The Syracuse Journal, Volume 1, Number 36, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 7 January 1908 — Page 3

••••••••©•••••••••••••a J ' • : Aunt Diana: • \The Sunshine • • • J of the Family • •••••••«•••••••••••••••

• CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) It was a l lovely evening, as Missie said —one ’of i-y S<?‘ rare September evenings that c<|me when: summer and autumn seem blending ii 1 each other. Alison . stood for a fnomeht in the hall, debating whether she was.too tired to seek Roger in the timber yani. or, whether she should in'dulge in silit,ary musing under the lime trees. A free half hour was a delicious boon, au'l she must employ it to the.best advantage. She decided after a moment that shl- was ’ too dull for even Roger’s company to cheer her — : for she was in one of tliose' moods that the masculine mind finds so difficult'to understand—and she was just taking down her garden hat from the peg when a figure came between her and the evening light,. a familiar voice’ spoke her name, and the next moment Alison was in -Aunt Diana’s arms. Miss Carrington’s kissesA were Very grave; and tender. They .spoke volumes, but she. seemed to have, no words at the : aaomCnlt. lint- Alison’s "Oh. Aunt Did” was more than eloquent—the, quiver of her; voice nv ant ecstasy. .But the next moment Miss Carrington put her at arm’s length, and. still holding her, scrutinized her- f:i<-"/ilm<>st pitifully. . "Allie, ury poor, dear child, what have ‘they done to you? Oh, dear, • .what thin cheeks, wh.it heavy eyes 1” And suddenly closing her fstce'.between'her hands, she kisWd her again and again, and Miss CarriiwieU .was mft-,a deni'instrative wft.m»n—h- meant something out of the cm mom. They brought Alisons sp'ft ‘color bank, a,nd. the .happy tears came into Her eyes] , ■ • "1 glad I did not tell you,”_.returia d. i- ' li’.v : "I shall be -quite’-well” ’ Jnd ‘ - 1 i now I have seen yo.it r dear face ’(;:. Oli. Aunt Di, h«w- I have ■ wair'd yim.” her. voice sinking still 'lower. ... • ' ■ ; . ■' .’•Vi's. I kno w.” replied "Miss' Fp). .''aiH<t abruptly-jr-all "the, more bo-' calise i;' feelings were not Sowell un- • tied. aad as usual.. ' ‘-Allie. what must i ye.ij; . H ! —it of my sil 'Cmne. L-i - ? ■ ' ijy o . oil without interruption. I don’t vq.-mr to ,soe any other face bitt yoiirs hi? rive -pt. sent- —not even Roger’s,” ?1 think my roont w.ill be best,” re-, turned Alison, hesitating a little, "Miss Leigh. its, in the drawing room and Rudel in th(W dining, room, and Roger' generally sits ifi the study when (he 'comes in of an evening. Wait a moment, Aunt Di, -pb-as'e; I must ask Sarah to make so’me tea/ for you —supper not be ready fob an hour. Oh,” smiling archly, “I fc'now yortr taster—Aunt' Di can not go . ' without; her tea.” 7 Miss’ Carrington offered no renion-, / etrau.ee; perhaps she was in need of refreshment. She waited to see the cabman deposit her .luggage in the hall, and then she followed Alison upstairs. ■ “My. dear,” she observed, looking round her as she entered, “this, is not your old room; I. thought this was Missie’s?” "Yes, but Missie had mine, and I did .not like 0 turn her out—it would onlyhave caused unpleasantness. Please do not look go grieved, Aunt' Di; I have got used to it. and do not mind the crane !so muehj as I did at first—at least, it does not m;tke my head ache.” “And] you never told me. I could not have bflrne to have thought of you in this room, Allie. Well, you have spared me many a heartache. I should halve wanted my child back .in her little nest, and have .been, unhappy because - ( I could no; get her." And Miss'Carrington positively s uddered as she looked at tile grim line? the crane, and round the e dark.irheavily furnished room. . * ,?