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VOL. I.
Tim Song.
The poet sang of War, that mighty Icing
I Whose crown is flame, whose oath is thun¬
dering,
Whose sceptre steel. The pecan shrilled
unheard
Of fiery souls by battle-fury stirred;
And scream log shellg out-sung Ills minstre'.
lug.
Again he sang the glories Gold can bring;
Out-Voiced him now the coins’ metallic ring;
And, mad for gain, men heeded not u word
The poet sang.
Then softly to his own heart did be sing;
And trembling-sweet a song of I.ove took
Wing,
As tender as the call of mating bird i
The stnoke-grimed soldier in the trenches
heard,
The flushed gold-heapcf caught each whisper.
ing
Tlic poet sang)
•^[Dorothea Diatom! in Frank Leslie'*.
HEE PARTY.
1lY SIUUU'.Y hllOWNlt.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little
girl,” said Doctor Deemer, “but 1 am
afraid this party of yours is quite out
of the question.”
Stacy set down the quaint old Chinese
coffee-pot and looked at him with
large beryl-blue eyes of disapproval.
“Uncle,” said she, “you promised
it to me.”
Doctor Deemer retreated behind the
stronghold of the weekly paper.
Stacy’s reproachful eyes were too
much for him.
“Yes,” lie acknowledged, “I know
I did. And I meant to keep my prom¬
ise, but I couldn’t foresee t lien how
things would turn out. Our funds are
very lowin fact, we seem to be in
debt everywhere. 1 don’t really know
What is to be the end of it.”
“Yet,” said Stacy, with slow, severe
accents, “you went to the book sale
And paid forty dollars for that old
edition of ‘Beaumont and Fletcher. » >!
“Ye 1 ,1 know, Stacy j it was a great
barge ill;”
“Forty doll Would hate furnished
music and refreshments for tny
parly.”
“DOn’t, sholii, child,” said the doc¬
tor, stirring his egg. “i’fri Very
sorry! I forgot all aboiit the party;"
“You’re always forgetting ine,”
said Stacy, a big tear balancing itself
On each reproachful tlytb “My poor
party-—and i’d told so many people
about it, and promised 10 invite all the
girls! I shall never accept aiiy more
invitations, no tv that 1 can’t repay
them!”
Flash—plash! Went the big tears on
tile old Canton ehiita breakfast plate.
Doctor Deemer Was a tender-hearted
Wan, and the two diamond drops went
to his very soul.
“Don’t cry, Stacy,” said lie. “Have
your party just the same, with cake
and lemonade. Debby can make very
fair cupcake, and lemons arc only
thirty cents a dozen. And Simeon
shall bring tip his fiddle.”
“Cupcake, and lemonade, and
Simeon,” scornfully uttered Stacy.
“No, Uncle Deemer, 1 haven’t fallen
so low as that. I can do without a
party, but I can't condescend to second-
rate invitations.”
And she ran ont of (lie room in tho
tempest of tears, coming into collision
with old Debby as sho did so, anil
scattering a plate of graham gems on
the floor.
Doctor Deemer and liis niece, Anas-
tasia, lived all alone in Roslyn Hall,
one of those great echoing houses where
cverything goes to prove the empty
glow of the past. Doctor Deemer had
lost his fortune, and Anastasia’s too,
in a series of disastrous speculations,
lie had all the lasts of a man of
wealth, and a blind adoration of his
ancestry. He himself was quite con¬
tent to dwell in life’s shadow; but
sometimes it seemed to him ns if Stacy
ought to have a little more sunshine.
Stacy thought so, too. Her 18-year-
soul Vevolved against tho sort of life
she led with a great rebellion. •
“Louise Afelton is engaged lo ho
married,” thought she, “and Emily
Eldon spends her winters in New
York. But I shall live and die an old
maid, for I never sec any one, nor
travel anywhere- Louise was going
to bring her Chicago cousins lo my
Easter party, and Emily was going to
write to Air. Vavasor to come down
from New York for it. Emily said
Air. Vavasor thought I was the pret¬
tiest girl itt Claneonnell. I don't be¬
lieve that; but I should like to have
him see me in a white serge dress with
baby-blue sash ribbons, I wore a hid-
eous blue seersucker that day when he
came to see the prize chrysanthemums
iu tiie garden.”
