People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 August 1893 — Page 3

WHERE IS THE GIRL? It does not seam so long ago' Since we were girl and boy, Aad she came dressed in calico, And I in corduroy. The stone bridge where we used to meet Looks just the same to melts shelter such a cool retreat— The girl? Ah, where is she? -1 note tew changes at the farm; The lane seems not so wide; The rustic swing has lost its charm; There’s little else beside That's altered since I was a boy, Except—l plainly see Ho pleasure’s quite without alloy— The girl? Ah, where is she? The cows come straying Lome at night; We drove them oft of yore Some through the low sun’s slanting light. Our shadows long before. I let them through the bars just now; It seems so strange to be Alone in urging that last cow— The girl’'—ah, where is she? It’s twenty years ago to-day Since Nell and I were wed. And, lured by fortune’s restless sway, To city walks were led— And that reminds me I must send . A check straight to Paree; Tot Nell is just a flend to spend— The girl?—ah, there is she! —IL L. Hendrick, in Siftings

WARING'S PERIL.

Cap; Chawuws kimcj. ]) yßYEjßjija X w-S-armyA .[Copyright, 1898, by 3. B. Lippincott & Co,, and published by special arrangement] I.— Continued. * 'Boots and saddles” had sounded at the artillery barracks. Mr. Pierce, as battery officer of the day, had clattered off through the north gateway. The battery had marched with dancing plumes and clanking sabers out to the stables and gun-shed. The horses of Lieuts. Doyle and Ferry were waiting for their riders underneath the gallery of their quarters. Capt. Cram, in much ■state, followed by his orderly bugler «nd guidon-bearer, all in full uniform, was riding slowly down the sunny side of the garrison, and at sight of him Doyle and Ferry, who were leisurely pulling on their gauntlets in front of their respective doors, hooked up their sabers and came clattering down their •stairway; but no Waring had appeared. There, across the parade on the southern side, the bay colt, caparisoned) in Waring’s unimpeachable horse-equip-ments, was being led up and down in the shade of the quarters, Mr. Pierce’s boy Jim officiating as groom, while his •confrere Ananias, out of sight, was at the moment on his knees fastening the «trap of his master’s riding-trousers

underneath the dainty gaiter boot, Mr. "Waring the while surveying the proceeding over the rim of his coffee-cup. “Dar, suh. Now into de coat, quick! Yahnduh goes Capt. Cram.” ‘‘Ananias, how often have I told you •that, howsoever necessary it might be lor you to hurry, I never do? It’s unbecoming an officer and a gentleman to hurry, sir.” “But you’s got to inspect yo’ section, •suh, befo’ you can repote to Capt. Cram. Please hurry wid de sash, suh.” And, holding the belt extended with both hands, Ananias stood eager to clasp it around Waring’s slender waist, but the lieutenant waved him away. “Get thee behind me, imp of Satan! Would you have me neglect one of the foremost articles of an artilleryman’s laith? Never, sir! If there were a wrinkle in that sash it would cut a chasm in my reputation, sir.” And, so ■saying, he stepped to the open doorway, threw the heavy tassel over and around the knob, kissed his hand jauntily to his battery commander, now riding down the opposite side of the parade, backed deliberately away the full length of the sash across the room, then, humming a favorite snatch from “Faust,” deliberately wound him--self into the bright crimson web, and, making a broat flat loop near the farther end and without stopping his song, nodded coolly to Ananias to come •on with the belt. In the same calm and deliberate fashion he finished his military toilet, set his shako well forward on his forehead, the chin-strap hanging just below the under lip, pulled on the buff gauntlets, surveyed himself critically and leisurely in the glass, and theiz began slowly’ to descend the stairs “Wait—jus’ one moment,please,suh,” implored Ananias, hastening after him. "Jus’ happened to think of it, suh: Capt. Cram’s wearin’ gloves dis mawnin’.” “Ah! So much the more chance to come back here in ten minutes. Whoa, coltikins; how are you this morning, sir? Think you could run away if 1 to pretty hard? You’ll try, won’t you, old boy?” said Waring, stroking the glossy neck of the impatient bay. “Now, Jim, let go. Never aMow anybody to hold a horse •for you when you mount. That's

