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THE TWO DOLLS.
Bald tho l’hik Paper Doll to tho Purple
Paper Doll,
“Oh! how I wish lliat I wore made of
wood!"
Said tho Purple Paper Doll to the Pink
Paper Doll. 1 think that 'a just
“J in sure paper as
good."
Bald the Pink Paper Doll to the Purple
* Paper Doll,
“Oh! how I wish that I were made of
wax!"
Hald the Purple Taper Doll to tho Pink
“Your Paper Doll, would be seamed with tiny
face soon
cracks."
Kaid the Pink Paper Doll to the Purple
“Oh! Paper Doll, wish I made of bisque!"
how I were
Bald the Purple l’nper Doll to the Pink Paper
Doll, would awful
“Of breaking you run an
risk,"
Bald the Pink Paper Doll to the Purple
“Oh! Paper how Doll. I wish I of worsted knit!"
were
Said the Purple Paper Doll to tho Pink
“I don’t Paper bellcvo Doll, you’d like it, dear, bit."
a
Hald tho Pink Paper Doll to the Purple
Paper Doll, wish that I made of
“Ob! how I were
rags!” Purple Paper Doll tho Pink
Hsid the to
Paper Doll, 'd ofl in his
“Then Lags.” the junkman carry you
rapei ftrer _ i. . .1 n 1 i
Dolh made of rub-
“Oh! how 1 wish that I were
her!
Buid «*" ,>t if r> |l 0 ,,n P* r to ,ink
Hf> ' , r ° '
“We used to know one, and wo used to
snub her."
Bahl tho Pink Paper Doll to the Purplo
Papet Doll. china!"
“Oh! how I wish I were mado of
Kttid lho l’urplo Paper Doll to tho Pink
“You’d Soffiashkmcd, and they’d name
you Dlnuh.”
Said the Pink Paper Doll to the Purple
“wiiWin glad that I’m a paper
Haiti the Purple Paper Doll to tho Pink
“I ... think J* rt l? e r.V it is 0 !!' tho best, . dear, . after . all!
in Puck.
DEACON GREY’S
CHOICE.
h\ Ul l I N WHITNEY Cl.AkK.
“Well,” Mrs. Ferobia Cymouds laid
aside her new poke-bonnet, with her its
lavender ribbons, and slipped off
plum-colored alpaca dress, while a
smile of satisfaction spread itself over
her rather sharply marked features.
“If Deacon Grey don't mean some¬
thing by his attentions then I’m mis¬
taken.” It was prayer meeting night,
aud Deacon Grey had just e»co ted
the widow to her domicile. 4 4 This is
the third time hand- 1 milling that lie
took me home evening; beside last
Holiday was two weeks ago that ho
walked to church with me.”
Mrs. Ferobia's method of expres-
uiou was somewhat mixed, but her
facts were undeniable.
The deacon hud escorted her to and
from evening prayer meeting nu
several occasions, and had thus lie-
pome tho subject of much gossip
among the village folks.
“Deacon Grey’s aspruciu’ up,"they
said. 4 4 Lookin’ round for a wife, ot
course. Will, he moiit do worse,
though the Widow Oymouds is poor
as a church-mouse, fur as property’s '
contained.” •
They said uotliiu’ of Widow Cy-
mouds’ temper, however, which was
as uncomfortable to encounter as the
barbed wire fence which surrounded
the deacon’s well-kept farm.
Possibly, the widow had a talent for
concealing any little acerbities of tern-
per from the outside world, and be-
stowing her ill-nature only on the
members of her own household.
♦ 4 Ye - t ” she mused, tapping the
boine-mude carpet with her foot,while
m shrewd look shone iu her steel-gray
eyes -“yes, to my mind it’s just us
good as settled,and l menu to do over
*uy wodding-dra-s. I ain't w orn it
much,and it’ll save buying a new one.
Th»t there’s one thing about it”—hero
the widow put her foot dow n omphat-
irally — “that old maid sister of the
deacon's has got to do most of the
work, if she lives with us. 1 don’t
have any sbiftle-s, do-nothing folks
ibout me; but of course 1 won't say a
word now.”