Up and down, up and down the long
oak-floored gallery tore Stacy with
flaming cheeks and yellow curls stream¬
ing out behind. It was Stacy's way
when she got into a passion to walk
herself out of it. Just appos te a por¬
trait of let- groat-grandaunt, whose
name sho had somehow inherited, sli 2
tame to a sudden stop.
THE ENTERPRISE. »
‘•Well,” she cried, “why do you
stare so steadily down at me, A-tint
Anastasia, with those bio blue eyes?
It realty does seem as if you had some¬
thing you wanted to say to mo and
somehow couldn't get it out. Really,
one don’t wonder that old Debby scur¬
ries past you in the twilight and says
the family portraits haunt iter worse
than any ghost. Oh, it's all very well
for you to smilo in that simpering,
inane fashion," she added, shaking her
litllo dimpled list at the counterfeit
presentment of her dead-und-gonc an¬
cestress. “You were an English
beauty, and danced at General Wash¬
ington’* state balls, and Gilbert Stuart
painted your rait, and you were
married at eighteen and went to tho
West Indies. That was life and hap¬
piness enough, even if you did die
young. People say your eyes and
mine are exactly alike, but Pm sure I
never was half as pretty as you. But
perhaps it's the string of pearls and
the satin gown that makes you so
lovely and—”
She stooped suddenly and picked up
an opened letter lying on the dark
oaken floor, directly under tho tar¬
nished gilt frame.
“What’s this?” she cried, “Oh, a
letter from the picture dealers in New
York. They want a genuine example
of Gilbert Stuart for a private collec¬
tion, and have heard of ‘The Lady
with the Pearls’ in the old Roslyn Hall
gallery. ‘Anastasia Roslyn, 1789.
Are prepared to give two hundred dol¬
lars for it if Doctor Deemer will bind¬
Iv consider their offer. And here’s
Uncle Deemer’s pencil writing upon it.
‘Kec’d March 8d, 18—. Mem. To
write back that tiie Roslyn pictures are
not in the market!’ Oho! But Un¬
cle Deemer never consulted me—and I
am the owner of the Roslyn pictures!
Two hundred dollars—that’s a deal of
money. AY bat do you say, Aunt An¬
astasia?” looking up with eager blue
eyes at the dim pictured face—“will
you help me with my party? It isn’t
that I have no family feeling, but
you’re dead and buried, you see, and
you went to parties and danced when
you were a girl, and you must know
exactly how 1 feel.”
Stacy Deemer rushed upstairs to her
room, wrote a hurried letter to the
NcW York picture dealer, ran to the
postoffice just iu time to save the mai 1 ,
and came dancing back, her yellow
curls afloat, her cheeks pink as roses.
The wreaths of snow Were melting
away from the hillsides, the maple
trees wore bursting into red stars of
bloom, the lilac and white crocuses
lifted their tiny heads along the shel¬
tered edge of the path, and an adven¬
turous bluebird shrilled his tiny trum¬
pet from the old cedar grove. Stacy,
too, could have sung aloud in the full¬
ness of her girlish glee.
“I shall have my party, af.er all,”
said she.
“AVhat’s this, Stacy?”
Dr. Deemer stared first at her, then
at the slip of pale-green paper in her
hand.
“It's a check, Uncle Deemer, for
two hundred dollars. Can you cash it
for me ?”
“A:—check!”
“Yes. I’ve sold my aunt Anasta¬
sia,” calmly adinit'ed Stacy. “She’s
going to help me give my party, the
darling ‘Lady AA’ith the Pearls.’”
Jt was some time before the old
gentleman could be made to under-
stand the full extent of his niece’s der-
e ftelion. Then he grew pale,
“Stacy,” said lie, “you don’t desrve
to have any ancestors! I would re¬
deem this picture with a tliousand-
Uollar bill if I had it! Has it gone?”
“A week ago, Uncle Deemer,”
“I’ll have nothing to do with it!”
said lie. “it’s almost equal to trading
in human flesh and blood! you’ll be
selling me next, von wicked girl!”
“But, Uncle Decme"—”
“Please leave me, Stacy; I’d rather
he alone.”
Stacy went away rather awed. There
was something in Uncle Deemer’s pale
old face that frightened her.
“ 1 —«)most—wish 1 hadn’t sent the
invitations,” tboughtshe. “But, after
al), Aunt Anastasia was my very own
grandaunt, and I'm quite sure she was
willing. 1 could read it in her eyes.
Sho was a girl once, and I know she
liked parties.”