“!. ahi glad' I. did not .tell yqji,” returned Alison...geptly, as she unfastened" « Miss Carrington’s mantle and- waited on her. Perhaps Aunt Diana loved to . feel the soft little hands’ busy about her, for she offered., no resistance as Alison smoothed her hair, and. brought her a footstool, of which she . took possession herself. „ -‘ - “That is right.” observed ittiss ( Carrington, Sticking the brown- head that laid itself'in child fashion on her lan. Alison was sV> very tired there was' acter abandon in her attitude, and yet. she was so happy, too. f , . *•. “NOW we will have one-of our cozy talks—don't look at the door, Allie—l am in no hurry for my tea. My dear; I am longing to tell you how it is your letters h.nv.e miscarried; I read, them all for the’ first* time, last night.” “Aunt Di, do you mean that you have flown to us-—only telegraph wires could have done it.” laughing incredulously. l‘,‘You may? be sure that I should have flown *o you if I had the power,” returned Miss Carrington, seriously. “Allie, I was not in Switzerland, as you thought. I was recalled suddenly, a fortnight ago by Mr. Moore’s sudden illness, iGreville telegraphed for me, and I came home at once.” “Mr. Moore ill !”. exclaimed Alison, ■ with a fast paling face. ; “Yes, very ill, but, thpak God. my dear old friend is now. It has been an anxious? time for'us, darling. Greville is cast dOwri and unhappy—you need not Took at ; me Ase^ reproachfully. I would . not . rite to you —-it would have given you useless pain, ’ and I was so engrossed with pursing that letters were impossi- , hie .luxuries,.-. Little did I think my night Allie was anvious , and unhappy, too.” “Aunt Di. that js* why you look tired.” ■“Tired! child, It is a blessed thing to wear out one’s self for one’s friends. I love that sort of fatigue. I could not have left my* patient Until he was out of danger, but'now I can safely trust him in .Greville’s He is a capital nurse, in spite of his boyishness, and he has Burton to help him. By the bye, Mr. Moore sent his love to Sunny. Stay, I must try and remember his message; he bade his little sunbeam remember her mission, and not to be afraid of cloudy days.” — “Did Mr. Grevjlle send me * message, too?” asked Alison, a little, timidly. Miss Carrington hesitated.

“Well, I think he sent his love, too-— in fact, he sent a great many messages, but I told him I could not be a carrier of nonsense, and should only deliver one — ft That he had kept his promise, and had been working famously.’ ” “Oh, I am so glad,” returned Alison, brightening at this. “Aunt Di—it was not good of you to keep Mr. Moore’s illness from me; I should have liked'to have shared your aniiety. Dear old man, I am so thankful he' is spared.” S' “His character seemed lovelier than ever in his hours of suffering,” observed Miss Carrington, thoughtfully; “he was so patient, so grateful to us all fog-i our care of him. I understood then what being dike a little child meant—it seemed as thdugh-it were we who were, blind, not he—he. seemed so steeped in the light of heaven.” * ’ "Do.you think he wanted to die?” asked Alison, in an awestruck voice. . “Howstrange it seems that he should be so willing to go.” “Why not?” replied her aunt. “Death has no terrors for him. Why should he fear (he summons from the Master whom he loved and tried to serve here, add who died on the cross for his redemption? And yet hej was resigned to -stay,. for Grm ville’s ifcake. ‘The lad wants me a little longer;’ he said once. ‘Well, I Suppose 1; can spaae my boy a year or two out of ■ eternity.; I meait to have no. will; of.my own about it. When’the (Master calls I shall be - ready,, but perhaps—fpr who knows His graciousness?—-He may be thinking of my boy. too.’” ■'* “How I should love to.see him again!” T'*claimed Alison with a srgh. | '( "So you will bv and by, I hope.. He ■ missed .you di(-adfu.y.y. Alison.” “Ahdwou, Aunt Vi?" , ' ’ , “I. am .not going to tell you about that.”. Then, as' Alison's ■ eyes looked pleading, she continued earnestly : '“Child. I believi? we are a sort of necessity to each other —at least, I find my life, wiH not shape itself properly withbuf you. I am always thinking how Allie will like- this or that.; Your alienee quite took away, the pleasure of my trip.. You naughty child, you .look 'di' !! Jc- d:. but th--re comes my tea! pour me a cnp. and then tell moj ■‘all . about your poor father.” ® . Alison was soon narrating the st< cl" the last !' .'