“La!" said Miss I.etitia Pipes, pop-
ping her head into the w idow ’s sit-
ting-room, bright and early the next
morning—“la, now, Feroby! is it set¬
tled yet? I’m dying to know!”
“Well ahem!” said tho widow,
looking conscious and trying to blush
•« • tniu’t exactly settled — that is,the
time ain’t Bet, but it’s all understood
betweeu us, you kuow. ”
“Of course," assented Miss Pipes.
“Well, I reckoned it was understood,
that you are as good as engaged, of
course. How Boon do you think it’ll
be?”
“Well,” Raid the widow, rnedita-
tively, “ 3-*2- before fall, I rs ou’t
reckon. u see, I’ve OB o a
right sma lot of sei JQ on
baud—aud some quilting to do,
too. There's that piny-bud quilt I put
together last winter, and n rising-sun
Dorcas is making.”
“Going to keep Llpreas with you?”
“No, I ain't” snapped the widow,
tartly—Dorcas was her stepdaughter.
“She ain’t nothing to me, an’ I shan’t
keej> her no longer than to git the
sewing done up, an’ the apple-butter
making an’ preserving over; then Pm
a-going to tell her to find some
otl^er Lome.” ^
“.Jes’ so,” assented Miss Pipes.
And before night it was all over
town that the Widow Cyrnonds was to
be married to Deacon Grey, in tlie fall
—just ns Mrs. Oymouds meant it
sbouid be.
And at last the gorgeous piuey-bud
aud the refulgent glories of the rising
Bun*weve nearly finished and luidgway
‘>4b old-fashioned chest of
drawers in the best chamber.
A ten-gallon keg was tilled with
translucent-, crimson-clear npplc-but-
ter, and the swinging-shelf in the cel¬
lar was covered with jars of preserves
and nmber-hued jelly—all made by
Dorcas Cymouds’ deft lingers.
And now the sparkling frosts of
October had turned the dogwood and
Bfl88ftfraa ‘eaves to red, and the chin-
capins aud over-cup acorns were drop¬
ping on the crisp, brown glass in the
woodlands and now pretty, brown-
eyed,industrious Dorcas was told that
find another home, and look
out for herself in the great future.
“For I expect to be married before
‘°"K» « ...i Iltl hllau t to be i burdened , i i
with any hangers-on,’’said the widow,
heartlessly.
Tears sprang into the sweet, brown
eyes, but Dorcas turned away to hide
them from her stepmother’s sharp
ga/e.
Poor Dorcas! She know no more of
the wide world and its ways than a
half-Hedged robin, but sue started out
with a brave heart to seek her fortune.
One text from the Book of Divine
Revelations came into her heart to
comfort her—“J have never seen the
righteous forsaken, nor Ins seed beg¬
ging b:>oad;” aud somehow Dorcas felt
that kind Pro\ideuce had not forsaken
her.
Mrs. Cymouds put on her best dress,
tied her lavender bonnet-strings iu a
becoming bow under her chin, and
looked at herself in the mirror with a
smile of satisfaction.
4 4 He'll be certain to come to the
sewing-society today, and who knows
what may happen, as we walk home
together! My, but won't I.etitia Pipes
bemad! She almost turns green with
envy now, when the deacon walks with
me. ”
But Deacon Grey did not make liis
appearance at tho sewing-circle, and
Hie widow returned home iu a some-
what different mood from that iu which
she had set out.
4 4 What in common sense he means
by not coming I don’t see!” she said,
crabbed ly. * * And that 1.etitia Pipes
was glud of it—looked like she wanted
to titter right out, when I had to put
on my bonnet and start home alone.”
The afternoon hud worn away, and
the sun was sinking fiery shafts
of crimson beneath the far-off western
horizon.
“Who in creation sa-coming now?”
grumbled the widow,as a lithe,slender
figure swung open the front gate, and
tripped up iho path to tho cottage
door.
It was Dorcas,her brown eyes shin-
ing and her cheeks glowing like a fnll-
blown .Jacqueminot rose.
“Back again, like a bad penny!"
cried the widow,crossly. “You’ll have
to stay all night, 1 s’pose; but I've
told you onoo I couldn’t keep you—
*ud j can’t!”
“I’ve only come for my things,”
said Dorcas, demuredly, her cheeks
dimpled with smiles and blushes,
“The deacon's out iu the buggy w ait-
>ug for me.