But Stacy had not calculated for all
that followed. Uncle Deemer was an
old man and very feeble., and the
idiock was to j much for him. He took
to his bed. A physician was sent for,
who shook ids head and looked un¬
utterable things.
“Something on his mind,” said he.
“It's Aunt Anastasia,” faltered
Stacy; “and it’s ail my doing. I—I
sold a family portrait that he is
especially fond of.
“Get it back again, at all hazards,”
said (he doctor. “I can't fight disease
as long as all the mental forces are
against me.”
CARNESVILLE, OA„ FRIDAY, JUNE 13 . 1890 .
“Do you think he’ll die?’ said
trembling Stacy,
“I hope not,” said the man of
medicine.
For the first time in her life Stacy
went to New York, to interview the
picture-dealer. The picture-dealer was
sweeter than milk, smoother than oil;
but it was beyond his power bo, said to
help her. The picture was already
hanging in the private collection, No.
— Fifth Avenue.
“Can I go there?” said Stacy.
“Well — I suppose — you — can,”
doubtfully observed the picture*
dealer. “But I don't believe it will
do any good.”
Stacy, however, was resolute in try¬
ing to undo the mischief she had done.
She went straight to No. —, Fifth
Avenue.
“I have called ab ut a portrait,”
said she. “A Gilbert Stuart, ‘Tho
Lady With the Pearls.’”
Tho butler eyed her closely. Sho
had no leather bag in her hand, nor
did she appear like a solicitor of sub¬
scriptions.
“I’ll ask master,” said he.
“Take him my card,” said Stacy,
loftily. “Miss Decmer of Roslyn
Ilall.”
Tho butler showed her into a recep¬
tion-room with crimson crape curtains
festooned between pink marble col¬
umns and a great, grinning Japanese
idol in old ivory and cloisonnee, and
departed noiselessly.
Presently another footstep crossed
the threshold.
“Miss I teenier.”
Stacy uttered a little cry.
“Oh, Mr. Vavasor, is it you? Oh,
please, I want mv grandaunt back
again, and here is the picture-man’s
check. I haven’t even cashqd it, you
see.”
“But,” said'Mr. Vavasor, looking
with artistic admiration at tiie sun¬
shine glinting on her golden hair,
the shifting light in her wonderful
blue eyes, “I don’t think I quite un¬
derstand.”
And then Stacy, blushing ami em¬
barrassed, made her confession. Poor
little wrong-headed, impulsive Stacy.
“I didn’t know uncle Deemer was
so fond of her,” murmured she, “or I
never would have sold her. And
please, may 1 have her back.”
‘I don’t think you realize, Miss
Deemer, how much I value that ‘Gil¬
bert Stuart,’ ” hesitated Vavasor.
“Oh, but she’s my_ ancestress,”
urged Stacy. “And she was my
namesake, and people say I am like
her, and when I sold her I sold the
luck of Roslyn. Please,please,” cried
S:acy, wringing her poor little hands,
“let me have her back.”
“On one condition only,” said Air.
Vavasor. Stacy looked terrified.
“That you allow me to give you that
party. You are to supply the old ball
for dancing and the evergreens, and I
am to send down the music and the
supper, and mind, you are to give me
tho very first dance of ail.”
Stacy clapped her hands.
“And I sha’n’t have lo recall the
invitations after all,” said she. “Oh,
how splendid it will be! If only Uncle
Deemer gets better!”
Uncle Deemer did get better, dating
from tho day when the “Gilbert
Stuart” was lmng up on his bedroom
wall.
“The luck of Roslyn has come
back,” said he. It was very kind of
Air. Vavasor to travel down with you,
child. I suppose he knew the picture
must be carefully guarded.”
The party came off with eciat. Stacy
looked like a newly opened rosebud.
The music was delightful—the supper
such as only Cbarczzi could get up.
“But Stacy,” said Emily Eldon, who
was of a rather critical turn, “mamma
says yon shouldn’t accept so many
favors from any gentleman who is
neither your relative nor your ac¬
cepted lover.”
“Docs she?” said Stacy, with a mis¬
chievous sparkle of the eyes. “AVell,
then, tell her to set her mind at rest;
Air. Vavasor is my accepted lover! He
asked me to marry him last night, and
I’m sure Aunt Anastasia knows it”—-
with a bright upward glance at tiie por¬
trait—“for see how she smiles down
upon me.”
