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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF CLARA MORRIS. ALIXE, THE DOLL. BABY PAHT. AND THIRD GREAT TRIUMPH. Miss Morris Tolls of How She Eluded Angnstln Daly and the Bustle Mie Hated-She Pro-res to Her Crittes That She Is a Mand-Stded Genins. A Good Rehearsal Story—A Souv enir From a Manager of His Grat itude at Being Palled Oat of a Hole. No. xm. (Copyright, 1901. by S. 9. McClure Cos.) My first thought on awaking next morn ing was one of dismay on recalling the destruction of the little "P. H. C.,” that being the actors' contraction of Mr. Daly s somewhat grandiloquent "Palor Home or Comedy.” My grief over the burning of the pretty toy theater was very real and I would have been an astonished young woman had anyone prophesied that for me personally the disaster was to prove a piece of unqualified good luck. Mr. Daly hod a very expensive com pany on his hands; he had amazed other managers by his ‘'corner"on leading men. for with three already In hie company, he had not hesitated to draw oh Boston for Harry Crisp and on Philadelphia for Loui9 James; and then such names as BARA JPTVETT. i;sif JOHN BROUGHAN. George Clark, Daniel Harkins, George Devere, Chas. Fisher, James Lewis, Wil liam Lemoyne, William Davldge, A. Whiting, G. Fawcett, G. Parkes, J. Bur nett, H, Bascombe, J. Beekman, George Gilbert, etc., and one can readily under stand that the salary of the men alone must have made quite an Item In the week's expenses; and added to the sharp necessity of getting us to work as quickly as possible. And In actual truth the ruins of the lit tle theater were not yet cold, when Mr. Daly had by wire secured a week for us, divided between Syracuse and Albany, and we were scrambling dresses together and buying new toilet articles—rouge, powders and pomades, and transforming ourselves Into strolling players-Ahough sooth to say, there was precious little ‘‘strolling" done after we started, for we were all a-rushing for rooms, for food, for trains through a blizzard that was on, with plenty of delaying snowdrifts. Now at that time, to my own great anxiety, I was by way of standing on very dangerous ground. The publio had favored me almost extravagantly from the very first performance of “Anne Syl vester,” but the critics, at least the two most Important ones, seemed to praise me with a certain unwilling drag of the pen. Nearly all their kind words had ths sweetness squeezed out of them between "huts" and ‘‘lfs,” and most wounding of all my actual work was less often criti cised than were my personal defects. There is nothing more fatal to the ar tistic value—to the future welfare of a young player, than to be known as a "one pan actress"—yet that was the very dan ger that was threatening me at the time of the burning of the home theater. Fol lowing other parts known as "strong,” Jezebel, the half-breed Fast Indian, a velvet footed treachery end twice would be murderess; and Cora, the quadroon mad-women, were In a fair way to Injure me greatly. Already one paper had said; “Mis# Morris has a strange Intuitive com prehension of these creatures of mixed blood.” But worse than that the moat powerful of the two critic* I dreaded and said one morning: "Ml** Morris played with car* and much feeling, the audience wept copiously, 'to any one who ha* long read the great critic, that word ‘copiously’ la tantamount to his full signature, so per sistently doe* he use It), but her perform ance was flecked with those tigerish gleam* that aeem to be a part of her method. She will probably And difficulty In equaling In any line, her succeaa in lor a.” Then one bitter cold day we returned to New York and Mr. Daly, sending ror me. said: "He must ask a favor of me," a form of speech that literally made m sit up straight—ye*, and gasp too with astonishment. With a regardful sigh h# went on: "I suppose you know you ar* a strong attraction?” I smiled broadly at hit evident disap proval of such knowledge on my part, and he continued: "But In this play there 1 no part for you, yet J greatly need all my strongest people In thla first cast. Of course, a* far as ability 1* concerned, you could play the Counte** and make a hit hut she a too old, no you’ll not play the mother to marriageable daughters under my management, even In an emergency. Now I have Mis* Morant. Mlsa Daven port and Mlaa Diet*, but-but I muat have your name too.” I nodded vigorously, I understood, and having aeen the play In Part#, where It w*a one of three pieces offered for an es •nlng’a programme, I mentally reviewed the cast and presently made answer, cheerfully and honestly: “Oh, yes! I see —it's that Aline, Justine—no, no! Claudine —that's the name. I think of the maid you want me to go on for that? All right, anything to help!" He leaned forward, asking eagerly; “Do you mean that?”