. :;A’.t. Miss Carrin,: ■; '.had received hers and Roger’s .-letters late ’ •the previous nigld" and- Mr. M<'-->-c's bad put her. in possession of the latest news-;, ■’still there was much that she wished to hear. She listened attentively, and without ijitcrrupfioß. as the girl poured ou thb-history of het'hopes-and fears. Tlei grave, interested face, and now andither . a tightened grasp of Alison’s hand, s- -k ; in mute sympathy, but otherwise she Said little. , ' “It hasi Ween a dreadful time,” .finish-ql Adison. "Roger and I were so afraid of papa, and then Missie- was so. unhappy and ill, That is Roger’s whistle, Di —he is wondering what has become eff me, Shall I call. him in?” And Miss Carrington nodded. > Roger’s look of intense surprise amused .them Sxcessiyfely, but he welcomed hjs aunt with evident satisfaction. “Now Allie will be all right againj,” He observeft, with a smile at her; “she has been sick for months, ; Aunt Diana. You are not going to take her away fralm us just at present, are you?” “No, not just now,” returned Miss Carrington, quietly. “I am going to stjop until you are tired of me, and then Alaie and I must say good-by ‘to each other fdr a little' longer. What should you say! to bringing her for. a few weeks .ip pie spring, if your father gets better? You look in want of a Roger; tljiey are working you too hard, my boy.” j.. “You must not tempt me, Aunt Diana,” he returned, rather gravely. “TMre will be no holiday for. me next. year. The whole .concern rests on my shoulders at, present, and oiur manager is a defaulter. Alison shall gd with you, ‘ and welcome?’ “Well,. well, we must see about 1 it; ‘ winter comes before spring. Therij is. plentw of time, and I don’t mean to give up Imy plan of having you and Allie together, ' Now I must see your ,fa they; will you take ■me- to him?” And Roger consented with alacrity, ■ . - In tiie passage she stopped and'laid her -hand upon his arm. „ “Thank you for taking • care of' A Hie ; 1 know how good ypu have been to iivr." “It is she who has been good’to us.” he 'returned, with a sudden ■ flush. “Aunt Diana, you do not know the blessim she has been to us; we have to thank you for that! Alison world nqger have been the girl She is if you had not taken so much pains with hen.” “Don't make me vain, Roger.” ’’ “ijtissie and I have proposed bilying her a little red morocco book and I presenting it to her,” continued Roger, with dry humor; “the title will be ‘Aunt Diana’s Sayings,’ for Allie, brings ’ out a fresh one every day,, Missie says she Is inventive, and coins them herself; but I have an idea,that they are genuine.’! Miss Carrington shook her head at him, and only bade him lead - the | way to his father’s room. Alisoft had already prepared him for his sister-in-law’s (visit, and he held out his hand (with a pleased smile. I “This is kind, Diana. ■ I said the silence was not like you; my poor girl here has been fretting herself abodt it; but of course you never got the letters.” «■ “No, indeed; Alison will tell you about it presently. It is too late for me to prolong my visit now. Invalids Should be quiet at this hour. You see I qnder-" •stand a(ll about it, Ainslie; but I am grieved to the heart, to see you like this.!’ •’ must not make yourself unhappy' abotft it; it is, only -a case of patience, and I have good, attentive -childrep. I wish theiy mother could see ‘them!; .she was always so’ proud of them.” ■‘Yes, indeed! Poor Florence,! you must miss her, Ainslie.” And Miss Carrington’s lip quivered slightly, for her sister had been the object.of her dearest affection; she had nevei; felt so drawn to 'Florence’s husband as she did now; her gray eyes rested upon him pityingly. “Children,- you must take care of your aunt; she must be "tited with her journey, To-irlbrrow you .must; come and sit with me, Diana.” Miss Carrington , fel£ herself gently dismissed, but, she did not misunderstand him, and, pressing his hard kindly, she followed the others from thi room. - ‘ CHAPTER XX. Missie received the news of Aunt Diana’s arrival with an exclamatidh of diea hot flush came to Jur face.

