HOTEL MORGUE AND ITS GUESTS
To Hotel Murgue the guests come In
VVith a strangely Kili'iit air.
And however bois'trou n t tin n hits lioen
Hp makes mi noise mid he tuskes no Uiu
When once lie enters there.
A ii J however poor, lie rides in state.
Stretched at his ease, through the hotel
Kale.
'A bath and n gown and root, cool bed
Are given to all who come,
But never a one in wined or fed,
And never u word by oue In wild,
Fur the guest are always dumb.
And whatever its done, and however they
fare,
.The; only lie and mure and stare.
From Hotel Morgue the guets pass on
Full oft nt the break of day.
And they pay no bill as forth at dnwn
With staring eyes and white lips drawn
luey silently mill away.
Though clothed and sheltered and asked
no prU-e,
To Hotel Morgue no guest comes twice,
-Ella Wheeler Wileox.
A SLIGHT MISTAKE.
"Marriage In the saving of a young
man," 8)i Id my Aunt Tabltba senten
tiotwly.
I assented, for I find It nay to give a
ready acquiescence to obstruct propo
sitions.
"iou must marry, con ruined my
aunt.
I hesitated, for to r.ssent to the con
crete Is more dangerous.
"I am still very young," I said,
meekly.
My aunt turned to my mother.
"Whom shall Airred murryV"
My mother shook her bead.
"Some-body nice," she volunteered,
"What do you say to Letltla Brown
low'" asked my aunt.
"I would prefer to say nothing to
Ietitla Brownlow," I Interposed,
hastily.
"O: Amelia Stafford!?"
"U she not rather" my mother
waved one band "and Alfrr ! Is so
ulim."
"I think she linn a very fine figure,"
resKudcd my aunt. "Or there Is tier
trudc Williams; she will have, a for
tuue If she outlives her sisters."
"There are only five of them," I said
li ope-fully.
"Or Maliel Gordon?"
"She ha taken a course of rooking
lessous," observed my mother,
"No, none of these!" 1 cried, de
cisively.
My aunt looked offended.
"Very well, then, choose for
elf." she suld. tartly.
your-
"Perhaps that would help,"
marked, thoughtfully.
"You will choose somebody
I re-
nice,
won't you, Alfred V" said my mother.
"With money," olmerved my aunt.
"Wen couneeteii," emphasized my
mother. ,
"Not too young," added my aunt.
"And religious," begged my mother.
"There Is no objection to her being
good looking?" I asked, a trifle timidly.
"No, I tbluk not," said my uuut, "pro
Tided she fully understands beauty Is
but skin deep."
"1 will tell her," I murmured.
"Well," Maid my mint. Impatiently,
after a short pause, "whom do you sug
gest?" I thought for a moment.
"What do you say to Winifred
Fraser?"
"Tliat minx!" cried my aunt.
"Oh, Alfred!" echoed my mother.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Such a dreadful family," said my
mother.
"So fast!" Interjected my aunt.
"Hut have you never noticed the sun
on her hulrV" I asked, Innocently.
My aunt drew herself up.
"We have not noticed the sun on her
hnlr," she said, with much dignity;
"nor do we wish to observe the sun ou
her hair."
I was Justly annoyed. "I really think
It must be Winifred Eraser," I said.
"She Is very fond of me "
"How can you be so cruel to me!"
cried my mother. "Have you no
ticed how gray my hair Is getting? You
will not have me long." She .drew out
tier handkerchief.
"You will come to a bad end," said
my aunt. "I always thought you were
depraved. If you marry that painted
hussy you must uot expect my counten
ance." "Under the circumstances I will not
marry Winifred Eraser," I said, with
great magnnnltnity, for I did not par
ticularly want my aunt's countenance.
My aunt sniffed. "You bad better
not."
"I merely Joked," I said, soothingly,
rcmenilicring she had uot made her
will.
"Indeed!"
"The truth Is" I dropied my voice
'I mi In love with some one else."
"And you never told uie!" said my
mother, reproachfully.
"The girl I love Is not free."
"Married!" cried my aunt.
"Not married but engaged."
"Who Is It?" asked my mother,
ffently.
I was silent for a moment, and then I
sighed.
"It Is Constance Burleigh."
"It would have been a most suitable
match," murmured my mother.
"Very suitable," replied my aunt.
There was a momentary silence,
broken by my aunt.
"I did not know Constants was en
gaged." "It Is a secret; you must uot repeat
vr'.tui I have told you."