And for a moment it did seem as if
there was a smile on the face of “The
Eadv AVith the Pearls.” — [Fireside
Companion.
A'ery Timely.
Stranger—“I have here a poem, sir,
‘The Beautiful- > •>
on
Editor—“My dear sir, we have 10,-
000 on ‘The Beautiful Snow’ on band
now, and we don’t want any more.”
Stranger—“Then perhaps, sir, you
will allow me to continue. Ary poem
is on ‘The Beautiful Mud.'”
Editor—'“AVeTi take that, young
man.”—Judge.
Laziness grows oil people; it begins
in cobwebs ant) ends in iron chains,
TOWING CITY OF PARIS.
THE CAPTAIN OF THE A1YKIAT1C
GIVES HIS VERSION.
Laid by the Steamer for About Seven
Hours and Left Her.
Tho While Star steamship Adriatic
brought in to-day tho true version of
what occurred when she steamed many
miles out of her course to assist the
disabled Inman liner, the City of Paris,
early on the morning of March 28.
'Ibis version will be observed to diflor
a good deal from, the version which
made tho Adriatic flit by, “lmrdly
checking her engine, saying that she
v ouid take passengers to New York,
but would not tow us to Fastnet,” and
followed her with tho execrations of
the City of Paris’ passengers. Capt.
William Roberts of tho Adriatic says
lie observed a boat from the
City of Faris in charge of
the chief officer at 1:30 A. M.
He immediately stopped and took
tiie chief officer aboard. “He reported
(lie condition of his ship,” Capt. Rob¬
erts said, “and said that Capt. Wat¬
kins wished to he towed to Queens¬
town. I tolil him that 1 had the Eng¬
lish mail aboard, and that I would not
feel justified in towing the City of
Faris, but that i would do all in my
power to save life, Another sfeam-
ship, which I supposed to he the City
of Chester, of tiie Inman line, hove in
sight jest then, and I sent up rockets
at frequent intervals to intercept her.
She was bound west, and was within
four miles of the Adrjat’c. The boat
of the City of Faris" with tiie chief
officer aboard, meanwhile had been
put between tho west bound steamer
and our ship.
The steamer kept on without paying
any attention to our signals, which she
must have observed. The chief officer
boarded us again, I told him I was
going to the City of Faris, to save life
if necessary, but not to tow her, and
asked him to go hack with me. lie
declined, saying lie would make for
the land. It was now 4 o’clock. On
our way to the City of Faris wc sight¬
ed the Aldersgato, hound for Liver¬
pool. AVe signalled her, and I sent
tny chief officer aboard. Her captain
said lie would go to the City of Paris
arid help to take some of the passen¬
gers from her if necessary.
tVc then proceeded in company
With the disabled ship. AVe Were life-
pared to take the passengers to Queens*
town or Now York if necessary.
AVlien we arrived along-side of the
City of Faris an officer from her came
aboard and said that Capt. Watkins
xvidled ns to tow his ship to Queens¬
town. I answered tli.t I had come to
save life. After tho officer had con¬
veyed my- refusal to tow the City of
Paris, Capt. AVatkins hoisted the sig¬
nals, ‘Thanks; go ahead.’ AVe then,
at G:54 o’clock, proceeded, leaving the
Aldersgato and the Cily of Faris in
communication, AVe received no in*
tiination from either Capt. AVatkins
or Hie officer who came aboard that
the City of Faris was in danger of
foundering. AA'e stopped within ft
ship’s length of the Inman boat, and
waved for the captain’s representative
to come off in a boat. She did not
seem to be in any danger.
There was a long westerly swell, but
the sea was not rough, and (here were
no indications of a st< rot. AA'hen Capt.
AVatkins signalled that we could pro¬
ceed, we saw no reason for remaining.
That Capt. AVatkins i pprouated our
services in bringing the Aldersgato lo
him and in offering to save life if nec¬
essary ,was apparent by his signal thank¬
ing us.”
The Adriatic had 893 passengers
aboard herself, beside her large crew.
There were over 1000 souls on the City
ef Paris. The Adriatic passed 21 ice-
bergs off the banks within a space of
100 miles
The first - (fleer of the ( ify of (dick¬
er, which arrived yesterday, said they
did not sight, tho Adriatic on the trip,
and that if they had soon in r signals
they would have responded. The City
of Chester's course was further south
than the Adriatic’s, lie said.