- “Oh, Alison, it will be dreadful to see , her J I always was afraid of her, you ' know; she is one of those painfully good people who make one feel small and hor- [ rid? Please don’t let her irf tonigljt.” And Missie sat bolt upright in a panic. Now, Miss Carrington had quick ears, and she caught the most of this speech and laughed to herself softly; for it is thofee who, try hard to be good who are the? most conscious of evil within, and Miss Carrington was one who had often with St. Paul, “The gooq that I would I do not.” •'Her heart £elt very soft toward the willful little girl 'who had brought such misery on herself (and others, even before she entered the room, but her first sight of Missie gave h?r a feeling of surprise. She said afterward she celised to wonder at Ainslie’s infatuation for the child, for she was certainly a bewitching little creature. I The . pink ribbons in Missie’s dainty dressing gown were not pinker than her cheeks, her blue eyes shone with uneasy light, and the soft, fair hdit Dy in celicate rings above the pretty; childish f ice; her frightened, appealing look would 1 ave touched a colder heart than Miss < .’arrington’s, and it was with real affectidmthat she bent over her. But Missie’s .fender conscience-' made her shrink from 'her- aunt’s kisses. j “Please don’t be so kind to me, Aunt (Diana —every one and it is not right." “My dear littl4 girl, w.e ndne of ‘us _ want to see.our poor little butterfly broken on the wheel; we are far tod sorry for you. Os course, you have been a naughty child; you.have been setting tour small, world bn fire, and-, have got your pretty wings singed. Well, now you have learped wisdom through painful bxper’ienee, . .and we must all help you to get the les°son. perfect.” . “I don’t think any bne was" ever so ivieked a? I, Aiiht Diana,” sighed Missie. “Well, . m.y | dear,” returned, her aunt, briskly,“it is (not' my concern to,go’ about weighing my w'ighbor’s tr-’s->asses. in .a balane?; 1. don’t fancy human scales would be nicely adjusted: but 1 am quite sure- -of (one thing.—that I was a very I naughty child myself—the red-cheeked apples ■ I- stole gave me moral indigestion ' It was' impossible to look grave, over this; Alisbn’s merry laugh was; infectious. Miss Carrington stayed a few more min-. . utes.. questioning Missie abott-her arm. and talking.kindly to her. un il’the poor child was; quite happy and at lier ease. . "I what it is” she said that niglit. wlieh' Alison gave lier the . good-night kiss; “you all seen trying to make me believe that I have-not been naughty.at all,, and that ther J is ndthiilg to forgive}” ' . . , . ‘ • ‘"I thought forgiveness mea it that," returned Alison; simply; “ydu know how the Bible speaks of si.nsAb otied' out—that means the page is* agai<j--one can write freshly across, tile blank. There never was a merrier supper table than -the one at The Holms that night; late as it was. Poppfe sat up for it. and ' no one rebuked her ffr her chatter. Rudel kept up the character of a bashful school boy: but even he relaxed bis -wide-eyed gravity when Otter was admired and kind inquiries-made after Sulky. Aunt Diana knew the way to a,boy’s heart; though she never had a bqy of hdr own; but there are some unmarried 4’ omen whose large natures can embrace a Whole world of little ones, and such a one was Aunt Diana. ;■ . * But as she talked and laughed with the others. Ker k°een gray; eyes followed' son’s every movement. It sdemed to Miss Carrington that her .darling was changed somehow—some of the brightness that had always lighted her young face had faded a little; she- was graver and more in earnest. j > “Allie has laid aside her leading’Strings, and has learned to walk alone,” she said to herself; “though she loves me as much as e’yer, she needs me less. I ought to be' glad to know this, for I can hot. ex-' ■ pect to live foreVer.” ■, (To be continued.) ; As Things Are,. It Was!, evening in the great west. The golden?sun. had gone down over the cornfields and all was silent. , . “Mapia, v iiat did you do with that Rubens that came today?” .“I hung itj up in the art gallery nesit to the Rembrandt.” ' “That’s right, how about that new balloon we ordered?” • — “We got a wireless from the factory today, saying that it wouldn’t be ready until next week.” “Um! That will -give one of them chauffeurs of ours an excuse to be Couldn’t get ans of them chaps to help with the hay. How? is the new French cat- acting?” ’ , “Fiue, but I had to telephone for a new.set of fires.” “Did that consignment of government bonds come?” “Yes.” . “And how about that first folio.edition of Shakespeare?” “That’s here.” And then the Kansas farmer, removing his evening clothes and putting ou hip overalls, went out on the estate and locked up for the night.—Thomas L. Masson in Success Magazi>»e. A Question of Honor. Mother —Willie, you wicked boy, you haven’t kept your word. You promised you would never steal jam, and here I find you at it again. it’s no worse than you. You said you were going out this evening. and if you had kept your Word you wouldn’t have found me stealing jam. , ' Quite Out of Place. Timid—That boss of yours is so pompous he always makes me feel ill at ease. Clark—Strange; J felt out of place when he was talking to me to-day. Timid—That so? <Clark —Yes; he was telling me I needn’t come back after Saturday. ■ Her Hero. “Who’s your ideal of bravery?” queried the old bachdor. Is it General Kuroki? “No,” answered the spinster desper ately, “it’s a Mormon.”—The Tatler.

