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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 3, 1902)
26 THE SUNDAY 0SEG02OA3S, PORTLAND, AUGUST 3, 1902. n HOW THE DISTINGUISHED ACTRESS SPENDS HER SUMMER VACATIONS MOD J ESK N HEK eLIFCRNlA HOME rADAME Helena Modjeska, the fa mous Polish actress, has reconsid ered hor intention of giving: tip the stage, disposing of her Southern Califor nia home and returning to the land of her nativity, and has definitely decided to continue with her work for at least sev eral years, and to make her permanent home in America. Like migrating birds that always flit back to last year's nest, JIme. Modjeska and her husband Count Charles Bozenta ChlapowskTonnually return and ensconce themselves for a brief period among the luxuriant beauties of their mountain home, "The Forest of Arden," In Orange County, California. They are there now, asbeppy and de voted as a. pair of doves, and perfectly content 'In the enjoyment of a life from which all the hurry and bustle of train catching, of theatrical engagements and late hours have been eliminated. Their happiness is that of children in a field of wild flowers, after, having been rigorously restrained In the city, or of caged . birds given the freedom of flight. Isolated from fatiguing conventionalisms of the world, and snuggling with Artistic abandonment in a mountainous, verdure- lined nest, this unique ranch, which is one 1 of the most historically interesting and picturesque mountain homes in America, la a haven of rest for the weary actress after an arduous season of stage work. Bhe finds an impressive wildness and si lent grandeur among the massive gnarled oaks that canopy the grass-grown moun tain sides. Their great tangled roots creep and cling under and about the giant, moss covered boulders, while their branches twine themselves above the corners of the bungalow, caressingly, protectlngly, peek ing in at the windows with faithful, sen tineling devotion. Rustic bridges span the little stream, over which, in many places, spreads a canopy of waving ferns. Like a silver cord it winds Its way through the canyon, its moods being variable. Some times it is noisy, frolicsome, merry, again quiet, sleepy. Impassive. The bungalow built especially for com fort, is unquestionably artistic with Its low, rambling walls, Its gay French win dows, and its broad verandas, over which creep magnificent rose vines. Majestic palms cast their shadows over the emer ald expanse of lawn that surrounds the house, and everywhere are rare plants and profusions of flowers, the whole mak ing a kalaidoscopic display of color and filling the air with fragrance. Close beside the library window Is an old well, possessing the proverbial moss covered bucket, and garlanded with crim son Henrietta roses, a daintily spiced va riety that ma.dame especially loves to gather. In the gardens fountains leap and play. Hammocks swing cozily among the troes. Seats are placed in shady nooks along the stream, and outdoor life is made a thing of Ideal perfection. The 25-mlle drive from Orange to this delightful retreat abounds in quiet, scenic plcturesqueness as it passes through fer tile valleys, whore grow thrifty orchards of orange, lemon, olive, walnut and peach trees, and through vast stretches of wav ing grain, until at last the cultivated are as are blended In the uncultivated, and the road intrudes its presence into for est solitude, where one speeds along be neath an almost continuous canopy of oak branches and tangled masses of wild grr.pc vine. In the Spring the surrounding landscape Is one vast, sun-kissed sea of fragrant bloom, over which nature has traced her paint brushes with their dainty loads of color, leaving in her wake myriads of beautiful blossoms of many species and hues. The ranch, at an elevation of 2500 feet above the sojs, comprises 2000 acres, 70 of which are under cultivation, olives being the principal production, while other fruits, grain, corn and vegetables occupy minor areas. This unique home is situated about 50 miles southeast of Los Angeles In San tiago Canyon, a spur of the Coast Range Mountains, snd was christened "Forest of Ardon" by Mme. Modjeska in memory of her favorite Shakespearean play, "As You Like It." Madame is noted for her hospitality, and many distinguished guests have enjoyed the delights of Arden. as well as people with less pretentions to fame and wealth, for Madame is a true woman and chooses her friends according to their real indi vidual worth. When guests arrive, tired after the long drive, they are ushered into cozy rooms where they may eliminate " the dust of travel. In a few minutes a maid knocks to see if anything is needed, and informs them that when they are ready, tea or coffee will be served In the libra ry. The library is Madame's favorite apart- MY LADY THE dreary rain had already wet him to the skin. As he felt again of the soggy sleeves of his Jacket, ho won dered vaguely whether umbrellas kept one s wrists dry, and wished, he had some tar from the lamp-trimmer's lockor to put on the chafes. But it