St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 17, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 12 November 1892 — Page 7

pMpNFLUENCE

UpJflMDgoM CHAPTER XXII. A HASTY IV HID A'D ITS PUNISHMENT. Dr. Philips, whose recognized partner Brian became, had known him from the hour of his birth, and on this account, and because, tco, of the deep friendship entertained tor his father, he took more than usual interest in him. I want to see in you Iho worthy successor of myoid friend,” he said one day. “You can work out an honorable career, and you should. You owe it not only to his memory but also to that dear, sweet wife of yours. Lot her be your inspiration. I piomised your father when he was dying that I would act the part of a friend to her. I don’t believe I can io that more effectually than byhelping you.” “The old refrain. Doctor. In all that is done for me, I see Margaret as the prompting motive. This prevents any feeling of conceit on my part, and I am willing that she shall have the welldeeerved credit, but, nevertheless, my windless sails flap rather dolefully,” * * * * * Dr. Philips says I hav? a dear, sweet wife. What do you think of that, Margaret?” “That he is a man given to overpraise,” replied Margaret, glancing up from the scarf she was embroidering. “A very nice man, though," she added, turning to her work once more. “So good to me and so good tc you. ” He was standing behind her chair, and bent his head to look into her eyes. Nervous under such close contact she started up, and made a pretense of ar- | Tanging some books upon a small table. I The sigh with which his eye followed her awakened in her heart some twings ■of remorse for what, she felt obliged to confess, was an unreasonable betrayal of ill-huumor. “Come back to .your chair, Margaret. You can be very cruel sometimes.” “Have you any right to blame mo, Brian?” A glance at h:s face made her regret this question the second it passed her 1 lips, but before she could recall it he had left the room, with the words des- ! lined to echo in her heart through many long, bitter days. ] “No, Margaret. No right at all. I i seo your love is i ot for me.” f

A few minutes later sha heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs on the drive •outside. It was too late now. She must wait until his re:urn. Then she would te’l him how sorry she was. She wondered why the moments so heavily, scarcely h n hour had passed since Brian hacLXft her it mm ir" three. Thc^MßtaMM some disturbam^u^Wrsiairs came to her ears. With a nervous start she listened anxiously. There was no mistaking the hurried footsteps and subdued voices. Something unusual had happened. With a mind filled with terrible dread, and a heart beating to almost suffocation, she flew down the steps, along the hall, and into the library, and there ; No need to ask the matter now. During a second, in which she seemed to die a hundred deaths, she took in the white face and still form upon the sofa, and then, without even a cry, but with an ■expression that fixed itself indelibly upon the minds of those who saw it, cue knelt beside this remnant of the life and strength of an hour before, and, taking the cold hands between her own, ■soothed and pressed them in her effort to bring ba k their lost warmth. Poor hands’ a little while ago she had shrunk from their contact, an j now they were all powerless, too helploss to respond even to her tone ।; yet she would still hold them, and, perhap^, after a time he might feel. She would lay her heart on his, he would hear its beating and might ■understand. She would “Margaret.”

She heard her name repeated softly; she felt a gentle touch upon her shoulder, and a strong hand lifting her from her’ crouching position, and she raised her face, haggard au 1 drawn w.th suffering, to meet Dr. Philips’ sympathetic glance. “Don’t give way," he said kin Uy, seeing the question in her eyes. “We must get him to his room, and meanwhile we may hone that things are not so bad as th^y seem.” “Poo? "child,” he murmured after he had left her; “and poor Brian. I little thought, when I saw him so well and strong yesterday, that to-day be would be so near death. A sad ending to his young career.” While Margaret sat by Brian’s bed, trying in the pain and remorse which filled her heart to overflowing to make the most of the lew attentions she could lavish upon him, a thought came to her like a ray f hope. “I will ask him to come,” she said under her breath. “I will ask him to ■come. Did you call me, Brian?” She bent over the bed and gazed mutely up n the motionless face. No. Brian had not called, and with a heartbroken sigh she turned away to write Ihe telegram which was to tell Wilson of Brian’s danger. An I three hours later Wilson came. Well might Margaret say, as her hand rested in his sympathetic clasp: “I felt so sure that you would come. Your presence gives me strength and hope. I feel that he will be safe in your hands.” “As safe as these hands can make him, Mrs. Leigh. Please God, your confidence will not be misplaced.” Margaret herself scarcely realized the •extent of this confidence until she had taken u ilson to Brian’s room, and waited with a suspense that a counted to agony the opinion which she fell would mean so much. She watched his face anxiously, but It revealed little, and only by a subtit intuition did she understand that ht consi lered B ian’s state most critical. W’ith the last gleam of hope dyiiq from her heart, she followed him fron the room. “Ihe truth,” she pleaded, pressin;