WOMEN

• “Types” of Femininity. Charles R. Barrett, an educator known throughout the Middle West. a classifies American women into “types,” desirable and undesirable. He says: “The type of American woman most in’the public eye is artificial, insincere, extravagant and selfish; She is an unsolvable proposition. She will tyrannize her husband and loveji dog. “This type demands consideration.on the ground of sex only. She has received such attention by reason of sex that she is spoiled, ovefqueened She does not recognize merit or-worth as .qualifications necessary to herself. She is nervous ami proud of it. She repose and poise, 'having much the disposition of a spoiled child. Incapable of gratifying her ambitions alone, l she is dependent ou the intellectual or financial worth of father or husband to . get a place in society. She likes a palatial -home, but lacks appreciation of how. she gets it or who maintains it. She seeks recognition and admiration solely from the rating of worldly possessions and the influence she commands through the position of father or husband. " ? --’ "Tljere is also the ‘fine and dandy’ type—the victims of f.-pldism. .the imitators of the rich and fashionable, the, frivolous, the butterfly, the giddy, the the self-deceived type, possessing possibly the intellectual ,-colorihq of a . seminary; the umliscipiihed. the unaiubitiotts. the uiishitioiied type that needs to be moored to some of the responsibilities and. sul stantialities. of life. f ■ ‘ “These typep do. not represent the mhood and motherhood of opr ceuntrj-. W'he one that does represent it' is ‘sensible.' sincere, eeononiic;.! and charitable, and-has littl'e regard for the' extravagance and arujciality 1 of. her’ sex.’? -' ; ? •' ? .. ■' ! Bine Corded SilK. i, I 0 W ■ . ® evl ''EW ® nI , i® " ’ ill A stumiiiig visiting gown of .Copenhagen blue corded silk with empire ' skirt ami short-waisted blouse. Ou the latter there is'a plastron- effect of silk. ! beautifully embroidered; in , silver thread. ’ A bow of black satin caught with a btflkie of brilliants furnishes an attractive finish. Worn with this costume is a striking hat of black satin and plumes, Woineii'st Deterioration. . “Women shtuld not col>‘y. men in. dress, manner or ideas.‘but should be like the women of colonial days, who could sew. cook and care ’’or the home, and who had an abiding faith in their husbands,’’ declared t Rev. William Hayes Leitvill. D. D., president of Westminster College, Fulton, Mo., in his address at the recent banquet of the Society of Colonial Wars, held in St. Loftis. ’ , . “Few women of to-day,” he : said, “would leave their homes, their friends and all the attractions of life, to follow their husbands into a foreign land as did the women of colonial days. Modern influences have had a detefioi’atlng effect on worpen; they have destroyed much of the attractiveness ofwomen. ? ‘.‘The home is the place for women unless it is absolutely necessary for a them to leave it. Ido not believe any woman should enter the field of (business and take a man’s place unless conditions require that she should do so. I am not a believer in woman’s rights as woman’s rights are known to-day.” Rules Tor Sick Room, ■ Every woman ought to acquaint herself with the generalities to be observed in caring for the sick. Do not •it m ths edge of the bed, sway back

