FAILURE.
Lonsr gfo you Raid to mo: "?wcat,
A glorious kingdom befon-yon lis.''
Yon pointed It. nut to my willing
You lighted the way with your loving eyes.
Marv tho triumphs thP years hav brought ;
Keen the plenKure. hut limner the Prti.
I stand by your side in the realm oi" ' bought,
A nd I ask inyself, is lL loss or gain?
Yu give to me generous meed of praise.
You ii've to me. honor ami fust, 1 know;
But. you think with icicret of my simple wy3,
My fonrt unwisdom or long ago.
Though I speak with the wisdom of gods and
(Thl tne bitter that spoils my sweet),
I know lull well that. never Hgitlii
Oau I Htiryour palse by a single beat.
You are not to blame there is naught, to ce
Ever bv fato is our pJanning crossed.
J nd ihe'oest thai. I could, love-led,
For the sake ol winning what J. have lost,
"3I1ZPAH."
BY ETHELIND KAY.
From the Portland Telegram.
Chloe Hathaway sat in the firelight
one cool, autumn evening, her head rest
ing on her hand, and her dark eyes fixed
thoughtfully, almost sadly, on the dying
embers.
It was her twentieth birthday, and her
thoughts involuntarily wandered back
over the year that had just passed.
What a long, dreary, hopeless year it
had been, she thought, and a little bro
ken sigh fluttered from her lips.
These last two years had been like a
groat barren desert, with no oasis no
bright sun showers to refresh them. And
yet no one suspected that Chloe had a
"skelleton in her cupboard." She was
always, when in company, gay, light
hearted and cheerful always ready to
laugh at, and make light of trouble of
all kinds; and though she counted her
lovers by the score, she kept them ail at
a safe distance, and solemnly declared
she would never marry.
"But Chloe," her uncle with whom
she lived, and who was her only rela
tive would sometimes say to her, "yrni
will surely marry some time for l am
old and can not live always, and what
would you do without me, dear?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Uncle," Chloe
would answer wearily. "t only know
that I have a horror of marriage, and
never even give it a second thought ex
cept when you compel me io. Please let
me stay with you, always. Uncle I am
perfectly contented to drift on in this
way forever."
But there hud been a time when Chloe
was 18, when life was not the dreary,
aimless thing to her that it was now;
when her heart beat lightly and joyously,
and existence itself seemed a pleasure.
She thought of it now, and sighed; it
seemed so long ago so many bitter
changes had come since those halcyon
days.
When Chloe was only eighteen, she
had met "Will Boone handsome, noble,
intelligent just such a man as women
fall in love with in spite of themselves,
and almost unconsciously she had given
him her heart.
And he, handsome, polished man of
the w rid, though he was, learned in a
few, short months, to love this little,
pure, wild flower tenderly, and truly
with all the ardor of his strong, passion
ate nature.
For one short summer they had drifted
on in perfect happiness, forgetting every
thing and everybody but themselves and
their Jblden dreams living only in the
present, forgetting the past, and caring
not for the future. Ah! methinks such
days have dawned for all of us and
wore thny not brighter, purer, better
than any we have known since then?
"Ah! for the golden days!" But autumn
came, and Will was compelled to return
to the city. But before he left, he told
Chloe that he loved her, and slipped a
flashing opal on her finger.
"If you love me, darling," he said,
"wear it till Christmas, when I will re
turn I can say no indre till then."'
And then ho had kissed her and left
her, and Chloe had woru his ring be
cause she loved and trusted him. In
side the ring was engraved the quaint,
old-fashioned motto, "Mizpah," signify
ing, "Tl: Lord watch between thee and
me while we are absent one from tho
other.'
He had promised to write her, but not
one line came from him; yet she waited
patiently, trustingly, feeling sure that
in the end it would all be right.
The weeks passed away, and Decem
ber camev and the days dragged slowly
by. Christmas morning dawned clear
and cold, and Chloe entered the break
fast room and took her place, with her
heart in a flutter of feverish hope. He
would come to-day, she told herself con
fidently. Then tho mail was brought in two or
three letters for her father and one for
herself, and as she glanced at the post
mark Iter iieart gave a joyful bound, for
it was from New York.
She opened the envelope and two
ereruu colored cards fell into her hand;
one bore the name, Miss Lizzie Combs,
and the other Mr. and Mrs. W. L.
