Corvallis gazette., December 22, 1903, Image 1

COEVA
SEMI-WEEKLY.
COETALIilS, BENTON COUNTTX, OREGON, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1903,
VOL. IV. NO. 35.
JE Mat. !- IMS. j ii..i w
I The Contrabandist; I 1
WK : THE ss
1 One Life's Secret ! IE I
CHAPTER XVJIL (Continued.)
They reached Paris and shortly were
-established as in another home, at the
Hotel de Clairville. Here the kind-heart--ed
Count Frederic and his amiable wife
-congratulated themselves upon having
gathered together so happy a family par
ty; and no pains were spared to con
tribute to the enjoyment of each. Rose
had never been in Paris before; its splen
. -dors and gaieties were novel and pleasing
to her. But every enjoyment had its
chief source from, the presence of Louis;
nothing was complete if he were not at
her Bide to share in her pleasure; and it
-charmed him to perceive this.
"You shall dwell here, some day, my
Rose," he said . to her, with his own
bright smile that the young girl loved so
-well. f
And she smiled in return; while Helen
Montauban turned away, with a dark
.gleam in her eyes a darker frown on
that splendid brow.
"Some day! How little," said the
haughty woman, mentally, "how little do
they dream that the will of another is
to exercise authority then! . They count
confidently on their future upon the fate
that is awaiting them. Ah, if they knew
what It is to be that fate!"
Now that Paris was gained, she was
nearer to her purpose, and the fierce im
patience she had felt subsided as she
approached to the consummation of that
purpose. Not because she quailed, or
shrank from it, but that now she was
able to contemplate it more nearly to
look upon her revenge as; almost Accom
plished, and 'she was content to wait yet
longer.
'- '
"Helen, you are ill, I think, said Fran
cis Egerton in alarm.
She had been sitting in the same atti
tude for a full hour, with her head rest
ing on her hand, and those dark, calm
eyes fixed on the floor. But her lips were
very pale, and her face marble white.
"You are ill, Helen," he repeated, gent
ly, bending over to attract her attention,
and laying his hand on hers. But the icy
coldness of that hand chilled and startled
him.
"You are not quite right, my lord," she
answered; "for I am not ill exactly, and
yet I am not well. I have merely a se
vere headache." And she pressed her
hand to her brow.
"A headache--is that ..all ? Nay, you
are feverish," for now your cheeks are
burning. Let me ask your father to send
J for a aystcminr-"1'-!!
have taken, the fever which is prevailing
in the city. Dear Helen, be advised!"
"Francis, I command you to remain
where you are," said Mademoiselle Mon
tauban,. imperatively. "I have assured
you that I am not ill, and I do not wish
either-to attract attention or to interfere
with the enjoyment of others. Since you
are so anxious, I shall endeavor to rest
awhile in my o.wn apartment, and may
regain my usual spirits by evening, in
which-case' I will rejoin the family. Pre
sent my excuses to them, if you please."
She left him and ascended to her cham
ber. ;. . '
Night came. The rest of the family
y were '-to attend 'the opera. Helen Mon
tauban assigned a severe headache as
her reason for not accompanying them,
and remained at home, -s From the .case
ment of her room she- looked down and
saw the carriage roll away from the
gates. i - . h" '
An hour afterwards there - emerged
from the hotel a youth, wearing a broad
hat slouched over his eyes and a cloak,
which he drew about him, half concealing
his face with its folds. He looked back
with a" hurried, nervous "glance" as he
gained the portal. . "No one has seen me,"
he muttered, "and the rest -is sufficiently
easy." At a rapid pace be5; hastened on.
It was dark; but the lamps in the streets
poured a flood of light along his way as
' he proceeded, and crowds of pedestrians
passed : him and the way was thronged
with carriages and vehicles of every de
scription. He only drew his hat further
over his eyes, arranged the folds of the
cloak so' as more fully to hide his fea
tures, and hurried along, passing from
one street to another,- and never looking
at a single face in all the jostling multi
tude about him. f. ;
At length, in a' retired street, he reach
ed the door of tt 'building, half shop, half
dwelling; at this door, he knocked. . A
domestic, appeared, bearing a light, which
she held? up to survey the features of
the youth; but he shrunk further back
into the shadow, and gathered the folds
of the cloak more closely about htis face
as he. asked, in a .low. and somewhat
hoarse voiced.-;-J? ' .-'.-''-
. "Is the. alchemist at home?"