The Expatriated Twin.
An old Boston lawyer tells a curiou!
story of an older Boston family which
illustrates the material for fiction that
is always afloat in a community. This
story is to the effect that in the early
part of this century, at the time when
the idea of founding a family had an
especially stronghold upon the imagin¬
ations of a certain class, as it came
lari-r to have upon the Vanderbilts
and Astors, there Jived in Boston a
wealthy merchant who bad no children,
lle was possessed of the notion of the
grandeur of standing in history as the
founder pf a distinguished .line, but
the (jifficuRy of a sniping ibis role
when there was not oven an heir la
baud down his name was a severo
blow, it was when he was already
well advanced in life that ' Joyful
fact Dint ho might expect a child at
last came to iitl to the brim his cup of
joy, already well tilled by the turns
made in speculations requiring much
financial shrewdness.
Great preparations were made for
the expected infant, and the merchant
declared to his friends with the
greatest confidence that the child
would he a boy. The new-comer
was to hear the name of his grand¬
father and father, and from the stm t
was to bo regarded as the prospective
head of the business house ami
heir apparent, to whom |couhl not he
paid too much honor, In course of
time the child was born; it was in¬
deed a boy, but with him there was
another boy. The mother, who was
already a woman of middle age, died
within a week after the birth of the
twins.
The merchant was a man accus¬
tomed to having Ids will respected,
and he could not lie reconciled to this
whimsical trick of fate, whereby she
gave him not only what he asked, but
so much more. I’o seemed almost as
much dissapointed at having tv/o sons
as he had been before at having none.
A month or two after the death of his
wife lie took his two infant sons and
their nurse, and in one of his finest
vessels sailed for Europe, then, of
course a good deal farther from
America than it is at present. At the
end of six months he returned with a
new nurse and only the elder of the
twins, the other having died, lie said,
in Franco.
In the course of time tho merchant
sent for his lawyer, the father of my
informant, and made his will. He
confided to tho lawyer that his other
son was alive in France, and he placed
in his hands the papers necessary for
tracing him in case the death of tiie
elder should render the extinction of
the family imminent, lie also put in¬
to the hands of the lawyer certain
funds in trust of which the income
was to bo remitted annually to a cer¬
tain address in France. This done, the
merchant, whoso conscience is not re¬
ported to have troubled him in the
least in tho matter, lived out his ap¬
pointed time, and was gathered to his
fathers, and his son, by this time a
young man, reigned in his stead.
Things went on undisturbed until
the death of the lawyer, when his son,
who tells (lie story, came into posses¬
sion of the facts as part of his legacy
in the way of his father’s business.
He felt, it his duty to tell the whole to
the head of the wealthy house which
the departed merchant had succeeded
in founding, tho elder twin, now a
man of middle age, with a family of
his own. The latter was ijot unnat¬
urally startled to be told that lie had a
brother alive on tho other side of the
World, but he set out to Europe to find
him. He followed up the clews given
him by (he lawyer, and on his return
lie confided to the latter that ho had
found Hie missing twin-
“Ho does not know that lie is not
French,” he said. “He is perfectly
contented, and he has all that ho needs.
It 1; too late to undo what my father
did. I have invested in his name
funds enough to make him comfort*
able for tho rest of his life. Now we
will burn the papers and forget that
be ever existed.”
Wedding Rings.
tie latest thing in wedding rings
comes from England, and is a narrow
hilt thick circlet of 22-carat fine gold.
This has Cottle ill fahion in Amer¬
ica in the course of. the last year,
replacing (ho old style ring, which is
both heavy and wide, being sometimes
half art inch broad. These latter have
been in Use as far back as I can re¬
member, i be Gentians always buy
two plain gold rings, the lady giving
0,10 her betrothed and lie one to
her. The “alliance” ling is some¬
times called for, and often manufac¬
ture to order, ft is made of two
circlets fitting into each other and
coining apart something like a puzzle,
and is a revival of a very old stvle.
The ordinary wedding ring costs from
$7.50 to $15, although the English
ring is somewhat more expensive.
Jn engagement rings individual taste is
the only law, but set stones are great
favorites. A novelty Is a ring of three
circlets, almost as narrow as wire,
each set wilh a band of different stones,
such as pearls, turquoises and conch-
shells.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
A Lazy Spot Somewhere.
