TENDERNESS.
Not unto every heart is God's good gift
Of simple tenderness allowed; we meet
With love in many fashions when we lift
First to out lips life's waters, bitter
sweet. Love conies upon us witii resistless power
Of curbless passion, uud with head
strong will;
It plays around like April's breeze and
shower,
Or calmly flows, a tapid stream, and
still
It conies with blessedness unto the heart
That welcomes it uright, or bitter
fate!
It wrings the bosom with ' so fierce a
smart,
That love, we cry, is cruder than hate.
And then, nh nie! When love has ceased
to bless,
Our broken hearts cry out for tenderness!
Wc long for tenderness like that which
bung
About us, lying on our mother's breast;
A selfish feeling, that no pen or tongue
Can praise aright, since silence sings it
best;
A love, as fur removed from pnssion's
heat
As from the dullness of Its dying fire;
A love to lean on when the falling feet
Begin to totter, and the eyes to tire.
In youth's bright hey-day hottest love we
seek,
The reddest rose we grasp but when it
dies,
God grant that later blossoms, violets
meek,
May spring for us beneath life's autumn
skies;
God grant some loving one be near to
bless
Our weary way with simple tenderness!
WITHOUT DUE
AUTHORITY.
lie stood at the street corner, looking
drearily Into the growing fog.
sA minute or two before he hnd been
standing behind the railings in the
park, absorbed in an effort, altogether
unavailing, to save the souls of Ills fel
low citizens In this metropolis of evils.
A few yards away a revolutionary
bricklayer out of work and with the
strongest private objection to being In
It had hurled denunciations at the
Iniquitous British constitution, to the
delight, of himself and the amusement
of his audience, and of a couple of
placidly smiling policemen who stood
near in that Impersonal yet protective
attitude characteristic of the force. A
little farther on, a "lightning artist" of
tender years furnished a quiet antidote
to gentleula'ory anarchy by the'repro
(1 net Ion on paper of -the "Duke of
York's baby," to a chorus of loyal ap
plause. On the preacher's other hand,
a martyr, whose motives his country
had Ignoriintly misunderstood, per
haps, not without just occasion, bad
related with some feeling much abuse
of authorities, and more of that luck
less eighth letter' of the alphabet,
Which Is the chosen victim of elo
quence In fustian, the melancholy de
tails of an enforced retreat from public
life, which, to judge from appearances,
lie had very richly deserved. When the
preacher's audience tired of his dis
course, they had only to turn their
beads to Imbibe Incipient amirchy and
dejected patriotism, or cultivate a
healthy ndmlratlon for juvenile talent
and th reigning house a combination
of conflicting sentiments peculiar to
Hyde I'ark on a Sunday afternoon.
. The other orators, however, hnd
found compensation for their wrongs
In the delight of airing them at large.
They retired from the Held of battle
hoarse, but triumphant. The preach
er's triumph was a question which he
could only regard as much more dubi
ous. In moments of t'lcspulr, which
sometimes I'd I to his lot, he knew that
Ills congregation merely regarded him
us an Interlude between the denuncia
tions of the political bricklayer and the
dismal rhetoric of the ex-thief. Hut, to
do him Justice, those moments were
few and far between, lie had fought a
hard battle from a very early age, and
defeat had ceased to depress him save
at odd times when he was, perhaps, a
little colder, hungrier or sadder than It
wus his usual fate to be.
As he stood nt the corner n hand was
laid on his shoulder, and he tuiied to
11 ud himself face to face with Dr. Jeff,
They had met before, in slums and by
ways, and each man knew enough of
the other's life to respect It. I cannot
assert that Jeff Is the little doctor's real
name, and perhaps he has a story or
mystery, or both n skeleton which he
hides In the cupboard at his shabby
lodgings, with the stale bread and high
ly unprofessional cheese which that re
ceptacle contains but I nm sure that
there is no kinder soul In all London,
despite his snarls, his sarcasms and the
Inexpressibly unorthodox opinions
which he scatters broadcast In this
way, All men have their hypocrisies,
and ho has his. It Is his delight to
shock people, to pose as something very
Utile better than the archfiend himself.