her hand to her eyes. “The whole truth. Ah! you hesitate. That is more cruel still. lean bear the truth best.” Poor child,” he answered. “ You must not give way to this despair. Yet, since you ask me for the truth, I will not deceive you. Brian’s condition is most precarious. The odds are ali against him. He has but one bare chance.” "He has one chance,” she repeated, snatching at this straw of hope. “Then, Doctor, we will make the most of that one chance. He cannot fight for hmself; we must fight for him.” “ We yill fight L r him,” was Wilson’s reply. Tour courage and bravery must win, and I shall exercise all my skill and all my experience for him. I shall wire immediately for a irofessional i nurse, and s nee we are to work together 3 I need only remind you of the necessity , to keep your health and strength.”

’ Let me stay with him,” she replied > with an effort to compromise, “and promise tc be docile in all else. Ah ! see BertU. He has heard.” । Yes, Bertie had heard; and Bertie, as usual, could not hide his feelings as he ■ gave Margaret nessages of sympathy fiom the friends whose hearts weri never more truly hers than in this houi of her trouble. CHAPTER XXIII. the shadow or deatb. Two days passed and no change came Ihe sun lay warm and bright on the .awn outside. The birds saniz their same sweet song. The breath of flowers perfumed the summer air, and the unequal battle between life and death still Went on in the darkened room. Bertie sometimes sat up to relieve M ilson and the nurse, but Margaret gave way to none. “It is only the beginning,” she said in answer to Wilson’s expostulations'. Let me stay now. After awhile I will sleep.” And Wilson, yielding, she spent three nights in a weary vigil, but .when the fourth came nature would stand no more. She could no longer endure the ravings oi f delirium which brought the past so sharply and vividly before her. She could nor listen to the eloquent pleadings for love in such weak and broken sentences, nor hoar her own reproach, so doubly crud, repeated by his unthinking lips. J “Oh, for the power to live It over again,” she cried in the anguish of her heart. “Oh, for one moment of consciousness in which he might understand. ” Ihe sleep induced by bodily weariness was deep and long, and it was quite la'e the next morning wh n Margaret reached Brian’s room. AV ilson met her with an encouraging smile. “He has teen very quiet,” he said noting the question in her eyes. “I managed to snatch several hours’ sleep.”

~• r • The hours passed slowly. The silence was unbroken except by the humming of the bees outside the window, for even Brian's complainings were stilled for the time. Once he murmured Margaret’s name and she felt his eyes upon her lace, but there was no intelligence in PJlly.the dullpegg of delirium. After a little while he bogWronoo more to give expressions to his fevered fancies. It was always Margaret and the shadow between them, Margaret reproaching ■ or repulsing him, or Margaret helpful and encouraging. And Margaret could only sit and listen; though when his sharp cry rang through the silence of the room, “M^ri garet, I can’t see you; where are you, i Margaret?” sh j placed her head beside him, and answered in low, wretched accents: “Here, Brian; close beside you. Can’t you feel my hands? They are holding yours. ” Did her voice penetrate that dull i brain? For one second she thought so. But no. The heavy eyes turned from her face. “Han s! Who said hands? Oh, yes; I remember now. You said it, Margaret. Don’t you know you said it? Your ht nd would be in mine. Do you—think of—the night? And I said—ah, I—said—what d<d I—say?” , His voice sank away in an unintelligible muttering. A few seconds of ; silence and his mind wandered again. He was fighting his old battles now and calling upon Margaret for sympathy