"He Is, irionsieur. Will you' come in?"
The youth entered, the woman looking
at him with a half -curious glance for an
Instant; but then; mustering to. herself,
"Well well; Ieed-not;trouble my head;
he is not the first mask that has come
hither," she added aloud: "This way,
monsieur; you will find my master in
here," and led the way through the room
Into which he had entered from the street
to a back one, opening from the first.
Here was an old man, bent half double,
seated at a table, and engaged . in poring
over a rich and curious-volume of.-an-tique
appearance. .About the apartment
were arranged, ii 'different places, ' vari
ous stuffed figures of animals; and- some
of them reptiles .so hideous 'as'tb' send an
involuntary shiver over "the boy as he be
held them. Strange and horrible .forma
were everywhere. about him; he turned
from contemplating them In disgust. The
old man laid aside his book and looked
tip.
"You want me? well, what is it?" he
said, leaning back in his chair, and re
garding his guest closely with "the pierc
ing dark eyes that seemed still darker
and more piercing from the bushy, snow
white brows that overhung them.
The youth spoke not, nor removed the
cloak from his face; but silently advanc
ing, presented a folded paper to the old
man. He received and glanced over it.
A slight frown darkened over his face,
and again he fixed on the boy that same
searching glance.
, "You do not want me, but my wife,"
he said. "I touch not such matters as
this," and he handed back the paper.
Then going to a small door in the wall,
he opened it and called, "Bianca Bi
anca!" t . .
An instant and there appeared at this
door a tall, dark-looking yet splendidly
handsome woman,- with a brunette com
plexion, magnificent black eyes and a no
ble and commanding form. Those eyes
were fixed upon the muffled figure and
half-concealed face of the stranger.
"Bianca," , said the old man, "here is
one who has need of your services."
"What do you want?" asked the wom
an, in the sweetest and most musical of
voices, as she came forward, with her
glance still fastened on the youth "what
do you want?"
He gave her the paper, which she pe
rused. Then regarding him closely once
again,' she said: .. .
"Follow me, and I will obtain for you
what you desire.
Without further speech, she crossed to
the opposite side of the room, to where
a chintz curtain hung before a low arch
way; lifting this, she passed through, and
beckoned to him. He followed.
They were now in a kind of large
closet, which contained two or three
chairs, a circular table covered with
boxes and vials of different sizes and
shapes. The woman seated herself' be
fore this table, over which was burning
a brazen lamp, pendant from the wall.
She motioned to the youth to take another
near her. He did so.
"Do you know," she said, reading the
contents of the paper again, "what it is
that you wish for?"
"Yes. Hasten; I must have it!"
A purse of gold was flung upon the
table before her. She saw the glitter
strike through its meshes and smiled.
"You know the worth of your wish.
There is but one physician, I believe, now
living who is acquainted with the secret
of this drug." .
The youth shuddered visibly. His dark,
burning eyes were fixed upon the face of
the woman.
"You doubtless know the effect of it?"
she asked next, as she opened a small
casket of solid iron, which stood among
other boxes on the table.
- "I do." -
If her intention had been to penetrate
the' boy's disguise, or to hear the tones of
his voice, she was baffled. : She abandon
ed the attempt, therefore, and proceeded
to take from the casket certain vialSj-
ire nrrecr-witn some
liquid. Perhaps twelve of these were re
moved, and the casket appeared entirely
empty; when, touching a secret spring, a
false bottom was removed, disclosing
three smaller vials lying side by side in
separate compartments. The one lying
in the center she took up; it was filled
with a fluid colorless as water.
The boy bent forward, breathing heav
ily, his burning glance fixed eagerly upon
it. He stretched out his hand to take it:
that hand was small and fine and lily
white. The woman saw it, but her quick
eyes were instantly fixed upon the vial
again. .
"No no!" she said, calmly. "This con
tains a hundred times the quantity you
want. A single drop is sufficient to rid
you of your worst enemy your rival, if
you have one. - vS t .