1 don't like these secret engage
tii. Hits." said my aunt, brusquely.
Who told your
"She told me herself."
Who Is the man?"
"I do uot think I should repeat his
twine."
"I hope Constance la not throwing
hentclf awiy."
I shook my bend doubtfully.
"You know the man?"
1 nodded.
"Is he qulte-qultc "
Again I shook my bead doubtfully.
"What have you beard?" my aunt
asked, eagerly.
"I don't think I ought to repeat these
things." - .
"You can surely tmst your mother,"
murmured my mother.
"And my discretion," said my aunt
"Well," I said, "I have been told be Is
cruel to bis mother."
"Itenlly!" cried the two ladles in a
breath.
"His mother told mo so herself."
"How sod!" said my mother.
"And what else?" asked my aunt.
"Another relation of bis told me he
was depraved.
"Poor, poor Constance!" whlHM?red
my mother.
"And would probably end badly,
"I exjiect he drinks," said my aunt,
grimly.
"Does Constance know this?" asked
my mother.
"I don't think so."
"You did not tell her?"
"Of course not."
"1 consider It your duly to."
"I really cannot."
"Then I will," said my aunt, reso
lutely.
"what I have said has been In con
fidence."
"1 do not care."
"I beg you not to do so."
"It Is my duty. I am too fond of
Constance to allow her to throw herself
away on this worthless man."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Ho as you
please, but don't mention my name. By
the way, Constance said she would
probably call this afternoon."
At that moment the bell rang.
That may be she," said my aunt,
flying to the window. "Ills."
I got up slon'.y and sauntered into
the conservatory, which adjoins the
drawing-room. From behind a friend
ly pa ltn I could see without being seen.
1 saw my aunt look toward my mother.
"If we open her eyes," I heard her
whisper, "It may pave the way for
Alfred."
My mother said nothing, but I saw
tlie same hope shine from her eyes.
The door opened and the servant nn
nounced Constance. She came forwa rd
with a little eager rush: then r opped
short, emlmrrnssed by the want of re
ciprocity.
"We are glad to see you," said my
mother, and kissed her.
My aunt came forward. "We were
Just speaking of you," she said, solemn
ly. "Sit down."
Constance looked a little crushed. "I
thought Alfred would have told you,"
she murmured. .
"We have heard " began my aunt.
"Hush," Interposed my mother.
"Come nearer me, Constance. Won't
you take off your hat?"
Constance came and sat by her side.
I was anxious to come and tell you
that that "
"If you are alluding to your engage
ment," said my aunt, somewhat se
verely, "we have already heard of It."
"You have heard!" cried Constance.
"With the deepest sorrow."
Constance drew herself up.
"You do not approve?" she asked,
proudly.
We love you too much,"' said my
mother, gently.
Constance looked bewildered.
"You are too good for the wretch!"
cried my aunt. "What! Oh, what do
you mean?" exclaimed Constance.
"If you marry this man," continued
my aunt, vigorously, "you win re
gret It." .
My mother took her hand. "My sis
ter should not tell you this so sud
denly." "It Is my duty to speak, and I will,"
cried my aunt. "I will not let Con
stance unite herself to this man with
her eyes closed."
What have you against him?" de
manded Constance, a red spot begin
ning to burn In each cheek.
He drinks," answered my aunt, al
most triumphantly.
Constance stink hark In the cushions.
"I don't believe It," she said, faintly.
"He Ill-treats his mother beats her,
I believe," continued my aunt.
'This cannot be true," cried Con
stance. "Mrs. Granville, tell me.
My mother nodded sadly.
"Alas! I cannot deny It."
Constance arose. "This Is awful!"
she said, holding on to the back of the
sofa. "I could never have believed It."
She put her hand to her forehead. "It
Is like a bad dream."
My poor, dear Constance," mur
mured my mother, rising and putting
her arms round her.
My aunt brought up her artillery.
He Is thoroughly depraved, and will
come to a bad end. Ills relations are
as one on this point."
Constance buried her face In my
mother's bosom. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!
and I loved him so!" she sobted.
In the adjoining room I was becom
ing uncomfortable.
"We thought It right to tell you," said
my aunt, moved by her tears, "though
Alfred lagged and Implored us not to."
"I could never, never have believed
It," sobbed Constance. "Poor, poor
Mrs. Granville!"
My mother soothed her.
How difficult you must have felt It
to tell me this." exclaimed Constance,
drying her tears. "It was so good of
you. I win not give mm another
thought. To treat his mother so cruel
ly! Oh, Mrs. Granville, I am so sorry
for you!"
