?%l"?"{‘ | ‘ﬂ%éf"a--i ASt 8 U i) eo B e S e n N L ; Wbs e A 1 A 2 AR o oA s / / | W voS | : i S IR TRsz Wy B ) ittt 22 )] o G == [ : e o) e ' T - Pl /7 : ‘. - ‘ ”i,/ '/", e T - el il / ; e .a, ; : [";/]/ L ‘%‘._c‘%;,,a ___._,/J |l ","/ //‘l 5 : o Q‘i i o : : ;'"\ ~// I; ? . , _ = : | Loy W | : _ e ;*) . : : e I b : : _ THE PRETTY GIZS IN CHURCH. e

can have lots pf tHings all at once, if you never did before or do again.” “Wedding dress after the usual manner, of course,” said the tall beauty. *With a ttara of maghnificent diamonds, the gift of the groom, as yet unknown,” said the little lady who found the ring. “Gracde church, of course, and positively no usher ina pink barred shirt allowed. DBut the wedding is a nuisance. I never saw a bride who looked well. Their eyes are always red. The reception gown is more worth while. For thatl think I will have a Greek costume, such as I saw at Mrs. Cruger’s dinner. There was & bodice of tawny ¢loth covered with gold passementerie, which wasn’t Greek at all because it was very tight, and I don’t belicve Greek ladies wore elbow gloves of white kid, and from.

« - f,,&é RS P R AT 4 inaNis /?/é g s S G e e S R, \ S AR i) |ll USECHY & _;4\ L ,: ”":';i“.' 'r},.;. X - A ..?é:" s FR VAN ; oy s o 1 - ft / it | ,:/”,,, // - £ o 7 6; ‘i { e gz J, ) ,/1‘;1 b k ‘{é!@w{ o 3 }é ) ’/. Ve 1 ’,"f, s "-,'9 “ / 17 l j.‘:!‘ r£ P 7 B AT ¢ o g 7 00\ }4‘;} i /’%igc }% F}”* - A A b dems | b %457 /»/ |oftd » f% N ///’;}’://f il i | | @ le SR Z o | | § o _ A LITTLE WOMAN’S TEA GOWN. . the right shoulder hung a peplum of soft ereamy white with a border of gold embroidery in Greek fret anda most lovely long trail. It was knotted on .the left. hip, you know, and two lines of the embroidery ran down the left side, and there wasn'tacutora seam or a rufile or anything. Oh! it was sweeb!” e G ~ ‘“You're too little to wear a goddess’ draperizs,” said the big girl critically eying the bride-prospective. = = “Tm nob little a bit,” rejoined the demuzss ¢ne hotly. “I'mflve feot twoif 23 fnahy 1l warir, 18 cass a 8 e ARG T L have an inglish gown, too. I saw a e Gegews 08 M 0 i‘%a; "gﬁg* s e e e

very plain except a tiny trim of fur at the bottom, and the neck wids cut square with two tabs of black velvet at the shoulder trimmed twith the same fur. The bodice and sleeve were moire, too, and the frorng of the bodice was partly filled with white lace, and there was lace at the sleeves. And the bodice was almost like a basque, which is awful; but if one inust, one must. *Oh, it was a most successful gown; one of those which look so rich and costly and—and satisfying to a woman, and that a ' man thinks simple. Fanecy.”

“I saw a tea gown, just the'thing for a little woman,” said the tall girl returning mischievously to the charge. “Of course there was a perfectly straight front of pink silk shirred at the neck and falling in straight folds to the floor. That wWould make you look at least two inches taller. The material was a most lovely dark green velvet, untrimmed from the arm level to the bottom, but fitting divinely. Balloon sleeves, of course, and wide ecru lace at the elbows and shoulders to mitigate the severity of it. Don’t have any ruffles or overskirt in your trousseau, dear. Little women can’t stand it.” : §

~ “On that.principle,” replied the little girl, spiritedly, but in execellent humor —for she had the ring—‘‘yout should wear clothing heavily cross-barred to make you look seven 'inches shorter. I saw some lovely bnes the other day.” “I always do. Butwhere were the gowns?” - e “On Randall's, island, where I sang to the women prisoners.” . ~ “Girls,” said the chaperon, who was about the.smallest lady in the company, ‘it is my painful duty to urge. you to let this cruel war be over. At least, declare an armistice while I tell you about the pretty girl T saw in church last Sunday. It’s quite proper for brides to be devout. you knows; probably becausereligion may serve to ‘soothe the sorrows of the matrimonial state. This girl wasn’t in our set, but she was a beauty, and when the prayer ‘came she knew just the right angle at which to tilt her head forward. Her hat was big and black, with two black ribbon bows standing upon it, and a great ostrich plume curled about it on the right. It was very simple bt effective.. Her ‘cloak' was tan, or' rather darker than that, with:leavy trimmings of sable and great black frogs; her hair was brown and when a ray came from tlie stained glass window way across the church it lighted it up till it shone like gold. It was not expensive, but it was a model,” o