I have seen him succeed admirably lu
his deceptlou with strangers. Those
who know the good little ninn know
also that ho would not willingly bruise
a butterfly's wing nor offend tho dir
tiest and most melodious tabby that
serenades his hard-earned slumbers.
Even now, us the preached turned his
white face and tired eyes upon him and
forced a smile, there was a charitable
scheme brewing in Jeff's mind.
"Finished spouting';" he asked, gruf
fly. "Walk my way, will you? Abom
inable weather!"
lie spoke with a savage nlr, as
though the weather and he were on
terms of violent hostility, Jeff's man
ner generally suggested the feud-brief
aud sllletto nnd other pharapherualia
of mediaeval murder.
They walked for some time In si
lence, during which the doctor eyed his
companion with a bloodthirsty expres
sion of countenance.
"Better give It up," he said at last.
"Weariug yourself out for uothlng. All
bosh!"
j "Is It?" usked the preacher, half
sadly. "Sometimes I I almost wish
my profession allowed me to think so,
too, doctor. But it doesn't."
"Hang your profession!" jerked, out
Jeff. "You're not a parson J"
"No." x '
"Ever been one?"
"No."
"Then, why in the name of common
sense don't you go and earn some
money V My good fellow, you're "
"What's the good of preaching?" lie
went on, changing his sentence. "The
world went very well for a great many
centuries before you were born; it'll go
very well for many more after you're
buried. Let it go!"
The preacher's deep eyes flashed.
"I'll never do that," he said, quietly.
They had walked a considerable
way, and Jeff looked up with a well
assumed start of surprise.
"Hanged if this isn't my place!
Never meant to bring you all this way.
Come In and rest."
The preacher hesitated, but he did
not wish to give offense and finally
they tramped up the narrow stairs to
Jeff's sanctum a little sitting-room
with hideous cheap furniture, a flaring
paper and a table littered with books.
It was all very cheerless, very dingy,
but Jeff waved his guest to a chair
with a certain dignity foreign to his
usual manner a survival, perhaps, of
other ways of life and of other visi
tants than street preachers. After all,
It Is the man who makes his surround
ings. A parvenu can be vulgar In a
palace; bur little doctor, despite his
bluster, might have been a prince in
disguise.
So the preacher thought as he sat
down In the arm chair black horse
hair covered, and deficient In the mat
ter of springs and glanced round the
room nt the well-worn books, at the
oil-stove, which smelled abominably, at
the cupboard where the skeleton clat
tered Its empty jaws among dry crusts
and ancient cheese.
"Not much of a place, Is It?" said
Jeff. "We've known better, both of us.
But it does anything does. Excuse
me, but I want my supper. Do you
mind my getting It? Colu don't run to
many courses. But perhaps you'll help
me? Hate solitary meals always did;
bad for the digestion. I'ah! how that
Infernal thing does smell, to be sure!"
. Of course the preacher saw through
the device, and Its clumsy, kindly deli
cacy touched him as few things had
done of late. He murmured some com
monplace reply and proceeded to take
a tender Interest In the retiimnilng of
the stove. 1 fancy there were tears In
his tired eyes asJie fumbled with the
matches, and thnt he blessed Jeff's
grumpy hospitality with a fervor
which would have agreeably astonish
ed the doctor, who had received so lit
tle gratitude In his time thnt he had
outgrown the usual habit of expect
ing it.
He did not look nt his guest as lie
bunted In the cupboard and brought
out such modest provision ns It con
tained, and presently the preacher rose
nnd began to set the table ready In
silence, As he lifted one of the books
something on Its faded cover caught
his eye. On the brown leather was
stamped a coat-of-arms, almost indis
tinguishable by reason of Its antiquity.
Jeff saw the glance directed toward
him, took the book from his compan
ion's hand and Hung It roughly Into a
corner.