Boone. And poor Chloe, without one
word, slipped down, white and sense
less on the floor.
"Great God!" cried her father, "I
have killed my child my little Chloe!"
And when, an hour later, Chloe came
back to consciousness and life, she found
herself an orphan her father had fallen
dead as he uttered that twguished cry,
"Great God; I have killed my child!"
He had always been subject to heart dis
ease, and the sudden shock had "loosed
the silver cord," and poor Chloe was
fatherless as well as motherless.
Her uncle immediately came, and after
the funeral, carried her away to his own
elegant luxurious home in the city the
same'eity where Will lived with his
beautiful bride, who had taught him no
soon to forget poor little, dark-eved,
faithful Chloe.
But she learned that Will had gone to
Europe, and would uot return for two or
three years; and so with a dreary hope
less despair settling over her heart, she
"took up the burden of life again," and
none of her fashionable friends or ad
mirers dreamed she had a deep, deep
grave in her heart, in which she had
buried her first and only love; for un
like men, a woman can never forget the
man she has once loved.
And as she sat in tho firelight, this
evening, thinking of tho bitter past, and
still more bitter future, the door opened
softly, and her uncle entered and seated
himsolf beside her.
"Chloe, my dear," he said, gently
drawing her head down on his shoulder,
ana
softly
caressing
tuc aarK, waving
1 1 IT
hair. 1 want to talk to you awhile.
Have you given Mr. Hampton his an
swer yet?"
"Not yet, uncle," replied Chloe,
wearily ; "he is coming this evening."
"And may I ask, dear, what your an
swer will be ?"
"I intend to reject him," said Chloe,
hesitatingly, "for I do not love him."
"My dear child," said Mr. Hathaway,
"I beg you to pause ere you reject Guy
Hampton. He is the noblest man I
know, and very wealthy besides. You
understand my wealth will pass to my
sister when I die, and vou will be com
pelied to earn your own living. I can
not be satisfied until I see .you provided
for. O Chloe ! if you would only marry
Guy ! Nothing you could do would
make me so happy as this, and I am sure
you would care for him in time."
It was the first favor ho had ever asked
of her, and Chloe felt that she could not
refuse. After all, what did it matter ?
Will was dead to her forever ; and as he
had been false, why should she remain
true to his memory, especially as her
uncle desired it so much ? He had done
so much for her. and it seemed so un-
I grateful to refuse his first request. Here
her reflections were interrupted by the
ringing of tho door-bell.
"Chloo," whispered her uncle, shall it
be as I wish? Dear, I wish itso much !"
'Just for a moment Chloe was silent,
and a convulsive shudder passed over (
her Then she said slowly, "Uncle, it !
ftiuui uu i& j uu w iru, , aiiii iviancu 111m.
He returned her caress and left the
room, and a moment later a tall, noble- u.ime n Egypt, Paris, and London, and of
looking man entered, and with a heavy the courag'o and humanity he (lis
heart Chloe arose to meet him. played in as isting plague-stricken
"Chloe," he cried eagerly, clasping j Frenchmen when lie was consul at Alex
both her cold hands in his, "0 darling, andra. The relations she heard impres
do not keep me in such suspense. May sed her as the narrative of Othello's ad
1 keep these little" hands forever ?' ventures imposed Desriemona. Mile.
"If vou wish, Mr. Hampton," said i de Braga ea .v in M. de Lesseps a hero of
Chloe, hoarsely. And as her lover took j modern times. His courtliness, elnval
her eaerlvinto his arms, and pressed , rous manners and vivacity enchanted a
wovm nnccinnoto Lnccnc nn nor hminritu
tor beautiful
face, she closed her eyes resolutely upon j
the dreary, hopeless, aimless past, and I
resolved to make a good and faithful wife '
to the man who loved her so fondly.
ii ' 1 ii v i 11 . i. t n '
Aim just wien ner opai nasi hu ruu in uau :
4 -, ... , Till it.'
men Lint. ;iuu h nue ui uu uiu auui; iuui
Will used to
sing, rang
through her
mind, and her sad heart echoed,
"Ah!
for the golden days!"
k :k
Mr. and Mrs. Guy Hampton were
spending their honeymoon or moon
shine, it might more properly have been
called in this instance in continual
traveling, but at last, Chloe grew weary,
and they stopped at Saratoga to spend
the summer.
