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About The Columbian. (St. Helens, Columbia County, Or.) 1880-1886 | View Entire Issue (May 4, 1883)
. ; . THE COLUMBIAN. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY AT ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA CO., OR., BY THE COLUMBIAN. ' - PUBLISHED EVERY TRIDArr"'- "" ' AT ' ' - n 11 A T. HELEN?, COLUMBIA C0.,0R BT E. O. ADAMS7, Editor and Proprietor. E. O. ADAMS, Editor and Proprietor. Scbscbiptiox Rates: AbVKBTTBIN'O RaTKS: One year, in advance., felx mouth. Three months, ...12 ro 1 0 vol. in. ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY, OREGON: MAY 4, 1883. NO. 39. ... 50 Ona square (10 lines) first Insertion.,. ti 00 cnaDcqaeniioiierUon......... 1 00 FARSWELL. BY MlfiY A. DAVIS. A long farewell, old year, to tbce. With thy days of sorrow, tby dajsofglet; We part with thee regretfully. Row many who k reeled ui witb thy dawu, lu life's twilight any. in the Hush of morn. From their place iu our circU to-day r gone Oa the lone hillside, 'ueath the cypress bough. Their life worts c-iiert, they are sie pin uow, The seal of death ou each palli l brjw. Perchaao erelong ws, too. may stand. Wllh fil'ur, heart sad puwer e-a baud, Bvide me gale or iht- mltnt iatd. What prorolee of iif would we leave unbroken? What woids we hve said would we have uu- Wbttsuall we ak for as a sign or token? To-day let the noble ded be wrought. To-dnT ba uttered the kiad:y thought. To dy be tte precious ickt u sought. We are sweeping on with life's rufditntr river Oar hail boat thrills like ah anpeu's quiver On to the to of the vat forever. Wouldnt tbou, fellow-sailor, the storm outride? t bouse the MigUty cue ait iby frieud aud guide, ror me rsgmg torrent is ueep aud wide. Wreck not thy hopes on the shifting sand. Nor s ay t&e course oa an earthly siraud. beekxhou a port in the better land. There' a fount thy noul-thind to allay. There aro loved that pasa not from thy grasp way. Soon ha!I the weaty there flu J re'.easo. boon shall tae soui'a de-p yearning cease, In jay unending, and perfect peace. Farewell, old year, a elai farewell; Iby faint y dying echoes teli. We are rtrarlcg lb land where our fund hopes aweii. A WILD HIDE. We bad been living in Ireland for about two years, and every day I re. gretlcd the time niore and more when iny husband had decided to leave England and come over to manage his propertyt which was bitnated in one of the most lawless and disaffected counties. Fenianism was rife, and heartily I wished we were away and over the water again, at least nntil these troubled days had given place to better and more peaceful times, and now that the long, dark winter afternoons an 1 evenings had set in again, I used to sit and watch anxiously for my husband's return; when w a a a j-iionei wouia come in looking uneasy and moody, and kept his revolver al ways loaded, though he never told me that he suspected danger, and made light of it for my sake. Oh! it was a wretched, miserable time, and I can never forget it. I remember so well how the crash came at last, and how the volcano burst 'forth that had been smouldering so long. We were sit ting at breakfast one morning when the letters were brought in, and after hand ing them the bearer stood fidgeting about. Lionel looked up. "That will do, Delaney, and tell John to bring the dog-cart around in half an hour." "Lionel, I don't like that man," I said, after he had left the room. "I am sure he is a spy. I wish yon would get rid of him." "Oh, the fellow is right enough. It is his brother, you know, that I am eo ing over to court about to-day." "What is it?' I exclaimed, as Lionel got up suddenly, looked vexed and an noyed, and tbresv a letter in the fire. "Lionel, is it another of those dreadful letters?" "Yes, warning me against giving evi dence against Delaney to-day. What is the country going to do? But there; I ought not to have told you it will frighten you into tits." "Lionel, you must not go today in deed, indeed, you must stay at home; they may mean what they say. Oh, promise me you won't go." "Nonsense absurdity; Winifred .don't be so foolish. Why, dear, these are all empty threats. But once show the white feather and they will be ten times worse. You foolish little wife," he added tend erly, "and so you worry and fret your self when I'm away, expecting me home on a shutter, I suppose. Well, don't sit up for me to-night, for after the trial is over I am going to dine at Col. Arbuth-. not's and won't be homo till late. Now I must be off." A few loving word?, and then I stood watching him drive down the avenue, turning now and then to wave a farewell. I was only half satisfied, aud was wish ing he had not, gone. After lunch I went to take some wine to the lodge keeper's child, who was quite ill. It was late whm I started, and the sun was setting behind the mountain, shedding a flood of crimson light over the golden glories of the fading day. 1 stayed there nntil quite dark, when I started for home. Suddenly hearing footstep, I paused; nearer and nearer they came, and then through the darkness I could see two men approaching, talking in low, earn est tones. Sick with terror I drew back behind a large tree, for