and forth in a rocking chaiF. or rattle -the leaves of a book or newspaper. , These things are often annoying to a well person. Never speak to the patient of his symptoms; neither go to the opposite extreme and appear disinterested. A person ill .appreciates and craves sympft hy, - Cultivate a light touch, a low tone of voice, and a light step, but do not go about stealthily on tiptoe or whisper. The patient's curiosity is sure to be. aroused and lle ( becomes restlegs. See that the hinges of the doors are well oiled. Open and shut them noiselessly, but not slowly. ■Dch not attempt to do the patient a good turn by reading aloud to him untiL he is well- along on the road to re- ; covefiy- The exertion of listening,is wearing • when one is weak. Came? Muffs- -are gigantic in size and in cart, ' ' '■ - Cloth’ top boots again are to be in vogue. i Paris declares that all hats must ‘be dark. ■ ’ * \ ' Squirrel pelts are in great demand fei‘ linings. effects in millinery are now. discouraged, . , '. , Many skirts are unlined, aiM as never b 'fore. . Dlrecioire hat scarfs come in colors -to match any hat. New veils are so long as to be almost cuiiibersome’. Touches of color.®smarten many costumes of neutral tint. Net and lace are the most used-waist materials of the season. Two ‘faced cloths are much in vogue for long automobile coats. » ' Louis XVI. designs are most popular ■among coiffure ornaments. The Russian -Cossack cap is one of the leading turban shapes. Xew turbans -are roomy, coming down on the head to the ears. Boots with uppers in harmony with the costume are much affected. The directoire glove is laced up the sides instead of being buttoned. ■ One of the newest fancies is for stiff linen collars, trimmed with color. Many new dancing frocks are mlade ()f .tulle, embroidered with • beadwork. The simulated button hole, elaborately worked, is” seen on every variety of gown. ■ ■ Net waists, lined. wit% China silk,, have tucked fronts jand backs and long sleeves. The most fashionable epats are almost perfectly straight from shoulder to hem. - •* The extremes in hat, muff, and coiffure sizes were never more pronoun epd'. For the first season in many years all ’tVhite is overshadowed by colors, evpn for dancing frocks. A, favorite hat will be the . merry widow, reduced in size, but with increased ornamentation. Table Appointments. Fruit trays are made with very high handles. e . Some are incased in flhp wicker. Bonbon dishes are made in novel styles. Shallow silver dishes are used Tto hold olives, pickles, and cheese. Miniature forks are used for numerous purposes. ‘ They are graceful and dainty* straw for drinking soft drinks is now* made of silver and found on all modern tables. There are wipe coolers of silver and porcelain. » Fine platters hold egg cups. Pierced silver trays are. used for various purposes. Quaint milk jugs have a pitcher to match. .' ' A great many of the tailor-mades of the day are being m3de with two skirts, one short and the other long. For the woman who makes one or two suits do duty throughout the season, it is an economy. Some of the coats that go

wdth short cloth suits are so elaborate with braid that they deserve more thaa a showing at jilaces where walking skirts are permissible; Given a modish long skirt and the coat may literally go to mill and tKmeeting most acceptably. Select geranium red fiashmere and make the skirt with inverted plaits, hut press the plaits from waist to hpm to give a straight effect. Have the plaits broad, slightly broader at the hem-.' Ma lie the waist, with a roundwj yoke, small tucks on each slioplder, splice the material froiii the ypke to the bottom of the dress waist aiid turn under the edges to make elongated - V-shaped openings. Run the alloVer net under these openings—there should be three, ft broad one in the center and one pt each side—then lace thpin across with narrow red silk soutachq and tie at the top with small bows«? having tassel ends. Lace the sleeves from the shoulder to the wrist, and b«ve narrow strips of lace beneath. Narrow riillles of tulle at the top of the collar and wrists will be needed. ' Cnrron OH for „ Burns. .Burns and scalds are; niore. likely to happen ,in the .kitchen, tlmn in other parts of the'house, so it is .well to pro-, vide for the special us?. of the domestics a bottle of earron oil—a mixture of equaigparts oif linseed <lll and lime water—and also a -isupply ot" soft’ linen . rag or lint for. their special use in 'case' of emergencies. A clean, pir-tigbt tin sli-aild be. used for stb'r'iiig the band-, * ages.