highly unprofessional, sir. That’ll do.” And, so saying, he swung himself into the saddle, and, checking the bounds of his excited colt, rode calmly away to join the battery.} Already the bandsmen were marching through the north gate on the way to the broad open field in which the maneuvers were held. The adjutant, sergeant-major, and markers were following. Just outside the gate the post commander was seated on horseback, and Cram had reined in to speak with him. Now, in his blithest, cheeriest tones, Waring accosted them, raising his hand in salute as he did so: “Good morning, colonel. Good morning, Capt. Cram. We’re in-luck to-day. Couldn’t possibly have lovelier weather. I’m only sorry this came off so suddenly and I hadn’t time to invite our friends out from town. They would have been so pleased to see the battalion—the ceremonies.” “H‘m! There was plenty of time if you’d returned to the post at retreat yesterday, sir,” growled old Braxton. “Everybody was notified who was ■ here then. What time did you get back, sir?” “Upon my word, colonel, I don’t know. I never thought to look or inquire; but it was long after taps. Pardon me, though, I see I’m late inspecting.” And in a moment he was riding quietly around among his teams and guns, narrowly scrutinizing each toggle, trace and strap before taking station midway between his lead drivers, and then, as Cram approached, reporting: “Left section ready, sir.” Meantime, the infantry companies were marching out through the gate and then ordering arms and resting until adjutant’s call should sound. Drivers and cannoneers were dismounted to await the formation of the battalion line. Waring rode forward and in the most jovial off-hand way began telling Cram of the incidents of tbe previous day and his sight-seeing with the party of visitors from the north. “By the way, I promised Mr. Allerton that they should see that team of yours before they left; so, if you’ve no objection, the first morning you’re on duty and can’t go up, I’ll take advantage of your invitation and drive Miss Allerton myself. Doesn’t that court adjourn this week?” “I’m afraid not,” said Cram, grimly. “It looks as though we’d have to sit to-day and to-morrow both.” “Well, that’s too bad! They all want to meet you again. Couldn’t you come up this evening after stables? Hello! ' this won’t do; our infantry friends will i be criticising us; I see you’re wearing gloves and I’m in gauntlet*. So is

“NOW, JIM, LET GO.”

Doyle. We can’t fit him out, I’m afraid, but I’ve just got some from New York exactly like yours. I’ll trot back while we’re waiting, if you don’t object, and change them.” Cram didn’t want to say yes, yet didn’t like to say no. He hesitated, and —was lost. In another moment, as though never imagining refusal was possible, Waring had quickly ridden away through the gate and disappeared behind the high brick wall. When the bugle sounded “mount,” three minutes later, and the battery broke into column of pieces to march away to the maneuvering grounds, Mr. Ferry left the line of caissons and took command of the rear section. All that the battery saw of Waring or his mount the rest of the morning was just after reaching the line, when the fiery colt came tearing riderless around the field, joyfully dodging every attempt of the spectators to catch him, and reveling in the delight of kicking up his heels and showing off in the presence and sight of his •nvious friends in harness. Plunge though they might, the horses could not join; dodge though they might the bipeds could not catch him. Review, inspection, and the long ceremonials of the morning went off without the junior first lieutenant of Battery X, who, for his part, went off without ceremony of any kind, Cram’s stylish team and wagon with him. That afternoon he reappeared driving about the barrack square, a pretty girl at his side, both engrossed in the music of the band and apparently oblivious of the bot-tled-up wrath of either battery or post commander. “Be gorra!” said Doyle, “I’d like to be in his place now, provided I didn’t have to be in it to-morrow.” But when the morrow came there was no Waring with it. IL For twenty-four hours old Brax had been mad as a hornet. He was not much of a drill-master or tactician, but he thought he was, and it delighted him to put his battalion through the form of review, the commands for which he had memorized thoroughly and delivered with resonant voice and with all proper emphasis. ' What he did not fancy, and indeed could not do, was the drudge- work of teaching the

