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XXII.
A SEA SONG.
A leaning deck and a straining sail*
Ho. boys! ho!
A boiling -*ake and a hissing rail,
A flying breeze that hoes not fail;
And a craft that can catchado'phin’s tail!
Ho, boys! ho!
A white capped sea and the smell of the
*pray!
Ho, boys! ho!
With scudding clouds and a crispy dav.
And a fearless hand on the wheel to lay
’
A daring hand at the wheel, I say!
Ho, boys', ho!
A streaming deck and a slanting mast!
Ho, boys! ho!
With au eye to the course and all mad*
f ns t
*”V„y Anri ’ . i •
And the rocks , tbit ,, , threaten ,. , a long , way
*’■*'’
Ho. boys! ho
The jolliest life is a life at sea!
Ho, boys! ho!
'\ ith the wet well over the rail in the lee-
And a perch on the uppermost rail for me;
1 hat is the life that is keen and free!
Ho, boys! ho!
Outing.
RAYNER’S
I made Martin Rayner’s acquaintance
during my lari term at Oxford. He came
up for commemoration to stay with a
friend of mine at Bulliol. and 1 met him at
luncheon in the latter’s room. A large
party was assembled to do honor to the
distinguished novelist. I believe most ot
us were disappointed in him. We ex¬
pected to find ids conversation as brilliant
as his hooks. Every time he opened his
lips we pricked our ears for something
striking. And it did not come, He
talked little, and that little by no means
above the common level. Jones, the hero
of our debat ing society, could have given
him points. The general verdict was that,
as a lion at luncheon, Martin Rayner had
failed.
In the middle of July—a month or so
after our last meeting at Oxford—I had a
letter from Rayner askiug me to spend a
few weeks with him at his couutry cot-
tage in Somersetshire. I gladly accepted
the invitation. Rayner lived ou the east-
ern side of that delightful country, near
where it adjoins tbe Wiltshire border. It
was a quaint little hamlet, five miles from
a station and seven from a town. It lay
in a hollow among wooded slopes aud un-
dulatiug pastures. Away down the val-
ley eastward ran a nameless little river,
showing ou sunny days a silver patch here
and there among the meadows, until it
lost itself in the distant shadows under
Salisbury plain.
It was just the spot for a poet; a very
paradise for a dreamer. A sleepy still-
ness held possession everywhere; a silence
that to me, a Londoner, was positively
startling.
During my first few days with Rayner,
I could not get rid of the impression that
something bad stopped in tlie earth’s ma-
chinery. It made me feel “unked,” as
they say down there. But, of course, I
soon grew accustomed to it. And, be-
sides, so much of an absorbing nature
happened to me there as quite to withdraw
my uotiee from external surroundings,
However. 1 must not anticipate,
l arrived at Rayner’s on a Saturday
evening. The next morning broke fine
ami pleasant, and Rayner took me to the !
village church. This place of worship
was a queer little building, more queer
than pretty. Tbe architecture was mixed,
It represented nearly every order from
early English to early Georgian. There
were also repairs executed after a still
more modern style. By what title to dig-
nify the latter 1 do not know. I should
imagine, however, that it had been es-
peciallv invented by some enterprising j
local builder. The service was equally
hybrid. Old fashioned and new tangled,
I should have falleu fast asleep, but my
attention was attracted to a rustic beauty '
in a neighboring pew. 1 am not geiFr- |
ally at all susceptible to female charm?,
but the girl’s face struck me at once. I
have never seen another in the least re-
sembling it. 1 do not think it conformed
to the proper, canons of beauty; butlean- I
not be sure. When you see a splendid
sunset you do not stop to consider whether
the details of the landscape which that
crimson glory floods are in themselves ar-
tistic. I was conscious of two glorious ,
eyes, of a sweet expression thereupon re-
fleeted, but of nothing else. It created
rather it raised an odd something sensation. of If lump you believe in j
me. a my j
throat.
After service was over Rayner and I j
stood waiting outside the church door. It ;
string s
Sm.lay, a,Hi they always walked hack to- ;
-We are very intimate," said Haynhr.