and help. And in an anguish that could find no other expression, she buried her face in the pillow beside him. “I can't bear it, I can’t bear it!” she cr ed, passionately. “Bear it,” repeated the w.eak voice. “Bear it? Ah, no; I can’t bear your contempt. You are—so hard; so hard — upon me. No right to—reproach you. No right —at —all.” Her head sank lower. She could find no answer to these bitter complainings. Suddenly she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and raising her miserable face she saw Wilson standing over her. “Will you came out in the air for a few moments?” he said, with quiet authority. “Ihe weather is pleasant. Thomas will take care of Brian/ With a sort of mechanical obedience she followed him to the broad piazza, where the pure air, warm sun and odor of sweet flowers seemed doubly grateful after the close atmosphere of the sick room. He was silent for some seconds. Evidently he found it difficult to' pu his thoughts in suitable language. She saw and understood his hesitation. “I know whit you would say,” she broke in, covering her face with her hands. “I know so well. You have heard Brian. You understand. And you must realize now’ what a hard, unkmd, undutiful wife I’ve been. What a ” “Hush,” he interrupted, in a strange voice. “I must not allow even your lips to say such unkind words about your- • seif. They are not deserved. You lay too much stress upon what he says, forgetting that it is only th .a. mg o. deLr.u n. Brian has made me his ccnI fidant ;nd I feel that I can judge. “ You cannot know all,” she answered, ; pressing her hands together. lot cannot know of the hundred little things ; —the motions, expressions, words—al ) meaning so much. You cannot know o ) them, but I do. They are always befolio me, and the last day—the very las * day—l spoke unkindly. I shall neve i forget it—never. I taw that it hur him. I intended to tell him I was sorry jI I had no chance. They brought hin

back so. Now he cannot know; he can* not understand that I would suffer any pain for a moment of consciousness to tell him lam sorry. God will not grant m «^y on — not even that.” Why will you think of all those things?’ he asked, pres ntly. “Isitnot human to be a little unkind sometimes? Lhen look at the other side also. What you have done for Brian. We must not bewail the past, but go on bravely to meet the future, promising ourselves always to do better and bette£- *ou want io go in now?" les, Doctor, I feel stronger, and I thank you." The days passed, bringng but little perceptible change in Brian’s condition. But the crisis came at last. Gradually the fever spent itself, and the tire I frame, wearied with its long struggle, sank into a stupor so d athlike that only the faint h art beats told that life was still there. Margaret knew that he would either waken with a new lease of life or pass into that deeper sleep that knows no waking on this side of eternity. She watched and waited, and prayed for the long hours to pass. The shadows of night, which seemed

। to have held ti e anguish of years, gave t place to the light of dawn. Ihe lines I of blue grew deeper and deeper in the east, the ilm of the rising tun rested ’ upon the br^w of Ihe h lls, and the dis- ’ tant crowing of a cock, 'welcoming the open ng day, came like a clarion note > through the silence. It r.eache 1 Brian’s ear. He turned uneasily. Margaret was on her knees in a second, a feeling half joy, half fear clutching at her heart She bent her face close to his. Perhaps he realized her presence, for he turned again and moaned slightly. His waking mind was struggling for comprehension, his eyelids trying to throw off the heaviness that held them down. At last they opened slightly, then w.der, and their slow wandering gaze fell upon Margaret’s face, a face white and drawn from long and anxious watching, but revealing a story of love. Those eyes were not slow to read. Thank God,” murmured Brian, with an effort to overcome his intense weakness. “Margaret, you—love me—at last? With a cry of passionate joy she burted her face upon his breast. “Oh, Brian, so much! so much that I could not live w.thout you. ” ‘ Thank Goi,” he said again, in a vo.ee scarcely above a whisper, yet vibrating with such inexpressible happiness that It reached WiLon, as ho stole silently from the room. “ Youfliave found your true place at last, my darling, my wife. Your true resting place. It is a weak defense now.” “It is my chosen rest and support, ” she answered, with brimming eyes, catching and holding in its place the weak arm that had tried to clasp her so lovingly. “It is weak now, but it will j bo strong soon. Let me lean upon its strength always. Let me have your heart, as you have mine, fully and entirely. Oh, if you could know how I tried to tell you this, as I sat by you during those hours when you could not understand; how often I laid my heart upon yours, hoping you might hear its beating, and maybe realize that it was full of love so.-you! You did not know then, but you know now, and—you may kiss your wife. ” Brian could not speak, but his eyes filled with something strangely like j tears, as she held her loving, blushing i face f 'f^jhe Icng. tender kiss ho ' upon*"* "P'’ Neither spoke again. With his hand , in Margaret’s, Brian was content to lie still until overcome by weakness he slept. [to be continued, i