“The deacon?” gasped the widow,
astounded.
“Yes. l I'm married to Deacon
Grey,” exclaimed Dorcas, while her
stepmothe 'glowed in wrath and dis-
may. “1 met him at tho stile, this
noniing, and 1 think he married me
out of pity, for I was crying a little,
you know, to think I had no home to
go to. 80 lie took me to the parson-
age and we were married, and went
home to dinner. And here’s the dea-
con coming in now for my trunk.”
“Well, well!” exclaimed Miss Let it iy
Pipes, when she heard the news. “But
a body might a-known it was Dorcas
the deacon was a-courting. But I’ll
bet a button Feroby is us mud as a wet
hen about it!”
And so she was.—Saturday Niglit.
MADE LINCOLN TUMBLE HIS HAIR.
Mrdili's Kiriimess <.hvp the Country u
Correct Idea of the Itailsplltter.
The death of Joseph Medill re¬
calls the story of a picture of Lin¬
coln, tbe one by which he became
known to the country. It was very
soon after the lirst nomination of
Lincoln for the presidency, The
story of the picture is given in Mr.
Medill’s words as nearly as they can
be recalled :
“I know him so well that I called
him Abe and he called me Joe. He
earne to see me in the Tribune oHice
soon after his nomination. I think
I sent for him. I said to him after
we talked of more important matters:
4 4 l Abe there are not many people
iu the country who know how you
look. You must get your picture
taken. Get ready and I will go with
you. ’
"Snapshots were unknown then
and so were newspaper artists, as
they are called. Lincoln went to his
hotel to fix up and I called for him at
the appointed time. I think he saw
that f was surprised.
* 4 4 How do I look?’ he asked. His
coat v-ns buttoned from top to bottom.
But it was his hair which caused me
to look at him. He had evidently wet
it and it w as stuck to tue skin and
across his temples as smoothly as if it
had been ironed. It was so unlike
him that he looked unnatural.
“ ‘It will never do,’ I said as
soon as I could recover my breath,
‘Abe you never could be elected presi¬
dent. if the country thought you wore
your hair that wav.’
“He looked at me as if he were
dazed. He had the heart of a child.
He had plastered his hair down in
that way honestly and innocently. It
hurt him to thiuk he had done some¬
thing he should not have done. That
was his nature. He looked in the
mirror, and then that expression of
humor which I never saw iu any other
face came out. He took both hands
and shoved them through his hair
until it looked like a brush heap after
a hurricane. Then he looked at me,
and I told him thu< was more like him.
We walked into the photographer’s,
several blocks, and my recollection is
that he scarcely spoke during the
time. When he sat before the camera
he ran his long lingers through his
hair again aud looked at me like a
child that had been whipped. From
that picture all copies for campaign
purposes were made, aud whatever
caricatures and cartoons were made
of him during the campaign were
suggested by that picture.”
Flower Until* tlie Vogue.
Parisian femininity fairly revels
these days in the practice, revived
from the early Roman period, of floral
bathing. Flower baths, as they are
called, have become the vogue in the
French capital. The girls vow that
they not only impregnate the skin
with their delicate odor, but.strength¬
en and invigorate the body. They
have two ways of taking a flower bath.
Ono of these is known as the dry
bath, and is as simple as it is luxuri¬
ous. The bathtub is lirst heated and
then filled with blossoms. In this
perfumed bed milady rests for one
hour, when her maid pronounces her
ready. In the other method a dozen
bunches of roses or other sweet-
scented flowers are thrown into the
hot water with which tlie tub is pre¬
pared for the bath.
Men With IS ini Names,
The following coincidence in names
have been carefully verified. At a
Birmingham chapel Air. Rook held
services iu the morning, Mr. Parrott
in the afternoon aud Mr. Crowe in the
evening of the same day; the nrrange-
meet being strictly accidental, but
made by a Mr. Cuckoo, secretary of
the Sunday school, iu which Messrs,
Finch, Martin, Swallow and Bird were
teachers,
In a Midland town ou the same
Sunday some years ago harvest festi-
val services were conducted in two
churches, respectively, by Revs. J. E.