"It Is I who am sorry for you," said
my mother, doubtfully.
"And no one would have dreamed It.
We always thought you were so fond
of him and spoiled htm utterly. And
all the time you were hiding your sor
row. How noble of you!"
My mother looked at Aunt Tabltha,
who returned her stare.
"Who ever Is It?" said Aunt Tabltha,
whispering. "Find out."
"Whero did you meet him, dearest?"
whispered my mother.
"Meet him? Why, here, of course,"
said Constance, with opening eyes.
"Yes, yes, of course," said my mother,
mystified.
"I thought you woulu be pleased, and
I hurried across to tell you."
"Can Alfred have made a mistake?"
muttered my nunt, hoarsely.
The two elder ladles stood still In the
utmost embnrraasmciit.
"I shall never be happy again," said
Constance, mournfully.
"Don't say that," Implored my
mother. "Perhaps there Is a mistake."
"How can there be a mistake?" asked
Constance, raising her head,
"There can be no mistake," said my
aunt, hastily.
"I low could he be cruel to you?" cried
Constance, kissing my mother.
"Cruel to me?" cried my mother.
"You said he was cruel to jrou."
"Of whom are you speoklug?" cried
both ladles.
"Of Alfred, of course."
The two elder ladles sat down sud
denly.
"You are not engaged to Alfred?"
they gasped simultaneously.
"To whom else?" said Constance, In
amnzenient.
'There Is some misunderstanding," I
observed, smoothly) coming In at the
moment.
The three fell upon me together.
It took nt least an hour to explain.
Yet I had said nothing which was not
strictly true.
'You will not allow these practical
Jokes when you are married, will you,
Conny?" said my mother, fondly.
'I will not," replied Constance, tight
ening her lips.
"Marriage Is the saving of a young
man," repeated my aunt, grimly.
Chambers' Journal.
ENOUGH CHALK FOR ALL TIME.
Great Block Hint Wat Once as Large
aa the Continent of burope.
The small piece of chalk which Is In
constant use In the schoolroom, the
lecture-room, the bllllard-room and the
workebop has a strange history, the
unraveling of which through all Its
complexities Is one of the most diffi
cult problems with which the science
of the present day Is called upon to
deal. This piece is In reality a chip
of an Immense block of chalk that
once tilled an nreu the size of the con
tinent of Europe, and of which even
yet several gigantic fragments remain,
ench hundreds of square miles In ex
tent. These patches are scattered over
the region lying lietween Ireland on
the west and China on the east, and
extending In the other direction from
Sweden lu the north to Portugal in the
south.
In the British Isles the chalk Is found
In greatest perfection and continuity
In the east and southeast of Kngland.
A shiet of chalk more than 1,000 feet
In thickness underlies all that portion
of England which Is situated to the
southeast of a line crossing the Island
diagonally from the North Sea at
Flamborough Head to the coast on the
English channel In Dorset. This euor
mous sheet of chalk Is tilted up slight
ly on the west, and Its depressed, east
ern portions that dip toward the waters
of the North Sea are usually buried
from sight by means of overlying sands
and clays. Where the edges of the
chalk floor come upon the sea the cliff
scenery Is strikingly grand and beau
tiful. Anyone who has once seen the
magnificent rocks of Flamborough and
Beeehy Head, the Jagged stacks of the
Needles or the dlwy mass of Shak-
speares clinr, near nover, can uuier
stand why "the white cliffs of Al
bion" ling grown Into a stok phrase.
This massive sheet of chalk appear
again In France, In many other parts
of Europe as far east bb the Crimea,
and even In Central Asia, beyond the
Sea of Aral. How far It stretched
westward Into what is now the Atlan
tic may never be kuown, but chalk
cliffs of at least 200 feet in thickness
are seen at Antrim, In Ireland and less
conspicuous formations are found In
Scotland, In Argyle and Aberdeen.
There can be little question that all
these now Isolated patches were once
connected In a continuous sheet, which
must, therefore, have occupied a su
perficial area about 3,000 miles long by
nearly 1,000 broad, an extent larger
than that of the present continent of
Europe. nttsburg Dispatch.
"Would Follow the Cows.