“I hate to spoil an agreeable discussion,” said the tall girl, who had not yet quite recovered from her disappointment, “but doesn’t all this seem a trifle—ah-—a trifle—" - “Premature? Nota bit of it. : It is necessary to the working of the charm that one should have faith. My faith is perfect,” said the little girl with the ring, and there was a"murmured ¢chorus of approval: “Why of course.” : And then there was talk of lovers and a little bit of innceent gossip; and into that one need not follow. _The reaction toward simplicity, toward line an@ curve unbroken and figure free of frippery, instead of ruffles and gewgaws, has indeed gained strength this year. Women slight of figurc and not tall are the leaders, and the wide' diversity of admitted styles renders it possible. “Tittle woman, beware of rufdssand things,” is a new commandment of the milliner’s decalogue. - 1t is the women with beauntiful figures who insist, or should insist, upon simplicity of garb.: The slender ones, whom detractors ecall "'béhy,” flee to the protection of rufiles and puiffs and multiplied: meaningless maze of' lines. But even the apostles of isimplicity and lines unbroken cannot eschew the puff sleeves. - ErLex OSBORN. | lier Lifo History. : At four she wanted bonbons, - " At cight she wanted gum; . ¢ - At.twelve she yearned for novelties, At sixtecn, lﬁ}euux——yum-yum; : oA cighteeu‘-sze became engaged, : Liize many other misses, ; o * And wanted spoony tete-a-tetes " And scorcs and scores of kisses, - At twenty she was married—- : Big wedding, rich and tony, ’ At twenty-two, alas, alack,’ She wanted alimony. . : - —Kansas City Journal R © Advice. : e “I am a poet,” said the young man resolutely. - e “Indeed?” replied the kind-hearted but absent-minded editor. = . “Yes. And I came to sce if you will not give me a trial.”? = i “Dear, dear! My good fellow, I wouldn’t bother about a trial. I'd just plead guilty and také my chances.”’— Wachington Star. L Sy . A Nepative Virtwe. . = Haffon Haff—Dere’s one t'ing I like about dis salt-water, Docksie. . Docksie Ratz—\What'sdat? __ Haffan Haff—'Tain’t it to drink.— it eSIRE e o losuliess gicl ln loione i e

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. A COMPANY FACGE, . Once on = time, in a far-away piace, _" - Lived a queer littlc girl with a company faee, - And no one outside of the family knew == - Of her every-day face, or supposcd she had two. ! : s ‘The change she could make with wondrous _ celerity, : . =y For practice had lent her surprising dexterity, But at last it chanced, on an unlucky day| . (Or lucky, perhaps, I would much better say), ‘To her dismal dismay and complete consternation, : : She failed to effect the desired transfortnationt | And a caller, her teacher, Miss Agatha Mason, Surprised her with halt of her company face on, : And half of her every-day face peeping out, = Showing one grimy tear track and half -of & / pout, i | : - Contrasting amazingly with the swect smile” | That shons-on her ‘‘comgany'’ side all the " while. 5 o = The caller no sooner had hurried away - S Than up to her room the girl flew in dismay; - And, after a night spent in sclemn reflection. On the folly of features that can't bear inspee- ' tion, : . s She camé down to breakfast, and walked to _ her place, : ot Calm, swect and - secrene, with hes company : face. s < : Thenceforward she wore it, day out and day in, Till' you really might think ’twould be worn: very thin: L But, strange to relate, it grew more bright and gay, : e And her relatives think 'twas a' red lettor day. When the greatly astonished Miss Agatha Mason o e ; Es Surprised her with half of her company face on. ; hot . —Minnie L. Upton. | -~ THE STORK CAME BACK.. An Amusing Bird Stoi'y Told by & Gerﬁén ‘ s Clergyman. I heard last summer a true story, which seemed to me worthy the ear of young readers. It was narrated by a clergyman toa group of young folikson | a Hotel piazza. I shall not tell his name, because I know the story better than the historian. e Several .years ago this gentlemanwas living in the German capital with his family. There were many new sights and sounds to interest the American family, but nothing more fascinating than the skolony of white storks which settled on the adjacent house tops and made 2 bird village of the nestled chimney stacks. i ! : - The birds had such an air of proprietorship and general coziness, that