The youth shuddered again; ' and she
marked well the shudder, but there was
nothing strange to her in it. She recog
nized the feelings actuating him; she was
accustomed to these things, and did not
seem to observe his emotion.
Selecting a small vial from a box of
empty ones beside her, she measured out
and poured into it a very small quantity
of the fluid; then stopping the mouth of
this vial tightly, she melted a piece of
wax and sealed it over.- '"'
'"Here is .the drug. A death warrant is
in your hands," she said finally, giving
it to the youth.
He grasped it eagerly; the fiagers that
clutched it trembled. Pointing to the
purse which he had thrown upon the ta
ble, he thrust the vial into his breast,
passed through the archway, through the
outer room, and gaining the passage,
once more entered the street. r -
Cool and damp the night air swept ever
his burning forehead. With a deep
drawn breath he hurried on, still grasping
the fragile vial containing that death' po
tion, and escaping fearfully , from the
neighborhood where it had been obtained.
Each moment he turned his head to see
that, no one' followed him; for he was .in
possession, ef that which might, in more
ways than one, prove dangerous to its
owner; and the scrutiny of those splendid
eyes haunted him." But besides himself,
not a soul traversed the now silent and
deserted street.' Yet he shivered "with
strong excitement. With rapid and al
most noiseless steps, he hurried on.
And the Italian, Bianca, looking forth
an instant after the slight figure that flit
ted on tnrough the gloom, turned again to
the room in which sat the aged alchemist.
"You gave the boy his drug, Bianca?"
he asked, raising his head.
"Yes yes! but I tell you, it was a wom
an's heart that throbbed beneath that
mantle; a woman's hand and a beautiful
one, too-r-tbat paid me- in ..yellow coin.
See!" and she tossed the heavy purse to
her ; husband; "there is the reward the
price for which I have, sold' the life of
another mortal! . How many are entered
on my list now, I wonder?" She laugh
ed bitterly, 'and then a deep,' despairing
groan followed the laugh.1 ,; '
And along the -streets of Paris at mid
night, sped the figure of that boy; on on,
with nervous and Shuddering haste, still
clasping the fatal vial. Till, at length,
the Hotel "de Clairville is gained once
more, and unseen, unheard, he glides si
lently in, and stealing up the stairs, en
ters a chamber, and securing the door,
flings aside, the disguise of that night's
guilt. And Helen Montauban stands re
vealed! CHAPTER XIX.
A month had been passed in Paris, and
the party were preparing for a return to
the chateau, with the exception of Louis,
who was to remain here some three
weeks longer, and then follow them, so as
to reach the residence of his uncle a day
or two before the wedding ceremony,
which was to take place on the first day
of the ensuing month.
It was a wild, dark, stormy night when
the carriage of the marquis approached
once more the neighborhood of the Cha
teau Montauban. The tempest raged
with terrible fury; the darkness was that
of the murkiest midnight. All along the
forest road, the giant trees skirting the
way creaked and . groaned as if almost
with human agony, and the tossing of
their mighty arms, unseen in the gloom,
was yet heard with dreadful distinct
ness; while, to add to the impression of
awe that kept each of our travelers silent
the deep and mournful wailing of the un
chained winds almost took the sound of
human voices shrieking in despair. Aa
inward horror seized Helen Montauban.
Those voices seemed to utter her name
to wail forth upon the night the awful
secret over which she brooded; to de
nounce her with the tones of fiends, and
declare her guilty a murderess!
A hand, small and trembling, and icy
cold, was laid on hers. With a faint,
shuddering cry upon her lips, she started,
and then sank back again, almost faint
ing. It was no spirit's touch, but the
touch of poor little Rose herself, who,
cold with terror, nestled up to her com
panion, and sought the friendly clasp of
her hand, to re-assure her own sinking
heart.
"Ah, dear Helen, what is it did I
frighten you ?" anxiously asked the young
girl.
"What is it what is it?" uttered the
rest, eagerly.
Angered at her own weakness and want
of self-command, even while she still
shuddered . from head to foot, Mademoi
selle Montauban made some hasty apolo
gy, and relapsed into silence again. Won
dering at her strange manner, Rose, too,
shraak within herself once more.
And the tempest raved more wildly yet.
Onward pressed the drenched horses,
over the rough, uneven road, that threat
ened every moment, with jagged ruts
and scattered stumps and rocks, which
could not be avoided for the darkness, to
overturn the carriage. It jolted fearfully.