minutiae of the school of the battalion, explaining each movement before undertaking its execution. This was a matter he delegated to one of his senior captains. For a week, therefore, in preparation for a possible visit on the part of the new brigadier general or nis inspector, the six companies of the regiment stationed at the post had been fairly well schooled in the ceremonies of review and parade, and so long as nothing more was required of them than a march past in quick time and a ten minutes’ stand in line all might go well. The general had unexpectedly appeared one* evening with only a single aide-de-camp, simply, as he explained, to return the calls of the officers of the garrison, six or eight of whom had known enough to present themselves and pay their respects in person when he arrived in town. Braxton swelled with gratified pride at the general's praise of the spick-span condition of the parade, the walks, roads and visible quarters. But it was the very first old-time garrison the new chief had ever seen, a splendid fighting record with the volunteers during the war, and the advantage of taking sides for the union from a doubtful state, having conspired to win him a star in the regular service only a year or two before. “We would have had out the battery and given you a salute, sir,” said Brax, “had we known you were coming; but it’s after retreat now. Next time, general, if you’ll ride down some day, I’ll be proud to give you a review of the whole command. We have a great big field back here." And the general had promised to come. This necessitated combined preparation, hence the order for full dress rehearsal with battery and all, and then came confusion. Fresh from the command of his beautiful horse battery and the dashing service with a cavalry division, Cram hated the idea of limping along, as he expressed it, behind a battalion of foot, and said so, and somebody told Brax he had said so, — more ihan one somebody, probably, for Brax had many an adviser to keep him in trouble. The order that Cram should appear for instruction in review of infantry and artillery combined gave umbrage to the battery commander, and his reported remarks thereupon, renewed cause for displeasure to his garrison chief. “So far as we’re concerned,” said Cram, who wanted to utilize the good weather for battery drill, “we need no instruction, as we have done the trick time and again before; and if we hadn’t, who in the bloody Fifty-first is there to teach us? Certainly not old Brax.” All the same the order was obeyed, and Cram started out that loveliest of lovely spring mornings not entirely innocent of tie conviction that he and his fellows were going to have some fun out of the thing befdre they got through with it. Not that he purposed putting any hitch or impediment in the way. He meant to do just exactly as he was bid; and so, when adjutant’s call had sounded and the blue lines of the infantry were well out on the field, he followed in glittering column of pieces, his satin-coated horses dancing in sheer exuberance of spirits and his red-crested cannoneers sitting with folded arms, erect and statuesque, upon the ammunition-chests. Mrs. Cram, in her pretty basket phaeton, with Mrs. Lawrence,of the infantry,and several of the ladies of the garrison in ambulances or afoot, had taken station well to the front of the forming line. Then it became apparent that old Brax purposed to figure as the reviewing officer and had delegated Maj. Minor to command the troops. Now, Minor had been on mustering and disbursing duty most of the war, had never figured in a review with artillery before, and knew no more about battery tactics than Cram did of diplomacy. Mounted on a sedate old sorrel, borrowed from the quartermaster for the occasion, with an antiquated, brass-bound Jenifer saddle, minus breast-strap and housings of any kind, but equipped with his better half’s brown leather bridle, Minor knew perfectly well he was only a guy, and felt indignant at Brax for putting him in so false a plight. He took his station, however, in front of the regimental colors, without stopping to think where the center of the line might be after the battery came, and there awaited further developments. Cram kept nobody waiting, however; his leading team was close at the nimble heels of £apt. Lawrence’s company as it marched gayly forth to the music of the band. He formed sections at the tyot the instant the ground was clear, then wheeled into line, passed well to the rear of the prolongation of the infantry rank, and by a beautiful countermarch came up to the front and halted exactly at the instant that Lawrence, with the left flank company, reached his post, each caisson accurately in trace of its piece, each team and carriage exactly at its proper interval, and, with his crimson silk guidon on the right flank and little Pierce signaling “up” or “back” from a point outside where he could verify the alignment of the gunwheels on the rank of the infantry, Cram was able to command “front” before little Drake, the adjutant, should have piped oat his shrill “Guides posts.” But Drake didn’t pipe. There stood all the companies at support, each captain at the inner flank, and the guides with their inverted muskets still stolidly gazing along the line. It was time for him to pipe, but instead of so doing there he stuck at the extreme right, glaring down towards the now immovable battery and its serene commander, and the little adjutant’s face was getting redder and puffier every minute. “Go ahead! What are you waiting for?" hoarsely whispered the senior captain.