one of the men was Delaney. At first they spoke in low, earnest tones, but by degrees their voices were raised, and at latt Delaney, raising his hand, exclaimed with a vehemence that made me shudder. "I tell you, if h's done at all. it must be done to-night. What's the use of talking, man? It's acts, not words, we want. He passes the cross-roads to night, coming home from the colonel's a mile beyond, by the common and chalk pit. It's a lonely Epot there's our place. Be there when the moon is up, and mind, no mistake this time." He laughed, actually laughed, as he planned and plotted the deliberate and cruel murder of my husband, who had been a good and kind master to him. At last they parted, Delauey hurrying back iu the direction of the house, with a last injunction to his accomplice not to fail; and after waiting a long time, ta make sure that he was gone, I went slowly home and reached my room unobserved. There I matured and laid my plans de liberately and carefully, for it was life if I succeeded, and oh! far worse than death if I failed. So I dressed as usual, and, . though every scrap of color had left my- face, and I knew I could not subdue all expression of the horror, that 1 felt, I preserved an outward calmness, ' and went on down to the dining-room, as though the man standing behind my chair had not, only two short hours be fore, planned to take my husband's life. . How I got through I know not, bat the meal was over at last. Still I could do nothing until Delaney left the house and started on his deadly errand. My plan was this: I When he had gone I intended to go down to the stable, get the horse and ride to Col. Arbuthnot's, trying to reach it befoio Lionel had started oa his way home. i It was a daring step, but the only chance; lonely and isolated, we were miles from any town, and no help was possible. I should have to ride hard. and, to avoid being discovered and Ftopped, I must make a long round, which would take me many miles out of mv way. At last the time to act had - -V . L 1 . A I , come, uoianey must, uave si&riea long ere this, and the servants would be at up per. The clock was striking nine as I left the room. Going upstairs quickly I put on ray habit and stepped out. it was a clear, origni nignt, wiin moon rising over the dark tree tops and shin ing coldly over the glossy evergreens. casting ghostly weird shadows across the path. I reached the yard and saw, to my alarm, a light in th harness room. Without taking time to hesitate or think I advanced softly and, peeping in, saw. to my great relief, that it was : only the stable boy engaged in rubbing up the harness. Opening the door, I stood be fore the astonished lad, who gazed with wide open eyes as though I had been an apparition. I "Christie, I said, "saddle itineman as quickly as possible. I want him." "Sure, ma am, you re not going out to-night " "Yes, I am. Quickdo as I tell you. Burning with impatienoe, I watched him getting oat Rifleman, and then, as 1 was about to nionnt, catching sight of the wonder and surprise oa Christie's face, an idea struck me, and sending him back in the stable on some pretext, I locked the door and took the I key. No one knew where I was; it would be a long time before he could make himself heard no matter how loudly he called, for the vard was a long way from the bouse. In another minute X was oa Rifleman and cantering swiftly down the avanue and nnt on th Arwn ronil. "Kifieman, I said, stroking nis glossy neck, "it rests with yoa to save your master. You must do yoar best, for the time is short. Away we went, keeping well in the shadow of the trees which skirted the road; the soft grass muffled the sound of the horse's hoofs, and faster, yet faster, I urged Rifleman to his topmost speed, for what if t were alreadjr too late? The moon was nearly high in the ' heavens, and I knew the hour was rapidly ap proaching. It was a ride for life, and on we rode with fearful rapidity. What if Lionel were on bis way al ready? Oh, for the strength to keep up a little longer i Toe entranoe gates as Col. Arbuthnot's stood wide open, and with courage in my heart I galloped up to the house. The door was opened by the colonel himself, who hurried out in great alarm. "My husband is he here! ' I gasped. "No; he has just left not more than ten minutes ago I think; but what has happened?" 'Too late ! too late !" I cried. "They have killed him 1 Oh, Lionel 1 Lionel !' They tried to stop me, but I broke - a. a- . a 0 TT away. ruere uiignt oe time yet, u a rode hard and fast. My horse might die in the attempt what mattered it? It was life or death now. and away again. thundering down the avanue I went, heedless of cries and entreaties to come back. Stopping one moment to listen, I heard far ahead the rumbling sound of wheels; it seemed to endow me with hew life and s'rength to keep up, to struggle oa a lit tle longer, but poor Rifleman was almost done for. He still labored on, answering whip and reia to the last. Gathering up all my energies for a last effort, I urged Rifleman once more to a gallop, and, sweeping round a corner, saw, with a wild gleam of joy and hope. my husband's dog-cart slowly ascending a long, steep hill, right in front, the