THE WIND FROM THE NORTH.
"We'll linyp n mill spoil pretty soon,
For the bnekklug's bhr.o In blue."
And hp mil mill gazed
Wliilo llii! hacking bin zed.
Nop wondered If I tie sign were Irui'.
"The wind frmii tln ;n.rli will com
Willi fniMt In the breath It blows,
And tin' lingering hu.c
Of tho n it ii in ti days
iWill drear into winter's snows."
"The red uinl yellow leu v- mi tin- tree
AN" ill be sen red to n dull, dead browu,
For tin' liliint tlmr I'liilU
In the blast that kills
tVYben the wind from tlio north ccmiich
down."
'And wc Muddled up to gran'mii's knees
An nlie Hat in the liiK armchair,
With her head bent low
In the heiirth fire's glow,
'And ber limidii In our uncled linir.
We watched the blue bluze flicker out
'And the bucking, to ember turned.
Change from red to gray
Till an sli heap lay,
TnrultiK eold where the Cra had burned.
Cbieagu Chronlele.
PitODKlAIS RKTUKX.
"Yes, mother, he will come. Of
course, he will come:" and the girl
turned her drawn ntul anxious yonn
, face toward the eottuge door, Just an
If ber blind mother could sue the ac
tion. It Is probable thut the old woman
divined the longing glance from tin
change, In the Kill's tone, for she. too.
half turned toward the door. It wits a
habit these two women hud ac(tllr'il.
They constantly looked toward the
door for tlio arrival of one who never
came through the long hii minor days,
through the quiet winter evenings;
moreover, they rarely spoke of other
things; this arrival was the topic o
their lives. And now the old woman s
life was drawing to a close, as some
lives do. wit limit Its object. She her
self felt It, and her daughter knew It.
There was In both of iheui a subtle
ense of clinging. It was hard to die
without touching the reward of a
wondrous patience. It was cruel to
deprive the girl of this burden, for in
most burdens there Is a safeguard. In
nil a duly, and In some the greatest
happiness allotted to human exist
ence. It was no new thing, this waiting
for the scapegrace son; the girl had
grown up to It, for she would not know
her brother should she meet him In
the street. Since sight bud left tho
old mother's eyes she bad fed her heart
upon this hope.
He had left them eighteen years he
fore In a lit of passionate resentment
against bis father.whoie only fault bud
been too great Indulgence for the son
of his old age. Nothing had been too
Ifood for dear Stephen hardly any
thing bad been good enough. Kdti
cated at a charity school himself, the
Kimple old clergyman held the mis
taken view that no man can he edu
cated above his station,
There are some people who hold this
view still, but tliey cannot do so much
longer. Strikes, labor troubles anil
the dilliculties of domestic service: so
called gentleman farmers, gentleman
shopkeepers and lady milliners above
all, u few colon!es peopled by univer
sity failures -will leach us In time
that to educate our sons above their
station Is in handicap them cruelly In
the race for life.
I' Stephen Leach was one of the early
victims to tills cra.e. Ills father, hav
ing risen by the force of Ills own will
and (lie capabilities of his own mind
from tile people to the church, held,
as such men do, ihut lie had only to
give his sou a good education m In
sure his career In life. So everything
even to Hie old parson's sense- of
right and wrong was sacrillccd to the
education of Stephen l.eacli at public
school and university. Here he met
and selected for his friends youths
whoso futures were Insured, and who
were only passing through the for
mula of an education so that no one
could say that they were unlit for the
snug government appoint incut, living
or inheritance of a more substantial
nort that might be waiting for them.
Stephen acquired their ways of life
without possessing their advantages,
and the consequence was something
very nearly approaching to ruin for
the little country rectory. Not having
been a university man himself, the rec
tor did not know that nt Oxford or
(Cambridge, as In the army, one may
live according to one's tastes. Stephen
I .ouch had expensive tastes, and he
unscrupulously traded on his father's
Ignorance. He was good-looking, and
had a certain brilliancy of manner
which "goes down" well at the var
sity. F.verything was against him,
and at last the end came. At last the
rector's eyes were opened, and when
a narrow-minded man's eyes are ouce
opened he usually becomes stony at
the heart.