-so that they may not get soiled. The 'cijrEdn !oif relieves the', pain of burns and Healds pt -once. The 'lint, should be soaked in it;and laid’ou the wound, to exclude the air. that healing may'begin as-socii- as possible. - !- T •;?'■. .‘ Boiling 200; Once. If one would be faiiliiliar with all the latest <!■ -irical; novelties, he must m.ake?n topr of the kitchen of a big ■Ate: c, :e l:u-.-r. Thej :u;: a, i;-i :ic (ggboljers, like]those ou t|hp Lusitania and M; or! I. : :'t’’ able ;i - 2 ’ .ecgsi at og'-e. a < 1 aue' ut - ■ , ■ * to hop; out cf tl.c wail ;■ a; aiiy iiaii' aainutc .up tis six Hiiniiitos. . • noil) r ii< velty is -' - ! lump? oyst. :■ ?no" ;er for' stows. At til.' '■-.! ■•;, ■ . a: time till' cc.oker pones its <■■-. b'tus into a soup plate a.r:;l :u; ' :;;a' sects off the .electricity, i Fur, X'eckivear. » JWK ( -ii'V' i ■ - uW ; It # is quite the fashion to put fur on some of the smart! pieces of- neckwear’ that are ivorn with; elaborate gowns;' The sketch shows; one .. ot tlie .best mbdpls., The collar band is of Irish late, with frills'of old pink chiffon at top and bottom. The long, full-jabot : is.of the pink,, ahd is edged, like the stock, with narrotv black fur. There' are loops of pink satinj ribbon down the center, held in place with an ab’dng gilt buckle. | Huffs for Short Necks. Surely- every article in the realm'of fashion inay be so modified that it will be beeonpng to almost yvery; woman. For instance, the lovely neck ruffs, that were the despair of the short-, npeked woman, are ppw fashioned in away that she may not only wear cue, but find that it suits her. In jbe front from ear to ear the ruff, is quite plain and flat, a fold of ribbon or a strip of fur, perhaps, while the flack portion is augmented by the conventional ruffling or frilling, a bow in the back bein«?the finish. 1 iJow Sewing- Chair. A wOmari who s<'Ws a great deal of the time has found that her back doefe not become. so tired if her chair is low, or if she'has. a stool upon which to’rest her feet. It is surprising what a difference the comfortable position makes and how much more work she can do. Should the arms become weary, she ; puts a cushion in her‘lap. ('On this she rests her elbows, changing the position'of her sewing, thus giving both arms and eyes -a chance to recover. 1 Lout: Seven Millioil Children. Tiw birth rate in the United States in the days of its Angle-Saxon youth was one of the highest in the world. In the course of a century the proportion of our entire population consisting of children under the age of 10 has fallen from one-third to onequarter. This for the whole United States is equivalent to the loss of about 7,000,(00 children. . ’ I

fSsfß Chili Con Came. Cut a round steak into inch pieces/ and put it ijito the frying pan w th a tablespoonful of -hot'drippings, a cup of'boiling water and t two tallies >oom fuls of rice. \Cover.closely and cooK . steadily until the meat is tender.' Remove the seeds and a part of tin rind_ from two large dried red peflpers, ijpver ‘ these with water, add garlic and? liyme i to taste, sinimer until soft, then squeeze all the water from the peppers, and i throw them away. Season the .vater with onion ’-juice and pepper)- aid., to ; the cooked meat-and-ried mixture, boif up and serve. If-not thick enough add I a little flour. ] Scotch Shortbread. ■ CrCatm ohe] eup of putter am thenI ,beat iii.one-halt .' tip of >ugaf. ui|ng a'’ light brown s<ift sugar, for gran ilhttod 'or' white sugar will not nia'ke th) rake . or’bi'ead as it should be. Work ii 1 Hour - in which is mixed a H-v>‘l !teasp,it>n of cinnamon.! until' a dough is mai e-that can be flattened out. Cut the edges ■ with a pastry* jigger to leave a e.’imped I r d- -—■■ :t ■' ’ Cheese t ake. (’ream viyH togeth()s; a pound ?.ich ot ;.fresh liuitcr apd of graSulated jsugar, ; beat into it' the. yolks' -bU' s’r . eggS?r whipped, llglijt, and put over tin tire in a perfectly clean pan. Stir coi stantly |juntlH-'smobtli and. ' a -rated' - r-L set asi !