foot of which on the other side was the spot where the mnrderers were in waiting. Every yard of ground was of value now. I tried to call out.but only a feeble cry escaped my lips, and still running, with a kind of strength and determination born of despair, I pushed on, till sud denly all grew dim and indistinct. I was conscious only of a great and terri ble darkuess rising tnd hiding my hus band from my sight ; struggling on blindly with outstretched hands I stag gered a few steps, and then with a last wild wau of Lionel Lionel ! fell senseit-s-t upon the earth, my last desire beinsr to save him. Was my effort all iu vain? When I opened my eyes again I found myself in a cottage, in the bright glare of a tire, with a crowd of eager and fright ened sympathizers around, and Lionel bending, white and anxious, over me. Ife was enough to know that he was safe to cling tifchtly to him and feel his strong, protecting arms around me and weak, tired and exhausted ax I was j I fainted agaiu. It had been a very narrow escape after all. Lionel had just reached the top of the long hill when he heard my cry, and . driving hastily back, had found me, to his great astonishment, lying insensible, j and Rifleman standing beside me. . - Presently Col. Arbuth not, who had fob-! lowed- in hot haste, had come up, and j they had carried me into the cottage, j wondering greatly what it meant. And I j told my story. - II ad I been a minute later, in- all probability I should never have heard his voice again. 1 Delaney waited in rain that night, and whether he guessed or suspected that his plot had been disaovered was not known, for ere morning had dawned he fled and succeeded in making bis escape from the country. Lionel and Col. Arbuthnot did all they could to have him brought to justice, but in rain he was never heard of since. '( We left Ireland before Christmas, for I could not bear to stay there after all I had gone through, and I never wish to see it again. As for. Rifleman, I will never part with him; the good hftxse that carried me so well that memorable night shall have a happy home and end his days in peace; but for him I would not have won that terrible raoe. WHO WOX I . Ting a-ling-ling! goes the school bell, and bat and ball are tossed in their re spective places, the bat on the ground and the ball in Tim Carnahan's pocket, and with whoop and jostle the rosy, panting crowd make their way into the school house of Maple Grove that is, all with one exception, naughty Percy Smith remains out in the yard, seated on a stone of rather large dimensions, whist ling and whittling a stiok, his eyes glow ing in sullen anger. "Charlie Clark, go and tell Percy that I say for him to come into school at once." Belle Garland issues this order calmly and in firm tones, but her cheeks flame and her timid heart flutters in spite of all her efforts to appear calm; for she realizes the struggle before her the straggle that began some time back, and now promises to reach a climax for good or for ill. The grinning urchin returns in a min ute and reports to Misa Belle. "He says he don't have to." A titter runs over the school, and the red dies out of the teacher's face, leaving it white and sad. "Very well, we shall see. He must obey me or leave the school." And then the afternoon's work begins at onoe. By-and-by Percy deigns to come in, and walks pompously to bis seat, takes it with a rude thump, and throws av- de fiant, mocking glance upon his comrades; for Percy is the squire's son, and the bully of "the school. - "Percy," says his teacher, quietly but firmly, "you cannot come here and diso obey me; either take your books and go home, or quietly submit to my rules and orders." But Percy remains stubbornly in his seat, strumming lightly on the desk witb his fingers, his cool, daring, handsome eyes regarding her in contemptuous amazement. Perceiving the nselessness of trying to deal with her incorrigible pupil, as soon as school is dismissed she tarns her steps in the direction of the home of Squire Smith, who is one of the school direct ors, and the one who insists on his own way. "Percy came by his domineering spirit honestly," Miss Garland thinks, as she walks slowly and sadly on her disagree able errand. But Percy has reached home in ad vance, and the squire is not in the most accomodating of moods "when bUs is an nounced, r "Keep my boy out of school ? No, ma'am ! No, indeed ! We Jiired you to teach our school, and we expect you to. govern it also. If yon are not capable better resign. We can get another teacher easily enough," he said brusque ly ad heartlessly: "But how can I control suoh large boys as Percy when they set their heads in defiance of my rules? How can I, without the assistance of the school di rectors, to see that my orders are en forced ?'' "I ain't a-teaohin', and don't want to be bothered about it. I think you'd bet ter give it up; you're too yoang and not calculated to deal with oar boys, it ap pears." "Not alone-r-no, sir. But you will please sign me a receipt for the money due me. 7 Out in the dark, dreary twilight she passes, a dull pain in her heart, and in dignant tears in her eyes for the cruel treatment she has received. Somebody opens