was a long way down to the ship's berth, and tho streets seemed a degree pleasanter, so he only pulled his sleeves a lltt further up. to ; let them rub in a new spot, and crept close to a window for shelter from the downpour. As he was gazing curiously at the things inside, he felt a small, firm hand on his shoulder, and turned quickly to see who it wasA bright-eyed little lady, with an umbrella and a shiny silk Vain coat, was standing there looking at him. "What ship are you from?" she asked, briskly, without further preliminaries than a friendly smile. "Steamer Queen Mab, of Glasgow, ma'am," he answered promptly. It never occurred to him to wonder how a lady of her station should recognize at a glance that he belonged to the sea. That was an accomplishment which he took as a matter of course in every one. "And what are you doing up town?" "Mr. Hoskins, the mate, 6ad I might come ashore," he explained, anxiously. He had been feeling a little lonely and homesick until she came up, and now he did not want to give a bad Impression to the first person In all that city who had given him a. friendly word. "That's all right; I knew you wouldn't be here without leave," she replied, cor dially. "When do you have to be back?" "Eight o'clock, ma'am." "Good. It Is only C now. I want you to come with me, if you will, and perhaps we can find something to do." She spoke with an authority not to be resisted, and for the first time that after noon he began to feel glad that he had asked for a holiday. He turned obediently and went with her, the forlornness that had oppressed him vanishing In tho company of his new protector. Soon they ascended a narrow stairway. It was light ed with a sizzling arc light, and at the top was an open door, through which came glimpses of a cheerful room beyond. At the doorway they paused a moment while the lady slipped off the damp rain coat Then, with an encouraging little push, she launched him Into the middle of the room, where the light and warmth made him blink dizzily. "Come over hero by thetove," she said, leading the way to a big. low chair that stood Invitingly near the fire; and estabr lishicg him there without further cere mony, she handed him over to a fat, rather OX RUSTIC STAIRWAY. , ' MODJESICA TAKIX G A STROLL I?f HER GARDENS. GATHERING ROSES. 1. . . - a ,.,.. - ,.tl ment, and it is here she entertains her visitors. Always simply, but exquisitely and artistically gowned, she talks to one in a soft, melodious voice, with Just enough accent to make tho pronunciation fascinating. She is captivating, she is interesting, but so gracious and unassum ing that one forgets the halo of fame that surrounds her life, forgets -that for years she has been identified in dramatic circles as one of the most brilliant, powerful and magnetic of tho world's impersonators, and oimply enjoys the presence of a womanly woman, who with tactic art, adjusts her self to the requirements of her guest. She serves tea from a quaint old table that onco bclpngcd to Mary, Queen of Scots. Its handsome polished top is supported by four lions' heads. The walls of this den aro lined with carved oak bookcases, and among tho 2000 volumes that lino the shelves are books in Polish, English, Italian, French and Russian. Alphonse Daudet presented Modjeska with an elegant edition of Bal zac, which is greatly prized and given a place of honor on the shelves. The books in Polish by Henry Slenkswlsz, whose name as & writer is famons on two continents, are given a conspicuous place among this rare collection of volumes. The upper walls above the bookcases are hung with magnificent paintings by famous artists, and at one side of the room is an im mense stone fireplace, of which Madame Is very proud. A grand piano stands in an alcove, but perhaps most interesting of all Is Madame's work table, on which Is a tumbled, confused mass of dramatic works, scarpbooks of criticisms and the atrical events, while all about are photo graphs of noted stage people, tho friends and contemporaries of Madame. It Is a big biographical display of the events, conditions, emotions, triumphs and strug gles of a human life. An . antique little brass-legged table stands in one corner of the room, snd Is highly prized by Count Bozenta because of its historic walue, for it dates from the time of Queen Elizabeth, and was presented to him by Joe Jeffer son. ' The walls of the dining-room are adorned STORY OF AN APPRENTICE SAILOR BY ADELAIDE FLEMING WILSON, OF PORTLAND (From the San Francisco Argonaut) Jolly looking man, who provided him with a white napkin, and a thick china plate. The plate he balanced across his knee, but what to do with the napkm he scarcely knew. It was soft to touch, and be finally stuffed it around his sore wrist, under his Jacket sleeve. He had arranged It to his satisfaction, and was wondering what would happen next, when his lady he had already unconsciously distinguished her thus as he followed her movements In and out among a half-dozen other young women his lady came back with a. big; fragrant bowl of clam chowder. "I hope you