“1 am godfather of two of his children,
They regard me as one of the family.” 1
I heard this with some surprise. That
obvious dullard of a parson seemed hardly j
the sort of a man with whom Rayner
should be intimate. But of course i did
not express my surprise, merely asking ~ of I
whom the view’s family consisted.
-His wife, a daughter and three sons.”
Rayner told me. “But here they Come,
I must put you through tbe ceremony * ot
introduction.”
I looked toward tbe church porch 1
scarcely noticed the others. My eyes were |
fixed on one tace. mv rustic beauty
was the vicar's daughter, and I was about
to make her acquaintance. An unaccount¬
able excitement came upon
robbed me of my usual self possession I
hope I"did nothing idiotic.
I was sure now that she did not conform
to the canons of orthodox beauty, either
in face or figure. Her nose was of no rec- I
ognized artistic shape. I imagine that her
mouth was too wide by half an inch at the
least. She had an appearance lanki-
ness (hateful, but indispensable- word)
which would have completely spoiled her
for the a expression sculptor's oi mode! her face But jier This eyes pen shall and | i
world ^ i
do .vs, and saw an outside on which
truth alone and purity reflected?, and imparted gentle itself innocence j !
were to all
her smiles and looks.
U i: ’*'< ! « pleasant luncheon. My chair 1
*
The Toccoa News.
was between the vicar's daughter an 5 the
vicar's wife. Politeness constrained me to
address much of my conversation to the
elder lady, in whom I soon became Inter*
ested. She talked well, and in a very
pleasant voice. Her manner was gentle
and re ^ net ^- Her face was lined and
worD > but, tHere were still traces of beauty
visible. I should say that many years
ft S° resembled what her daughter was
now.
about 3 o’clock the vicar’s curate, a
fellow named Millington, was announced,
H f, had chargc of a district church some
miles away, l was informed, but he gener-
ally came over to join Rayner’s gathering
in the afternoon. He differed greatly In
from his vicar, for he was
scrupulously dressed and carefully
fi roomed - I thought him a good-looking
man in his way; but I did not admire the
saintliness of aspect into which he had
train'd lii> face, not Ids conlidential defer-
cnee of manner when he addressed the
ladies . IIe wa3 a gentleman, however -
which always goes for something—and a
pleasaut enough fellow to talk to. I can
imagine that he was quite a godsend in
that benighted neighborhood, where gen¬
tlemen of any sort were rare, and cultured
gentlemen almost unknown.
He took an early opportunity of coming
over to Miss Darby’s side. She seemed
pleased to see him, and was soon in ani¬
mated conversation, with him. I thought
her face less beautiful when animated. I
joined her young brothers and made
frieuds with them. They were nice young¬
sters and well mannered. Two hailed
from Winchester and one from Wellington.
But, of course, he must have more money
than I thought, to be able to send his sons
to such good schools, I talked and
chaffed with the lads for half an hour.
Then the youngest of them noticed that my
eyes where were constantly seeking the corner
Millington and Miss Darby were
still conversing.
“Ah!” volunteered the school boy with
a grin, “it’s a regular case between the
curate and Bee.”
I could have struck the lad. His re¬
mark was in such atrocious taste. But I
looked at the father and then excused the
son. Even Winchester cannot obliterate
innate vulgarity. Miss Darby was still
particularly animated. tier I was sure now
that when animated face looked almost
plain,
During the next fortnight I saw a good
deal of the Darbys. One day we took
them for a picnic; another we met them
at a garden party; another we dropped in
at the vicarage to tea and so forth. On
all these occasions I found myself a con-
staut attendant at Miss Darby’s side,
As she came to know me better she laid
aside her shyness, and talked with less
reserve. Without doubt she was a charm-
ing girl. When her face was lighted up
in conversation it disclosed fresh beauties
passed unnoticed from a distance. That
is how 1 came to make my mistake about
her face being less beautiful in animation.