Justin Sackett, who recently died In ,
Springfield, Mass., at the age of
S3
years, was a noted landscape gardener,
and laid out Forest Park In Spring
field. He had a most remarkably true
eye, always making sufficient "offset"
or allowance to avoid stiffness In his
work. With it all he exercised his
shrewd Yankee wit and Inventiveness,
as this story shows: One day he was
driving with a friend, who asked him
out of curiosity how he would plan a
road to the top of a certain hill that
they passed. "Well," said Mr. Sack
ett, with a .twinkle In his eye, "I should
turn In some cows awhile and watch
how tbey got up." New York Tribune.
A Good Kxcuae.
"Have I done anything to offend you.
darling?" he asked, brokenly. 'To-day
you passed me without bowing and now
you sit there with such an air of hau
teur and pride that "
"George," Interrupted the girl, with
an unbending air. but In her voice a
cadence sweeter than music at night,
I have a stiff neck." Boston Globe.
So Comfortable.
"I always like to see that Senator get
up to make a speech," said the drowsy,
looking man.
"He Isn't very lnteretlng."
"No, When he 1b on his feet I'm al
ways sure that my nap will not be dis
turbed by any outburst of applause."
Washington Star.
AFRAID OF NOTHING.
Aleilcn'e Wild Hon, or Percnrr, Rons
from Nothing toiler the Hun.
The most vicious and fearless of the
brute creation Is the peccary or wild
hog of Mexico. This animal seems ut
terly devoid of the emotion of fear. I
have never seen It turn a hair's breadth
out of Its path for any living thing,
says a writer. Muu Is Its spival bete
noire. It displays ,an Intelligence In
fighting the human strangely at vari
ance with Its apparently complete lack
of any men nil attributes, save the very
lowest order of Instinct They are rare
ly found singly, but go In droves of
from a hundred to thousands. Their
ability to scent men Is particularly
marked. I have known a drove of
them to scent a man a mile off and
strike as straight for him as the arrow
files. There Is no use to try to frighten
them with guns. The cniinoniulliig of
a full buttery would luive no more ef
fect ou them than the popping of a
Are cracker. The only thing to do
when they get after you Is to run away
from them as fast as a horse can carry
you. And then there Is no certainty
that they won't catch you. They are
nearly as swift as a horse, and their en
durance Is as great as their vicious
ness. A friend of nrine encountered a drove
of them In a wild purt of Mexico a few
years ago, and his escape was miracu
lous. He very foolishly shot and
wounded a number of them. Then he
took refuge In a tree. The peccaries
kept him In the tree all that day and
through the night. They circled around
the tree, gruutlng and squealing their
delight at the prospect of a feast. He
soon exhausted his ammunition, and
brought down a peccary ut each Are.
But this had Do terrors for the beasts.
Along toward morning the brutes be
gan to eat the ones he had killed, and
i when they thus satisfied the cravings
of their stomachs they formed In line
and trotted off. If they had not had
some of their own number to devour,
they would have guarded that tree un
til my friend, through sheer exhaus
tion, dropped from his perch und al
lowed them to make a mcul of him.
The wild cuts and tigers that Infest the
Mexican wilds, flee from the peccaries
with Instinctive fear, and even rattle
snakes keep out of their path.
An Actor's It use.
"Had a funny experience down In
Georgia once," laughed the actor who
has been over the whole route from
bnrn-sitormer to leading mini lu a crack
company.
"We had played a little one-night
town where the people expressed their
appreciation by a vegetable bombard
ment of nil on the stage. I was hurry
ing to the little dingy hotel, mnd us a
hornet, when I heard one of the natives
making some very caustic remarks
about my efforts to persounte Claude
Melnotte. I was foolish enough to
pitch Into him, and five minutes later
I was the sole occupant of the cala
boose. After relieving myself by
swearing a few chapters, and wonder
ing bow far I would have to walk to
catch up with the compuuy, I sudden
ly struck upon a possible scheme of es
cape. "In my wrath I had not waited at the
hnll to get rid of my make-up. Now I
snatched off my blonde wig, washed
the cosmetics from my dark face, stuff
ed my gay wrappings under u bunk,
made my seedy suit look a little more
disreputable by a few rents, and then
sent up a yell for help. This brought
the sleepy constable, who looked as
though he wanted to run when he
caught sight of me. I assumed au Irish
brogue and talked so fast that he had
no chance to think or talk back. I told
him how 'some dlvll of n pirate capered
out of the place Just as 01 war pnssiu'
pnceable as a lain', trim me In afoor
Ol could aveu spake, an' barred the
dour on inc.'
"He hurried me out, gave me $2 If
I'd say nothing, left the door wide
oiK'ii and went home. I reenptured my
bundle and left with the rest of the
company on the early train." Free
Press. .