will like it," she said, as sho put it down on his plate. f'And what Is your name, please?" "Sawyer." "Nothing else?" "No'm." "I thought maybe you had a namo like Tom' or 'Jack'?' she suggested. He stopped for a moment over his chow der. "Sis used to call me Jim," he said, very softly, as If It were a memory. "Jim." she repeated, so'ftly, too. linen suddenly bending' over him she put a dainty handkerchief Into his hand. "Put that around your other ' wrist Jim." There were new people coming In all the time, and pretty soon the bright-eyed lady had to leave him. but not before they talked together .about a good many things, a conversation which seemed to Sawyer of momentous Importance in its bearing on his life. Then the fat man come again, anfl substituted a piece of hot meat for the chowder bowl, empty on his plate. His hunger was fully appeased by the time he had eaten this, and he leaned back com fortably to look around him a little bit. Gradually the unaccustomed warmth made him very drowsy, and, leaning his head against tho back of the chair, he was soon fast asleep. His. rest was becoming un easy (from sailor's habit), when he was shaken by the shoulders, and heard an Imperious voice call "Sawyer J- Sawyer!" He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Half Iast seven. Sawyer," said the lady. "Time you were off.". The lad's face wrinkled -into a smile. "You've saved me a llckln' from the mate, and I'm much obliged to you. ma'am." "I'm glad of that. "When do you sail?" "On the morning tide, ma'am. For Kobe, I've heard." "That's a Jong way, Jim," said the lady, a little sadly, as she looked down at the small form. 'But you'll be a good boy, and won't forget what I've told you?" Sawyer looked up insurprise at such a question. As If he could forget a single word that had been said to him by this, the most wonderful and gracious being who had ever entered into his chilly little life! Something of this feeling must: have been on his face, for she smiled down on him confidently. With a wistful good-by membered his wnsic They were dry with a unique collection of arms of vari ous designs and clever, workmanship. There are numerous Javelins, mysterious looking old swords, and sharp-pointed cut lasses, many of them the gifts cf famous he turned to go, when, suddenly, ho re new, and not so sore. Very carefully he pulled out the napkin and handkerchief, and started to give them to her." "No. no; keep the handkerchief," she said. "It's too nice," he objected, fingering the lace on it cautiously. "That" point ing to tho napkin "Is better for me." "But It is not mine to give," she an swered. "Thin Is take it." And .she wrapped It carefully around the wist that teemed most chafed. Sawyer left it there till he got ' outside in the street, then folded it up and put it inside his jacket to keep it from tho rain. When he reached the ship he found that there were still five minutes to spare, so he sat down In the lee of the galley to breathe, after his quick run. InElde the cook was talking to the steward, and Sawyer caught a sentence that aroused his interest. "A man can't ao less than get 'em something on the other side," the cook was Mylng. 'These .ladles th'at takes an interest In us deserves some'at from us. as appreciates what they do." "True enough, cook," answered the steward, "and. I always makes it a point to do it. Too many never thinks of their kindness a second time1 "Now, steward," said the cook, inMou atlngly, "what' do you call and consider a genteel gift to make a rolsslonary-to-eea-men lady?" "Well, othera baa their likes and dis likes," responded the latter, judicially, "but I always considers a kimono the most genteel or one's lady." An Illuminating thought truck" Sawyer as he llstenod. That must be what bla lady was a mlsslonary-to-seamcn lady. I He had not thought of a definite repay- to report to the mate he turned over 'the matter In bis mind. By the time he sought his bunk In the starboard alley way he was firmly resolved to get a kimono for his lady when he reached, "the other side." As the monotonous days at sea wont by. and memory brightened the Joys of that night with the missionary, tho rer solve deepened Into a vow. But here difficulties multiplied. "Chips," the car penter, told him that 'kimonos cost from $35 to ?40 In Hopg Kong currency, and Sawyer ruefully reduced the sum to pounds, shillings and pence. As his in come was precisely one shilling a month, there seemed to" bo. no possible hope of his accomplishing his desire. He was afraid to ask advice, for experience told him that mental perplexity was better than the ribaldry of his shipmates. Chips, with whom he bunked, was the only one in whom he dared confide, and even he, m this case, seemed unable to help him. except by the vague- encouragement of something "turning up." In tho course of lime the Queen Mab people. The long, low room is picturesque ly cozy, with, its great brick fireplace and wealth of flooding sunbeams. Madame loves all things beautiful, and so the wildness, the simplicity, the ideal MADAME MODJESKA AT HOME. neared