! . S x .j/;\.::?‘fﬁ AT ; SR Nl i o S T R ‘;‘tx‘f;’,é&,\"; f?&‘ i e, e WS e : Tl STORKS ON THE WING. @ & | gome member of the family insisted ! that that particular part of the city i 'was the regular summer home of these ?touris‘_cs, who returned to their old | quarters each sedson, in human fash- : ion. This idea was not acecepted as i fact, and there were many speculaticns ' as to some possible means of testing the theory. Not being up in the stork | language, no one could ask questions and. get answers, neither could any . mortal remémber the fing points-of . stork physiognomy from year to year. { A plan was finally decided upon, and . one particularly aristocratic monarch- - of-all-T-survey-looking bird was en- ! ticed by a good dinnerinto the garden. { There a silver ring was placed about { his leg, on which was engraved “Ber- | lin, 1888.” lie then flew back to his { favorite. chimney, and ere long he . joined the passing flocks that were i constantly leaving fox" the south. Many ¢ a thought followed the feathered fugi- ’ tive during the long winter, and at the : first sign of spring eager eyes watched | for the return of the travelers. After | many days, a distant line of storks, : fal_‘ up in the blue, came into view. i Over the clergyman’s house several de- . tached themselves from the sky caravan and hovered around the dwelling. A tempting feast was prepared, and presently the weary pilgrims flew | down into the yard. Iriendly eyes . watched every movement with joyous ;welcome. “Imagine the surprise when . one of the flock was seen to have tico . silver rings upon its legs! o | Behold! the old ring was back again, !-and accompanying ‘it another, which " read! *‘lndia sends gréeting to Berlin.” i —Henry Fenn, in St. Nicholas.." = . i¢ve L e s %‘. THE STORMY PETREL. - | JQueer Superstitions Sailors Fntertain Re- {. : garding the Bird. = [ One of the best known of the sea | birds is the stormy petrel. Itisoftenest ! seen during storms, flying above the | waves in search of shelliish and other ! small animals that are brought to t;ie' . surface by the tempest. Se

The’ sailors call petrels “Mother Carey's chickens” and do not view them with much favor, owing to their being constant companions of storms. “Jack” thinlts that rough weathér may be expected- when he sees petrels about and is not quite sure that they do not in some way cause the tempest. When the bird is on the outlook for-its prey it seems to walk on the water. Hence the seamen of the olden time in allusion to Apostle Peter’s walking on the water called the bird petrel, from the Latin Petrellus, !Little Peter.” : - So far from the sailor’s being superstitious 'as to the céapture of another kind of petrel, the cape pigcon, which is of a biack-and-white color and about the size of a tame pigeon, I have known Jack to take a hand occasionally in capturing them as a bit of recreation during a dog watch. owe In southern latitudes the cape pigeons follow a ship in thousands, says St. Nicholas. A common bottle eork is tied to the end of a piece of thread and trailed astern so that the cork touches the water. This gives the required tautness to the thread. As the birds fly in clouds from side to side astern some of them constant1y strike the thread with their wings, and the resistance is enough to turn them over it, when the thread is wrapped rouund the wing and theibiijg%‘ is hauled on board. In this manner ] have scen hundreds caught in a day. ~ On one occasion a eclipper ship carrying passengers to lndia capﬁureﬁ%i» geons by hundreds, and the surgeon by some mischance succeeded in entangling astormypetrel. . 4 G " Now, the doctor was an enthusiastic paturalist, and what to the sailors is Ynown as & *‘land lubber"—that is, he