"Somebody's aristocratic vulgarity,"
he snld, shortly. "What do they want
to scatter their stupid quarterlngs
about for? I picked It up second
hand." The preacher went on silently with
Ills task. He was quite aware that the
book bad not been picked up second
hand, but he did uot even look as if be
doubted Jeff's statement. Only I think
the skeleton sidled a little closer to the
ctiplsiard door. It Is a thing which all
skeletons will do nt times.
The two men sat down at the table
and began their supper. They did not
talk much at first, but presently Jeff
pushed back his chair and glanced
across at the preacher.
"I told you a He just now," he said.
The preacher looked up, and the two
uen's eyes met.
"I kZ&K you did," he answered, sim
ply. "I thought you didn't know. Rather
pride myself on telling a lie neatly.
Learned It at school about the only
thing I did learn there. Ah, now I've
shocked you."
"No," answered the other, sadly. "I
I am not easily shocked."
"New sort of saint, eh? Well, we've
had about enough of the old."
There was silence for a moment and
then Jeff said:
"How do you know?"
"By the way you flung the book."
"Ah! I saw you looking at the old
shield nnd It hurt. Odd how small
tilings do hurt sometimes. Perhaps
you know that, too?"
"I know It very well," murmured the
preacher, with his eyes cast down.
"Thought you did," said Jeff, with a
little smile which had a touch of irony
In It.
The little doctor could never be quite
serious his retrospective melancholy
hnd a dash of amusement in It. He
had grown used to the Idea of himself
and the rest of humanity squirming be
neath the dissecting knife of tualiguaut
destiny.
"Been preaching about here?" he
went on.
The preacher looked up, half nerv
ously. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Not staying long, are you?",
"No," said the preacher, with a qukt
sound In his voice. "No, I hluk I shall
not stay very long."
Jeff sprang to his feet and then sat
down agatu. He looked hard at the
man's white face, and It looked back at
him. There was no fear In it, aud the
sad eyes met his steadily.
"You you must go away," said Jeff.
The preacher smiled a little.
"Yes where to the south of
France? My dear doctor, that's not for
me nt least not now. Once" he
stopped, and his eyes grew dreamy.
"Not now," he said again.
Jeff did not speak at once.
"You must leave London, then."
"It Is hardly worth while."
"You're a fool, and an enthusiast,"
said Jeff, roughly, yet with a sharp
catch in his voice, "but you're good
stuff. I've seen you when man, you're
killing yourself!"
The preacher never winced. The
smile still lingered on his lips, though
they were set tight.
"I can't run away, doctor," he re
plied. I never did that, and I can't do
it now."
"You weren't meant for this work
do you think I have no eyes? Write to
your people and tell them "
"I have no people," answered the
preacher, and his face was very stern.
Jeff tilted his chair, waiting. It. came
at last. The preacher caught bis eye,
and hesitated for a moment.
"I told you a lie, then," he said.
"Go on."
"They threw me over. My father Is
a clergyman. I was to have gone into
the church. I wanted to you don't
know how much! But I could uot ac
cept everything they told me. 1 sup
pose I was 'unorthodox " ITe slop
ped. Jeff nodded mute encourage
ment. "They rejected me," said the preach
er slowly.
"Because you were honest. Yes. And
this was "
"The only other way."
"You are a priest, all the same," said
Jeff, through his teeth.
The preacher stood up.
"Without due authority," he. an
swered, as he held out his linnd.
"Authority," said the little doctor,
wasplsbly, "is not always given to the
right man nor by the right man. '
But the preacher went away silent
ly. He was not one of those who speak
evil of authorities.
It was a month or two later, nnd
London was In the grip of black, bitter
frost. In a doorway In one of the
slums, behind the Salamander Music
hall, Jeff, haggard and anxious, stood
looking at the preacher with some
thing like despair in his face.