At close quarters the mistake is impossi-
hie. Certainly that youngest brother of
hers was full of vulgarity under his educa-
tional veueer. I heard him whisper to a
grinning friend that “Millington’s nose
was getting out of joint.” I had, how-
ever, grown accustomed by this time to
the urchin’s lack of breeding, so it jarred
upon me less thau before,
Our last picnic was memorable. It took
place at a spot called Heaveu’s Gate, which
i3 one of the show sights of that district,
l have only the faintest recollection of
what Heaven’s Gate is like. I dimly re-
member being called upon by tbe vicar to
a superb view—by some one else to guess
the dimensions of certain mammoth trees
which stood near the crown of the emi-
nence. An antiquarian gentleman regaled
me with the history of Longleat House
from the time of its first construction. He
pointed out to me in-detail its architcctu-
ral splendors, indicating them by pokes
with his stick toward where that majestic
pile lay in the hollow below. 1 nodded
and looked intelligent. The good gentle-
man was satisfied ; but I neither heard nor
saw. My eyes and ears were already he-
spoke. It was useless for the vicar to de-
scant to me upon the glorious effect of 'the
sunlight upon these sylvan glades. I my-
self was in sombre shadow. My sun had
gone behind a cloud.
“I say,” whispered Miss Darby’s young-
est brother, giving me a nudge, “ain’t
that beggar Millington boriug Bee, just ?
He’s quoting Tennyson to her by the yard.
I overheard him. What Tommy-rot the
chap did write to be sure!”
It occurred to me that I had been rather
severe upon this lad. After all, his slaug
was the slang of all schoolboys. I sup
pose I must have talked the same jargon
myself. When _
once one realizes that one
lia3 done a fellow creature an injustice,
one’s heart naturally ‘ reacts towards him.
My heart reacted towards this urchin
now.
We sat down to eat round a cloth spread
upon the ground, all among the ants and
beetles. A literary young lady with in-
the English poets. I talked to bet at ran.
heTintenS eyes I belieVe “ended"^
serting that 1 hated all the English P poets
-particularly dear?” Tennyson.
“Oh, she sighed. “I am afraid
you are a dreadful Goth, Mr. Vivian.”
“Yes,” I assented cheerfully ; -a regu-
lar Vandal. It’s constitutional, don't
know? A fellow can’t help it. 1’nUnot
one of tbe intellectual sort. I'm sorry to
say. Now Millington over there, who is
awfully cultured, you kuow. and steeped
Tennyson in poetry to his finger yard/ tips. He can quote
by the
“Ob. how delightful,” she exclaimed.
“Do you know Mr. Millington? Will you
introduce him to me afterluncheon ?”
“With pleasure.” I said cordially.
I didn’t forget. Immediately luncheon
“My dear fellow.” I told him. “there is
an awfully nice girl here who is dying to
make vour acquaintance. She has heard
so ranch about vou, don’t you know, and
your preaching, and all 'that. Nothing
will satisfy her but. an immediate
ductioo. Come along.”
Millington was very vain. I knew mv
message flattered him. He left Miss
Darbv’s side with some reluctance; but he
left it. I introduced him to the intense
eyes, which fastened upon him instantly,
side. Tbe breaking wa&&
company'was up into
twos and threes
“Shall we,” I suggested to her, “take a
short stroll through these beautiful
woods?”
TOCCOA, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2G, 1895.
She assented. We foamed away to¬
gether. I do not quite know what came
over me. t wished to make myself pleas¬
ant. but I could hardly saw a word. She,
too, was silent, and seemed embarrassed.
For my part. I seemed as awkward as a
plowboy. Something This sort did happen. of thing could not
last.
After awhile we returned to the summit
of Heaven’s Gate. Certainly the view
from the eminence was superb; Longleat
House, in the hollow below', was arcbitec-
turally splendid, and the effect of the sun-
light ou these sylvan glades w'as very
glorious,
* *
' Now, then, Vivian, out with it,” said
Martin liayner to me as we sat over our
pipe3 that evening.’
‘-Out with what?” I stammered, col-
oring
“You know well enough. What w'ere
you saying to my little godchild all that
long time this afternoon—eh ?”
“I—I—the truth is,” I answered, hur-
riedly, “I couldn’t help it, liayner. Pm
no match for her, I know, and I haven’t a
penny of fortune. I—I—suppose I ought
not to have spoken. But I couldn’t help
it. I—I—asked B—Miss Darby to marry
me; and-~and—she said, ‘Yes!’”