Koyal Correspondence.
A letter sent to a native prince in
India Is a very elaborate affair. The
palter Is specially made for the pur
loe, and Is spi-Uikled with gold leaf.
Only the last few lines of the some
what lengthy document contain the
purport of the letter, while the remaind
er Is made up of the usual round
HilHHlt and complimentary phrases. It
Is folded In n peculiar way, with the
najw outward, ami placed in a inusiiu
bag. ami this latter Into one of crimson
ami gold tint, wtt.li a sup-Knot ot goiu
thread, attached to which Is a ponder
ous seal. The address, written on a
slip of purehmeiiit. Is attached to the
outside tag. These details are very
important for polite letter writing in
India, and If auy of them were omitted
It would be an Insult to the person ad
dressed. Desired Information.
Wlille preach foig a sermon on tlie ten
der wisdom of the Oinniiioteiit, a
preacher Illustrated his point by say
ing that He knows which of ivs grows
best in the sunlight, and which must
have shade. "You know you plant
roses in the sunshine." he said, "and
hellotroite and geraniums: but If you
want your fuchsia to grow, you must
keep them lu a shady nook." After the
sermon a woman mine up to liLm, her
face glowing with pleasure. "Oh,
Ioctor. I am so grateful far that scr
mou," slie said, clumping bis hand and
shaking It warmly. His heart glowed
for a moment only for a moment,
though. "Yes." she went ou fervently.
"I never knew U-fore what was the
matter with my fuchsias."'
Why Is It they call a man "the atc,"
when he has been dead ten or fli'ioen
years?
We always wonder at this time 6
the year where the files come from. .
NEW WOMAN EVEN IN CHINA.
A
1 MONO delegates to the worn-
' congress to be held In Ijoii-
ilou next year will be two Chi
nese girls, Miss Wang and Dr. Hu Klug
Eng. The latter Is a leader In the small
but pertluatious army of C'hluese wom
en who have risen In revolt against
the subjection of their sex In the Ori
ent. Dr. Hu was born lu Foochow to
rillSKKK WOMAN DOCTOR.
a heritage of wealth and aristocracy.
Her grandfather, Hu, was a mandarin
of Influence. In the seventieth year of
his age he became a convert to Chris
tianity, and with him bis two sons,
Hu Po Ml nnd Hu Yong Ml King
Eng's father both of whom for more
than thirty years have been Methodist
pastors and presiding elders, soon
Grandmother Hu and her daughters-in-law,
all of the bound foot class, in
fluenced by convincing, even coercive.
arguments, also reluctantly embraced
the alien faith. When quite a child
King Fug was placed In the girl's
boarding school at Foochow. Furtive
peeps Into the dispensary and wards
of the adjacent hospital, however, de
termined effectually her vocation to be
medicine. With that end In view the
little high caste celestial maid, now lu
her fifteenth year, came across the
seas, having met and conquered bitter,
determined opposition. - She immedi
ately entered the Ohio Wesleyan Uni
versity, graduating four years later a
master of arts. Three years more of
study and the degree of doctor of medi
cine was conferred by the Woman's
Medical College of Philadelphia, and
also, after a brief postgraduate course,
by the Philadelphia Polyclinic. Then
followed several mouths of practical
work In the Woman's hospital of Bos
ton.
lu December of 1805 Dr. Hu, i
fully equipped for her life work, re
turned to Foochow to assume charge
of Llang-au Hospital. A triumphant
home-coming It was. Maadarlns and
coolies, high and low, met the ship,
eager to pay their respects.
MIm IlU's Lorn Trip.
One of the longest equestrian recrea
tion trips on record has been begun by
MISS EMMA PIt.L.
Miss Emma Dill, of Orange, N. J., who
Is accompanied by her father and three
other men. Mr. Dill, a wealthy law
yer, arranged the trip with Walter D.
Grand, managing director of Tatter
sail's, Loudon. The Journey la to be
from Orange to the Rangeley lakes,
Maine, via Poughkeepsie, the Berkshire
hills, Vermont, Canada, the White
mountains and northern Maine. Each
member of the party will ride an In
dian pony, fourteen of these hardy lit
tle animals baring been provided. Miss
Dill is the most enthusiastic member
of the cavalcade, her only regret be
ing that she cannot ride her favorite
saddle horse. She Is a familiar figure
on horseback In the neighborhood of
Grange, taking equestrian exercise In
oil sorts of weather.