the gate for her ; it is Percy himself ; and lookirg him full in the eyes, she exclaims, impetn- ouslv: 'I suppose you are satisfied now ! You have won. Will the knowledge of my defeat make you any happier, and the thought of the little sister and widowed mother, who have only thia' extending her receipt "between them and want make your sleep sounder and sweeter?" And she is gone. With a shame-faced, hanging head, Percy remains beside the open gate a moment, quite motionless ; this is a dif ferent view from his first idea of getting the teacher turned off. - "Poor little girl! It is too bad. I have acted like a coward but I didn't think. I ought to have thought, for I'm the oldest by. two months; only I never was poor. I don't see what can be done now." ' Pondering long and deeply, a sudden light irradiates his countenance, and he hurrifwr into, the house, and donning a warm suit, he harnesses his father's fast est horse to the buggy and drives swiftly away. ' : f . ,. The rain beats in 'blinding sheets on the window panes of Widow Garland's tiny cottage, and Belle, sitting by the small fire, clasps her hands in her lap despairingly;. . Her mother raises her sad eyes an id stant, and says: " Better keep on with your sewiug : even at eight cents a piece, it is better than starvation. 'Yes, but it makes my side ache to sew so steadily. Uu, mother, I cannot forget that man's injustice," said poor Belle. . A knock at the door. It is only the postman with a letter, which Belle takes in surprise, noticing the strange oncog raphy. "Why, what is this? Why. mother. it's an offer from Prof. Strang of a posi tion in his school, and the salary is six hundred dollars ! Oh, mother, am I dreaming !" It is no dream, and Belle Garland is a year iu her pleasant position ere she learns whose influence obtained for her that situation. "None other than your naughty pupil, Percy Smith," explained Prof. Strong, smiling at her astonished face. "He is my nephew, and pleaded your cause so nably that I could but give you a trial, and L am more than satisfied. Percy it now in college, making fine progress, and thoroughly ashamed of hiold mis chievous tricks." Three years later a fine looking, dark eyed young man calls upon Belle and humbly asks" her forgiveness. "I forgave you long ago, she says, with a bright blush, for it is bard to reoonoile this handsome, courteous gen- tleman with her old pupil; "and though I suffered at first, my reward was great afterwards." "I no'oflly want "3 our forgivenesp," a little later he pleads, "but something warmer . I think I loved you from the first.bat never tally realized it until yon rendered?16 80 ashamed of myself by those few indlgoat words at the gate. I have a beautiful2" " my profession, a? : s a little. Belle, v ery I happy." h lT- . -1 ' auu rroi. oiiouy o uu as sistant. "I thought sj," he saiiy, wviii a sly twinkle in his eyo. "I am no bad for tune teller, and read the signs excellent ly. But may you ever be happy.". And Percy won, after all, aa he is fond of declaring. A Strang1- Story. ""Strauge stories have from time to time been related about jewels, rings aud even watches, found in fishes when caught and opened, and subsequently returned to their owners. Whether these stories are true or not. 1. of course, can hot say, but JV vouch for'the entire truth of the following, related by a clergyman, nimseii the-hero of the story, to m wondering circle of listeners. Though expectant of something strange as a finale, they were by no means pro- -i .i i i ,i ? "It was one summer twilight," ssid he, "standing on a rustic bridge which spanned a well known trout stream near my iatner s nouse, x won irom a girl the promise to be my wife. She was something of a coquette, and I had a rival in the field; so to make the matter sure to myself, and evident to him and others, I drew from her hand a ring which she had often declared she would only give to her betrothed lover. and transferred it to my own linger. " 'It was my mother s engagement ring,' she Raid half in earnest and half playfully, and thera is a superstition connected with. it. So long as you keep and wear it, we are engaged; but if yon lose or part witn it in any way, tne en gagement is broken." "Some weeks after she went away on a visit, and then my great consolation was to haunt the spot on the bridge which had been our trysting place. Onoe. leaning over the) railing and thinking of our betrothal, I took from my .finger the treasured; ring, and gazing fondly on the initials hers as well as her mother's engraven within. In attempting to re place it, the golden circlet fell from my grasp and disappeared in the waters be low. - - - -. "Only a lover under similar circum stances can imasrine how I fel.Dar.and flight I jaoraed-, iaoonsolate, my lost treasure; and my great dread was her re turning and finding the ring missing. Yet strange to Htaj, I hod a singular pre sentment or intmtton that I should some day recover it though by what means I had no idea. 1 "Not long after, fishing in the same stream, some distance below the bridge. I fell to thinking qf my lost ring. If I Could only fish it Up, and just then there was a quiver, a tug, a pall and a Strug- fie at my