Stephen Leach left England, nnd be
fore he landed In America his father
had d parted on a longer Journey. The
Ne'er-do-well had the good grace to
end back the little sums of money
saved by bis mother In her widow
hood, un, I gradually bis letters ceased.
It was known iliat he was In Chill,
ntul there was war going on there,
and yet the good old lady's faith never
wavered.
"He will come. Joyce." she would
say. "he will surely come."
And the girl would go to the w indow
and draw aside the curtains, looking
down the quiet country road toward the
village.
"Yes, mother, he will come," waa ber
usual answer; and one day she gave a
little exclamation of surprise and al
most of fear.
"Mother." she exclaimed, "there b
mm-oiie coming along the road."
The old lady was already sitting up
In bed staring with her sightless orbs
toward the window.
Thus they waited. The man stopped
opposite the cottage, and the two wom
en lien ril the latch of the gate. Then
Joyce, turning, saw that her mother
had fainted. Cut It was only momen
tary. My the time she reached the bed
her mother hud recovered conscious
ness.. "io." said the old lady, brent hlessly,
"go and let him In yourself."
Downstairs on the doorstep the girl
found a tall man of !)0 or thereabouts
with a browner face than Knglish suns
could account for. lie looked down.
Into her eager eyes with h strange,
questioning wonder.
"Am I loo lute?" be asked In a voles
which almost seemed to Indicate a hope
that It 'might be so.
"No. Stephen," she answered. "Hut
mother cannot live much longer. You
are Just In lime."
The young man made a hesitating lit
tle movement with his right baud and
shuilled uneasily on the clean stone
step. He was like an actor called sud
denly upon the Hlii';e. having no knowl
edge of his part. The return of till
prodigal was not n dramatic success.
No one seemed desirous of learning
whether he had lived upon busks or
otherwise, and with whom be had eat
en. The iillet dignity of the girl, who
had remained behind to do all the work
and bear nil the burden, seemed in
some subtle manner to deprive lilin of
any romance that might have attached
itself to 111 in. She ignored his liulf
proft'ered hand, ami, turning Into tlio
little passage, led the way upstair..
Stephen l.eacli followed silently. He
was rnilier large 'or the bouse, all I
especially for the stairs; moreover, he
hud ii certain burliness of walk, such
us Is iiciulred by men living constantly
In the open. There was a vaguely pain
ed look In his blue eyes, iih If they had
suddenly been opened to his owu short
comings. Ills attitude toward Joyce
was distinctly apologetic.
When lie followed the gin across the
threshold of their mother's bedroom the
old laily was sitting up In bed, holding
out trembling arms toward the door.
Here Stephen l.eacli seemed to know
better what to do. He held his mother
hi his nrnm while she sobbed and mur
mured out her Joy. He had no words,
but his arms meant nior- than his lips
could ever have told.
It would seem that the best part of
happiness is the shining of It with
someone else. "Joyce," was the llrst
distinct word tin old lady spoke,
"Joyce, he has come at lat. He lias
come! Come here, dear. Kiss your
brother. This Is my first born my lit
tle Steve."
The young man had sunk upon his
knees nt the bedside, probably because
It was the most convenient position.
He did not second his mother's pro
posal with much cnthuslntini. Alto
gether be did not seem to have discov
ered much sympathy with his sister
whom he had left In her cradle.
Joyce came forward and leaned over
the bed to kiss ber brother while the
old lady's hands Joined theirs. Just
as ber fresh young lips came within
reach be turned bis face aside, so that
the kiss fell on barren ground on his
tanned cheek.
"Joyce," continued the old lady fever
ishly. "I nin not nfraid to die now, for
Stephen Is here. Vour brother will
take en re of you, dear, when 1 am
gone.'