Girl Kxprct Too Mnch of Yoon Men
The jverage young man is the
agreeable fellow wbo earns enough
mouey to take care of himself and to
put by a little for special .occasions."
writes Kuth Ashmore In the ladles'
Home Journal. "But be Is not a mill
ionaire, ahd he Is not the young man
drawn by those illustrators wbo. In
black and white, give us so-called so
ciety sketches. A combination of foot-
Ish Influences makes the girl of to-day
expect entlroly too much from the
young man of to-duy. She read, or Is
told, that when a young man is en
gaged to be married he sends bis
fiancee so many pounds of sweets, so
inauy boxes of flowers, as well as all
the new books and all the new music
that may apiicur each week. '
If there were more honest girls In this
world honest lu their treatment of
young men there would le a greater
number of marriages and fewer
thieves. Yes, I mean exactly what I
say. It Is the expectation on the part
of a foolish girl that a man should do
more than he can hone'tly, that haa
driven mnny men to the penitentiary,
and many more to lives of so-culled sin
gle blessedness."
Women n Bualncan,
"All women who are active In busi
ness or professions want Is a fair field
and no favor," says Margaret Sangster.
"We ask for nothing on the ground of
sex. We are willing to compete with
and work with men on their own
ground and desire to be measured by
the same standards. We demand no
courtesy further than that which pre
vails betweeu gentlemen; we exrrct no
deference. In business life mm and
women are simply workers, arid the
more the element of sex Is Intruded the
greater the Interference with the suc
cess of women. The business woman
who expects Utile attentions she Is ac
customed to In the drawing-room allows
her Ignorance of business. If they are
meessary to her peace of mind she I
out of place In the business world."
Woman Will Practice Law.
Mrs. Henrietta Wllkle. of Anderson,
Ind., was recently admitted to the bar.
Her admittance was protested by At
torney John Beeler. of that city, but
Mrs. Wllkle by her eloquence, won tb
Judge's opinion. Her husband la
MRS. HKNIIIETTA P. W1LKIC.
well-known lawyer of Anderson, and'
tbey will practice together.
Uinta to Home Dreomnkera.
In ninety cases out of 100 a dress
made at home Is undeniably second
rate, or worse, In that mysterious qual
ity called "style." Why it Is that pro
fessional dressmakers, who are pre
sumably women of little education audi
no particular talent, can produce satis
factory gowns with a pronounced chic
In cut and style that proclaims them
at once to be "custom made," while
the amateur, with greater taste and
cultivated artistic Intelligence and per
ception, should make such abortive
creations whenever she tries to make
her own dresses Is a problem that la
often commented upon, "Home-made"
gowns are certainly not as smart as
those "built" by professionals, but why
not? Why cannot women of Intelli
gence who have straitened incomes
dress themselves and their daughter
without calling In extraneous aid? It
seems such a simple thing to do, espe
cially In these days when the most re
liable patterns of the latest fashions
may be bad almost for the asking, and
materials cost next to nothing.
In the first place, the trade-mark, aa
It were. Is wanting In amateur work.
A dressmaker does everything by rule
and rote, but this want of technical
knowledge could be easily rectified
either by taking the trouble to learn
the trade, which Is taught In compara
tively few lessons, or by copying In de
tail the construction of a gown from a
good dressmaker's. "Finish" Is also
one of the great essentials In which
professionals score to advantage. Take
the wrist of an amateur's sleeve, for
Instance ,and that of a professional of
good reputation. The difference ia
most marked. The bottom of the skirt
too almost Invariably betrays Its ori
gin, besides many other little details1
dependent upon the character of the
dress. Finally, another marked differ
ence between amateur and first -class
professional work la In the generous
use of material. The former never
"skimps," whereas the latter, If ghe
makes her own gowns, obviously tries
to save every penny. In home-made
millinery especially this skimplness la
very npparent. A young woman with
a pretty taste In trimming bonnrta
who could easily have half a dozen
hats for the price she confesses naive
ly that Bhe Is obliged to bny her head
gear and give large sum for each con
fection, .because Bhe simply cannot
make up her mind to bny as much rib
bon or as many flowers as la really re
quired.
"Dear ineT exclaimed the two-headed
girl, as the armless wonder sudden
ly gathered her to his bosom. "Yoo
always semed so shy." "Only In the
presence of strangers," replied the
youth, kissing her tenderly upon each
of her marble brows. And yet In tha
drama there Is much that la truly and
genuinely sincere. Detroit Tribune.