. "Of course. I do!” I answered. "Ah!" he crleaj "you don’t guess well, Miss Morris—but you've the heart of a good comrade, and now I'm sure you will do as I ask you, and play Allxe for me?" I sprang to my feet with a bound. "Alixe!" I cried; “I to play that child— oh, impossible! No. no! I should be ab surd. I—l know too much—oh. you un derstand what I mean! She is a little convent bred bi-t of innocence, a veritable baby of sixteen! Dear Mr. Daly, don't you see I should ruin the play?" He answered ralher coldly:. "You are not given to ruining plays. The part does not amount to much (good heavens!) and I admit it does not suit you, but think of my position, give me the benefit of your name as Allxe for one single week, and on the second Monday night Miss Jewett shall take the part off your hands." "But.” I whimpered, "the critics will make me the butt of their ridicule, for I can’t make myself look like an Allxe!” "Oh, no, they won’t,” he answered sharply, "of course you won’t expect a success, but you need fear no jibes for trying to help me out of a dramatic hole. Will you help me?” and of course there was nothing to do, hut swallow hard, and hold out my hand for the unwelcome part. Imagine my surprise when on my way to rehearsal, I saw posters up announc ing the production of the play of "Alixe." I met Mr. Daly at the door and said: "Why this play was always called “The countess de Somerive?" “Yes," he said; “I know, but Allxs looks well—it's odd and pretty—and, well, It will lend a little Importance to the part.” Which shows how heavy were the scales upon our eyes, while we were rehearsing the new play. Everyone sympathized with me, but said a week would soon pass, and I groaned and ordered heelless slippers and flaxen hair, parted simply and waved back from the temples to fall loosely on the shoulders. To avoid the hlght that heels and the fashionable chignon would give me—while a thin white nun's veiling gown, high necked and long sleeved over a low cut -white silk lining, buttoned at the back, and finished with a pale blue sash and little side pocket, completed the simple costume, I prepared for the character I was beginning to understand, as I studied her and shame-facedly to love! Oh, yes; one often feels dislike or liking for the creature one Is trying to represent. I recalled the best Ophelia I had ever seen, a German actress; would she do for a model? Perhaps, no! She was mystic, strange—aloof! Oh, dear; and then by merest accident my mind wan dered away to 'the past. I had said to f ' ** I ** n ) I James üßwis. " oxonav cuajup * • . - * r ir> , THE MOKNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MAY 19. 1901. myself It should not be so hard. Every woman has been innocent —I was innocent enough when my first sweetheart paused at my side to say to me the foolish old words, that never lose sweetness and nov elty. I recalled with what open pleas ure I had listened, with what honest sat isfaction I acepted his attentions. With a laugh I exclaimed: "I didn't even have sense enough to hide my gratification and pride or to pretend the least bit." I stopped suddenly, light seemed to come to my mind. Innocence is alike the world over, I thought; it only differs In degree! I sprang to my feet; I cried Joyously: “I have caught the cue. I -won’t act at all! nil just speak the lines sincerely and simply and leave the effect to Provi dence!" The scales loosened a trifle over Mr. Daly's eyes at the last rehearsal but one. He was down In the orchestra speaking to (he leader, when I came to the end of the act and the words: “The mother whom I have insulted?—that young girl, then. Is my sister, the sister whose hap piness I have stolen, whose future I have shattered! What is there-left-for-me-to live for?" Mr. Daly glanced up and said sharply: “What's that?