Rayner did not speak. I looked up into
lii3 face, fearing that he was vexed. 1
need have felt no apprehension. Ilis eyes
were bright with tender kindliness.
“My lad,” lie said, in answer to my
look, “I give you joy. I can share your
feelings. I, too, have had my little ro¬
mance. When I was about your age I
fell in love. Her name was Bee also.
Like you, I had no fortune. Unlike you,
I was afraid to speak. But I thought—I
hoped—she knew that I loved her. Cir¬
cumstances took me to another part of
England. I did not return for three years.
When I returned I found her married.”
There were traces of strong feeling od
Raynor’s face. It w r as clear that this
event was still very- real to him after
twenty-five years.
“Things had happened in the interval
of which I w r as not at the time aw'are.
Her father had lost all his money. They
were a large family of children. And
there was a suitor ready to take Bee a?
soon as she would have him. He was a
young fellow—a clergyman, with an as¬
sured position and a tolerable living. He
had the ear of her parents, who, no doubt,
believed that they were consulting liei
happiness in promoting the match. It
ended as they wished. She married him.”
Rayner paused a minute. A light was
beaming in liis eye3 which imparted to
them au expression of sublime tenderness.
“Vivian, she was—she is still—my only-
love; but now in a different, in a higher
sense. The old, fierce passion died long
ago. From its ashes has risen another,
sweeter sentiment. Why do you suppose
I have buried myself in this distant cor¬
ner? ’Twas she that drew me here, my
lad. To guard, to cherish her has been
my single aim for twenty ye ars.”
“I—i—do you mean—” I began.
“Yes,” he interrupted me; ‘(you have
guessed it. After twenty years I love her
more than ever, but it is witli that tender¬
ness which we feel toward the spirits of
our dead. 8he is one of my dead, Vivian.
She is the angel that hath reached me
down her hand and lifted me from the
slough of a desperado’s life.”
I have never seen a face look more
beautiful than old Rayner’s then. His
words had stirred me deeply. We both
sat silent. At last Rayner spoke,
“My lad.” he said earnestly, “do you
know I wanted you to love the little Bee ?
I have spent a year or two seeking some
man worthy of her. I believe I have found
him in you. You cannot think how glad
you have made me, Jack. And really I
Was growing anxious. She has seen so
few men, aud that handsome humbug,
Millington, was always hanging round
her. But it is ail right now. Your hand,
Jack. And mind you. make her happy.”
Next morning Rayner ealled me into hi?
study.
“You are going to see her father to-day.
He thiuks you are au eligible young man
with a comfortable fortune. So you are,
for you must accept this.”
He handed me a pink slip of paper. I
glanced at it. I could not believe my
eyes. It was a check for £20,000.
“No! No!” I cried, utterly overcome
by this extraordinary instance of my
friend’s generosity. “It is impossible,
j_J_”
“You must accept it.” he said, very
earnestly, laying bis hand upon my
shoulder. -‘I am a wealthy man now.
V ou know And I want 5 von to marrv Y the
iffUe Bee a t once. God bless you. Jack.”
I wrung his hand. I could not speak.
My eyes were full of tears. Rayner’s
face beamed upon me with a beautiful
smile, I knew who had evoked it; ’twas
s u e at whose feet he laid this tribute—the
spirit of the dead.
England’s Highest Tribunal.
|“; ter f be BaUhnorl Sum The lord
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The hyacinth is found in Maine and the
lake regions.
WOMAN’S WORLD.
Pleasant literature for
FEMININE REAPERS.
CUE LED AND WAVED HAIR,
When curled and waved hair must
he had at any cost, wet your hair
thoroughly with good cologne or
alcohol, and while it is wet curl over
a smooth hot iron. When the hair is
perfectly dry, comb out your curls
and arrange as best pleases you. Then
powder the hair slightly, and you need
not worry over the result for some
hours. This treatment is only for
summer, and even then should not be
tried every day, as it would in time
dry and fade the hair.—New York
Post.
THE LIFE OF A PRINCESS.