line, and , after some play drew out a fine Marge trout. At the sight of him the thought suddenly and unaccountably came to my mind that the ring-my lost ring was to be found within his body. I caanot accouut for the feeling, but I know that it was heightened into almost a conviction when, upon grasping the victim, I per ceived on a portion, of hy bedy a singu lar protuberance, and felt there beneath the skin something like a' bard, foreign substance. "I seized my large pocket clasp knife. Eagerness made me cruel yet not more so than if I had left my victim to die a slow and lingering death. I cut off his head, and then, with trembling hands, ripped open his body, and explored the suspicious . protuberance. My knife grated against something hard, and I caught the glitter of some shin ing substance! Imagine my feelings, when, with a beating heart and trem bling hand I drew forth " "The ring, unole?" breathlessly in quired Nellie. . "No, my dear. Only a piece of green gla-s!" . The general consternation and indig nation may be imsgined. Woman's Beauty. Even ugly womei admit that beauty is their sex's most powerful weapon; thvy like to see it exert a force, and when it is great, so to speak; beyond criticism, ad mire it with genuine heartiness hearti ness as real as that which ..men show in their admiration for strength manifested in any conspicuous way. It is usual to say that women decry beauty, bat this is a blunder, caused by stretching instan ces into law. Of sources of success, wo man grudge beauty tho least. They may deny it is beauty, but if they admit it they are content. If a man makes a messalliance for the sake ef beauty, so ciety forgives him readily. To this very hour the deep feeling of women for the French empress, though founded, of course, on pity, is greatly assisted by the recollection among the middle-aged of a triumph so conspicuous, and so vis ibly owing to personal charms. This kind of female interest is universal, and extends in a more languid degree to men who find ia any national appreciation of beauty not only the charm which springs from kinship in taste, but an excuse for a secret imbecility, a ' powerlessness in the presence of the attraction, which they resentand feel. We wonder, if besides all thta. there is any residium of the old Greek feeling that beauty was a dear good itself, a harmony, something which indicated that the gods of nature were not essentially and at heart hostile to man. Many artists say so, and to judge by the extent of feeling, almost of pious feeling, excited by the beauty of scenery the positive esteem felt for Switzerland, for instance, for being- so beautiful a jplace the feeling should be general. When Fenelon's library was on fire, "God be praised," he exclaimed, "that is not the dwelling of some poor man!" This is a true spirit of submission on of the most beautiful traits that can pos sess the human heart. the Question, The Detroit Post and Tribute of a late date contains the following: "Let me tell you," said w lady in this cityin conversation with a representa tiveofthe Pot and Tribune, "it is a great mistake to treat 'the girl' as if she were bo me kind of aa animated machine. All possibilities are in the power of the hired girl. She can get u and leave on washing day, or when you have company and make yoa utterly wretched, or she can condescend to stay and pour the oil ' of peace on the troubled wateis. There are well-bred people in this city at least they call themselves well-bred who will shut the door coolly in the face of hired help, remain at tho table helf hour after they have finished eating, and likely as not leave no tea i a the teapot and no meat on the dish, so if the hired f girl has not thought of herself she gets no meal at all, or a cold one, . , -"Why does the girl s.ay in such a "She does not; and then the lady has a long story to tell of ingratitude and improvidence aud'what no . I can tell you that the more real kind ness and con sideration the mistresssho wb, the better help she will have. We have had one girl for three years, and I am sure she could not be induced to leave us. If I go to a lunch party or a co tnpany out, I tell Kitty when I come hoi ne all about it. One Deed never desce ad to gossip with their help, but that is something quite different. A friend if mine once asked me how I kept my girl in her place. I told her I though ; I did it by making her platce my plai-e part of the tim, and interesting mysel : in her asso ciates. I must tell yon at out-her first call on me. I had a young lady visiting me who opened the door in answer to a ring; She came up to my room and said there was a lady in the parlor who wished to see me. - "A ladv?" r. ; . "Well, yea; she-looks likb a lady, is dressed like a lady, and ye! " ! "Young, or old, Anna?" 1 "Oh, rather young; she did not offer me her card; she looks like a foreigner.'1 I went down, and a serious, prepos sessing-looking girl rose to her feet and said:- 'i Are you Mrs. ? I Was told you needed a girl. Mrs. se: it me to you. I am the girl who lived with her, ma'am." She was dressed in pale bine summer silk, wore kid gloves of a pile pearl gray and carried a feather edged fan. Her dress was perfectly made and fitted bet ter than any of mine did; 1 er hat was a white chip, trimmed will marabout feathers; her manner was es sy and natu ral. I looked at her bright blue eyes with their, black lashes; at I her glosiy, vigorous black hair, and Baid to myself. "Irish beauty," and it was. j I knew the girl by reputte; my friend waajbre&king up housekeeping and' was anxious that I should reoeiye this treas- ure of a girl; but really when I saw her I was afraid she would not approve oi me. - 1 asked ner it ene wouia nite io look at the kitchen, aud she said fhe would. 