• "Waiting for the battery to dress,” was the stanch reply. Then aloud the shrill voice swept down the line: “Dress that battery to the right!” Cram looked over a glittering shoulder to the right of the line, where stood the diminutive infantryman.

The battery had still its war allowance of horses—three teams to each carriage, lead, swing and wheel—and that brought its captain far out to the front of the somber blue rank of foot; so far out, in fact, that he was about on line with Maj. Minor, though facing in opposite direction. Perfectly confident that he was exactly where he should be, yet equally determined to abide by any order he might receive, even though he fully understood the cause of Drake’s delay, Cram promptly rode over to the guidon and ordered “right dress,” at which every driver's head and eyes were promptly turned, but not an inch of a wheel, for the alignment simply could not be improved. Then after commanding “front” the captain as deliberately trotted back to his post without so much as a glance at the irate staff officer. It was just at this juncture that the bay colt came tearing down the field, his mane and tail streaming in the breeze, his reins and stirrups dangling. In the course of his gyrations about the battery and the sympathetic plunging of the teams some slight disarrangement occurred. But when he presently decided on a rush for the stables, the captain reestablished the alignment as coolly as before, and only noticed as he resumed his post that the basket phaeton and Mrs. Cram had gone. Alarmed, possibly, by the nonappearance of her warm friend Mr. Waring and the excited gambolings of his vagrant steed, she had promptly driven back to the main garrison to see if any accident had occurred, the colt meantime amusing himself in a game of fast-and-loose with the stable guard. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE OLD AMERICAN STOCK.

’Tw«i Good Blood That Reddened In It« Veins. As we look back to the days of “The Lowell Offering” and of Lucy Larcom’s girlhood, says the Boston Watchman editorially, we are reminded that the old American stock was a good one. It represented a sober, independent, thoughtful, enterprising, lawabiding and God-fearing race of people whose ancestors, born of England’s best brain and bone, had conquered the wilderness, built towns and cities, established schools and college*, framed laws for their own government, worshiped God in thought and in deed, shed their blood in defense of their liberties, and founded a republic under the protecting shield of which manhood could have every needed opportunity for free and natural development. It was from this stock that men,like Webster and Lincoln, whose early poverty would have been in almost any other land an insuperable barrier to their advancement, came forth to be shapers of their nation’s destinies, as it was from this stock that the gentle Whittier and his sister singer, Lucy Larcom, sprang, both of whom worked their way upward from humble surroundings, not simply because our free, republican life could offer them encouragement, but also because, in the best sense of the phrase, it was good blood that reddened in their veins. Had the world been searched from polo to pole a better stock of people for the colonization of the continent could not have been found, and did we feel that this stock had disappeared, or had wholly ceased to dominate the life of the nation, we should have the best of reasons to fear for the future.

WHY CANADIANS LEAVE HOME.