-■ tn ■■■■' A ; w/i.-n. colfl ; pour 'iHto small pqns lie 11 with ! rich ]);■<?•<;■ ntiid'-bakot until tl yntsi. i ami tilling qre brown. ... n- j ■ . »« ' -•" ''' 1 « ia ("rrniM. 4 , (m-ioris and ioak Ji; ei -'d water . foi; .tpi? [ uii'nutcs. Brain. >ve.r 'wi.’Ji bailing\ I salted water and boil until ver.' tender If, the onions are st.roi|g»ch; ngo the wjtler oia. W-ien (lone-' drain th> ■.’roticbiy. add ituni ;h- tlito ■ i-r -.iin to uiioisti-n well and season with - butter, salt if ee-.-ess-ary am pepper Übat but do not boil. . Corn Fritl-ers. . Drain the liqtior from a <-ai. of corn . ajid turn 'out the contents -sq • several hours before using. Chop he , cortf fine. Make a batter of a c ipful of milk, one beaten egg. salt to-.aste ami ( enough flour to makb a thin batter.' Into this beat tlie chopped corn and whip Jiard for severel minut is. Cook im a hbt.’gridclle as you w >i|ld pan rakes. RemOviiig Acidity from Ftult. Not every person knows that if a pinch of baking soda be a< tied to a rhubarb pie or pudding it no * only Improves the/flavor, but also e conomize* the sugfir. The soda,, immediately the rhubarb Cqinmences to cook, mixes with the acid., guAthe two sthrt to >fferves<'e. Most of the avid is then oof nteract&l. ; ind so less sugar is- require!, ; ■ ?' -P - Floating, Island. into a pint of rich creain, to taste, stir sufficient curra it jelly to make-it a pretty color., Splead slices of spopge cake with inarfti tlade, pile them evi'iily in a glass disl and pourthe pink cream over then! Flavor 'anothe? plnt' - bf rich cream vHth lemon, sweeten it,' and'whip to a stiff frotl-i,' then heap on tli'e cake. / , j , Kiiefi'Cake!,.? One cup of. sugar, one egg,-two cups of. sour ;tnilk;- four Tablespjibnfuls of melted shortening; two teas looufuls of soda, ofie-half t< isjioonful of. nutmeg: a of stilt,’ flour to make a soft dough. Mix h'id roll out, having flip dough as soft as it can be handled? try-in-dbep. boil ng fat. ,- -■ —: .-j b * Tomato Sau<?e. / < Cook a quart of ton’iatix'S twenty' minutes, and straiii. thrOugli a coarse bag into a saucepah,’ Season with a teaspoonful of onion juice, one of sugar, a little salt and pepper, aad when it boils stir in a tabkspoqnful of butter cooked to .to roux with one of flour.’ Simmer two miniltes and serve! Pie Crust.'!' . • ' Rub well together one.-jalf yup of lard and one pint of flour’ "edd water enough to make a dough rot too stiff ; roll out and spread with butter, over evenly and,make-a second fold in’ the opposite direction; roll out again, being careful not to squeeze , the butter out. I Cnl»hajje Mein. Take one and one-hal . pounds ot round steak ground, two pounds of pork steak ground, one cup of soaked bread crumbs, two eggs, Jto taste. Mix well and shape- into balls. Roll into a boiled cabbage leq f and fry in hot buffer. -’ ' . > , v ,Pudding Sau<c. . Ciyam together one _‘ci*p of sugar, two ■ tablespoonfuls of butter anQ two tableof flour, then mid a pint of boiling water, put over th 1 fire and Ixiil for three-minutes, stirring. Add the juice of a lemon and sere. Frosted Coff' ;e. '< A beverage that is a Tavorite with men is frosted coffee, an I have it hot. Fill a glijss half full of s saved ice, one heaping teaspoonful of p< Wflere<l sugar. Pour the hot coffee over and pile high with whipped cream. ‘ ? Kitchen Foe. ‘u. If kitchen floors are painted with boiled linseed oil thejr ar? cleaned very easily.