It was strange that Stephen bad not
spoken yet, and it wus perhaps Just as
well, because there are occasions In life
when men do wisely to keep silent.
"He kt strong," the proud mother
went on. "I can feel It. His hands are
large and steady and quiet a ml his
arms are big and very hard."
The 'young man knelt upright and
submitted gravely to this maternal In
ventory. "Yis," she said, "I knew he would
grow to be a big man. His little Augers
were so strong he hurt me sometimes.
What a great mustache! I knew you
had been n soldier. And the skin of
your face Is brown nnd a little rough.
What Is tills? what is this, Stephen,
dear? Is this a wound V"
"Yes," answered the prodigal, speak
ing for the first time. "That Is a sword
rut. I got that In the last war. 1 am
a colonel In the Chilian army, or was,
before I resigned."
The old lady's sightless eye were
fixed on bis face as If listening for the
echo of another voice in his deep, quiet
tones.
"Your voice is deeper than your fath
er's ever was," she said, nnd all the
while her trembling Augers moved lov
ingly over his face, touching the deep
cut from cheek bone to Jaw with soft
Inquiry. "This must have been very
near your eye, Stephen, Promise me,
dear, no more soldiering."
"I promise tint." he replied, without
raising his ryes.
Such, was the home coming of the
prodigal. After nil he arrived at the
right moment in the afternoon, when
the bouse was ready. It sometime
does happen sc in real life, and not only
In books. There is a gr-nt deal that
might be altered III this world, but
Hornet i mi's, by a mere chance, things
come about rightly. And yet there was
something wrong, something subtle,
w hich the dying woman's duller senses
failed to detect, llcr son. her Stepheu,
was quiet and had not much to say for
himself, lie apparently had the habit
of taking things as tliev came. There
was no enthusiasm, but rather a re
straint, in his manner, more especially
toward Joyce.
The girl noticed It. but even her small
exH'rieure of humankind had taught
ber that large, falr-sklnned men are
often thus. They are not "de ceux qui
s'expllqucnt," but go through life pla
cidly, leaving unsaid and undone many
thlugs w hich fouie think they ought to
say and do.
After tlie first. exciteim uf of the re
turn was over It became glaringly ap
parent that Stephen lui'1 arrived Just In
time. Ills mother fell I'lto a happy
sleep before sunset, ul'd when the ac
tive young doctor came a Utile later
In the evening he shook his bead.
"Yes," be said, "I see ilia I she Is
asleep and quiet too qtilcl. It U 11
foretaste of n longer sleep. Some old
people have It. ;
For the llrst time Joyce's courage
seemed to give way. When she had
been alone she was brave enough, but
now that her brother was there, wom
anlike, she seemed to turn to him with
ii sudden fear. They stood side by
side near the bed, and the young doc
tor in vuliiiit ii r'ly watched them. Ste
phen had taken her band In bis with
that silent sympathy which was so
natural and so eloquent. ' He said noth
ing, this big, sun-stained youth. II''
did not even glance down nt bis sister,
who rtood. small, soft-eyed and gentle
at bis side.
The doctor knew something of the
history of the small family thus mn -
meiitarlly united, and he had always
feared that If Stephen I.ench did re
turn It would only kill his mother. Tills.
Indeed, seemed to lie the result about
to follow.
Presently the doctor took bis leave,
lie was a young man engaged In get
ting together a good practice, and In his
own interest lie had been forced to give
up waiting for his patients to finish
dying.
"1 am glad you are here." he said to
Stephen, who accompanied him to the
door. "It would not do for your sister
to be alone; this may go on for a couple
of days."
It did not go on for n couple of days,
but Mrs. l.eacli lived through that night
in the same ticml-coniatose state. The
two watchers sat In her room until
supper time, when they left their moth
er In charge of a hired nurse, whose
services Joyce had been forced to seek.