The first evening of their arrival there
was a ball at the hotel, and they went
into the ball room and at a late hour,
Chloe looking radiantly beautiful in her
7)alo pink satin and opals: her cheeks
were flushed slightly, and her eyes
flashed with a bright, restless lire; only
the weary, hopeless drooping of the
scarlet lips showed that her heart was not
in this gay scene.
She had danced several times, and was
sitting quietly, talking with a friend,
when her husband's voice suddenly
aroused her.
"Chloe," he said, "let me introduce
my old friend, Will Boone!"
Chloe lifted her eyes. One wild,
startled glance into the cold, handsome
face of the man she loved, and then she
slipped quietly down off the sofa into
the arms outstretched to receive her the
arms of her first, false love.
Twice in her life had Chloe fainted
once when she found that her lover was
false, and now that she found that lover
before her.
Her husband took her hastily from the
arms of his old friend; the usual restor
atives were applied, and Chloe was soon
herself again.
"My poor little girl," said Guy, ten
derly, "what could have caused it? the
heat and excitement, I daresay; and as
soon as you've spoken to Will, wo will
leave I know you are tired!"
"Indeed I am not," returned Chloe,
bravely; and then, with a little cry of
surprise, sho held out her hand to Will
Boone.
"Why, I'll declare!" she cried, "if it
is not an old friend of mine, after all!
Why, Guy, I knew Mr. Boone two or
three years ago! I'm so glad to see
you," sho went on, hurriedly, for she
felt that her courage was failing her.
"Is vour wife here?"
"3 wV!" repeated Will, while Out
burst into a loud laugh. "I have no
wife, Chloo."
Chloe's face turned ghastly white.
"No wife?" she gasped, "why; Will,
you sent me your wedding cards !"
"By George !" exclaimed Guy, ab
ruptly, "I'm engaged for this waltz!"
And the unconscious, blundering fellow
hastened away, and with a long drawn
breath, that was almost a groan. Will
caught Chloe's hand, andhurried her
into the conservatory.
"Now, tell me," he exclaimed, with
great beads of perspiration on his brow,
"what you mean ?" 1
"I mean what I say,'' replied Chloe,
faintly. "Did you not send me your
wedding cards ?
"NO!" thundered Will.
"Then O, Will, why didn't you
write ?"
"Because your father curse him
told me you were engaged. I did not
believe it at first, and wrote you again
and again; but when Christmas came,
your father wrote me that 3-011 were mar
ried!" Chloe, Chloe, say that it was not true !"
"It was not;" CJhloe was weeping now.
"I loved you all the time, Will!"
"And he Tour father curse him! "
He stopped abruptly, as Chloe put
out both white, trembling hands.
"Chloe, darling," he said, hoarsely;
"vou are Guv's wife, and he is blameless
wo must not forget that! God help us
to live our lives nobly, desinte this great
wrong! "Oh, Chloe, my darliug," he
cried, holding out his arms, "come to
me just once you belong to me I have
a right to hold you.
But poor Chloe shrank away.
"Lead mo not into temptatiou !" she
murmured, with white lips.
And just then Guy came rushing 111.
"Helio!" he cried, "are you two talk-,-.
.1 - mi 11
ing over old tiniesr vjome onioe, tins is
1
our dance.'
"One moment," said Will, as he shook
his friend's hand, and then took Chloe's
m a long, painful clasp. "I leave in the
morning." Then his eyes fell upon the
flashing opal, and he added, brokenly :
' the Lord watch between thee and
me while we are ausent one iroin tne
other."
Chloe never saw him again.
1 wonder, are such wrongs righted in
the Beyond.
The Be Lcssops Romance.
The historv of M. de Lesseps' second
mnrriage is a curious. The lady who is
his wife was nearly twelve years at the
chateau of which 3be is now chatelaine,
staying on a visit. Ker family name
was de Braga. She was of a French ori
gin, but English nationality, her father
bavin; tilled a post under the British
government in the Mauritius. Mile, de
rreoie type aiid very
ha(1 been n'the mbk 0
iiraga was the pertection ot the rrench
romantic, bhe
of listening to the
accounts of the diplomatic and material
difficulties which M. de Lesseps over-
"Ui U5eu - ineinooient pumicis ui me
e 01 An1'dce- Mie s UI fe ia? e
'l1?11 ,:
mPj",
W I1CII till IjUIWUC iVD aoiu wuui. niv.