the Japanese coast. It was the typhoon season, when every hour may bring disaster. Therefore, when, late ono afternoon, Sawyer was told to unbend, .the canvas "dodgers" on tho brldgo and to make the boat lashings fast, be took occasion to glance at the barometer In the chartroom. The brass needle which marked the last reading, and the black nocdlo marking the variations were an inch apart. "Falling like lead!" pro claimed Sawyer to the cook. The latter for answer stared at the sky and went aft to look at tho chickens and cheep. Sawyer lingered till he was called away again by c sharp command. Accustomed tasks gained new significance under the sober eye of tho mate, and many times the hard-driven boy cast a curious glance at the captain, slowly pacing tho bridge. By the end of tho dog-watches all was stowed and made fast, and the carpenter vas taking a few last taps at thd hatch battens before turning In. Strango thoughts stirred in the boy as he leaned on the rail and gazed over the sea spread ing silently to the horizon in dark splen dor. There were pictures of a home ho had never fully known, dreams of Joys be had never tasted; moat Ylvid cf all, the memory of the lady In the shiny rain coat, a memory which hod become a cherished part of his life. He was still gazing at the darkening horizon when Chips passed by. "Botter turn In, youngs ter; sleep while you can," ho, said, good naturedly. Sawyer remembered then how tired he was, and, turning In, soon dropped off into a sound sleep. A sudden lurch of the steamer threw him upon the deck. He rose to hJs feet just as Chips stepped In. Through the door, which opened Into the alley-way, he heard the shrill whistle of the wind. "When did this strike us. Chips?" he aBked. Ten minutes ago. Better Ho in your bunk till your watch is called. Must bo nearly midnight now." -Tho carpenter lifted up nis mattress, got some tools from beneath It, and was away again immedi ately. Sawyer pulled on hlo boots and jacket, nibbled a biscuit, and swunf out Into the alleyvway. The motion of tho steamer was steadily increasing, and overhead the boy could hear the straining of the tiller rods. He listened a moment, climbed up, and by the dim light of the lantern watched their play. Tho rods gave, topk up, jerked, through the guides, and buckled angrily. He knew the workings of the steering gear, and now repeated to himself what Chips had often told him: "Too much play; the compressor springs need taking up." He heard the clang of tho engine-room triangle malting eight bells. It was time he was reporting on deck, but the tiller rods above him snapped sharply, and Saw yer remembered awful tales told of disas ter following1 defective steering gear. Onpe more ho listened, and then. -Instead of going forward to report, scrambled Into the blackness of the after deck. The 6pray stung his face ratv, and the eddy- Ing -wind snatched his breath away. A perfections of this natural garden lie un disturbed. Birds' nests sway among the tree branches, or snuggle among the roses that ensconce the verandas, and gay little bundles of plumage, whose tiny throats lofty soaring sweep of the ship threw him into tho very teeth of the full blast and dried his face In terror. By the time he reached the after . wheelhouse, a turtle backed affair over the tail of tho ship, he was almost exhausted. Once within, he saw a small' light swinging from the deck bcum, and throwing shapeless silhou ettes across the massive haid wheel. He wiped the salt from his eyes and peered Into the shadows beyond the foot grat ing. He saw the Immense quarter circles of steel that rode on the rudder head and carried on their flange the tiller chains. They Jumped and sprang over tho strain ing seas that thundered against, the rud der below. As tho ribbed arcs swept around above the deck, the lad thought with horror of the fate which awaited the man who chould fall beneath them. The steel door clanged behind him, and ho clung to the grating, while a dizzy toss of the laboring steamer strained every picco of gear Into sllenco. It was the car penter who had come in and was crawl ing up beside him. "Get forad." Chip shouted In his ear. "and ask tho third mate to come and help me connect tho hand gear." But Just then a booming wave crashed overhead, and the water drained down through the shattered plates. Both knew that it was death to, try to make the bridge now, "We've got tot do It alone, Sawyer," cried tho "carpenter. "Work!" "How long will the steam-gear hold?" asked the boy. . . "Don't waste time; we're getting Into the trouglfof the sea. Work!" They get themselves to do what, they had practiced so many times. Sawyer threw off the lashings of the wheel, and hung to It like grim death. On a level with his eyes was a port-glass, across which the spume flew In clouds of white. Behind him he heard the groaning of the quadrants, and knew that their Chips was working for his life. - The heavy clutch of the hand-gear al most engaged the Jerking rudder-head. "Hold her!" shouted the carpenter. Sawyer hold on. The violent poll which he expected