—er—Miss Morris, what are you going to do there, as the curtain falls? I—l—haven’t noticed that speech before. Go back a bit, Mr. Fisher, and Miss Morant—back to the Count’s entrance —let me hear that again.” We went over the scene again. "A-h-e-m!" said Mr. Daly, “you've not answered my question, Miss Morris—what do you do at the fall of the curtain?” "Nothing, sir.” I answered; "Just stare, dazedly at space, I think—swaying a little, perhaps.” "I want you to fall,” he declared. "Oh!” I exclaimed; "please, don't you think that would be rather melo-dra matic? I—l—if she could stand while re ceiving that awful shock about her moth er’s shame, she would hardly fall after, from mere horror of her own thoughts?" "I know all that—but let me tell you there's always great effect in a falling body. At any rate you can sink Into a chair—and so give the suggestion of col lapse." “There is no chair!" I answered, cheer fully. "Well,” he replied, testily; "there can be one I suppose! Here, boy—bring a large chair end place it behind Miss Mor ris!" "Mr. Daly!" I argued, "if I fall heavily as I must for effect, the chair will Jump and that will be funny—see." I fell, it did start backward, but Mr. Daly was equal to the emergency: "Take off the castors and place the chair hard against the end of the piano. Now try!” I did, the chair was firm as a rock. It was settled; I did as 1 was told, and fell at the end of the act, ever after. And Mr. Daly came and patted me on the back and said kindly: "Don't fret—l honestly believe there’s something in the little part after all—you know, the ( speech made me feel creepy.” The great night came. Another small I auditorium awaited the coming of our patrons. There was a smell of scarce dried paint in front of the curtain and of scrubbing soap behind it, but all was bright and fresh, and the house was soon packed with a brilliant audience. Every important occasion seems to have its touch of the ridiculous, and so had this one. The “bustle," the big wire af fair, extending to the bottom of the skirt, had reached its bideou3 apogee of fashion at that time; yet what possible relation could there be between that teetering monstrosity and grace or sentiment or tragedy? Surely I thought this girl pupil, brought straight from convent school to country home, might reasonably be bustlele>ss; and I should look so much smaller—so much more grace ful. But, Mr. Daly? Never-never! Would he consent to such a breach of propriety? Fashion—his soul loved! He poured over her plates—he bowed to her mandates! My courage having failed me, when I hurried to my room. I put on the ob noxious structure. But one glimpse of that camel-like hump on the back of “Alixe,” and the thought of the fall in the chair, made be desperate. I tore the mass of wire off and decided to keep out of sight till the last moment, and then make a rush for the stage. "Ready. Miss Morris?” "Ready!” I answered as the question was asked from door to door. In a few moments the call-hoy came back again. "Are you ready? Every one is out there but you." “Oh, yes,” I said, showing myself to him, but still not leaving the shelter of my room, and I heard him saying, "Yes, sir, she’s all ready. I saw her.” The curtain rose. Only a few lines were spoken before my entrance. I dared wait no longer. Heavens, no, for there was Mr. Daly coming for me. I gathered up my skirts as bunchlly as I could and ran out. But 1 could not deceive Mr. Daly. In an instant he missed the neces sary camel's hump. "Good heavens and earth!" he shout ed. “You’ve left your bustle!" I broke into a run. ''Walt!" he cried loudly. He dashed into my open room, caught the big bustle up, and dragging it like a great cage behind him, came plunging down the entrance to me, cry ing, “Wait! Wait!” and waving the oth er hand commandingly above his head. I heard my music. I sprang to the plat form I had to enter from. “That's me!” I cried. “Wait!" he ordered, and reached out to catch me. I evaded his grasp and skipped through the door, leaving but a fold of my skirt in his hand. I was on the stage, and, joy, oh, joy! I was with out a bustle! Mr. Daly did not like being laughed at, but when he glanced down and saw the thing he was dragging behind him, after the manner of a baby's tin wagon, he had to laugh at himself. And verily there were others who laughed with him, while the scandalized dresser carried the re jected article back to a decent seclusion. There Is no manager, star nor agent whose experience will enable him to foresee the fate awaiting an untried play. Avery curious thing is that what Is call ed "an actor’s play”—one, that is, that actors praise and enjoy in the rehearsing —is almost always a failure. While the managerial judgment has been reversed so often by the public that even the most enthusiastic producer of new plays is apt “to hedge” a bit with: “Unless I deceive myself, this will prove to be the greatest play, etc.” While