After supper Stephen l.eacli seemed
nt last to tint! his tongue, and he talked
in his quiet, almost gentle voice, such
as some men possess, not a limit him
self or the past, but about Joyce and.
the future. In a deliberate, business
like way he proceeded to Investigate
t lie affairs of the dying .woman nnd the
prospects of her daughter; in a word,
he asserted Ills authority as a brother,
nnd Joyce was relieved and happy to
obey lilin.
It Is not In times of gayety that
friendships are formed, but in sorrow
or suspense. Hurliig that long evening
this brother and sister suddenly be
came Intimate, more so than mouths
of prosperous Intercourse could have
made them. At 10 o'clock ' Stephen
quietly insisted that Joyce should go
to bed, while he lay down, nil dressed,
on the sofa in the dining room.
"1 shall sleep perfectly. It Is not the
first time 1 have slept In my clothes,"
he said simply.
They went upstairs together nnd told
the nurse of this arrangement. Joyce
remained for some moments by the
bedside watching her mother's peaceful
sleep, and when she turned she found
that Stephen had quietly slipped
away. Wondering vaguely whether he
had intentionally solved her difficulty
rh to the fraternal good night, she went
to her own room.
The next morning Mrs. l.eacli was
fully conscious and appeared to be
stronger; nevertheless she knew that
the end was near. She called her two
ch'ldreti to her bedside and, turning
her blind eyes toward them, spoke lu
broken sentences:
"I am ready now I am ready," she
said. "Dears, 1 am going to your fnth
er and thank iod, 1 can tell
111 m that I left you together. I nlways
knew Stephen would come back. I
found It written everywhere lu t lie
Bible. Stephen kiss me, dear!"
The mini lci'ut over the bed iiud kiss
ed her.
"Ah," she sighed, "bow I wish I could
see you Just once before I die. Joyce!"
Bhe added, suddenly ""turning to her
daughter, who stood at the other side
of the bed. "toll me what he Is like.
But I know i know I feel It.
Listen! lie is tail nnd spare, like his
father. His hair is black, like hia
father's It was black before he went
away. Ills eyes, I know, are dark al
most dark. He Is pule like a Span
lard!" Joyce looked ncross the bed with slow
horror dawning In her face, looked Into
a pair of blue eyes beneath tawny hair,
cut short, as a soldier's hair should he.
She looked upon n man big, broad, fair
Knglish from crown to toe nnd the
quiet command of his and eyes
made her say:
"Yes, mother, yes."
For some moments there was silence.
Joyce stood pale nnd breathless, won
dering what this might mean. Then
the dying woman spoke again: "Kiss
me." she said. "I nm golu.
Stephen first my first born! And now,
Joyce nnd now ktes ench other
across the bed! 1 want to hear 't
1 want to tell
your father."
With a last effort she raised her
hands, seeking their heads. At first
Joyce hesitated, theu she leant for
ward, and the old woman's chilled fin
gers pressed their lips together. That,
was the end.
Half an hour afterward Joyce an I
this man stood facing each other In tho
little dining room. He beg. hu ex
planation at once.
"Stephen." he said, "was shot out
there as a traitor. I could not tell her
that! 1 did not mean to do this, but
what else could I do?"
He paused, moved toward the door
with that strange hesitation which she
had noticed on his arrival At the door
he turned to Justify himself.
"I still think." he said gravely, "that
It was the best thing to do."
Joyce mad no answer. The tears
stood In her eyes. There was something
very pnihetlc In .the distress of tills
strong man, facing, as it were, nil emer
gency of which he felt the delicacy to
be beyond his cleverness to handle.
"Last nlglil," he went on, "I made nil
the necessary arrangements for your
future Just ns Stephen would have
made tlietn-iis a brother might have
done. I He nnd I were brother
oflleers In a very wild army. Your
brother was not a good man. None of
us were."
Ills hmid was on the door.
"He nsketl tne to come and tell you."
be added. "I shall go back now."