The utmost care was insufficient to guard
against danger. If the rain had not pour
ed so violently, all would have preferred
walking the remainder of the distance to
remaining in the carriage. They proceed
ed slowly and with difficulty.
"Helen," the marquis said, kindly, "1
think we are almost at home now. Rose,
my poor little darling, you are sadly
alarmed, I fear!" And he took her little,
cold hand in his own. "How cold you
are! Francis, hand me my cloak, which
is somewhere beside you. That is it." He
wrapped it tenderly about her, drawing
the immense and heavy folds closely to
gether. But the words were arrested upon her
lips by a fearful sound that drew the
attention of all. Torn by the force of the
tempest from their trunks, the sturdy
limbs of the overhanging trees were
thrown with furious force along their
path, striking the carriage,: and falling
upon the frightened beasts, who, ,. mad-
ened.-with.paii.andeworsprang-for-.
ward, leaping wildly over the obstacles
in their way and dashing the vehicle from
side to side with a violence that every in
stant threatened destruction to those
within. The reins were torn from the
hands of the paralyzed driver, and drag
ged about the feet of the terrified ani
mals, over whom there was no longer
control. Still the carriage swayed to
and fro, and death seemed to all .the si
lent, stricken party within at every mo
ment inevitable. The moment was one
of awful suspense; ' but that suspense
was not destined to be prolonged. Sud
denly, in their blind course, the horses
stumbled, the carriage swung on one side,
and was dashed to the earth. -
"Helen Rose my children!" called the
voice of the marquis, "are you hurt?"
There was no answer. The voices of
the Count de Clairville and Francis Eg
erton alone were heard.
"Adele!" cried the count to his wife,
"I cannot see you; speak to -me tell me
that you are uninjured!"
"Ah, my wrist it is broken," I believe!"
uttered the countess, in a tone of pain,
"But that is nothing; where are those
dear children? If one could but see!"
"Helen Rose!" -called the marquis
again, in agony. "Ah, for lights!" .
With the utmost difficulty and danger
as well, from their close neighborhood to
the hoofs of the struggling and kicking
horses, the gentlemen extricated their
companions and themselves from the ve
hicle in the darkness. Furiously the rain
poured down, drenching them to the skin
in an instant. All, however, were found
to be safe, excepting Mademoiselle Mon
tauban and Rose, neither of whom be
trayed the least sign of consciousness. It
was too dark to distinguish their fea
tures. . " :'': ' " ' . - ,
-A faint sigh breathed from the lips of
Helen. Supported by the arm of Lord
Egerton, she endeavored to rise to her
feet. An almost inaudible thanksgiving
escaped from him. She was safe. Did
not this woman repent,' in that moment,
.when her own life was spared, the wick
ed design that she had entertained? No
never for a single moment! , -:
"Where is Rose?" she ased, hoarsely,
and with a strange,' unnatural voice. A
wild hope darted through her brain. Had
death anticipated her?
Poor child! lying senseless in the arms
of the marquis, no sound reached .her
now. Alike insensible to the pain of that
hour, or to the falling rain that saturated
her clothing yet failed to revive her, she
lay there moveless and silent.
(To be continued.)
Keeds Mast. , ' .
Mrs. Upton I saw Mr. Newton bow
ing with the most courtly grace to a
very commonplace woman. He's a
gentleman of the old school, isn't he?"
Mr. Upton No, a gentleman of the
new school. .
"New school?"
"Yes. He lives in the suburbs, and
that was his cook." New York Week
ly. r'
Unprecedented Thouhtfnlnes.
Mr. Gasper I am going to have the
courts look into the sanity of that man
who lives next door. : f ;
Mrs. Gasper Why?
Mr. Gasper Well,' he's taklgig les
sons on a horn and told me if his play
ing annoyed us he would give up learn
ing. Ohio State Journal.
. 'i . ...
-;Cnred Now. . '.'-.
She Have you ever been in love?
He Oh, yes, I have had all the, child
ish diseases mumps, whooping cough,
and all the rest. Somerville Journal.
Bally Jenkeas'a Will.
"My last will and testament," wrote
Sally. ?