8o J took her out, showed her the .pantries, wash room and kitchen proper, and asked her if buci thought the place would suit we had already agreed as to terms. I 'I would rather not give an answer now, ma'am," she said. "Miss F ," naming a lady who lived in much greater style, "has offered me fifty Cents a week more and less work t5 uo, out ; l uon t think Til go there, for wheii I asked to look at the kitchen she iaid if it was good enough for her it was good enough for me. If I do come, ma'am, I will be here at nine o'clock to-morrow morn- "You may be sure we were anxious. continued the lady, "but at nine prompt ly she came to the side door neatly dressed in a plain calico, and from that time to this she has been with . us, and dread to think of ef er parting with her.". I "Would yon mind telling what it is that makes her so valuable?' j "Certainly not; for one tiling, and the chief one in my estimation, she is an ex cellent cook. She cannot only cook fancy dishes, make salads ajnd puddings and get up dainty after-dinner "menus," but she can cook common dishes in the most delightful manner. Her methods of cooking potatoes alone atte almost in numerable. You know itt is not one cook in a hundred that will boil or bake a potato intelligently. The baked pota toes are always gritty and the boiled potatoes soggy. Now Kitty washes and polishes and shampoos, as somebody ex presses 1, her baked potato s Detore sno bakes them, and outs the ends off so that they look like fruit. Her boiled potatoes are mealy and dry, and as to mashed potatoes they come to tne taDie in a pyramid, with little; cunning dim ples all over them full of molted butter, and they are' sweet and nat a lump in in them. Her escallop td potatoes are the envy of all our frionds. If I go anywhere and see a new dish and de scribe it to Kitty when I oone home, and - she studies it oat, ax d it is often better than the original. Her bread, tea, biscuit and breakfast rolls are always good, and she excels in making fine coffee." . "And how much you pay paragon f a hiwd girl?" . r .J : . . Three and a half a week; does u seem small to you? Remember there are only three in the family and no children, . and she does upstairs work only once a week. She is very economical; buys something good and makes is last. She sent $25 to her mother in Iceland for a Christmas present, and has just sent her an Easter offering of $10 mpre, and has money of her own at interest, j 1 Know one thing. Kitty will not be interfered ith or scolded. She would leave a place in a moment if she failed to give satisfaction. " Besides' what I have told you she is neat,' very careful about breaking and wasting, and j thoroughly honest. She takes her own time to do her work, and I never hurry, her If a friend comes into dinner or tea ; I need only tell Kitty what I would like;" it is all on the table at the mom;nt perfect ly cooked and served." "Vo you not take any credit to your lf tar htkT wort?" "Not for her capability; but! I know that aha renn ires kind treatment and a crreat deal of letting alone. She would The Servant Girl's Side of be saucy or indifferent if I nagged her from morning till night, and she would resent any interference with her work, such as calling her from her kitchen work to sweep the halls, or from her ironing to go on-errands, and I never keep ber in on her day out-. There is no credit for a mistress in d tying that for a girl who gives ner every moment of her time, and studies tho best interests of a household. - ' Ileuses Built of Cotton. Of all substances apparently the least likely' to be used in the construction of a fire proof building, cotton would, per haps, take the fiist rank, and paper the second, and yet both these materials are actually being employed fot the purpose indicated, and their nse will probably extend. . Compressed paper pulp is suc cessfully used in the manufacture of doors, wall panellings, and for -other similar purposes, with the result that all risk of warping and cracking is obviated, while increased lightness is attained and the fear of a dry rot is forever banished Papier mache, after having served a use fal purpose in an unobtrusive manner for years as a material for small trays. paper knives and other such light arti cles, has suddenly assumed a more im portant position in the industrial world. A still more .sudden and striking ad vance has bee a made in the employment of cotton as a building material. A preparation called celluloid, in whioh cotton is a leading ingredient, has been used lately as a substitute for ivory in the manufacture of such articles as billiard-balls and paper-cutters, and