They stood Hum. lie watching her
face with his honest, soft blue eyes,
she falling to meet bis glance.
"May I come hue., again?" he naked
suddenly.
She gave n little gimp, but made no
answer.
. I will come hack In six months." be
announced quietly, iimi then be closed
the doiir behind him. Curiihlll Maga
zine. f - -
! CONCERTS GIVEN BY CRICKETS.
When the Westher Putts Them the
Little Insect Make Merry Music.
There. Is something remarkable In
the regularity, or perfect time, of the
chirps of tree crickets. You do not
find it it "go as you please' concert I was as nrdeiit In the principles of Dem
every cricket for himself; but all the ! ocrac.y. The young men appeared to
ci'lckcbs lu a given locality seem to be j have Inherited the political faith of
following a leader, keeping perfect time their fathers, mid held inmiy a wordy
with each other. Another curious fact debate, always with the friendliest feel
Is that the number of chirps seems to I lug in the preselie.' of the young lady,
be governed by the temperature of the The young men knew each other's love
atmosphere. Take out your watch tin-I for Mitis Jackinan. nnd knowing thut
der an electric light near which you one of them would have to be rejected,
can hear a tree cricket, and count tin j they met nt the house of the young
numlM-r of chirps In one minute; thcL. lady and (iouiluiiu made the novel
ns vou stroll along, try It ngaln, count
the chirps of another cricket, nnd you
will find he keeps time with the first
one the same number of chirps In a
pilnute. If you are going out to Brook
line, where the tree cricket Is great!?
in evidence, take the time again, nnd
vou will find the number of chirps the
same, provided, however, that It Is no
cooler or wanner In Brookllne than It
Is In Boston. There can be no question
that the number of chirps Increases
when the weather Is warm, nnd 'de
creases when It is cool, nud consequent
ly you can tell very near what the tem
perature is by counting the chirps. Sin
gular as It may seem, this is a fact, ns
many persons can testify who have
1 tried It. Here is the rule by which nny
person will be able to' test It. When
the temperature Is sixty-five, the mini- I
ber of chirps is 100 per minute. Add or
deduct, as the case may be, one degree j
for every five chirps in excess of, or un- j
der, 100, and you get the temperature.
For example, suppose It is a very warm J
evening, and, having counted the chirps,
you find the. number to be 100; which Is
sixty in excess of 100. In sixty there
are twelve fives. Add twelve to sixty
flve, and you get seventy -two ns the
temperature. Look nt your tliertuome- I
ter nud see how much It will vary from
those figures; not very much, 1 am sure;
nnd whatever vnrintloti there Is will
undoubtedly be due to the fact that It Is
warmer, or cooler, where the thermom
eter hangs than In the spot where the
cricket whose chirps you have taken
as your guide happens to be. Boston
Transcript.
Our Hinall Army Is Efficient.
General Harrison, in his "This Coun
try of Ours" article In the Ladies'
Home Journal, writes of the War and
l'ostofllce Departments and of the De
partment of Justice, nnd In connection
with the first-named he pays this trib
ute to our standing iirtny: "Our army Is
small, in fact, and minute, when com
pared with any of the armies of the '
great powers, but, under the operation j
of receut laws relating to enlistments, i
and of laws Intended to protect the
lights nnd promote the self-respect of ,
the private soldier, uud to relieve him
from assignments to menial duties, the 1
quality nnd esprit de corps of the en
listed men nre higher, I think, than
ever before, and the chnracter and mili
tary skill of the officers are of a very
high order. The use of the army
either upon the call of a State to pre
serve the peace of the State, or uuder
the direct orders of the President to
suppress resistance to the laws of the
United States has become more fre
quent of late years, and more than one
community has owed Its deliverance
from the frenzy of a mob to the pres
ence of a small detachment of United
States troops men who would do what
they were ordered to do, nnd nothing
without orders. There Is no menace
to the liberties of the people In our little
army, but Its trained nnd pntrlotie offi
cers may again, in the case of a great
war, as in lS'il, become the organizers
and lenders of great armies; and, with
the little army of trained men they now
command, will, within the Constitution
and the laws, during our longer years
of peace, be the conservators of public
order."