"I bequeath my dolL' Flora Roose
velt Jenkens, to poor Washwoman Mul
doon's Molly.
"I bequeath my pair of bantams,
Sir Grover and Lady Cleveland Jen
kens, to - Coachman Ford's lame
Tommy.
"I ; bequeath my big picture Bible to
my dear old nurse, Aunty Lincoln
Washington Rogers.
"I bequeath my silver hand-mirror to
Trilly Truffles, because I think If she
could see herself in a glass that then
she would try to keep her face cleaa
and her hair combed.
"All my other belongings I bequeath
to Miss Kindergarten Lovely to give
to her slum children.
"Signed and testified to in the pres
ence of myself this 12th' day of May,
1903. ' - '
"SALLY JENKBNS."
"There," mused Sally,; "that's right,
I guess. Sounds Just like grandpa's
will. But I wonder how they'll act
when I'm dead and gone, and they
come Into their inheritance. O, dear,
I wish I knew just what they'll say!
I I guess I'll give something now, and
then I will know." So she got ready
her mother said she might and took
her best beloved doll, Flora Roosevelt
Jenkens, over to Molly Muldoon, and
Molly Muldoon could hardly believe
her eyes. -
"What, for me!" she exclaimed. "The
first flesh-and-blood, real live dolly I
ever had! See her weeny, weety eyes
joggle.. This is Just lovely of you,
Sally!" '
Then Sally "went home, and the
coachman put the bantams In a basket
for her to take ver to. his little boy,
Tommy Ford. - - '.
How Tommy opened his eyes when
the cover was raised, and Sir Grover
Cleveland Jenkens crowed! "My, but
he's a beauty!" said Tommy. "And
the little hen is just' like you, Sally.
Aren't they beauties?" f
"Oh!" mused Sally to herself on her
way home after the Bible, "this Is a
lot nicer than waiting till after I'm
dead and burled before they get 'em.
At least I - guess It is1 , Then she
knocked at Aunty Lincoln Washington
Rogers' door.
"Come bv my honey. I sees you
comin'," and Nurse Rogers opened the
door.
"Here's my last will and testament
for you, Aunty Lincoln," said Sally.
For a moment the old negress stood
speechless, and then were the strings
of her tongue unloosed.
"Bress de Lawd, Who knows my ole
eyes was a-dimming so's I can't read
no mo' de fine print; dls yer book am
lovely. Jus you hear me now." And
she read (or recited), " De Lawd is my
shepherd; I shall not want,' " and on
through to the last," " 'an' I will dwell
in de house ob de Lawd forebber.' '
"An' yer say dis am your last will
and testament It's de last will and de
first wilL It's de whole bressed Bible."
Then Sally hurried home and got her
last special gift, and took It over to
Trilly Truffles. "My last will and tes
tament!' 'exclaimed Sally.
"Why, It isn't a -Testament! It's a
looking-glass," laughed Trilly, raptur
ously. Then Trilly looked, and stared,
and blushed; and then she excused her
self, and hurried but into the kitchen.
What a splashing of water Sally heard.
and "Ouch! ouch! ouch!" for Trilly was
combing her hair.
"It's just as I said," thought Sally,
on her way home. "The looking-glass
is just what Trilly needed. ;. My, -but
this is nice! Wonder if I haven't got
something else so that I can make an
other will and testament." Youth's
Companion. tb5 ; ;
Sayinca of Children.
Teacher Johnny, why can't you lift
yourself by your bootstraps? Johnny
(promptly) 'Cause I wear shoes.
Little Margie I have a new change
able silk dress to wear next Sunday.
Little Elsie--Pooh, that's nothing! AH
my dresses are changeable. ; '
Mamma Tommy, didn't I tell you
the other day never to let me hear of
you playing with those naughty boys
again? Tommy Yes, mamma; but you
needn't blame .me if you heard it; I
didn't tell you.
Little Dot The paper says they are
going to build more sky-scrapers : in
Chicago. What's a sky-scraper? Small
Willie Oh, a sky-scraper is a machine
the weather - man uses to scrape the
clouds oft the sky.
A 4-year-old youngster while at sup
per the other evening requested his
brother to help him to something and
was told that he should say, "if you
please." So he said: "Pass me some
of that if you please." "
Vitality of the Centipede.