The Future United States. “The population of the United States will increase for many years yet. but never again in so great a ratio as during the last century,” said Prof. Howard W. Shaw, now at the Southern. “This country can support a population of 300,000,000 much more easily than France can support her 40,000,000, but after we touch the hundred million figure our ■increase will be slow. It is cheap homes and high wages that now attract immigration. Low-priced land I will soon disappear and with it will ' go high wages, despite the wisdom of statesmen. Then, instead of a constant stream of homeseekers pouring into America, a considerable stream will pour out towards the fertile lands cf South America and Southern Africa. Uncle Sam will probably begin the twentieth century with 80,001,000 people; he will do well if he ends it with an increase of 20,000,000. By that time—the beginning of the twenty-first century—we will be a homogeneous people. There will be no longer Irish-Americans and Ger-man-Americans, but everybody will be American pure and simple. The manv streams that are now flowing h^herward from all parts of Europe will have amalgamated, and the result will be one of the best balanced . and most intellectual peoples the ; world has ever known.” —Globe-Dem-ocrat. Trunks. There are comparatively few roundtop trunks made now. The Idea was i that greater resisting power could be j obtained with least weight by imitating to some extent the shape of an egg, which, as we know, will bear an absurdly great weight, but unfortunately there was no guarantee that the baggage-smasher would always stand the trunk the right way up. His failure to do this gave number less reminders of the fact that no i box is stronger than at its weakest ' pfint, and the damaged sides bee am? । very common. Now most trunk* ■ are made with fiat tops, and are so ■ stiong all over that it is very diffiI cult, even for an expert trunk-smash- ' er, to break one. Artificial Worms. The latest triumph of Yankee in--5 ventive genius is an India-rubber fish- | worm. It is said to be a remarkably ; good imitation of the common earthworm, is indestructible, and in actual i use proves as alluring to the fishes as । the genuine article. For work to be the promoter of ' long and valuable life, we must know how to perform it and within what limits. Like everything else, we . must use without abusing it.

W OF VOTERS Grover Cleveland Elected President, RETURNS NOT ALL IN. New York Democratic by at Least 50,000. INDIANA ALSO CLAIMED later returns may change the situation.

1 Republicans Refuse to Concede Indiana ’ and Wisconsin Until Complete Returns Are Received—Weaver Carries Nevada and Lays Claim to Kansas—Some North--1 western States in Doubt—Slow Returns 1 Caused by the Working of the New Ballot Laws. 1 The Probable Result. HARBISON. Massachusetts New Hampshire 1 Pennsylvania Vermont “7 Maine c Michigan (divided)... ? Ohio \ Rhode Island ' . Minnesota * Montana .. lowa Kansas il, Oregon 4 1 otal 132 — , CLEVELAND. New iork Illinois 04 Alabama j” Georgia n Maryland H Michigan (divi-ied)... 7 New Jersey io South Carolina <> Texas 1,5 I Louisiana ’. .' ' M Arkansas « Florida 4 Kentucky ' ” ’" ~ Mississippi y Missouri ” 17 North Carolina n Tennessee in Virginia i > DeDvare 3 West Virginia . . . . . c, Connecticut « Wisconsin California y Totftl 2C3 - , WEAVER. Nevada 3 Nebraska \.... h South Dakota < Colorado 4 Total 19 T , IN DOUBT. Idaho .. Indiana 15 Washington..' ””j" ” 4 Michigan ’. . . ’ 9 North Dakota " 3 Wyoming ” 3 Total Grover Cleveland has been elected President of the United States. He lias carried New ' least MJ* 0 plurality; tie has carried Illinois by reason of the enormous Democratic vote of Chicago; Wisconsin and Indiana are probably Democratic, and New Jersey and Connecticut have joined with the victorious party in building up the vote for its national believed to hnv'’i>een enrrTe'l "or. til? "I’c'niie's there has been a rill anywhere in the suiM South it has been in the States of Delaware and West Virginia, which are so close that it is not sate to any whether er not they have remained with the Democrats. A partial showing of the unc of Massachusetts leaves it donltful. Gov. Russell, the Democratic Chief Magistrate, has apparently secured re-ele rtion.