First Papers.
In certain elections a foreigner who
has taken out his first naturalization
papers is, in several States, permitted
to vote Immediately after acquiring
them. If an election should occur even
ou the following day. The laws of the
States vary with regard to the qualifi
cation of voters and no statement can
be made which will cover the entire
situation iu the United States.
The Judge' Stupidity.
Justice You are charged with steal
ing Col. Julep's chickens. Have you
any witnesses?
Uncle Moses I heb not. I don't steal
chickens befo' witnesses. Amusing
Journal.
If sinners were not occasionally
found out, other sinners would not
know how good they are.
It is surprising how sick some people
can become, and live.
asTV. As, U sW.JU4 --rw' f ns(M
k3&i-W ffiU .LK&SKtfL
DEPENDS ON WHO IS ELECTED.
A-1
- HO
NOVKI. marriage agreeiueu'
lilcli will be decided on the re
sult uf the rational election, has
been nuiile in the town of Seabrook.
Mass. The parties Interested In the
agreement are Miss I.lllle .lackniiiu.
Kills (ioodmau and Frank ltardjne. The
two men are friends and also suitors
for the hand and heart of the young
-woman who figures lu the novel ar
rangement. The three young people
have been playmates since early youth,
and at every husking party attend nl
by them would always be found to
gether. The fathers of the young men
were of different political faith, tiood
iiian's parent was n stanch believer In
the Heprldican party, while Barillne's
j proposition, which was readily ngreed
to by Itardliie and Miss Jacktnati.
There Is to be n wedding In Seabrook
next November and Miss Jackman will
be the bride. If McKinley is elected
Goodman will be the bridegroom, and
Bardlne's hopes nr depending upon the
fortunes of William Jennings Ilryau.
A New Cottar.
From I'atis comes a new collar,
which is a combination of the ribbon
stock nnd high linen collar. Its nov
elty has made It un Immediate success.
The collar Is of linen, about ns high ns
the ordinary collar, nnd Is cut clerical
fashion, not opening nt nil In front.
Technically It Is called a Iionian collar.
It fastens at the back with two collar
studs. A series of holes about an Inch
apart are cut In the collar and form n
line entirely around It. In nnd out
run xew coll An.
through these holes ribbous nre run
which tie lu the back lu a large bow.
The ribbons are so folded that they are
narrow when drawn through the holes,
hut spread out to their full width when
they form the bow. This collar looks
particularly well when worn with the
summer hirt waist, though It was not
designed for tills purpose alone, it
adds much to the effect of any waist
for everyday wear.
Bridesmaid) nnd Their Duticn. .
In olden days the bridesmaids were
supposed to look after the bride'o pecu
niary interest. Thus, lit the church
porch, when the bridegroom produced
the ring nud other articles relating to
his marriage, the chief bridesmaid took
charge of the "dow purse," which was
publicly given to the bride ns nn in
stallment of her pin money. Horace
Walpole, writing to Miss Berry, lu the
year 1701. speaks of the dow purse ns
a thing of the past, and writes ut fol
lows: "Our wedding is over very properly,
though with little ceremony, and uoth
ing of n Sclent fashion, but two brides
maids. The endowing purse, I believe,
has been left off since the broad pieces
were called In and melted down."
' It has been pointed out. however, that
a survival of this usage Is revived iu
Cumberland. The bridegroom provides
himself with gold nnd crown pieces,
and when the service reaches the point,
"with all my worldly goods I thee en
dow," be takes the money, bauds the
clergyman his fee. and pours the rest
into a liandkercbi"f which the brides
maid holds for the bride. In Scotlaud
the bridesmaid is popularly known as
the "best maid. " and one of her prin
cipal duties was to convey the brides
presents ou the wedding to the future
home. The first article generally tak
en Into the house w.-u a vessel of salt,
a portion of which was spriukied over
the floor, as a protection against the
"evil eye.' She also attended the bride
when she called on her friends, nud
gave a personal 'nvitanoa to tier weu
ding. '
Prn Coatins Too Much.