The sight of a full-grown centipede
is said by travelers in tropical lands to
be enough to affect the strongest
nerves. ,Ten to 11 inches is the "aver
age length, although larger ones have
been seen. Lafcadlo Hearn, in "Two
Years in the French West Indies," says
that the vitality of the centipede Is
amazing. He kept one in a bottle,
without food or' water, for 13 weeks, at
the end of which time It remained as
Little Stories and
Incidents that Will
Interest and Enter
tain Young Readers I
active and dangerous as ever. The
hen attacks the centipede with de
light, and often swallows them, head
first, without, taking the trouble to kill
him. The cat hunts him, but Is care
ful never to put her head near him.
She has a trick of whirling him round
and round upon the floor so quickly as
to stupefy him; then, when she- sees
a good chance, she strikes him dead
with her claws.
A Melancholy Tale.
A a&ssrrf bra
Gui)3 ter Tip'
Umbrella pt&4
Jffl uerjT To wlk
Unaniwtrtd.
"Is that God's ribben in the sky
Te tie the worlds together?"
A sweet child asked,
On seeing Nature's rainbow belt
Worn after- rainy weather;
"Or is it some of heaven's light
A-peeping through the floor
Or at an open door?
I wish I knew.
Doa't you?"
She paused a moment,
Wondered, thought.
Then, with a long-drawn sigh.
Was heard the old, old cry,
"I wish God told us more,
Don't you?"
Elizabeth Porter Gould.
A STARVING LAD'S NOBLE VOW
From Poverty's Cradle He Climbed te
Philanthropy.-
William Quarrler, one of Scotland's
best known philanthropists, who died
recently at Bridge of Weir at the age
of seventy -four7. will be remembered
for a laudable-and-humanitarian,. yow.
nobly and faithfully kept.
He was the son of a ship's carpenter,
and ultimately came to be regarded as
Scotland's finest exponent of practical
Christianity. When he was only three
years old his father died at sea of
cholera, and his widowed mother was
left to fight a hard battle against star
vation. At the age of six young Quarrler got
work as a factory hand, and toiled for
sixty or seventy hours a week for a
wage of a single shilling.
A year later he was apprenticed to a
shoemaker, and it was while in this
employment that once, after he had
gone for thirty-six hours without food,
he made a vow that if he was ever In
a position to do so, he would devote
his life to helping the fatherless and
those otherwise severely handicapped
in the fight for a Hying: '
The noble manner In which he kept
this vow Is told by prosperous col
onists who owe their start - in life to
him in every part of the empire, and
by thousands of children who have
passed through his orphan homes at
Bridge of Weir.
He began his rescue work in 1864.
Later on he founded the Scottish. Or
phan Homes. These have grown until
they now form a model village of sixty
two buildings in Renfrewshire, where
1,400 orphans are housed and edu
cated. Since 1878 over 13,000 children have
passed through the homes, while thou
sands of others have received tempo
rary assistance. Between 1871 and 1897
5,000 children were sent out to Canada,
where situations were provided for
them. Many are now prosperous farm
ers, and among them no name is more
highly esteemed than that of William
Quarrler. London Express.
Mountains Are Moving. .
' "The mountains are constantly mov
ing,", was the remark of an officer of
the Denver and Rio Grande Road re
cently in speaking of the great land
slides in the canyon above Glenwood
Springs, Colo. "We find from actual
experience In maintaining , tunnels,
bridges and tracks In the mountains
that the mountains are moving. It
costs a. railway passing through the
mountains a great deal of money in
the course of ten years to keep the
tracks in line, and maintenance of tun
nels is even more expensive. Drive
a stake on the side of a mountain, take
the location with the greatest care and
return after a few months. The stake
is not In the same location. The whole
side of the mountain has moved. This
experiment has often been tried and
In all cases the- result proves that the
mountains are moving. The mountains
are gradually seeking the level of the
sea." . ' -
Jut the Thins:.
Mrs. Crawf oot Ain't you got an old
torn-up suit to put on the scarecrow?
Mr. Crawf oot No; I'll wait till
Hiram gets through the cane rush up
at college an' let him send down one
of his suits. -.."..; j : v
"Her death," they say of a woman
who died lately, "was a tragedy." That
is nearly true of every death. ,
doings orwoncN
The Trae Home.