now a Canadian manufacturer has invented a process by which compressed cotton may be used, not only for doors and window" frames, but for the whole facade of large buildings. The enormous and increasing demand for paper lor Its legitimate uses as a printing and , writing material pre vents, the extended use of the papier maohe as a building material, lor which it is so well suited in many ways; but the production of ootton is practically un limited, and there -seems to be a large field available for its use. in its new ca pacity as -a substitute for bricks or as plaster and wood. Treated with certain chemicals- and compressed, it. CAn be made perfectly fire proof and as hard as stone, absolutely air and damp-proof ; and a material is thus produced admira bly' adapted for the lining, internal or external, of the. buildings of- which the shell may or may not be constructed of other materia, while it easily lends itself to decorative purposes. A Princess not Afraid of Work. Princess Louise has been styled the beauty of the royal family. But that is only by comparison. She has regular features, an agreeable expression, true and clean, no nonsense, no falsehood in it; shoulders which a sculptor would be under no temptation to correct in mould ing a bust of ber; an elegant figure, not light, not airy or angelic; a little heavy, but pliable and graceful, and a smile that lights up her face. Her disposition is English, that is, serious, but capable of humor, and with a keen appreciation of the finest things and purest thing! in art and in life. Least of all Victoria's children, she resembles the old royal family, and most of all of them the Gotha branch of the house of Saxony. She thinks for herself, is independent, original, sensible and impult-ire. If she had not been drilled in the experience and restraints of court life, her feelings would often run away with' her judg ment. She has a splendid talent for housekeeping, without which no woman is fit to live, even a princess. She served an apprenticeship at Osborne cottage to a cook, confectioner, laandress of fine things, seamstress and dressmaker. Every day for years a dish appeared on the queen's U.ble at Osborne that was made by one of her majesty's daughters; once a week a tin box full of cakes, whioh were mixed and by them, wa sent to the German crown princess; with fruits and flowers from the cottage gar den. Princes Louise started in married life with the determination not to be the rival on their own ground of plutocrats' wives. There was to be comfort as well as elegance in her establishment, bat no ostentation. At Rideau Hall, her Cana dian official abode, she affects more taste. Louise entertains delightfully, though she is liable to forget mere feathers and flounces ia company and becomes really absorbed in intelligent conversation with a select few of her guests. From the Scotsman. American Beauty ia England. Secure in the flawless armor of her innate purity, the American girl touches pitoh and is not defiled. Her large-eyed gaze comprehends all things unabashed. She fears nothing and shrinks from noth ing, in mucn tnat an .ngusn gin would describe as modesty, she detects a lack of sincerity and frankness; much that an English matrou would commend as deli cacy and ladylike feeling, Bhe spurns as a want of proper spirit and independ ence, it is dimouit to hit on any subject of conversation, even among those that are ordinarily reserved f ir the club or smoking-room, which, so far from dis countenancing . or discouraging, she is not able to approach independently .by the light of her own reading or expert- once. Ana about an sue says or does, there is a largeness, a buoyanoy, a free dom from restraint, that freshens and exhilarates like .a breeze from the ses. Men who, as a rule, can't "get on ' in ladies' society are attracted to her and drawn oat by her Before she has long been admitted into the London drawing- i i t room, even oi tne most exclusive oraer, she is certain to be the center of an ad miring and - attentive group; comprising men of many different types. - , i:. , . . -.. - Deplorable Picture, v ;' ' The ignorance of the average Hawaiian in writing his own language is appalling to those who seethe, biennial parade of figures ia the report of the Board of Education. The original design was an industrial educational system, but the actual outcome is an ignorance and a wretchedness that is one of the saddest sights to be seen on earth, as those know who know what is the present condition of the vast majority of Hawaiian homes I to-day. SHORT BUS. Repentance is accepted remorse. Never marry but for love, but seo. that thou lovest what is lovely. Resolve to see the ?