once toolk .the specimen to his cadim and mace preparations to skin and pre4 serve it. - In hot haste a deputation of ‘seamen, headed by the old, gray-haired sailmaler, came aft with a request that the petrel be set atliberty, saying that otherwise the ship and all on board ‘would surely suffer. = - S " The doctor, soméwhat surprised, in‘tendad to set the bird free, but his enthusiasm as a naturalist prevailed over the’ superstitious warning, and when the sailors had disappeared the bird was added to his colleetion. The fact soon became known forward among the men, and the doctor was regarded with black looks by the ‘erew for the remainder of the voydge. e - In'the course of time the good ship anchored -in the Hugil river, and that day at .dinner the doctor suddenly died o 0 0 ‘ There was a gathering of the sailors around the windlass that dog-wateh, and the doctor’s sudden death was attributed 'by ‘the superstitious sailors to his slaughter of the stormy petrel ' _AMUSING SCIENCE. A Nursery Toy ‘Which Can Be BKade by oo s o Any Intelligent Doy. A very amusing game for children is" 'shown in our illustration, and may be providedat small cost and with little trouble by carrying out t%ie following . directions: *Procure.a slender iron rod, bent to a right angle at about the = e = ~ - P N\ : Mu.*///f/" sy M Rl Q. e L B N R . <~ i % s " . B N N SR : middle point. Fasten one end to the edge of a table, as 'in the cut. The o‘ﬂ%}r‘end should- terminate in a loop. ADichtlylunder this loop bore a small holg in the table, . Cutfrom a wide qort{ stopper -a_cireular piece of cork, and through its center pass a long nail from which the head has been removed: '« Yon _will then ‘have a rudimentary. top. Lastly, eut, out three figures of horses from pieces of c,orr{,f and attach ‘them to the upper surfdace of the top by means of small bi’t-f{‘o_f wire. 'Place the top in positicn .as shown |in the{fc‘ut, the ends of the rmii being lield by the loop and the holg in-the table. Wind a cord round .vthek}l‘pper portion of the nail and draw it briskly. out.. - The top. will tuun, éari-ying ‘the’ little horses, and the horse ivhi'&h stops. nearest to a certain point previously marked on the table gaips. the trick. . More than three horses may be made, if desired, and intercst is added to the_apparatus Ly painting the horses differeat colors.— Once a Weels. - n ‘ A ‘ \.“ . The Bird and the Boy. i A pretty little occurrence was reported from New York in conrection ’.Wif;h’ the accounts of the very hot. wenther of Jdast summer. Among the sufferers. from the-heat was a small ‘b‘lr%l« that was truly sunstruecic while flying throtigh the air. Possibly it haid ‘dryunlk too much eold water, or it may -bave overworked or not slept svell the ‘pight' before. * Anywhy it was prostrated and féll to the ground. A littic boy £a<v it fall and ran to piek it up. ITe gently laid it on the grass, then got “hismother’s palm Jeat fan and vigorousIy fanned the wee, sick'stranger. Pres--ently it began:to flutter, then opened its/eyes, and the next minute was off againwith sails spread. Put this down to the, eredit: of the ;boy’s chivalry.— .Robert.st.-John, in Morthera Christian Advocate: = : : L RO i_[_:;-t‘.z'xg Aathematicians. | " It is well known that the squdrs of any number can be readily obtained; also the cube, the fourth power. and so on, « 'Thus the square of tywo 18 foir, the cube is eight, the fourth powen is sixteen; ete. - Liltewise in algobra it i 3 not difficuli to find the successive powersof various quantities. - For exar:ple, the sqhare of m ism?, the cube i mB, tha fourth power is md, ete. Or a . polynomial, as axb, can be similariy involyed, - S . Now, everybodyknows what a square looks like, and everybody knows just how a cube looks; if not, the ehildren of the kindergarten can tell us, fo: they all learn those two shapes. - " The question here proposed is: ‘What doss the fourth power icol lile?—St. Nicholas * "l 7 A Syonderful Old Map.. . The oldest postmaster’in continuons service; and perhiaps in years, in the United States, ‘resides at Hammondsville, Jefférson county, Ohio. [lis name is W. H: Wallace and he is eighty-two’ .years_ ‘' old. He bhas. ‘been' in. the serviee for the last sixtythree years, having been appointed to his present position during Andraw Jackson's” administration. Mr. Wallace isalso credited by the Adams ixpress company as the oldest agent in its cmploy, both in yvearsand eontinu‘ous service, and is also the oldast station agent on the Clegeland & Pittsburgh railroad; if notin America, havingserved in that capacity since 1852 He bears his years li'%htly. L P

_@ ANC TR ll‘! L 0 AL - It has been said that the bear is not so cruel as other huge animals, and in proof thercof it is asserted that in the days of .old Rome, when wild beasts were.turned loose in thé arena to fight with ® prisoners — who were allowed their liberty if they could overcome their savage. foes—the bear used to be . hissed by the spectators because it declined the combat with Christians and other captives. Without ecasting too much doubt upon this statement—which is, however; certainly open to question—it must be borne in mind that the Romans knew nothing of the two flercest bears, the polar of the arctie regions and the grizzly of the Roeky mountains’ - A ; _ Cissy Proves Her Point. ‘A certain little. girl from whom the. Listener sometimes hears is evidently going to beé a great logician. When she was galled upon at school the other day to recite a verse from the béatitudes she = responded with “Blessed are the dress-malkers, for they shallsee Godi® s . et eo i ~ “But, my dear girl,” exclaimed thd teacher, “it is not ‘dress-maicers’; it is Spegec-makers! oo i T e ) - “Well,” the child answered, stoutly, *“my mother has a dress-maker and she malces dresses out of pieces.” Boston . Sl D Le e He—So you were never in love? R R N&g,ﬁﬁﬁwﬂﬁ \b,c“gz_‘\-ﬁ.mg‘? ?%’éfvi‘*