The number of people killed by
lightning last year was exactly the
number hanged for murder. Some
j p:op!e may cal! thi-i a curious coinci-
j donee, blit if isn't. It simply shows
that there was a lazy spot somewhere*,
and that one side or the other ought ‘ to
he ashamed of its poor showing.
IVU THE HOUSEWIFE.
KKKIMM! 1'trST DOWN WpiII.E SWEl'PINfl.
Don’t sweep—or allow your domes¬
tic to—with the broom in front of you,
as though you were shovelling the car¬
pet. As sure ns you do, the dust will
rise to the ceiling and you will dig the
nap from the carpet and shovel it up
in the dustpan. More carpets arc
worn out by hard sweeping than by
regular “wear and tear.” Sweep
wish a downward, regular stroke,
keeping (lie dust under tho broom.
Wring out a house cloth or mop in
soaped water, and wipo over your ear-
pot after the dust has settled, and sec
how clean and bright it will look.—
[New York Journal.
Till-; ni.slNIKC'ITXO SKA SON
Chloride of lime is tho safest, as well
nsoncof the best disinfectants. Itowet
its -nerd to the free chlorine gas which
it contains when fresh and gives oil
slowly into the air. When used in
sufficient quantity in a room or cliOsen
space, it combats much of its impuri¬
ties. As for the genus of disease,
this agent is something of an enemy
to them, although not a powerful one.
It is customary in contagious diseases
to lay the chloride of lime about in sau¬
cers. Some good is certainly done in
that way, but it is measured by the
quantity of lime used, which, in order
to have a very decided effect, must be
eonsidernb'e.
It acts exceedingly well in solution
with water as a disinfectant of “wash
clothing” which has been within the
atmosphere of a sickroom containing
a patient ill with ail infections disease.
Some use it in solution to disinfect
bathpipcs; but it is scarcely fit for that
purpose, as the chlorine corrodes lead
and iron. Tho fact should be remem¬
bered that in using chloride it mmt he
confined in order to render it effica¬
cious as a disinfectant. We occasion¬
ally see it sprinkled about in foul
places, such as open drains, on heaps
of filth, etc.—places freely exposed to
the air. Jn such situations it is abso¬
lutely powerless to do good. it must
be in a practically closed space, where
the gases arising from it can lie con¬
fined until they can do their work.—•
[Brooklyn Citizen.
uaudknino fou women.
The, season is at hand when women
interested in flower culture put into
execution the plans made during the
winter and spring for the arrange¬
ment of their flower gardens. An
article in tho American Garden hear¬
ing upon this subject contains tho fol¬
lowing sensible advice to semi-in-
valiils:
“It’s so much trouble,” said a poor
little woman I was urging to throw
away her pill boxes, stop taking
tonics and to go out into tho garden;
“I’m dressed up iu the afternoon, and
I couldn’t st -op over, and my sleeves
are so tight I can hardly take a hair¬
pin out of my head.” That’s tho truth;
fashion decrees tight dresses and
sleeves that fit close to the skin, and
doctors wax fat and wealthy with all
their women patients on hand. But
you needn't look like a fright, even if
you spend hours digging up the dirt
with your trowel. Have a comfortable
sacque made of some washable stuff,
slip off your dress and put it on and a
broad-brimmed lint. Don’t try to work
with a henry spade. Then: me light,
strong ones that make (lie digging quito
easy and pleasant. Keep your tools
handy, and always see they are in
place before you go into the house. A
basket for weeds, another for a ball of
twine, hammer, trowel, hits of leather
to fasten the vines, tacks, scissors—
you will need nil these more or less
every day, and it’s a delight to work if
you can lay your hand right on every
needed article.
IlFCIl’KS.
Asparagus—AVash clean, break off
the white part, and put the green part
into boiling water, slightly salted;
boil five minutes, and pour off the
water; add more, being hot, and boil
10 to 15 minutes; then put in a lump
of butter, salt and pepper (some stir
in a thickening made of one teaspoon
flower mixed with cold water) ; toast
three thin slices bread, spread them
with butter, put in a dish and turn the
asparagus over it. The last water must
be boiled down until just enough for
the giavy.
Fried Spring Chicken—Clean, joint,
and soak in salt and water for two
hours. Fut in a frying-pan equal
quantities of lard and butter, in all
enough to cover Hie chicken. Dip
each piece in beaten egg, roll in
cracker crumbs and drop in the boil¬
ing fat; fry till brown on both sides.