It is no wonder the unmarried
daughters of the Prince of Wales envy
their sister, the Duchess of Fife, who
is now free to live after the manuer of
any well-bred woman, to go and come
at will, and to invite her friends to her
table, for they, poor girls, are obliged
to dine in their own apartments tete-a-
tete, when their mother is not at home
to watch over them. After all, who
would a Princess be? Happy the girl
who was born under tbe stars aud
stripes of indulgent American par¬
ents I She is the sort of royalty to be
envied, not these scions of caste-
bound rank every time. — Boston
Herald.
woman’s progress.
In Colorado the new woman has re¬
ceived more public recognition in the
way of election to important offices
than in any other State. In Kansas
women have been elected to minor
offices for fifteen years, but, with the
exception of Mrs. Lease, none of them
has been called to higher than village
or township offices. A Mrs. M ice King
has just been nominated, however, for
Register of Deeds in Dickinson Couu-
ty, of which Abeline is the seat. In
Colorado the State Superintendent of
Public Instruction is Mrs. A. J.
Peavey. The State Superintendent
of Dairy Inspection is a Mrs. deta¬
iner, who, discovering since election
that tho duties of the position are
onerous aud often distasteful, has ap¬
pointed her husband a deputy, with
full powers. While he prowls about
looking for contraband oleomargarine
she remains at her country home,
looks after the children and only jour¬
neys down to Denver each month to
draw her salary. The Secretary of the
State Board of Horticulture is Mrs.
Martha A. Shute. She is an expert in
her profession. In the new State of
Wyoming most of the counties have
had women as School Superintendents
for years, but Mrs. Estella Reed,
State Superintendent of Schools,
elected last fall, was the first woman
to hold a State office. North Dakota
has a State Superintendent of Schools
in Mrs. Dr. Mary Barker Bates. None
of the three women last named wears
bloomers, but each is up to date in all
other respects.—New York World.
the red cross in japan.
Ond of the noblest features of the
late war between Japan and China
was the work done by the women en¬
rolled in the Red Cros3 Society of the
former country. Clara Barton would
have been overjoyed could she have
been inTokio just before the outbreak
of hostilities and seen the splendidly
organized and disciplined Rod Cross
army of patriotic and philanthropic
men aud women that gave an exhibi¬
tion parade and drill in that city. The
Japanese armies departed for Korea
aud China accompanied by Red Cross
detachments. A large body of the
life saving army remained at home to
attend the military hospitals, which
were opened the moment war was de
dared. The general-in-chief of the
Red Cross was the Empress of Japan.
Her first aide was the Countess Nere,
and after her Lady lto, Lady Kato
and a score of other women of high
rank. Before the wounded reached
home the Red Cross women had taken
a course of instruction in nursing,
medicine and surgery. Many of them
studied eight hours a day, and even
after their stern work began in the
hospitals continued their studies so as
to fit themselves thoroughly for the
discharge of their duties. In January
there were 253 nurses and twenty wo¬
men doctors in the Japanese hospitals,
and in March the number had gone up to
350. In the Imperial Palace there were
long sessions every day in which the
ladies of the court prepared carbolated
lint, antiseptic dressings, bandages,
belts, cholera bands, slings and other
appliances. Altogether it is estimated
that no less thau three thousand wo¬
men have served in the Red Cros3
army of Japan during the conflict in
far East. The island empire may weil
feel proud of its brave and humane
daughters.—New York Mail and Ex¬
press. ,
LAROE WOMEN AND WHITE.
If you want to look cool, wear white.
If you want to be cool, wear white.
Some would-be funny creature, in
speaking of wearing white clothes re-
cently, said that everybody knew that
they canght and held the heat much
worse than dark ones, but in defer-
ence to the accepted idea that light
clothing looked cooler punished them-
selves by wearing it. White clothing
looks cooler and it is cooler than dark,
That is, some kinds of white. The
thick white ducks and piques, when
starched to the limit, look cool, bat
are hot as broadcloth. Ou the
other hand, soft henrietta and challie,
r all wool, are •«***■“ really quite enchantmgly
cool.