"I'm stone broke," he said, "and tho
girl must have nourishment or she'll
die. There's no time to apply to any
one. Good God! what are we to do?"
lie stamped desperately on the floor,
and then remembered his patient and
stopped. The preacher did not stamp.
"I'll get you some money," he said.
"I think I can. Yes" he shivered a
little lu the cold draught "I'm sure I
can."
"In an hour?"
"Within an hour. I'll go now."
"You're a brick," said Jeff, as he
turned on his heel. Then the profes
sional element In him asserted itself.
"Have something to eat before you
come out into this cold ngain, mind,"
he commanded. '
The preacher nodded and went away
with a dreary smile on his face. Per
haps there was a hidden Irony In the
situation which he alone could per
ceive, for he smiled more than once ns
he hurried through the darkening
streets to Uie house where he had har
borage. Once, as he passed a lighted
church where the choir was practicing
for the morrow and his eyes fell on
the notice board, the smile very nearly
became a laugh. Yet there was noth
ing laughable in sight. The notice
board merely bore the sufficiently so
ber Information thnt Rev. John Alllng
ham Taylor would preach next day lu
that church.
The preacher hurried on, and climb
ed to ills rooms with a white face aud
fluttering breath. Arrived there, lie sat
down on a broken chair and panted.
The room was almost as bare as those
cells wherein the hermits dwelt of old.
All the little personal possessions
which had adorned It once had vanish
ed In that dreadful winter. All the
little money which had been paid to the
preacher by the family which had dis
carded him was gone. The only two
things which remained were a large
and handsomely Iwuud bible, lying on
the foot of the bed, and a little Ivory
crucifix hanging against the bare wall.
The preacher's eye fell on these and he
sighed. Then he got up resolutely,
took down the crucifix and opened the
bible. On the flyleaf was an Inscrip
tion. He tore the page carefully out
and slipped It Into the breast pocket
of his thin coat. Then he took up the
bible and crucifix and went out.
Not an hour later Jeff, In a wretched
attic, bent over a shrunken figure and
forced brandy between Its lips. At the
further end of the room two children
small, starved, wolfish-eyed sat over
the remnants of a meal like wild beasts
over a bone. Presently the little doc
tor gave a muttered exclamation of
relief. The children glanced up and
then returned ravenously to their food.
Their mother's eyes opened for a mo
ment upon Jeff's face, and site whis
pered a word of thanks. And well she
might, for he had dragged her out of
the Jaws of death.
Meanwhile the preacher plodded
wearily back again to the shelter of
the four bare walls he called home. He
did not hurry this time. Very slowly
he climbed the ereakUg stairs, and al
most staggered Into the room. It was
growing dark and the cold was In
tense. The preacher sat down and his
eyes involuntarily sought the nail
where the little crucifix had hung. In
voluutarlly, too, his hand drew out the
page which he had torn from the bible.
He bent over It aud read the Inscrip
tion was It the twilight which made
the letters dance and sway? It was
very Cold aud the dnrkuess seemed to
come closer every moment. Perhaps
It was ouly his weakness that made It
seem so dark and freezing. He thought
of Jeff aud his work with a curious
gladness that shut out the falling
night Then a great weariness sensed
Sl'ui and he rose aud tried u cross the
room. The darkness was whirling
round him now and he fell on his
knees beside the bed. ,
Jeff, coming in late that night to tell
him of his success, found him there
kneeling beneath the nail where the
crucifix' had hung. He did not answer
when the little doctor called to him.
and a lighted match revealed the fact
that he had slipped from a world
which had rejected him as a man of
no account. The bare room told a si
lent story that brought tears Into Jeff's
eyes.
And in the dead preacher's hand was
a piece of crumpled paper, upon which
was written "John Alllngham Taylor"
and a date that was all.
'
In a certain church on the following
morning, Rev. John Allinglinm Taylor
preached, to the great edification of his
audience and himself. It was a char
ity? sermon, and It Is popularly sup
posed to have been the finest thing
which that congregation had sat out
for some time.