SI MMAKV OF THE STATES. How the Election Has Gone in North. South. East ami West. From the telegraphic reports received up to the time this page was printed the result in the different States is summarized as follows: Indiana—Returns arc too meager to base any estimate of the result upon. Cains are reported for Harrison in Marion County, but the State is in doubt. The Democrat s claim Connecticut by 2.0C0, and the Rcuublicans make no claims. lowa is Repnblienn by about KOO • plurality. Democrats do not claim the State, RO figures are received from Congressional districts. Wisconsin is reported to have gone for Cleveland by 10,0( 0 plurality. The result in Kansas is quite uncertain, with indications pointing to the success of the Weaver electoral ticket. Republicans claim the State, however, and it will require the complete returns to decide. Simpson has probably been defeated. Other Congressional results are in doubt. ... mi Vermont gives Harrison a plurality, the vote on both sides has fallen off. Colorado, while casting a close vote, has probably chosen Harrison Electors, as also have Montana and Oregon. Maine will give Harrison a p.urality ot about 14,000. ~, Idaho is close, with both Fusionists and Republicans claiming a victory. Illinois—The indications are that Cleveland will have a plurality in Cook County of 25,0 0 to 30,000 and Altgeld about the same. Ihe country returns, however, generally indicate Republican gains and Democratic loss ?s. indications in favor of Cleveland and Altgeld. Michigan—lndications are that the Republicans will cleet the Presidential Electois-at-^New Jersey’s plurality for Cleveland is about 7,c00. The gubernatorial contest is in doubt. , _ ... Ohio has gore Republican by a pluraliuy slightly less' than the 21,511 given Governor McKinley. The State ticket has received about the same support. Congressional returns indicate the election of fourteen Republicans and seven Democrats. New York gave Cleveland a plurality of 55.000. The Democrats made gains over 1888 in the country districts as well as in Kew 1 ork and Kings County. The Assembly, which elects a United States Senator, is believed to favor the Republicans. . . Rhode Island cast the largest vote m its history, giving Harrison 2,500 plurality. South Dakota s Electoral vote is claimed for Weaver. The Republics State ticket is probably elected. . Montana has chosen Harrison Hit ctors and the Republicans elect a majority of their State ticket. , , „ . North Dakota has probably chosen hrrriscn Electors by LOO' I . and th; Republican State ticket is elected by suel pluralities. Nevada was swept by tne \\ eaver Electors, the Silverites carrying everything before them, including the Legislature. Oregon has chosen Harrison Electors it tne present ratio in the count continues. Massacliusetts has re-elected t.ow liliam Russell, Dem., by a plurality of 3,(00. Ihe rest of the Republican State ticket has been elected. Henry Cabot Lodge is having a close run for Congress. Missouri is Democratic by at least 3>.0i0. Stone, Dem.,for Covcmir. beats W a:ncr, Hep., about 17,000. Fourteen out, of fifteen Democratic Congressmen are elected. Kentucky went Democratic by about .».t,oo. Nine Democrats arc returned to Ct.nmess. The Tenth District is in doubt; a Republican was elected in the Eleventh District. Florida was carried by the Democrats. Ilie People's party did not cut mucn of a hsnre. Both Congressional districts e.ected I e . ocrats. Georgia elected a full Democratic Congressional delegation. Pennsylvania has given Harrison G5.C00 plurality and the Congressional districts arc nearly nil Republican by a large majority. Washington has p obably chosen Harriscn Electors, but the ch wees are Mat bnively, Dem., is elected Governor.