? ne oh J^n to white has . been Uiat
. increased the apparent ihis
size,
is trne of thick materials, which are
plainly made and drawn over the
figure, showing almoiT bursting out*
lines, but if the largo woman who
wants to wear white will select for the
material a creamy thin wool, for in¬
stance, one that will fall in soft folde
about her figure, aud have the waist
made with baby fullness on a yoke*
and a touch of lace and ribbon about
it, she will be please ! to find that si.?
can wear white aud appear as charm¬
ing as ever. Or she may select organ¬
die, or dotted swiss, or a faintly figured
lawn. A full plain skirt; which is em¬
bellished with a simple hem, and has
no lining, with lots of gathers in the
back, and enough of them in front to
keep the skirt from drawing, a full
fronted blouse waist, with a shoulder
ruffle of soft cream lace, or white if
the ground of the material is white,
aDd big loose sleeves, will almost make
an ugly woman pretty. A very charm¬
ing way of making the waist look
longer is to set three strips of lace or
embroidered insertion in back and
front from neck to belt, and under
this place ribbons the color that you
intend to wear with the frock, and
baste them slightly, They are easily
removed, and with belt an l collar of
the same ribbons make au exquisite
addition to tbe pretty toilet. What*
ever you do, do not skimp in the full¬
ness of the skirt, as that will spoil the
whole thing, and do be sure that your
petticoats are exactly tho right length
for your thiu gowns. A short poetii-
coat will make a ridiculous figure of
you.—Washington Star.
FASHION NOTES.
More novel than one box plait down
the front of the skirt is one down each
side.
The fashion of wearing white at the
throat is not so prevalent as it was in
the spring.
Alpaca and mohair fabrics are being
made into very smart toilets for house
and street wear.
The dashing plaid silks will be
much used this fall for waists to be
worn with plain cloth skirts.
Mohair, grass linen and fancy taf¬
feta silk form the three most popular
dress fabrics worn this season.
Underskirts and slight draperies
have appeared upon some of the French
dress models designed for next season.
It is quite safe to have any silk
gown, or a light wool designed for
early autumn wear, made with ruffled
skirt.
Some very elegant plaid silk blouses
are being devised by fashionable mo¬
distes to wear with tailor-made cos¬
tumes.
Plaids are very fashionable, and will
be all the fall. They are now male
in cottous and silks and every variety
of gauze.
Belt clasps and buckles of silver are
seen in several new designs and pat¬
terns, including tho filagree work that
used to be so fashionable.
Pretty dresses for afternoon and
evening wear at fashionable resorts
are made of the soft, Light pineapple
silks so popular this season.
Black jet serpent bracelets that go
around the arm three times are a Euro¬
pean novelty introduced here. With
the short, puffed sleeves they are very
effective.
The latest in sleeves is a modern¬
ized bishop, which is full from the
shoulder to the wrist. It has a lining
of fibre chamois to retain its graceful
contour.
The new skirts are not especially
heavy. They are interlined with hair
cloth for several inches, and some of
them have a light, flexible wire insert¬
ed in the hem.
A black-cloth suit is novel and
handsome, and the skirt is original it
it shows some attempt at draping—
very slight, it is true, but conspicuous
because of its novelty.
It is confidently predicted that
bloomers for bicycle wear will be
short-lived. The skirt to the ankle
aud high, buttoned shoes or over¬
gaiters are to be the costume of the
future.
It is rumored that Parisians are like¬
ly to make considerable change in the
size of sleeves by the time that heavy
wraps become necessary. For the au¬
tumn season, however, sleeves will re¬
tain their very full appearance, most
of the fullness showing about the el¬
bows, and more or less flat in effect ou
the top of the arm.
Yellow dotted muslin mounted over
yellow silk makes a pietty garden
party gown, with white Valenciennes
lace to trim the ruffles and Vandyke
collar of yellow batiste. Yellow rib¬
bon forms the belt and sash ends in
the back, while the collar band is
of blue mauve velvet, giving the gown
a very French appearance.
Some of the newest capes are fin¬
ished with a sailor collar ending in
pointedrevers down the front. Others,
shaped with seams that are covered
with red gimp, have a rolling Stuart
collar. Some of the capes are made
of silk seal plush, the collars trimmed
with astrakhan, leaving a narrow bor¬
der of the plueb, about one inch
wide.