But Jeff, who occasionally attended
thnt assembly, rose lu the middle of
the discourse and went out with a
heart full of bitterness. Those studied
periods did not edify him. He remem
bered a finer sermon and Its text was
a man's life. It was that of the priest
who had preached without due author
lty. Belgravla. ,
A Spelling-bee.
"I'm going to have a spelling bee to
night," said Uncle John, "nnd I'll give
a pair of skates to the boy who can best
spell 'mnn.' " The children turned and
stared into one another's eyes. "Best
spell 'man," Uncle John? Why, there
Is only one way!" they cried. "There
are all sorts of ways," replied Uncle
John. "I leave you to think of it a
while." And he buttoned up bis coat
and went away.
Time went slowly to the puzzled boys
for all their fun that day. It seemed as
if that after supper time would never
come; but it came at last, and Uncle
John came, too, with a shluy skate-runner
peeping out of his great-coat pock
et. Uncle John did not delay'. He sat
down, nnd looked straight into Harry's
eyes. "Been a good boy to-day, Hal?"
"Yes no," said Harry, flushing. "I
did something Aunt Mag told me not to
do, because Ned Barnes dared me to. I
can't bear a boy to dare me. What's
that to do with spelling 'man'?" he add
ed, half to himself.
But Uncle John turned to Bob. "Had
a good day, my boy?"
"Haven't had fun enough," answered
Bob, stoutly. "It's all Jo's fault, too.
We boys wanted the pond to ourselves
for one day; and we made up our minds
thnt, when the girls came, we'd clear
them off. But Jo, he "
"I think this Is Jo's to tell," Interrupt
ed Uncle John. "How wns It, boy?"
"Why," snld Jo, "I thought the girls
had as much right on the pond as the
boys. So I spoke to one or two of the
bigger boys, and they thought so, too;
and we stopped It all. I thought It was
mean to treat girls that way." There
came a flash from Uncle John's pocket.
The next minute the skates were on
Jo's knee.
"The spelling match is over," said Un
cle John, "nnd Jo hns won the prize."
Three bewildered faces mutely ques
tioned him. "Boys," be answered
gravely, "we've been spelling 'mnn,' not
in letters, but lu acts. I told you there
were different ways, and we've proved
it here to-night. Think over it, boys, and
see."
Not Impressed.
President Kruger of the Transvaal is
a man not easily Impressed by rank,
title, or worldly splendor of any kind,
and not in the least ashamed of his
own plain origin and rough upbringing.
Sir James Sivewright, upon whom once
devolved the duty of taking an import
ant and rather pompous English duke
to call uiou the President, told an
American about the conversation
which ensued. It was, of course, car
ried on through an Interpreter, and ran
about like this:
Duke-Tell the President that I am
the Duke of , aud have come to pay
my respects to him.
Kroger gives a grunt, signifying the
welcome.
Duke (after a long pause) Ah! tell
him that I am a member of the English
Parliament.
Kruger gives another grunt and puffs
his pipe.
Duke (after a still longer pause) And
you might tell him that I am er a
member of the House of Lords a lord
you know.
Kruger puffs as before, and nods his
head, with another grunt.
Duke (after a still more awkward
pause, during which his grace appeals
to have entertained doubts as to wheth
er he had as yet been sufficiently Identi
fied) Er It might interest the Presi
dent to know that I was a viceroy.
Kruger Eli! What's that a viceroy?
Duke Oh, a viceroy that Is a sort
of a king, you know.
Kruger continued puffing In silence
for some moments, obviously weary of
this form of conversation. Then, turn
ing to the Interpreter, he said, gruffly:
"Tell the Englishman that I was a cattle-herder."
This closed the Interview.
Penalty for Desertion.
Desertion in time of war is punish
able, lu all armies, by death, usually In
flicted by shooting. In time of peace
It Is regarded by various governments
with dlffereut degrees of severity, ac
cording as the military system Is mild
or severe. In France, Germany or Rus
sia desertion, even lu time of pence. Is
very harshly punished, but lu the Unl
ted States It is punishable by a term o(
imprisonment at hard labor. As a
matter of fact this penalty is rarely In
flicted. The desertions In our army
number from 1,000 to 1,200 annually,
aud few of Ui runaways are ever
caught.