eaient of the Suez enterprise.
rnma wrP !irri vmtr f'rntti thf THilt
Jl I UG till I'll. iHljtl'lHlll in ii""""
nri v f" I 1 irif'fll iinnunf infr I n VI t II t IMT1
-"c o
, fc. iuuu,rura, ceremony. TheFrencu
sovereign was on ooaru a rrencn war
ship' to lead a fileet, composed of vessels
of all nations, with heir-apparent and
heads of governments on board. Fes
tivity reigned at Chesnaye. Mile Braga
grew silent and solitary. One day, in
the garden, she saw de Lesseps walking
on a terrace She plucked a rose and
going up to him, begged of him for her
fake to wear it at dinner. He asked
whether she did not mean it for his
son? No. It was for himr-elf. Her host
explained to her that he was on the
wrong side of (0, while she was not yet
1 J. That did not matter. "What his age
was. never occured to her. She had on
ly thought of hisgreatness and goodness.
In short, he was her beau ideal. How
was it possible for a man reared on the
.sunny side of a Pyreneean mountain
to reason down the feelings this confes
fession aroused? Time was given to
Mile, de Braga to retlect, and she was
made to nmierstand that no frieuship
would be lost were she to change her
mind after the bands had been published.
The rnaniage was celebiated contem
poraneously with the Suez fetes.
A Bond of Sympathy.
A man with a grip-sack in his hand
halted before a Detroit fruit-stand and
priced a choice variety of peaches. When
told that they were twenty cents a dozen
he whistled to himself, walked softly
around, and fiually asked:
"Are you a Baptist?"
"Hardly."
"Neithr am I. I didn't know but thnM
if we both belonged to the same denoitf
nation vou'd throw off' a little,
leau on the Methodists? '
"Can't say that I do."
"That's my case. I never
much stock m the Methodis s.
os
Do vou I
did take
Twenty
cents a dozen is an awful price on these
peaches, considering how tight money is.
I expect you are a Univcrsalist, eh?"
"No."
'Neither am I. Can't you say fifteen
cents for a dozen of these?"
"Hardly."
"Aren't you an Episcopalian?"
"No, sir."
"Neither am I, but I was afraid you
were. Iv'e been a sort o' looking you
over, and I shouldn't wonder" if you
trained with the United Brethren. Come,
now. own up."
"I never attended that church," was
the steady reply.
"Nor i, either. Say, what are you,
anyhow?"
"I'm a hard -baked old sinner."
"No! Whoop! That's my case to a
dot! I'm called the wickedest man in
Washtenaw county! I knew there was a
bond of sympathy between us if we
could only find it out! Now, do you say
fifteen cents a dozen?"
The fruit dealer counted them out
without further oblection.
Campatia is the best pedestrian in the
world. He has quit the business.
POVERTY OF LOVE.
They are on board a Lonpr Branch
steamer, Mr. and Mrs. Jelison and Dolly.
Mrs. Jelison is a delicate woman, lady
like under the most trying circumstances,
and made up after the latest fashion.
Dolly is their daugter, and about her
is an atmosphere both debonaire and
sweet. She is noticeable for quantities
of bright, blonde hair, very clear gray
eyes and something more.
When you have taken all these points,
and decided they are what makes Dolly
attractive, you have missed the point al
together. It is Dolly herself.
Sitting in a dog-cart, driving a horse
with a banged tail and a cluster of vio
lets in his bridle, at 11 a. m., riding bo
hind four horses with banged tails, be
tween the hours of 0 and 7 v. m., form
some of Dolly's pastimes.
She is riding to-night, and while her
companion dexterously handles the rib
bons she as dexterously coquettes with a
big bouquet of jacqueminot roses.
Somowhore between tho blush of the
fading day and the first shining of moon
and stars he surrenders income which
is magnificent, bachelor habits which
have their charm, and himself to boot.
"Papa," Doily says, next morning, "I
had two ofiers yesterday.
"I should say that was nothing mirac
ulous, my dear."
"One was from Mr. Adams."
"You accepted him, my dear? He is
reported to be a millionaire,"
"I didn't, papa, because I don't love
him; the very best reason in the world.
The other offer was from Mr. Brooks.