^ change in the cut of our gown?,
w hich seems imminent and originated
in'Paris, is the long shoulder seam,
which is slowly but surely gaining
ground. At present the wide collar?
disguise the tendency, but by the time
they have had their day we will awak-
en to the fact that the old-time ex¬
tended shoulder seam, with all its dis-
comfort, has been revived,
It is quite the castom for maay
ladies to go out for a spin on their
wheels an hour or so before sundowD,
starting with their backs to the sun.
home the sun is out of T the $ to.««, way, and
they are spared the necessity of a
burned-np complexion and the need oi
cold cream and perhaps a day indoors
to recover from the effects of the sun s
scorching rays.
A MODEL $1 ,COO COTTAGE.
And One That the Owner Can Build
by Day’s Work.
The greatest majority must dwell
in small houses, limited means de¬
termines that question. But art can
give beauty and unity of design to
cottages, and nature does not refuse
to ornament them with vines and
surround them With flowers and fo¬
liage. So far ns the exterior ap¬
pearances are concerned small cot¬
tages of good design with well kept
surroundings, maybe very pleasing
indeed, often vieing in attractiveness
with their larger and more preten¬
tious There neighbors.
are more valid reasons for
being dissatisfied with the interiors;
A 1
S cr AXCn/7fC7S r*.f.
the number of rooms must be limit¬
ed and they must be of small, or, at
most, of only moderate size; there
can be no plumbing to speak of, no
hardwood floors or finish, no high
ceilings, no large cellars.
A large cellar under a low cost
house is where the owner often buries
a disproportionate sum. Excavat¬
ing. walls of brick or stone and a
cement bottom are costly, and it
should be borne in mind that a collar
does not provide living rooms, Un¬
less a cellar be well built it is a posi¬
tive source of danger to health, For
low cost cottages it may be safely
stated as a rule that where the soil
has good natural drainage a small
cellar or no cellar is preferable. A
cheaply built large cellar will be
damp and therein lies the danger.
A description of the cottage which
is illustrated in this article, will be
found herewith.
Size of structure—width (over all)
27 feet, depth 30 feet. Materials for
exterior walls—foundations, stone
or brick first story, clap boards; sec-
J? f* pS'-on*;*
sr rS 'Pariah
4 . JuLc 1—
EEs PoreK
If i\ .
1
ond story, shingles; roof, shingles.
Height of stories—cellar, 6 feet 6
inches; first story, 8 feet <3 inches;
second story, 8 feet. Sizes of rooms
shown by the floor plans; there is a
cellar under the hall and parlor.
Special features—this small cottage
design is nob intended to be “strik¬
ing”; it would bo in bad taste to
make it pretentious. Bub it has
architectural features, such as grace¬
ful proportions, a long, sloping roof,
mull ion windows, and a front pro¬
jecting gable, supported by canti¬
levers that save it from being com¬
monplace. It has the merit of
displaying no cheap and tawdry
trimmings, nothing like “sawed”
work.
Everything is substantial, but no
expensive materials are required and
the work can be well done by me¬
chanics of ordinary skill. But the
real merit of the design is found in
the interior. Here are six rooms,
averaging a fair size, each opening on
a passage, all but one joining the
central chimney stack, with a stair¬
way and ample closets inclosed with¬
in walls that cover an area of only
740 square feet. The amateur de¬
signer will find it an interesting
study to rearrange the rooms and
add a single inch to the accommoda¬
tions of this cottage.
Simple and effective ventilation is
secured by raising a scuttle which is
T OoMt.
(Too m i+to
j y Bod io'-o:*
* 3
I W£
D
placed in the ceiling over the second
floor passage, thereby creating an air
current which passes into the open
attic and out through the small
Louvre windows in the gables. When¬
ever the rooms on either floor are
“stuffy,” it will be found that rais¬
ing the scuttle will clear the atmos¬
phere in a few minutes.
In any but the coldest climate the
heat from the fireplace and the kitch-
en stove will sufficiently warm the
parlor, and it will ascend the stair¬
way and sufficiently warm the second
floor rooms.