QUALITIES OF AN IDEAL WOMAN.
THE Ideal women according to
the countess of Jersey must pos
sess the following four qualities
patience, tact, foresight and unself
ishness. The countess recently read a
paper before a gathering of working
girls In Loudon In which she said these
qualities were of inestimable value to
women, and laid much stress upon the
Importance of home life, its influence
both upon the Individual and the na
tion at large.
She paid a tribute to the home life
of England, which she claimed was
proverbial for its purity and comfort,
all of which was due to the excellent
qualities of the women. She declared
herself as opposed to those who said
that If a woman was a good daughter,
wife and mother that was all that
should be expected of her, as nowa
days women must take part in citizen
ship, especially when the interests of
the women comes into consideration.
The countess believes that the "Ideal
woman" should be a club woman, and
through the Intercourse of club mem
bership, especially through federa
tions, women will broaden their views
and knowledge will be acquired which
cannot help leading to the betterment
of all classes of society.
Nun Rather than Wife.
Miss Mattie McQuaid, of Cleveland,
Ohio, will become a, nun because ber
employer proposed marriage to her. J.
J. Deneniark is the name of the young
man who has so curiously changed the
current of Miss MeQuaid's life. He is
the chief stockholder and manager of
the Cleveland Electric Enlarging Com
pany. Miss McQuaid was his type
writer. Mr. Denemark being unmar
ried and willing to change his condition
In that respect, discovered not only that
his typewriter was pretty but that she
was modest and intelligent as well. He
accordingly asked her to marry him.
To Miss McQuaid the proposition seem
ed to come as something awful and as
tounding. She was shocked beyond
measure. She refused Instantly -"d
MISS MATTIE M'QUAtD.
peremptorily nnd then she threw up
her position and left him.
Mr. Denemark after a few weeks
managed to Induce her to come back,
she supposing thnt the manager's mad
ness was dead forever. But it was only
slumbering. Denemark again confess
ed his love and begged the girl to marry
him. Miss McQuaid this time seemed
genuinely bonified. She again refused
him and again left his service. The
matter seemed to rankle strangely In
her heart. For a number of days she
seemed restless aud disturbed, then
without a word of warning she an
nounced that she was going to be a nun,
and went out to the Ursuline convent.
Plants That Thrive Indoors.
Plants suitable for indoor window
gardens are: Geraniums; begonias,
not including the Rex sections, as these
are not adapted to house culture; ole
ander, plumbago, caetl, ficus, palm, as
pidistra, lantaua, fuchsia speclosa, an
thurtuni, aniaryllis, sword fern, Chinese
primrose, primula obcouica, calla, abu
tilon, antherlcum, Swansonla, helio
trope, chrysanthemum and azalea. For
vines, English Ivy,' hoya, passlflorn,
cobea and jasmine. For hanging plants,
othonna, saxifraga, money-musk and
trauescantia. For bracket plants,
fuchsia speclosa, sword fern, begonia
guttata, aud geranium. Madame Sal
lerol will be found excellent, also the
single petunia of the flower garden.
Ladles Home Journal.
Smoking Rooms for Women.
So many Englishwomen are users of
tobacco that some leading London ho
tels have been compelled to fit up
smoking-rooms for fair devotees of the
weed. It will be recalled that several
of the women's clubs In London were
recently very much disturbed over the
question as to whether or not it was
best for the interests of the organiza
tions to have smoking-rooms for the
members. .In some of the clubs they
were abolished, but In the majority
they were retained.
The Old Fashioned Woman.