IN THE NEW HEBRIDES. Forty Thousand Cannibals are There, Says a Missionary. Not the least interesting of the Visitors to San Francisco at the present time is a venerable old man,with hair long, thick and white. Thisold gentleman is John G. Paten, missionary to the islands of New Hebrides. Here he has lanored for the last 34 years. When he went to New Hebrides from Scotland, where he was born, he was young and unknown: now he has D. D. attached to his name and is Presbyterian missionary for all Australia. Mr. Paten’s accounts of his experiences are very interesting. His Fork, lying as it has among the most savage of all the islanders of the Pacific ocean—the cannibals — has subjected the venerable missionary to many thrilling and not altogether pleasant experiences. Many times has he teen compelled to leave his bed at night and flee for his life. Many of his assistantshave been killed and eaten before his face and his own escape from such a fate he attributes solely to Providential protection. “When 1 went there,” says the missionary, “not a word could I e understood of the many languages of the New Hebrides cannibals, nor could they understand a word of English. Feathers were in the twisted hair of the natives. Their faces were painted red, black, and white. Some had one cheek black, the other red; others brown and wh'te and the chin blue. “There were warring tribes then as now. In a few moments there was the clash of clubs and spears and t.ie discharge of rune weapons, intermixed with wild cries. At length 1 sent a boy to get water for our tea. After a while of great anxiety on our part he returned, saying: “This is a

t.ark land. The people of this place do dark works. At the spring they have cooked ana feasted upon the slain. They have washed the blood into the stream. They have bathed there until the waters are red. I cannot get water to make your tea.’ “That was my introduction to the New Hebrides From the island of Tanna I at length went to the island of Aniwa, which has ever since been my island home. I might as well have ueen stricken dumb. One day I observed two natives, the one lifting up one of my articles to the other and saying, “Nunski nan enni” I considered that he was asking, “What is t us?” Instantly lifting a piece of wood I said, ‘Nunski nari enn.’ They smiled and spoke to each other. I understand them to be saying, ‘He has got hold of our language now.’ Then they told me their name for the thing I had pointed to. 1 repeated the questions, pointing to various things and carefully noting their answers down, spelling always phoneticillv It was in this way, after very close observation and long-continued labor, that I learned one language .-if ter another. "N o t that lias Ire are yet at least 40.«<S” ■•.u.nll.aU <•«» islands.” Goldie.

lie was one of the tough newsboys, bub honest, like men of his kind, though equally ready for a word or a blow. )\ hen he came out in his full glory, was when he had sold all his Sunday morning papers, ami had funds enough to treat his little sister Goldie to a street-car ride in the afternoon. ‘•Then he was a different kind of a kid, and we all had something to say to the little 5-year-old girl, who was being brought up by an aunt, the mother ot the two children having deserted them some time previous. “We fellows on the cars got well acquainted with Goldie, and her brother, and we had a sneaking affection for Goldie and that was why we were all broken up when on Monday morning as we went down on an early trip, we saw Bob—we never knew his real name —jump on the car with tears streaming all over his face: “ ‘Here’s-yer-mornin’ p-p-p-a-p-e-r-s, all about the collery in Azuh ’ “‘What's the matter?, Bob?’ we asked. “‘Gol-d-i-e’s dead!- Here's yer morn in’ p-p-papers, all about s-s (sob) Sull-’ (sob-sob). “‘What happened her?’ we asked as we grabbed right and left for papers, relieving him of all he had. •Was she s'-ck long? Never mind the change—that’s for Goldie.’

“Died er wantin’ a m-m-m other what weren’t no good. Thankee, > fellers I’ll get a bokay of f-f-lowers fer Goldie wid dis.’ “He walked off with something of his old swagger, but we saw that his thin shoulders were shaken with sobs, but there was such a mist in our own eyes that we could not see very well —for Goldie had been more to us than we knew, and it has seemed lonesome-like on the cars ever since, for Rob don’t sell papers any more.” —Free Press. Decay of Good Manners in Japan. The native newspapers of .Japan are lamenting the decay of good manners among the newly educated Japanese girls. They assert that under systems of education brought from foreign lands the usages of female life have, one by one, been abandoned, and the modern girl, in her attempts to imitate foreign manners, has almost transformed herself into a man. They say that pupils in the female schools at Tokio < f good families lie alone in the lodging houses, often walk unattended in the st re ts alter dark, and groups of five or six of them may be seen p aying at canis in tea houses. Tlie Japan M:iil, commenting upon these complaints, says as it is a subject for regret that female schools conducted on Western lines should attempt to enforce .1 new code of morals among the natives.