The truest homes are often In houses
not esneciallv well kent, where the
comfort and happiness of the inmates,
rather than extreme tidiness and the
preservation of the furniture, Is first
consulted. The object of the home Is
to be the center, the pivot on which
the family life turns. . The first requi
site Is to make it so attractive that
none of its members shall care to linger
long outside its limits. All legitimate
means should be employed to this end
and no effort spared that can contrib
ute to this purpose. There are many
houses called homes, kept with such
waxy neatness by painstaking, anxious
women, that are so oppressive in their
anxiety as to exclude all home feeling
from their spotless precincts. The very
name of home is synonymous with per
sonal freedom and relaxation from
care; solid comfort.
But neither of these can be felt
where such a mania for external clean
liness pervades the household as to ren
der everything subservient thereto.
Many housewives, if they see a speck
on the floor or wall, or a bit of thread
or paper on the floor, rush at It as if it
were the seed ' of pestilence, which
must be removed on the instant.: Their
temper depends upon their mainten
ance of perfect purity and order. If
there be any failure on their part or
any combination of circumstances
against them they fall Into a pathetic
despair and can hardly be lifted out.
They do not see that cheerfulness is
more needed at home than all the spot
lessness that ever shone. Neatness Is
one thing and a state of perpetual
house-cleaning quite another.
Out of this grows, by degrees the
feeling that certain things and apart
ments are too good for dally use. Hence
chairs and sofas are covered and oroms
shut up, save for special occasions,
when they are permitted to reveal their
violated sacredness in a manner that
mars every pretense of hospitality.
Nothing .should be bought which Is
considered too fine for the fullest do
mestic appropriation. Far better is the
plainest furniture on which the chil
dren can climb than satin and damask,
which mu&ne vleweotth :reviai wt f J
When anything is reserved or secluded,
to disguise the fact is extremely diffi
cult. " A chilly air wraps It round and
the repulsion of strangeness is experi
enced by the most insensible.
Home Is not a name, nor a form, nor
a routine. It is a spirit, a presence, a
principle. Material and method will
not and cannot make It It must get
its light and sweetness from those who
inhabit it, from flowers and sunshine,
from the sympathetic natures which,
in their exercise of sympathy, can lay
aside the tyranny of the broom and the
awful duty of endless scrubbing.
Tellina; Tidbits.
Stains on Black Cloth Can often be
removed by rubbing with a raw po
tato.
Stains on Marble Can often be re
moved by rubbing with salt; rinse af
terwards, and polish with a soft cloth.
For Tender Feet. Mend your stock
ings with silk, instead of wool, If you
are troubled with tender feet" The silk
does not chafe the skin.
Ironing Starched Things. If you
want to prevent your flatiron sticking
rub it, after heating and before begin
ning to iron, on a board well sprinkled
with bathbrick.
Black and Dark Cloth Can be fresh
ened by sponging with equal parts of
water and spirits of turpentine. After
sponging iron on the wrong side, and
then hang in the air to remove any
suggestion of turpentine.
Getting Up Lace. Never rinse white
lace in blue water under the impres
sion that this will improve the color.
Real lace should be finally rinsed in
6kim milk, which will give it the soft,
creamy tint so much admired. -
Effective Pressing Is one of the se
crets of good home dressmaking. A
badly pressed thing never looks well.
For cloth, or any thick material, a
damped cloth laid over the seams when
ironing will help to make them He flat
The Moraine Harry.
As far as is possible we should avoid
the hurry and flurry that usually pre
cedes the slam of the front door, as the
children get off to schooL It Is diffi
cult to manage, there Is no doubt The
mother dislikes, more than anything
else, perhaps, waking her child out of
a sound sleep, and this often has to be
done if he is to have his breakfast and
dress properly before school. Usually
6he leaves him till the very last minute,
If he is sleeping, and then a hastily
eaten breakfast and a hurry and bustle
to get off Is the result. This can only
be obviated satisfactorily by Instituting
earlier hours for going to bed, that the
child may wake early as a natural
thing.