The Steady Increase of Taxation Is One Primo Reason. Canadian emigration to Lewiston, Me., is at the rate of one thousand every year. Most ot the arrivals are of French extraction, and the main cause of their exodus is the steady increase of taxation at home, which they are unable to stand. The Lewiston Journal describes the situation from the point of view of the emigrating French-Canadian, thus: “Suppose that you arean inhabitant of the country south of Montreal. You raise some garden stuff that would sell in a city, but there is an inconvenient way to get it into the city. The government road now runs but one train a day up there from the district where the French people live. Plenty of trains come into Montreal from the English districts of New Brunswick. You have a large family of children to support. Glowing accounts come to you of a country to the south where there is plenty to eat and wear, free schools for your children, where the vote of every man counts and the poor man is as honorable as the rich. You will pack up your things and come over if you have thirty dollars for your tickets." One of these people said the other day that his countrymen did not come to Maine because the land was more fertile, but simply because (leaving taxation out of the question) there was no market for their products at home. Let Canada be annexed, he added, and the flow of travel southward would cease at once.

A Fact from Natural History.

Bees and birds cotfrt the society as man—that is, they seek the localities where fields and gardens abound, for they fare better when human industry extorts from the soil the products upon which they subsist A Maine bee culturist says it is the Arest thing in the world to find bees away from the settlements or from openings where flowers grow. It is in the small patches of forests they are oftenest found, and generally not far from the edge of the woods. It is the same with birds. There are no song birds in the northern Maine wilderness and scarcely anything that can be called bird life. Birds cluster around towns and villages.

Part Accepted.

Poet —I called in, sir, to see abont that little poem I sent you some time ago. Editor—That poem has not been published yet, sir. “And the stamps I inclosed with it?* “Tb"j stamps were published !©•( ago '- -Taxua Siftings

BLOOD WILL TELL.

A Btmuj« Rat Tala from the Mldwlf Plaisance. Midnight on the Plaisance. The long I street lay wrapped in silence and ' shadow, deep and impenetrable. Light l breezes from the great, heaving lake beyond stirred with a gentle touch the thatched roofs tn the Dahomey village. Away to the right lay the White City, glistening in the pale rays of the electric light Above, the quiet stars kept silent watch over the slumbers of the nations. With slow and measured step the weary Columbian guard paced his lonely beat before the huts of the Africans, counting the weary hours till dawn would bring relief and rest Anon, he glanced about him at the village, the huts, strange and incongruous to western eyes, from which came no sound save the heavy and regular breathing of the sleeping Dahomeyans. All was silent. No night lamps glimmered in the tiny houses where Morpheus held sway. But hark!

What sound was that which broke upon his listening ear, faint and far off? And see, in yonder distant hut, half concealed by the rough bark door, a tiny flickering light! With sudden start the wary guard made silent progress to the spot Half-afraid, he cautiously ventured on, his mind racked with doubts and fears for his own safety. What could it mean, this strange light at such an unholy hour? And now he heard low voices in earnest converse and he paused in trepidation. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind in one brief moment A plot, perchance, for murder and plunder in its wake, was hatching in the minds and hearts of the treacherous Africans in yonder hut He knew not what dark schemes of rapine might not be going forward, and he listened with bated breath while he stepped into the friendly shadow of a hut A single crackling twig might betray him to certain death, and he thought of his wife and children with aching heart Then, with strained ears, the night wind brought again that sound half-subdued which first arrested his attention. A light rattle os if arrows or deadlier weapons were being prepared for carnage. Then the sense of duty came floating back to him. bringing renewed courage to his sinking heart. He was on guard and on him it devolved to surprise the conspirators, if such they were, ere it was too late.

i Cautiously he moved forward toward the hut whence the low voices and that strange, mysterious rattle, awful in its portent, still came at intervals. And now he is just without the half-opened door, kneeling on the ground and eagerly straining every nerve to catch a word from within. Suddenly the sound came once again upon the still night air and a low, hoarse voice whisi pered with half-suppressed excitement: “Seven done, come a natural, dat time, nigger. Fade you again for five. I Gimme dem bones and come, little Joe, ! for a point." With starting eyes the guard still , listened while the answering voice camo j back: “Can’t do it, son. Two bits you j don’t come. Five on the high side. Ha! ■ here’s my seven.” ■ With a look of pained surprise ths disappointed guard silently retraced his steps from the crap game, only stop> ping to mutter: “Blood will tell.’’—Chicago News.