Flower and W. I.cute. Within the
last half century the pastor of a Lou-
don church was Rev. ,l. H. Pigg, and
his two deacons Messrs. Hogg aud
Be. on.— Lo »a Tit Bits.
AN UNCANNY WAR SOUVENIR.
A Michigan Soldier Cherishes a Six-Fool
Coach-Whip Snake,
Memento gathering during the re¬
cent unpleasantness with Spain as¬
sumed the proportions of a gigantic
craze. The memento fiends have car¬
ried to their homes and museums
articles weighing from a few ounces hji
to tous. The incouvenieuce of the sou¬
venir cuts no figure with the enthu¬
siast, for in his desire to claim some¬
thing out of the ordinary he will go
any extreme to gratify his wish. He
takes anything aud everything in sight.
But it has been left to a Detroit boy to
outdo the most enthusiastic in the
bringing home of oddities. He was
content with no small or ordinary
thing, but held his aim high aud suc¬
ceeded in working its accomplishment.
His name is Edward Hanley, and prior
to being mustered out he was a mem¬
ber of the Thirty-Second Michigan
Volunteer regiment.
Hanley didn’t get to Cuba, where
his fighting qualities would have been
properly nurtured and where he would
have acquitted himself nobly had it
been his privilege. In the camp at
Tampa, however, he found time to
cultivate the amiable qualities of a
coach-whip snake. On such good terms
did the soldier and the reptile get that
the latter slept in his tent and was
constantly under the care and guid¬
ance of its new-found friend. It is a
significant fact that there was no “bor¬
rowing” from Hanley’s tent, the other
members of the company being con¬
tent to allow the friendship to proceed
unmolested.
When the Thirty-Second was sent
home and mustered out Hanley and
the snake did not part, for when he
was no longer a soldier, it was Lis
greatest delight to exhibit his pet
twined around his arm, with its tail
resting on his shoulders and the ven¬
omous head poised over his hand.
4 4 He is just as docile as a kitten,”
enthusiastically exclaimed Hanley to a
group of young ladies who were flee¬
ing from the exhibition of his war
memeinto. But Hanley is not afraid.
He thinks that his pet is the greatest
souvenir of the war that has been
brought West. The reptile is about
six feet long aud a perfect specimen of
its type. It feeds on eggs, meat and
table scraps, ami has grown noticeably
since Hanley brought it to Detroit.
When it dies it is the owner’s inten¬
tion to have a taxidermist stuff and
mount his souvenir of the Spanish-
Source of Iho American Temperament.
The American over-tension and jerki-
ness and breathlessness aud intensity
and agony of expression are primarily
social, and only secondarily physiolog¬
ical phenomena. They are bad habits,
nothing more or less, bred of custom
and example, born of the imitation of
bad models and the cultivation of false
personal ideals, How are idioms
acquired, how do local peculiarities of
phrase and accent come about?
Through an accidental example set by
someone, which struck the ears ot
others, and was quoted and copied tiil
ut last everyone in the locality chimed
in. Just so it is witJx national tricks
of vocalization or intonation, with
national manners, fashions of move¬
ment and gesture, aud habitual ex¬
pressions of face. We, here in Arne icu
through following a succession of pat¬
tern-setters whom it is now impossible
to trace, and through influencing each
other in a bad direction, have at last
settled down collectively into what,
for better or worse, is our own char¬
acteristic national type—a type with
the production of which, so far its
these habits go, the climate and con¬
ditions have had practically nothing
at all to do.—Professor William
James, iu Scribner’s.
Cen ten stria n I)n<-It ess.
Jane Dowager Lady Carew of
Woodsdown House, County Water¬
ford, ire., who has just entered upon
her one hundred and first year, d omed
at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball at
Brussels on the night be'ove Water¬
loo. She was then Miss Cliffe, the
daughter of Major Anthony Ciiffe of
Ross, and iu the following year, ISifi,
she married the first Lord Carew,
whom she has long survive.!.
Marital Flfasanlries.
She—Do you remember bow yon
said,when yon were courting me, that
if T would marry you I would have
nothing to do all my days hut sit
around and look pretty? And how
different it is now !
He—Well, it ain't my fault if you
can’t look pretty any mo. e. —Indian¬
apolis Journal.