&rld oh its sunnv side, and yoa have alincVw'on the battle of life. I have lived to ku w that the secret of happiness is never to allow your energies to stagnate. The greatest friend of -truth is time; her greatest enemy is prejudice, and her constant companion is humility. , i - -. , The man whoso soul is in his work finds his let reward - irrbe work itnelf The joy of achievement is vastly beyond the joy of reward. Respect goodness, find it where yoa may. Honor talent whenever you oenoid it unassoclated with vice; but honor, it most when accompanied with exertion. and especially when exerted iu the cause of truth and justice. ; When we think of the many and wide ly differing relations of life we sustain and the consequent varied duties devolv ing Upon us, we feel somewhat bewil dered at the amount of knowledge of many kinds that seem essential. But time is short, and our powers are limited, so we must be satisfied with thorough- ness in one department and moderate proficiency iu others. The best of us are hampered in eyery effort of improvement, not alone by our own faults, but by those ,of .our neigh bors. We inhale the moral ' atmosphere around us quite as surely as natural air, aud the impurities of the one will poison . the character as of the other will, poison the blood. Not congratnalations there fore, but deep regret should - follow the discovery of faults and defects in other people, and if we have not enough sym pathy in us to mourn on their account. we at least nave aulhoient reason, to re- . gret on our "behalf. Nobody who has ever been active and useful enjoys the feeling of being laid oa the shelf. Grandfather's step is unoer- . tain, his arm leBs vigorous than of old, but he possesses a rich treasure of expe rience, and he likes to be consulted. It ; is his privilege to give adrice, his priv- ; ilege too, at times to go into the field and work with the youngest, renewing his youth as he keeps bravely no with : hearty men not half his age. Grand mother does not wish to be left out of the household work. When the days come for picking and preserving, and the. do mestic force is pressed into service, who so eager as she? It is cruel to overrule her decisions, to put her aside-because "she will be tired." Of course she will be tired, but she will enjoy tho fatipue' and rest the sooner for the thought that she is still of some use in the world. The human will is one of the moat re markable of all the faculties of the mind. To be able to say "I will," and oarry out , the purpose conceived, even if it is not very important, is something grand. To conceive something noble and be able to say, "I will do it, comes very near to being divine. The amount of will power in persons is different. Some have an enormous amount of it, and it is almost impossible to repress them when they set out to do anything. Such persona never get discouraged, but push, on steadily and conquer.' Others have so little power of will that they are over come by trifles, and faint away entirely when any great trial comes to them. A ' powerful will generally indicates a pow erful constitution, though this state ment may be modified by experience and training; for a strong man with little of these may have littlo of will-force, and a weakly person with much training may have a tremendous will, if onoe aroused. . , ' HOUSEHOLD KECIPt-S. Corn Pone is highly recommended a a breakfast dish. Take one heaping coffee-cup of boiled hominy, heat it and stir in a tablespoonful of butter, thre eggs and nearly one pint of sweet milk; as much corn-meal may be added as will serve to thicken this till it is like the bat ter for "johnny cake." Bjike in a quioa oven and serve hot. - Frenoh Toast. Make the, taait cl slices of stale bread. Bakars! bread is best for this purpose. Brown oaxaXally without burning; beat two eggs very light, add to one pint of sweet milk; blend a table-spoonful of milk and a des sert spoonful of flour together, ' add to the milk and eggs; have a sauce-pan ready with some well heated butter; dip the bread in the egg aud milk, aud fry a light brown on both sides. Send to the table hot; sift powdered sugar over eacli, slice, or a cream sauce flavored with wine may boused. For panning fifty oysters provide four ounces of butter; four tablespoohfula cracker dust; two saltspoonfuls of salt; one saltspoonful white pepper; one salt . spoonful mace; two teaspoonfuls whole, allspice; one pinch cayenne pepper. Put the oysters and their juice into a brigtt stew-pan, set on a quick fire, add te butter, salt and spices, sift in the cracker dust, stir gently until well mixed; at the first boil pour them into a hot tureen, cover and serve immed'ately. If longer cooked, they shrivel and get tough aci indigestible. This is the popular Phila delphia style of panning oysters. They ' are often prepared in the same manner at table on a obafing dish. . - ' Where He Gained. f In a town' up in Maine a Nsw Yorker was last fall talking with a village mer chant in regard o the trade and finally ' asked him how he bought goods, . "Wall, in the summer I get aboct ninety-five days, and in the winter something like a hundred was the aa . swor Visa's that odd time?" - - ; V "Yes, kinder odd, bat yoa see I bpy on ninety days, and when time is up I write to the firm and tell 'em to enclosed find amount and' so.. I don't eocloio, you know, and in about five days I re ceive a reply stating that I probably forgot, and so forth. Then I enoloie and beg pardon. In the summer the ro ply comes in about five days; bnt iu the winter, especially if Providence favors ns with storms andjrailroad blockade t, and freshets, and accidents. I gain tin i days snd get a spring start." Wall Street Dally News.