the mistakes made by aotors and managers both, anent the value of certain parts, are illustrated suf ficiently by E. H. Sothern, C. W. Coul doek, Joseph Jefferson, all three of whom made immense hits in parts they had absolutely refused to accept, yielding only from necessity or obligingness, and to their own astonishment finding fame in presenting the unwelcome character. And to the misjudged “Lord Dundreary,” “Asa Trenchard," etc., that night was added the name of "Alixe." And the audtende accepted the Joyous little maid almost from the first girlish love betraying words she spoke. And yet so sensitive is an audience at times, while still laughing over her sweet ignorance, they thrilled with a nameless dread of coming evil. " As the play went on and the Impetuous grief of the child changed into proud self restraint, while her agonizing Jealousy of her adored mother developed, Mr. Daly, with wide, bright eyes, exclaimed: “I must have been blind—stone blind. Why, 'Alixe' Is the bone and marrow, the heart and soul of this play." Poor, loving, little base-born! pathetic little marplot! Seeing herslf as only a stumbling block to others, she sought self effacement beneath the gentle waters of the lily pond. And early In the last act, as her drowned body, carried In the arms of the two men who had loved her, was laid before the starting eyes of the guilty mother, and the loving, forgiving, plead ing letter of the suicide was read above her, actual sobs rose from the front of the house. It was a heart-breaking scene. But when the curtain fell—oh, what a whirlwind broke loose in that little thea ter! The curtain went up and down—up and down. And then, to my amazement, Mr. Daly signalled for me to go before the curtain, and I could not move. He stamped his foot and shouted: “Come over here and take this call!" and I called back: “I can't. I'm all pinned up, so I can't walk!” For, that my skirts might not fall away from my ankles when I was being carried across the stage, I had stood upon a chair and had my garments tightly wound about me and securely fastened, and, unfortunately, the pins were behind and I was all trussed up, nice and tight and helpless. Mr. Daly came tearing over to tne, and down he went upon his knee to try to free me. but a muttered "d—n!” told me he could not find the pins, and the applause—on, the precious applause!— that was being wasted out there. Sudden ly he rose, tossed that extraordinary hat of his off. picked me up In his arms and carried me like a big property doll to the curtain's side, signalled It up, argj with his arm about me, supported me on to the stage. ■Oh. but I was proud to stand there with him, for In those days he would not make the simplest speech—would not show himself even. Why, at the banquet of his own giving he hid behind a big floral piece and made Mr. Oakley Hall speak for him. And yet he had been pleased enough with my work to bring me there himself. I saw his hand upon ray shoulder, and suddenly stooped my head and kissed It In purest gratitude. Afterward, when I had been unpinned, as we walked through the entrance to gether, he said, with a gleeful laugh: “This Is the third and the greatest, but we share it." "The third what?" I asked. "The third surprise." he answered. "First, you surprised the town in 'Man and Wife;’ second, you surprised me In TArticle 47.’ now Alixe. the greatest of all surprises, you, as well as me." He stepped In front of me and asked: "What do you most wish for?" I stared up at him. He added: "About your home, say ” And swiftly I made answer: “A writ ing desk. Why?” He laughed a little and said: “Good night, now. Oh, by the way. there's a forgeit against you for not wearing your bustle to-night!” But 1 was not greatly alarmed or ex cited, not half so much as I was next day about 4 o’clock, when some men drove up and insisted upon, leaving in my room a handsome Inlaid desk that was taller than I was. At first I protested, but a card saying that it was "A souvenir of Alixe. from my manager and friend, A. Daly,” changed my bearing to one of must unseemly pride. Ip the next ten days I wrote, I think, to every soul I knew, and kept up my diary with vicious exactitude for the pleasure of sitting be fore the lovely desk that to-day stands In my "den" :n the attic. Its mirror door is dim and cloudy; its sky blue velvet writing leaf la faded 1!o a silvery gray, but, even so, It still remains “a souvenir of Allxe,” from A. Daly. Clara Morris. MENDING THINGS. Isinglass Dissolved In Gin Makes the Best Cement for