Serve on a hot platter, garnishing
with sprigs of parsley. Four most of
the fat from the frying-pan, thicken
the remainder with browned flour,
adding to it one cup of boiljng water.
Serve this in a graw-loat.
NO. 23.
The Blffcrcucc.
A smiling ilaine,
T’liknown In finin'.
Yet nancy, sweet and and fair,
Stood chattering to a girlhood's “flame*,”
Now gray, in heard and hair.
He urged some plan,
Ami eager ran
The gamut of Its pleasures;
As oft before, they scan
A day of brimming measures.
“If we can go,
I'ray, let me know,"
She said, “the hour of starling!”
“IIow run I let you let you—let you
know?”
( II 'iHi lull, in hand) at parting.
A rising sigh,
A kindling eye;
Vexation, (though she hid it —)
“When we were young" she made reply,
“You never asked—you did it!"
ih mokoi s.
Hearts are never really broken, but
many a one has been fired with a
“bang.”
Mcphlsto (behind the scenes)—Hal
what do I see? Only four wreaths
thrown on the singe, and I paid for
five.
A Faris milliner lias made ft ten-
strike by teaching her parrot to say
every time a fair client enters, “Oh,
ain’t you just lovely!”
OueRt (helping himself pretty freely
to tho Cognac)—It is very peculiar. I
never feel an appetite for dinner un¬
less I take a glass of Cognac after¬
wards.
Husband—Can nothing dissuade yon
from your determination to go on tiie
stage ?
AVifo—Nothing. I have already tiled
my divorce papers.
“Miss Browning used to bo very cool
towards you.”
“Yes; but 1 took her skating, arid
it’s all right.”
“I suppose you took a tumble, and
broke the ice?”
Airs. Timothy Seed—I know that
speckled hen is laying eggs every day
by tho way sho'cacklcs, but I can’t find
tho nest.
Mr. Timothy Seed—Perhaps she lias
mislaid her eggs.
A Delicate Hint..—“Return my best
thanks to your master, John, and tell
him 1 am much flattered by his kind
present of the game.” “Yessir—an’
Supposin’ master arsks what you guv
me for myself—what’ll I teJlhim, sir?’’
- Pick Me Up.
Student (to his friend)—Sc«j yon¬
der comes old Mr. X-, who lias
helped to dry so many a tear.
“The dear, kind-hearted gentleman!
And pray tell me how?” ■ .
“He is » manufacturer of pockot-
handkercliiofs.”
Luring Him On.—Servant (at sweet
girl’s boudoir)—“Mr. Nicefellow is in
the pa miss.” Sweet girl (throw*
ing don ., a novel)—“Horrors! And
my hair is all down! Tell him he’ll
have to wait a little as I’m in the
kitchen helping mother.”—Life.
Ran Ilis Train Through the One Abend.
“There are heroes and heroes, and'
there arc licroinos and heroines,” said
Chauncey M. Depew in speaking of
personal bravery. “Thero are blue*,
shirted men wlu> go over our railroad
lines every day in engine cabs who
would laugh at you if you intimated to
them that they are heroes, and who in
spite of all are as brave as any man
who ever drew a sword or carried a
musket. Railroad men have seldom
much time to think. They are cowards
or heroes in a second. Not Jong ago
one of i ur engineers of an express
train rounded a turn in the road and
saw that another train had been derail-
ed, and lay right across the track. A
collision was inevitable. The engineer
might have taken chances and jumped,
but lie didn’t. As lie said afterward:
“‘I saw right away we were in for
it and like a flash it struck me that our
only chance was to go right ahead and
cut through if we could. So I threw
her open and let her go.’
“ The experiment was perilous, hut
it was successful. He did‘cutthrough,’
and no one was injured. This act of
the engineer was thatof an exceedingly
courageous, cool-headed man.
“Another engineer on a AVestern
road performed a similar act sometime
ago with tragic results. He tried to
_ or jn fact was forced to try to—cut
through a freight train that had been
thrown across the track. Non; of the
passengers were injured, but the engin-
ecr and his firemen were killed. This
is but too often the reward of bravery
in all walks of life.”—Philadelphia
Press.
AH 11 Boom Balloons.
Smokeless powder, some military
men believe, will boom balloons.
They argue that wilh no smoko the
difficulty of observing an enemy’s
doings will be increased, and that bal¬
loons would, solve the problem—could
they hut ho managed,