The other day half a dozen women
were talking together, not one of whom
had money in her own or her husband's
right. All were the wives of men on
! salaries high salaries. Said one of
I them: "It is dreadful how our Ideas
i grow without our bank accounts grow
ing In proportion. Now. we have Just
! as much, and no more, than we had to
I live on ten years ago, - - V-re
mmm.
km y
U c5? ,,y r
to
mice I should no have thought ot
spending more than $17 or $18 for my
little girls' winter coats, now I would
not dream of starting on' to buy ou
without nt least IMO to pay for It."
Trail Shootlnir u Fad.
Among Kasterti society women with,
a bent for athletics trap shooting Is Just
now the reigning fad. Mrs. Jack Aetor
being one of the most itrdent disciples.
She Is an expert in this healthful pas
lime, us she Is In revolver practice, en
joying special distinction In that par
ticular sporting ecstasy known as
"wing shooting." In essaying the role
of Diana. Mrs. Astor sustains her envi
able reputation of being the best nnd
most appropriately gowned woman In
MIIS. ASTOlt IN SHOOTING GAKB
any assemblage. Her favorite costume
when ou gunning bent Is supplemented
by leggings of like material. Style and
comfort nre combined in the loose-fitting
Norfolk Jacket, coming down well
over the hips, uud fashioned upon the
same plan as that worn by men. Un
der this she dons a silk negligee shirt,
of contrasting hue or In varying tones
of delicate tints. Alpine Is the prefer
red hat; und her shoes nre square toed
nnd broad soled, harmoni.lng lu color
with the charming shooting frock. Trap
shooting trains the eye, nnd Is regard
ed as a superior nerve tonic. The pruc
t'ce Is said to develop the nerves better
than the use of dumbbells or the exer
cise of swimming. When the sports
woman's eye has attained, such a de
gree of accuracy mid her nerves a con
dition of stenditiess that she is sure
ot her "bird" regardless of the trap or
the angle from which it Is sprung, she
Is ready for wing shooting or a burg
lar. Process of MakiiiK Hairpins.
For ages the Knglish and French con
trolled the manufacture of hairpins,
and It Is only -within, the Inst twenty
years that the goods have been pro-'
duced iu other countries to any extent.
The machinery used Is of a delicate an I
Intricate character, as the prices at
which the plus are sold necessitate the
cheapest and most rapid progress,
which can only be procured by auto
matic machines. The wire is made ex
pressly for the purpose nnd put up In
large colls, which nre placed in a clamp
nnd so carried to the machine whip?
being straightened. This machine curs,
beuds nud by a delicate nud Instanta
neous process sharpens the points. Run
ning at full speed, it will turn out 120
hnirplns every minute. To economize.
It Is necessary to keep the engines go
ing day nnd ulght. The difficult part
of the work is In the enameling, which
is done by dipping the pins In a pre
paration and baking in nn oven. It is
here that the most constant nnd care
ful nttentloti Is required, ns the pins
must be absolutely smooth nnd the
enamel hnve a perfect polish. The .
slightest particle of dust causes imper
fections nnd roughness.
The American Girl Won.
A recent prize contest In London for
the most prettily costumed lady cyclist
fell to Madeline Kllpatrick. the neeom-
V
MADELINE KILPATRICK.
plisbed trick performer. Aside from
being an American girl, her mount wits
of American make; costume the same,
the latter being made by herself. The
coutest was one In which American
Ideas were prominent.
The average woman's Idea of comfort
is to run around the house in a draggely
wrapper, with her hair down her back.
New York Press.
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