A BRITON'S VIEW.

<n EHtliuslustic Euloglutn on Our Great Fair. What I saw when I gained the northern and eastern balconies of the Administration building surpassed and surprised my highest expectations. After all that pen and pencil had done to prepare me for the sight, I felt that not one-half had been told me. The great White City which rose before me, silent and awful, seemed to belong to an order of things above our common world. It was a poem entablatured in fairy palaces, only to be done into human speech by the voice of some master singer. It was a dream of beauty which blended the memory of classic greatness with the sense of ALpine snows. It was an apocalypse of the architectural imagination. The wildness of the day lent its own apocalyptic setting to the scene; A swaying, drifting curtain of cloud shut in the horizon, blurring lake and sky on the one side in an indistinguishable haze, and on the other shrouding the eity in a gloom of smoke and rain. Ever and again the towers of the fair were draped with wreaths of trailing eloud. while the beating rain and! chilling wind added to the elemental effect. The cluster of buildings hung together there a sort of city in the clouds, yet severe and unmistakable in outline. It was a vision of the ideal, enhanced with mystery. The dreams of Columbus, the aspirations of the pilgrim fathers, the boundless possibilities- of the American continent itself, all seem to nave been crystallized in this, mute world of hall and peristyle,, of column, and capital. It stood there one-colossal temple of temples, awaiting in silence the presence of the supernal glory.Review of Reviews.

Venice sends laces ranging in value from two scents to four hundred dollars a yard. Twenty years ago the famous old industry had about died out There were only five women in Venice who preserved the secrets, of making Venetian point lace. To-day four thousand women of Venice make lace for one firm at fifteen and sixteen cents a day. In the Venetian lace house at the fair is forty thousand dollars’ worth of lace, with tho veil patterned after that of Queen Maria Louisa at the head of the exhibit One of the most unique exhibits in the Agricultural building is that from Liberia, the little republic near the equator on the west coast of Africa. It is in the southwest corner, near the entrance, and may be easily found by the collection of skins displayed agains t the walls. In. the assortment may be seen the beautiful brown and black spotted hide of the leopard, that of the African cat, deer and monkey of tpceiea.

PITH AND POINT.

—Many friendships last because there i is the width of a street between the ! friends.—Puck. —ln a well regulated family the olive branch of peace is sometimes a stout . hickory sprout.—Dallas News. —The man who is the life of the company often Ixires to death the other ' fellows who want to talk.—Truth. —The time appears to be at hand when a man who is referred to as sil-ver-haired will regard it as an attempt to depreciate him.—Philadelphia Ledger. —“lt isn’t fight to say that a man has no redeeming qualities." “Well, no—at least not until you have consulted his pawnbroker.”—Detroit Tribune. —Young Mr. Sapley—“l wish I could get me a hat that was suited to my head.” Miss Palisade “Why don't you try a soft hat!”—Clothier and Furnisher. —Slimson (sternly)—“Willie, where are those green apples gone that were down cellar?” Willie—“ They are with the Jamaica ginger that was m the closet.”—N. Y. Sun. “It doesn't seem possible that any woman wonld lead a man to drink deliberately.” “Well, she has.” “How do you know?” “She has dried beef for lunch every day."—lnter-Ocean. —.less (in restaurant)—“l'm hungry enough to eat a horse and chase the rider.” Bess—“ What are you going to order?’* Jess—“ Waiter, bring me three cream puffs and a cup of cocoa.”—NY. Times. —She—“But you 'have no reason to be jealous of me; you know you haven't.” He—“ Reason! Reason’!' I dispensed with my reason entirely when I fell in love with you.”—lndianapolis Journal. —No Help For It.—He—“What the mischief is this?” His Wife—“ Yow will have to eat your oatmeal in a flower pot this morning, dear. I haven’t been able to get to a china shop since' our girl left.”—N. Y. Sun. —“No, father," said the young man. with the college medal, “no farming in mine; you're going to hear from me in. the world.” “I reckon we will," exclaimed the old man, “an' in about ten. seconds; John, reach me that hickory!’ —Atlanta Constitution. —A Deep Injury.—“ You—you passed' me to-day on the street*" sobbed the fair girl, “and d-d-didn’t even look nt me." "Where was it?” inquired the young man, anxiously. “D-d-down., town,” was the tearful answer. “F— 1 was in the c-car,while you were hurrying along the street just us though I—l never existed.”—Judge.