to follow the connection $t the wheel to the rudder did not nsue. Instead the wheel swung Idly away under him to the lurch of the steamer. A stifled cry reached his ears. He turned fearfully and peered aft. The carpenter had vanished. It came over the my with a rush that the oft-repeated story had come true. Chips must be in that shrieking, groaning trap below him. With a wreckless leap from the grating she mado the narrow rim of the starboard quadrant, and, kneeling, unsupported on the swinging ledge, looked down. Chips lay huddled beneath one of the ribs that ran like wheel-spokes across the swerving quarter circle. "Are you hurt?" cried the boy. Chips tried to rise, but fell over, ana Sawyer saw death before his eyes. With scarce an Instant's pause he swung de liberately down Into the death-trap, seized the man, and with all his power thrust him up Into safety. When Sawyer came to himself again. swell with rapturous melody, flit about I Unrestrained by fear, while Madame sits I near by with her book or her embroidery and revels in their Joyous Bong sym phonies. .Visitors at the ranch cannot help but notice the fearlessness of these birds, and Madame explains by saying: "Never do I allow anyone to bring a gun to my place I love' my birds and they love me. I call them my children", and care for them and they repay me with sweet music" Though Madame loves the birds she does not love the mischievous gophers that tear up the lawns and litter them with mounds of earth. "1 suppose," ehe said, "that they must come up to get a, breath of fresh air and a peek at the sunshine, but they are such naughty, destructive creatures." Then she asked if there was any way- of extermlntiang them, and listened atten tively while being told bow they mlgnt be smoked out. "Ah! That is what I will have dorte," she said emphatically. "Ob the little torments. Just see and she pointed to an immaculate piece of lawn on which bulged six fresh mounds. To think of one of the world's greatest tragedians being worried over the esca pades of a little Insignificant gopher. And then there are other things. Madame's favorite dog has fleas, and must be Iso lated till he dispenses with the objection able flock. "Yes," she said, "you might have taken my picture with my pet dog if he were here. That I would like, but," confidenti ally, "so many people Insist on taking my picture with my pet pig, feeding chick ens, or milking a cow. Now, I have no pet pig (with a picturesque little shrug), and as for cows, I am afraid of them. I never feed chickens,-either, but I sup pose the correspondents want me that way because It would be so unusual. "And do you know," she continued, "some of them accuse me of wearing top boots, a skirt above my knees, and a som brero, and hoeing corn and cabbages Just for fun. Is it not curious? The Ideal" "When asked, how she spends her time during the long Summer days. Madame hours later, kindly faces were close to his. "Feeling better, lad?" said the cap tain, hohrsely. "The ship?" murmured the boy. "Weathering it in fine style." was the answer. "Are ye In pain? asked tho steward. Sawyer thought a moment. "My arm," he said at last. "Poor ladl poor lad!" cried the captain, and the old steward bent over Urn again. "It's only broken. Sawyer, my boy, and praise God for that!" "Let's see," demanded the boy. Tho captain tenderly lifted his head, and Sawyer looked at his bandaged arm. Around the wrist was a lady's handker chief, soiled and stained. "My lady's!" he sighed, contentedfy, then gave a pain ful gasp as they laid him back in hie bunk. "It's something more'n my arm, I guess," he muttered. In the weeks that followed, while he lay helpless In a foreign hospital, each day brought some of the ship's company to see Jilm. They told him stories and cheered him aa best they could, until the lad's heart was filled almost to bursting with gratitude for all this unheard-of kindness. When sailing day came, the skipper vis ited him. The lad eaw the full uniform, and divined the meaning. "Blue Peter fly fag, sir?" "Aye, we're off again. But -we'll be back In nine weeks. Sawyer." "I'd like to be going, too, sir," said the boy, looking up wistfully into the captain's face, but making a manful ef fort to keep the homesick teers from his eyes. "Impossible, I am afraid, my lad. But 'get well as fast aa you can. and we'll I take you off the next time, Bure," . he added with a confidence that he by no means felt, for the boy looked frail enough, as he lay there on the white cot. "And, Sawyer," he continued, trying to look sternly official, "in token of your manliness It's my wish, and the wish of the ship, that ye be given this. Lad. lad, but ye did a "brave deed, and I'm proud of yel" And the captain ended with a husky warmth that was very unofficial. Indeed. Face aglow with delight and boyish shyness. Sawyer fingered the package tho captain gave him. "It's what, sir?" he asked. "English gold. Sawyer, four pound and over. And you're to "do what you like with It." "And how many China dollars would that be? he Inquired, diffidently. ' The captain