He candidly owned to me that if his
debts were paid he would find it hard to
jingle two quarters together. You see
he did not try to deceive me about him
self; and, dear papa, I took the liberty
to accept him, for I love him, and have
all his love in return."
The days that are "golden as a crown"
glide very quickly away. The big fire
comes, and business depression straight
away follows it. Investments that wore
bright with promise only a few short
months ago, turn heavy as lead on their
owners hands too heavy to hold. Fail
ure and loss is of common occurrence,
and manv a brave heart "rows sick with
(ut sio mu jwui
the midst oi these
disappointment m
A. A.
dark days.
Mr. Jelison is taken ill, snd soon, too
soon almost to realize, mother and
daughter are one morning fixing flowers
in his dead hands. Then, after the ten
der heart is laid away in its long home,
they face a new world, or rather a part
of the world hitherto unknown to them.
I mean the grasping avaricious part that
seldom lifts its eyes towards God's in
finite blue heaven, to catch a crlimpse of
a life that is not bounded by human
wants, or vanities, or measured by three
score years and ten.
It is a clamorous, greedy place that
Dolly and her mother step out into,
where hands are constantly reaching for
more, and where it seems that there is
not room enough or things enough for
the creatures He has made. Like the
figures of a dream melt away stately
house and luxurious appointments.
It is the day before the auction; a
bleak morning that must be misery to it
self. Dolly is busy about some of the
many things that have fallen to her to
do when she hears a well-known stop in
the tiled hall and flies down stairs to
meet her lover. Her dress is marred by
specks of dust, and the room is in disor
der so far, and chairs are in unusual
places, pictures and mirrors have slid
from the walls, and draperies have dis
appeared. He looks twice at the marble
slab before he ventures to let tho edges
of his hat rest upon it. There is dust
there also. But Dolly thinks of neither
dust nor disorder. She is only con
scious that ho is here, and comes for
ward with both hands extended to him.
They are slim, dimpled hands, and her
cheeks and lips are abloom, and there is
a tender light in her gray eyes.
Handsome, loving Dolly has i.ever
dreamed how this meeting will end, for
she judges him after her own heart, and
it is both sincere and faithful. It is not
exactly words that give her the key to
his feelings; it may be his manner, or
possibly something more suitable still;
but she has the key, holds it irresolute
for a moment, and then looks into that
. ercenary organ he calls his heart, and
her own nearly breaks in doing so.
"It was oulv a question of money,"
she flings out bitterly; "you never loved
mo at all: you are a coward
a liar sir.
Poor Dolly hardly
knows her own
voice speaking to him so; and she is con
scious that her heart aches through it all.
They are the last words he ever hears her
speak.
Two years have fled. Two seasons of
suow, frost and dreariness. Two seasons
of flowers, blue skies and tender days.
We left Dolly standing alone in the dis
orderly drawing room with tears on her
face. She wiped the tears away, and did
nothing more tragic than go up stairs
and finish her work. After the sale of
their earthly goods, they moved into a
little and rather shabby house in the
suburbs, and lived or existed, rather,
on a pittance, a pittance, by the way,
that ere long would be exhausted.
All the world is open to pluck and en
terprise. It is easy to forget disappoint
ments and failures, in new successes.
Dolly had the intricacies of crewel
works, or something of a kindred nature,
to divert her thoughts. It appears that
it was not enough.
It came about in this way. They have
a rich neighbor; in fact his mansion
almost overshadowed their small home.
He is a gentleman of leisure and means,
and possesses a mania for farming. He
squanders a good deal of money per
annum on his thousand acres, but that
is of no consequence. "Raising poul-
try is. tho only part that pays, Dolly
heard him remark one day. This result
was that she schemed, planned and cal
culated, until now we behold her nc-
lie is in love once more and with ifchafc
which will never play her false. Ihis
time 'tis the sunshine, woods, flowers,
fair sky, and all the tender, loving ways
of nature, but most of all, the loving
One whose symbols only are these.
Mr. Parnham is their rich neighbor.
xVny one would naturally remark that He
is not a handsome man, and ne is uuu
wise one according to the world's discreet
ideas of wisdom. Never goes into socie
ty unless dragged in, and then his best
friends wish he was not there; is careless
as to money, and kindhearted, the hypo
critical say, to a fault.