In many homes, even without the
late sleeping, there is hurry In the
morning. The children are allowed to
get into lazy habits and procrastinate
to an exasperating and injurious de
gree. Then, as the moment approaches
when the leaving for school can be no
longer delayed, there is undue anxiety
on the part of the mother and a scene
of excitement that is good for neither
mother nor children. " ;
"ifother, Where's my cap ?" "1, can't
find my geography!" "Where is that
strap?" Such exclamations are familiar
to the mother and, occurring at the
eleventh hour, are a source of trouble
and vexation.
Orderly habits are eminently to be
desired and should be inculcated; but,
small children, and Indeed big ones,
are fallible in this direction, and un
less everything is put ready to hand
the night before there are bound to be
some losses in the morning. And the
mother who gives too much oversight
is as bad in her way as the careless
mother; she trains her children to In
competence and irresponsibility. Each
child should feel that he is responsible
for his own clothes and his own books,
and after a time, when he has experi
enced the discomfort of a prolonged
search at the last moment, or the loss
of something which he really needs, he
will learn that the easiest thing is to
be tidy.
Send the children from the door with
happy faces; and let them see your
own smiling face as the last look is
given. The best digester for break
fast and the best preparation for school
work are happy, light-hearted minds
and smiling countenances as a parting
vision. Health Culture.
tJSNP now TO
sPREPABE .TiiEH
Maple Sugar Sauce for Ice Cream.
Add a pound of maple sugar, broken
Into bits, a very little water and boil
until it begins to thread. Thicken It
with shelled English walnuts that have
been broken Into small bits. Pour while
hot over the ice cream and serve im
mediately. Corn Pone or Southern Hoe Cake.
Sift a quart of Southern corn meal with
a teaspoonful of salt, wet with cold
water, and with the hands mold into
oval cakes. Bake in a hot oven in
well-greased pans.
Tomato Soup. Into two quarts of
grease stir a quart of canned tomatoes'
and boll for twenty minutes. Strain, .
add a cup of soaked rice, boil until
tender, season with salt and pepper and
serve.
Walnut Salad. Shell and blanch
English walnuts and break each nut In
half. Roll each nut over in mayon
naise, then arrange on crisp lettuce
leaves and pour mayonnaise over alL
8ocial Life la Chaneinar.
The women of the East, taking their,
cue from the sisters of the West, are
beginning to realize that there are ca
reers other than those circumscribed
by the art of the milliner and dress
maker and are turning their attention
to matters of more serious import than
the question of how they shall appear
at the next function of their set It is
the age of fads and most of these no
tions take a practical and useful direc
tion. Of the women of the smart set of
New York Mrs. Mackay has written a
book, and not at all the sort of book
that would be expected to emanate
from the pen of a fashionable woman.
She is now hard at work on another '
and she never lets anything interfere
with her daily work. Mrs. Payne
Whitney is also literary and is also get
ting another volume ready for the
press.
Notes on Pyrotcraphy.
Birch bark when etched with the hot
point makes beautiful frames, mats for
pictures, baskets and numerous dainty
trifles. It must be mounted and finish
ed on the article before burning.'
A pretty hat rack is made of a bevel
edged panel of white wood, decorated
with pyrography. Fasten large brass
hooks on the' front,' and at the back
place screw-eyes to hang it up by.
A pretty bread board is one inch
thick, oval in shape and a bevel two
inches wide around the edge. This has
a decoration of wheat and hops and
the words, "Give us this day our dally
bread."
The contrast of metal with pyrog-
raphy Is very effective. Brass-headled
nails, discs, hinges and corners for
frames and boxes, handles and metal
balls for feet, both of copper and
brass add very much to the decoration
of burnt wood articles.
Burned velveteen can easily be done
by any one conversant with burned
leather work. Only the background la
burned, causing the design to stand rup
in a sort of relief that is most effective,
it is" comparatively new, and is capable
of being applied to many purposes.
To transfer designs on white wood,
rub jeweler's rouge over a piece of
common paper or the back of youi
design. For dark wood use chalk. II
the wood seems greasy and it does no!
take well, moisten a cloth with turpen
tine and rub over the wood." ;
Leather board, a material resembling
leather, comes in sheets of variouj
size and weight It burns beautifully
and is used for magazine, portfolio cov
ers, and numerous small articles oi
fancy work.' ; It is much cheaper than
leather and gives the same effect,
7