paused a moment. "At present rates of exchange, and seeing It's you, I can make It forty-four dollars. Hong Kong, If you want It that way." Sawyer dreamed blissfully awhile, then turned to the skipper. ; "Would it be too much troublo, sir, for you to take this and buy kimono and give it to my lady?" ' "And who is 'my lady?' " The boy painfully unknotted the freshly washed handkerchief from nl3 wrist. "A missionary lady, sir, who gave says: "First In the morning I put on a short wrapper and walk about In my garden looking after tho needs of my flowers, and at about 10 o'clock I put on a long wrapper, a prettier one, and at tend to my correspondence, which keeps me busy till noon, for I receive many let ters from all over the world. Every kind of letter comes to me, many from strang ers, who make such funny requests, but I try to answer them "all. After lunch I take a nap, put on another wrapper onB of my afternoon wrappers, you know," and Madame laughs, "always wrappers at Arden; they are so comfortable. Then I take my embroidery, or a book, for I read much, and go out on the veranda among my birds and roses. They are my pets, and not the pigs and the cows. Af ter dinner my husband and I usually walk about tho grounds. He is so busy all day," and Madame sighs. "I call hlra my encyclopedia, for he Is always study ing, or writing for magazines and news papers." Count Bozenta Is a largo, sturdy-looking man with Iron gray hair and pleasing features, and has a manner brisk, cordial and brimming with hospitality. "When on the ranch he usually wears a picturesque hunting costume, and when not engaged in literary work he tramps over the moun tains with his dogs, or superintends the agricultural workings of the farm. Madame and her husband have engaged steamer passage for the latter part of August, when they will sail for Europe, where Madame's season begins. In speak ing of her next year's work Madame said: "I do not know how long the season will last, but I know It will not be as hard as the one just finished. Last season 1 played every night, but the next I am to play but three or four nights a week. I do not know as yet what tho engage ments will be. I shall of course visit England, France, Germany and my na tive cquntry, but In May I shall return to Southern California, and rest, as I al ways do, that I may be strong and fresh for my next year's work." HELEN LUKENS JONES. Pasadena, CaL me this handkerchief." Then suddenly ho looked up into the captain's face, and scly that there that mado him forget his awo of him. With a voice quivering with excitement and weakness, he confided to him tho whole story of the gracious lady, her words to him, and the dream he had so fondly cherished of carrying some present bdek to lay at her feet. "But it's no use thlnkin' about that now. You tell her why I didn't come, sir, and my lady'll understand." The captain nodded; and because a lump began growing In his throat, which bade fair to choke him. ho mado hla farewell hasty and rushed out of the hos pital without giving tho final charges to Sawyer's nurse as he had Intended doing. Ho atoned for this omission, however, by jjurchaBlng tho most gorgeous kimono the bazaars afforded, royally irrespective of its price. And this he delivered four weeks later, to a bright-eyed little lady, who listened with a quivering Hp to the story he had to tell, and who. after ha had gone, almost ruined the splendid pat tern, by letting her tears fall over It, qulto regardless of Its beauty. "Poor little child," she murmured, "my heart aches for him. If I could only tell him how proud I am of him! If I could only let him know! And It will be flva weeks before I can get back word to him, and then it may be too late! The captain must bring him home next time. I will tell him that he must bring him home, and I'U keep him 1111 he gets well." For she did not know that already Sawyer had caught a glimpse of the flag flying for another voyage, and that with another captain he had made his final Journey home. ADELAIDE FLEMING WILSON. San Francisco. July. 1002. Flovrers. I will not have the road Clytie. Whoe bead Is turned by the sun; The tullD is a courtly queen. "Whom, therefore. I will shun; . The cowslip la a country wench, ; The violet is a nun: (But J will woo the dainty rosa, The cueen of every one. ? . 'ihe pea Is but a wanton witch, In too much haste to wea. Ind clasps "her rings on every hand; The wolfsbane I should dread: .Cor will I dreary rosemarye. ' That always mourns the dead; i!ut I will woo the dainty rose. With her cheeks of tender red. fhe Illy Is all in white like a saint. And so If no mate for me. And the daisy's cheek Is tlpp'd with a blush. She Is of such low derree; Jasmine 1 sweet, and has many loves, And the broom's betrothed to the bee; But I will plight with the dainty rose. For fairest of all is she. Thomoa Hood. Eighty pigeons had their eyes picked out by an owl which entered their loft by nlsht at N'ordhausen, Prussia. The same owl the night before picked out the eyes of a whole litter ' of kittens which were in the same bulldln?.