"When one judges truly what It Is to
be 'old-fashioned' lu some of the mod
ern 'progressive' Ideas, It does not ap
pear so bad," writes Edward W. Bok,
discussing "On Being Old-Fashioned"
In the Ladled Home Journal. "It may
be true that oue who refuses to be so
essentially 'modern' In all phases of life
misses some things. But then these
progressive' spirits seem to miss some
things, too; they seem to miss In about
everything they do, and Incidentally
miss, ns well, the true aim and essence
of life. And there are often strong
compensations In the attitude of the
'old-fashioned.' It brings fewer after
regrets; fewer pictures one wants to
blot out. An Indifference to healthy
progress is Injurious to any oue. But
when progress seeks to Improve upon
those elements in life which are God
ordained, the wisest of us are those
who stand still or fall out of the ranks.
There are some tilings in this world
which even the wonderful 'genius of
this century connot Improve upon. They
were fashioned by a skill beyond our
ken. And we would better let them
alone. 'Forward,' commands the old
proverb, but then It adds, 'but not too
fast.' The cautious woninn, the home
loving woman, the woman fond of her
children, and with a belief in God, who
gave them to her, the woman of pure
heart and good purpose, the woman
who loves and Is beloved, need never be
disturbed that she Is called 'old-fashioned.'
Perhaps she is. But It Is no
disgrace to be 'old-fashioned' In some
things. She Is truer to her woman
hood by being so. And she Is always
in good company."
Garters for Brides.
The latest bridal garter is of white
elastic. Running over the surface of
the elastic Is a delicate tracery in blue
In the pattern of a tiny flower. Here
GARTER FOR A BRIDE.
and there knots of very narrow white
ribbon. Bordering the elastic is a ruf
fle of white lace of fine pattern. As
elegant a little piece of lace as may be
found can be placed upon the garter,
for the bridal garter Is to be put away
as one of the mementoes of the day.
Believes in Women Angels.
Some preacher In New Jersey recent
ly declared that he did not believe
there were any women angels in heav
en. His declaration has roused deep in
dignation in chivalrous manhood In
many places, Including Kentucky, of
course. Judge Toney, of Louisville, has
this to say:
"No women angels In heaven! No
women in heaven, when even the basa
earth Is filled with them! Perish the
thought! The man who made this as
sertion is a blind worm, a distributor
of Dead Sea fruit, a moral Klondike,
who deserves to pass the rest of his life
on the Dry Tortugas, 200 miles from
the nearest petticoat. I tell you, if
there are no lovely women angels float
ing in misty robes around the golden
city, all the poetry, the beauty, the mu
sic are gone, lonely as a ball-room
whence the girls have departed. If 1
hud that New Jersey preacher here I
would send him to jail for contempt.'1
Home Distillery.
If any woman wishes to save the
cost of buying toilet waters she may
save it by manufacturing them at
home. A very simple chemical appa
ratus is necessary. It consists of a
spirit lamp, over which a covered tin
vessel fits. Into the top of this a rub
ber tube fits, which is connected at the
other end with a jar. Put clear water
In the vessel and put a thick layer of
the flowers on top. Light the spirit
lamp and hang the vessel over It, but
take care that the heat Is very slow
and gentle or the delicate bouquet of
the flowers will be lost. Tube, stop
pers, and all must fit perfectly tight.
The vapor will pass through the tuba
and be condensed Into liquid In th
cold glass jar.
New England Women Farmers.
There Is a colony of women In New
England known as the Mary Wllkins
farmers who have demonstrated their
ability to conduct a farm In Its every
department as systematically and suc
cessfully as any of their male neigh
bors. The men and boys attached to
the colony are engaged in labor in the
near-by villages; the women and girls
superintend and do all the work on the
farms.
Up-to-Date Funeral.
A prominent woman of Harrlsburg
who passed to the great beyond a few
days ago was buried In a truly up to
date way. She had a trolley car fu
neral. In Harrlsburg a trolloy road
has been built to the cemetery, and
there are several electric cars appro
priately draped In crape, so the woman
was borne to her last resting place In
the most approved manner.
There Is only one sudden death
among women to every eight aaioug
men.
) mad I' '