The co3t of building this cottage
in the vicinity of New York City is
about $1,000. Of course there are
builders who will declare that this is
absurd; it seems to be habitual with
some of them to declare all estimates
not made by themselves as absurd;
they can make these declarations
with their eyes shut, without looking
at the design at alL
NO. 49.
RAM’S HORN BLASTS.
Warning Notes Calling the Wicked to R*»
pentane*.
NVY is a robber.
A Wherever God
puts us he will
support us. ,
/ The faith that
moves mountains
6tands on God’s
s A, band to lift.
Prayer- is not
V prayer until It be¬
comes communion
with God.
The Christian
may lose his gold,
but he can never
lose hfs God.
God will give us all the truth we will
love and live. ,
Many a man worships an Idol with
an open Bible in his lap.
The devil and whisky are two of the
best friends in this world.
The devil hurts us most when be
smites us through those we love.
When God puts a good man In the
dark it is to give somebody light.
God can say tilings in the fiery fur¬
nace he couldn’t speak in heaven.
When the mountains are cast into
the sea, God’s hand is under them.
Job sinned not with his tongue be¬
cause there was no sin in his heart.
The devil is close by when the Chris¬
tian worries about things he can’t help.
A man must be born from above to
know for himself that God is above all
else.
If church membership alone coaid
save, heaven would be full of hypo¬
crites.
There are people In every community
who want to be religious without
Christ.
When Job’s wife told him to curse
God and die, it hurt him more than all
his boils.
There is sometimes as much venom
In the point of a pen as there Is In tbe
bite of a dog.
Every man has a religion of some
kind, but only those who know Christ
are Christians.
When you go into the closet for se¬
cret prayer be sure to take the key of
your safe along.
The man who can take hold of God
for others has to be one who knows him
well for himself.
The devil in some shape is being
made welcome in every home where the
Bible is not read.
When the scribe said, “I will follow
thee whithersoever thou goest," there
was no cross in sight.
Let the preacher leave Christ out of
his preaching and the devil will help
him to fill his church.
Bad surroundings do not make peo¬
ple bad. They only bring out the bad
that ls already in them.
A detective assoclatfon has for Its
motto: “We never sleep.” It would be
a good one for a church. ,
The preacher misses It who tries to
substitute for the bread of life some¬
thing of his own make.
The church is a help to the Christian,
but it cannot do anything for the sin¬
ner who will not repent.
Prayer has no favor with God unless
it is prompted by a heart that either
loves his Son or wants to.
There are people who will read so
many chapters or verses in the Bible
and call it being religious.
There are people who think they
could be very good Christians if their
circumstances were better.
We shall be sure to lose something
if we turn from the lion’s den when
God’s hand points that way.
Making the Bible a center-table orna¬
ment is an altogether different thing
from making it a lamp of life.
The only fear Stephen had when he
was being stoned to death was that
those who were killing him might be
lost.
Tbe world is full of people who be¬
lieve tbe Bible with their heads who
take no step toward Christ with their
hearts.
The man whose wife doesn't know
that he Is a Christian bad better keep
his seat when a rising vote is taken at
church.
Plucking the feathers from an eagle’s
wings may keep his body ou tbe
ground, but his heart will still fly to¬
ward the sun.
Had some modern church pillars been
in Job’s place they would have rent
their robes and put ashes on their heads
when the first messenger came in.
Out of Lrove for His Mother.
A notable case of filial lore came to
light in Pittsburg a few days ago,
says the New York Sun, when a 76-
year-old sou came to the office of an
aid society to claim bis mother, who is
two years past the century mark, from
whom he had been separated by the
long illness of both. It waj shown
that the man had remained a bachelor
all bis life in order to care for hi*
mother. They came from Ireland thir¬
ty years ago. and had lived together
since that time, as they had previously
in the old country, until five months
ago, when both were taken sick and
had to be removed to an hospital.
Treading Water.
The information cannot be repeated
too often that one can keep afloat for
a considerable length of time by mere¬
ly treading water. Everybody cap do
this, for the motion is identical with
that required for walking upstairs.
To know what to do will profit you
little unless you kuow bow to do it.