Selecting Table Linen. There is no economy in buying a poor quality of linen for the table. The cheat er'qualities become rough after the first laundering and soon fall into holes, while good linen improves in appearance after it has been washed a few times, is very durable, and retains its beauty and smoothness until it is worn very thin. But even if it were not more economical, it would well repay one tomake, some sacrifice in order to use good table linen, for there is a refinement about it which adds much to the pleasure of a mea., and in the case of children has an actual educational value. Unless one has unlimited means there is far more elegance in a fine quality of what might be called the standard” patterns than in some passing fancy th it loses the beauty when it ceases to be a novelty. Patterns which thickly cover the ground of the cloth or napkin are the best selections to make, as they wear more evenly, and are capable of taking on a more brilliant gloss from the iron than large plain spaces. One can always find handsome patterns in the fern-leaf, theshamiock, or the cloverleaf, and the designs are so artistic that they have the advantage of always being in fashion. Less showy, but not less elegant, are designs in broken squares, and the dotte.l linen is always to be found in fine qualities. It is better to buy tablecloths by the yard and hem them, than to get the set patterns with fringed edges. It is difficult to make the fringe look well after it lias teen laundered a few times, and the continuous pattern is more available for various uses than a limited design. Instead of the narrow hem formerly used, tablecloths now have a hem from one to three inches in depth, according tothe uses for which they are intended, and are frequently hemstitched, sometimes with a narrow line of embroidery above the hem, and sometimes with an embroidered monogram in the corner.

Napkins should invariably be hemmed, with the narrowest hem that can be made, and should always be sewed by hand. An initial or monogram in one corner, if daintily done, is a proper addition; but one should be chary about putting much needlework on a napkin, since it should please m ire by its elegant daintiness than by its elaborateness. For this icason it is well when purchasing large dinner-napkins to be careful not to get them too large. Anything over twenty-four inches sauare is superfluous and cumbersome. The larger sizes are found in the linen stores, but are not used so much as formerly, and the choicest patterns are more frequently found in medium sizes.

The Gospel of Clothes. No one would presume to say that we Americans arc not indiy(///,',< '<.t our tastes. Wo ..-wreTiunti Ty^Jwwt^t^Tfnpmris o f our own. If we jumble our architecture we are prepared to take the responsibility. But curiously, we make an exception to all this in whatever concerns dress. No prophet aiuomr us woulo presMTTn? to say of his own knowledge that fashions should be so or so. When it corner to a question of dress we set our laces lowm,) the East as resolutely as any of the devout . i. or ] oo i iCC t f O . ward Mecca. This is of men and women alike, but the burden ut the truth falls more directly upon woman's dress because it is so much more varied.

To say that women are slaves to fashion Would be trite; but it is always accorded that whatever the fetters they are worn gracefully. Women find it possible to effect an individuality in the most pronounced of imported designs, mainly because of the infinite var c y of fabrics and colors. But it is remarkable with what truth to the imported models these variations are held in the main. The Russian blouse, charming in its effect on slender women, has just made the gamut of colors, silks, laces, silver cordings, and gold. Almost no wardrobe has been without one. It is peculiar that writers on physical development hold that American women have always leaned toward the conservative in dress, to the exclusion of every democratic sentiment. They have worn longer skirts and more of them whenever a breath of fashion so dictated, and have lingered nearer the line Os suffocation in the matter of tight go .ms than the women of any other country. Clothes have in fact asserted a diabolical fitness, as though specially designed Io hamper and restrict exercise.—Godey's. Kestiiullon. A builder in Advise, a village in Champaign, was arrested and taken to Chalons,, where the judge of instruction c unmenced the conversation in the way usual to his calling by saying,— ■• You are a thief and an assassin. After this polite greeting, he went on to remark that a murder, accompanied by a theft had I een committed in the neighborhood, and a small boy had given it as his opinion that the builder was the murderer. The poor prisoner naturally felt indignant. and declared he was ready to prove an alibi. But, of course, he was not believed, and every day f( r three days lie was marched through Chalons ard Avise with handkulfs upon his wrists. At the end of that time the judge of instruction said to him: “We were wrong. Your innocence has been proved. You are free ” “Yes, d sgraced and ruined,” replied the poor bail lor. “Who do you think will employ me a ter seeing me led through the streets handcuffed like a felon'-”’ The heart of the man was touched. “True,” be said, “we have done 1 you an injury, ray good man.” And ! he pressed into the hand of the i builder a ten-franc piece.