"It is good for one's senses to see how
plucky and practical your daughter is,
Mrs. Jelison," ho remarked one morning
after his usual greetings were over. ' I
wish there were more like her, but there
are not.'
"I think Dolly's manner of getting
along is dreadful;" and, perhaps uncon
sciously, Mrs. Jelison heaves a sigh.
"Life is a burden," she remarks, cheer
fully, after a slight pause, and so far as
it only concerns herself she is more or
less right. Well dressed, and carrying a
well-filled purse; it is a different matter.
Not well dressed and minus the purse, as
she remarked the other day, she is merely
nothing.
"But
why dreadful?" persists her
visitor.
"If you only knew!" she answers, in a
tone implyimg that he can never know,
it being impossible to make him to un
derstand. "But please come in, Mr. Farnham; it
is getting damp out there." She has a
well-founded fear of dampness.
They enter; and Mrs. Jelison sitting in
the twilight, dressed in widow's cap and
a becoming gown, makes a neat picture,
done in quiet gray and lavender. DoUy
is not there; indeed she slips out of
another door as they enter, and dampness
not being suggestive of evil to her, site
down on a bench in the garden.
What is she thinking of? Of Mr.
Farnham and her mother; and she has
shrewdly made ui her mind that Mr.
Farnham means more than disinterested
fri lsbi In 8hort she has concluded
. . ..i lw. -,;iTr
before long.
"Dolly!" a hand touches her hair. She
starts as' well she may, not knowing Mr.
Farnham is within speaking distance.
"Dolly," he repeats, you are the dearest
girl in the world!"
"Except the girl you have just left,"
she interrupts, rising and making a
sweeping courtesy. "I know all about
it, Mr. Farnham,and am glad you love
her."
"I esteem your mother more than any
woman in tho world, but what your
words imply I must frankly own never
occurred to me. Confound it, Dolly!
you pay me a poor compliment. Do I
look old enough to wed your mother?"
"I don't know. Mother looks vent
young when she is dressed," returns
Dolly.
"I suppose I am rejected," he says a
moment later, "God bless you doliy,
anyway."
He is moving away ; he has nearly
reached the house when something swift
rustles behind him, then pauses at his
side. It is Dolly.
"I did not comprehend that it was me
you meant, you took me so by surprise."
"How could it be a surprise? I have
loved you so long I thought you must
know even before I spoke. Oh, it was
ever so long since I first loved you! It
occurred to mo first one morniner when
you stood in this very garden."
"In picturesque rags?" Dolly
infer
rupts.
"No; but your dress was faded and
your little shoes were worn. I took it
all at a glance. But you stood here, and
all unconsciously assumed an attitude
that was neither an effort nor an act of
vanity; and the faded dress could not
rob it of its aristocratic pride. I looked
in your face and saw there courage, in
dependence, dignity and what were
worn shoes or faded gown? It was vou,
Dolly, I loved."
"Mother always said fine clothes were
requisite to a fine marriage."
"But she has made a mistake, if, Dol
ly, you will marry me," he interrupts.
And it is such a contented and happy
face the moon looks down upon that we
Avill venture to sav that Dollv answered
"ves."
Emperor Norton once remarked that
"All men are liars." He qualified it by
saying, "in California." The truth of
the Emperor's remark has been vorified
a thousand times over. The latest un-
truth is brought to light through the!
captain of a French bark lately arrived.
Wlule in San Francisco he was told thatj
Oregon was a wild country; that heJ
could get no stores in Portland, and that!
but few people lived here. By this
XI. - 1 -. .
iiieaiih uiu capiain was lnciuceti to pur
chase his stores in San Francisco siifli
cient to last him until reaching England
Upon arriving here he was astonished U
lind a prosperous city and magnificeni
country, and what was more he couL
have purchased his stores here inuc"!
cheaper than ho did in San Francisco.
iNowthat winter is upon us, and 11!
morning sun ploughs his ravs alon
the earth's surface through heavy frost!
uie goou nousewue will get out the oi
rusty parlor stove, drag it over the or
pet to its former position and attempt
uv'" 11 .vuui ittu uourss narci wo
to get the legs on the wrong end. an
successful attempt to make the elbow j
on the oven door, and a successful
lATV1-f of
"u ummuy uu;. WllltO WDl
witmn reach, she will send for a tim
to set the artair m proper shape and n
Uinrr nv.lnr
O WAX.WA.