THE WISE GIRL,

And How She Arranges for Comfort In.* ' Sleeping Car. The wise girl knows that nothing lb quite so desirable for wear in the sleeping car us a wrapper of dark-colored* flannel. It may be stated as a positive fact that women who try to makethemselves look coquetish in a sleeping car, and wear elaborate negliges or luce-trimmed wrappers, show extremely bad taste. Experience has taught that a wrapper of soft flannel in stripes of black and. blue, made in the simplest fashion, is most useful. When she is ready to go to bed, and the porter arranges her berth for her, she goes to the toilet-room, taking with i her her shawl-strapped package, fcfheremoves her shoes and stockings, puts on the knitted slippers ’that she has. taken out of her bag, removes any garments which she pleases, and assuming her wrapper, which Ims been folded! inher shawl strap, repairs to her berth. After fastening the buttons of the curtains, she disposes of her clothing as best she cun, folding each article' !' smobthly and carefully, and placing her money, watch and tickets in herl wrapper pocket. And then she should, try to rest the porter will call her in good season, and her ticket- ! will not be asked for during thw i night. In her shawl strap, which, i shows- as its outer wrapping is. - shawl or traveling rug, she may have her own pillow if she desireaiLBut this is not a necessity, as the cans, are supplied with linen that is usually fresh and clean. In the morning the , wise girl will put on her stockings and' ; shoes in bed, leaving the lacing or lutetoning of them till later. Then she-. ; will assume her other garments aniline—- ■ pair to the toilet-room, where- sft* ' should as expeditiously as possible make herself neat, trim and fresbj.thrvtt her friends who are to meet heirmay ■ not find her dusty nor travel-stainedl i This, she should do quickly, that! she* i may not be classed among the women ; who are the dread of all considerate women on the parlor cars—the women. ! who take and hold possession of a toilet- ! room as if it were a fort.—Ladies! Lboma- | Journal.

He Was Not an Exception,

A Detroiter, of a very mild and! plhcicM temper, had some business, attended: to, or pretended to be attended! to, bya Cleveland firm, and do what he-eouM by letter he could not get a settfomewt. Finally he went there in person.- and! settled the matter. “It’s the worst I e ver saw.”hesaldi, m parting. “We’ve attended to a good many people’s business,” argued the head of the firm. “But not as you have miue>.” “Yes, quite the same.” “Oh, come off.” exclaimed the disgusted Detroiter. “You can’t staff that down my throat. If yott had treated very many people as yon have treated me, you would' have been kilted Ibng before ever I heard of you,” and with that burst of anger lie walked out perfectly satisfied.—Detroit Free Press.

Candy Hungry.

Wee Sou—When Johnny Jumpupp's papa died his marnftia gate him a whole lot of candy. Mamma —What of it? Wee Son—Nothing, only I was wondering if it wouldn’t be all right it you’d just pretend my papa was dead Instead of waitin’ for a truly fuuecfcU -Good News.