ABSOLUTE ZERO.
—---
Some Marvels of Lii|iilf'pil Air—Quicksil¬
ver Frozen h» Hard as Steel.
The experiments which have re¬
sulted in the liquefaction of air seem
likely to revolutionize oil' ideas ol
heat'and cold. Mr. Charles E. Trip-
ler of New York is turning out
liquefied air by the gallon, and a de¬
scription of his achievements in the
Century is a veritable fairy-tale of
science. Fancy a kettle of liquefied
air going ofl in steam when set upon
a block of ice, because the latter is
several hundred degrees warmer than
the air! It may not be long before
the expression “as cold as ice” will
cease to be heard, and “as hot as ice”
adopted. surprising to the
It certainly is fly off see hiss¬
liquid air poured upon ice
ing like water from hot iron; but
when one reflects that ice is 344 de¬
grees hotter than the liquid, it does
not seem so strange; or to see one’s
breath blown into the ope i can of the
liquid, sent back instantly, its mois¬
ture congealed into a miniature snow
storm. A jet of steam is frozen as
quickly, for steam in the open air is
only lit degrees hotter than the
breath, while from the temperature of
steam to that of liquid air is a ter¬
rible drop of o2t degrees! In this
freezing ofl'e t probably is found the
greatest obstacle to tlie use of liquid
air as a motive power. The moisture
of the air is deposited rapidly as ice
upon the machiue, especially upon the
orifice from which the jet o: extreme¬
ly cold air emerges. This soon closes
the orifice completely and stojis the
machine.
Another surprise is given when the
experimenter puts his hand directly
into the liquid for a moment. But
the sensation is only as of a soft cush¬
ion of air about the hand. Such it
really is. The heat of the hand forms
a layer of vapor or air about the hand,
and the liquid air does not come in
contact with the flesh. Should the
liquid actually touch the flesh, a
severe injury like a burn re¬
sults, which sometimes is months
in healing. In an few seconds an
egg is frozen so that it requires a
hard blow of a hammer to break it.
Probably .its germ of life i : extinct.
Seeds of grains and vegetables have
been teste 1 in liquid air. These
were all natives of the temperate zone,
the seeds of which will pass the win¬
ter in a frozen earth without loss of
vitality, such as barley and oats for
grains, and pease, cucumber, and
squash for vegetables. They are kept
for one hundred and ten hours at 312
degrees below zero, and then slowly
thawed for fifty bo.irs v After this
treatment they were stilt alive. On
being planted, they germinated and
The liquid air boils in a dish till it
has cooled the dish to its own temper¬
ature. Its boiling-point is 312 de¬
grees below zero. After this the
vapor of air which covers the liquid
so retards evaporation that it maybe
kept eight or ten- hours in a can
packe t only in felt. It has iu this
way been carried two hundred and
fifty miles from the place of manu¬
facture. The cooling effect upon the
air of the rcoiu is very marked. Tho
writer gave two lectures in one after¬
noon with liquid air. Said a lady Oi
the second audience, as she entered
the lecture-: oom, i 4 How cold your
room is! The temperature had been
lov«e ed 10 or 12 degrees by tho evap¬
oration of the air used in the first
lecture.
All other liquids are frozen when
put into liquid air. Mercury becomes
like iron, to tlr t it will drive a nail,
bold up a weight, or serve any otlie?
pur j use as a metal, so long as it ia
kei t frozen.
A Oliftin or En<i!i?*< I’niyer.
A new use for the endless chain idea
in cor espondence has bee put in
practie? by a religions enthusiast
which bids fair to encompass the whole
civilized wo Id it somebody does not
cut the string, The original letter
consists of a simple pray* r, to which
is appended an urgent request to re¬
peat that prayer three lime? a dav for
nine da vs. In reward for inis it is
promised that the snpplica it’s most
earnest w sh will be granted. Then
follows instructions t > send exact
copies of the letter to nine fiiends. In
conclusion it says warniaglv that to
omit se idiugthe nine letters is a great
sisi, to be followed by uu’ailiug punish¬
ment.— New York Press.
Billboard advertisements are posted
m some places hv machines that reach
to the top of a fifty foot wall without
ladder cr paste poC