a Glass Fracture. Broken glass, china, bric-a-brao and picture frames, not to name casts, re quire each a different cement—ln fact, several different cements. Glass may be beautifully mended, to look at, but seldom so as to be safely used. For clear glass the best cement Is Isinglass dissolved in gin. Put two ounces of Isin glass In a clean, wide-mouthed bottle, add half a pint of gin, and set in the sun until dissolved. Shake well every day, and before using strain through double lawn, squeezing very lightly. Spread a white cloth over the mending table and supply It with plenty of clean linen rags, strong rubber bands and nar row while tape, also basin of teped wa ter, and a clean, soft towel. Wash the broken glass very clean, especially along the break, but take care not to chip It further. Wet both broken edges well with the glue, using a camels’ hair pencil. Fit the break to a nicety, then slip on rub ber bands length and crosswise, every way they will hold. If they will not hold true, as upon a stemmed thing, a vase, or jug, or scent bottle, string half a dozen bands of the same size and strength upon a bit of tape, and tie the tape about neck or base before beginning the gluing. After the parts are Joined slip another tape through the same bands and tie It up above the fracture, thus with all their strength the bands pull the break together. The bands can be used thus on casts or china—ln fact, to hold together anything mendable. In glass mending the greater the pressure the better—if only It stops short of the breaking point. Properly made, the is inglass cement Is as clear as water. When the pieces fit true, one on the other, the break should be hardly visible, if the pressure has been great enough to force out the tiny bubbles, which oth erwise refract the light, and make tne line of cleavage distressingly apparent. Mended glass may be used to hold dry things—as rose leaves, sachets and violet powder, even candles and fruits. But it will not bear to have any sort of li quid left standing in it. nor to be washed beyond a quick rinsing In tepid water. In wiping It always use a very soft towel, and pat the vessel dry, with due regard for Its infirmities. Mending Lamps. Mend a lamp loose In the collar with sifted piaster of Paris mixed to a very soft paste with beaten white of an egg. Have everything ready before waiting up the plaster and work quickly so It may set in piece. With several lamps to mend wet enough plaster for one at a time. It takes less than five minutes to set, and is utterly worthless If one tries working it over. Metal work apart from the glass needs the soldering Iron. Dust the break well with powdered rosin, tie the parts firmly together, lay the stick of solder above the break and fetch the Iron down on it lightly, but firmly. When the Bolder cools remove the melted rosin with a cloth dipped In alcohol. A Sand Box. Since breakables have so malicious a knack of fracturing themselves In such fashion they ran not possibly stand up right one needs a sand box. 'lt Is only a box of candy size with eight inches of clean, coarslsh sand In the bottom. Along with It there should be some small leaden weight, with rings cast In them, running from an ounce to a quarter pound. Two of each weight are needed. In use, tapes ore tied In the rings, and the pair of weights swung outside the edges of the box, so aa to press In place the upper part of a broken thing to which the tapes have been fastened. Set broken platters on edge In the sand box. with the break up. The sand will hold them firm, and the broken hit can be slapped on. It Is the same with plates and saucers. None of these commonly requires weighting. But very fine pieces where Invisible seam Is wanted should be held firm until partly set, then have the pair of heaviest weights accurately bal- TO CURE PILES, A Remedy That Will Do It and la Perfectly late, We do not Intend to Indorse any #*- cept articles of real merit. We, there fore, take pleasure In calling attention to anew pile cure which has been remark ably successful In curing every form of Itching, bleeding or protruding piles. The remedy Is known a* the Pyramid Pile Cure and la recommended by the beet medical authorities on account of Its ab solute safety, ease of application and In stant relief from pain. The Pyramid Pile Cure contains no opium or other poison and does not In terfere with dally occupation while us ing. People who believed nothing but a surgical operation would cure them have been astonished at the results from a’sln gle 60-cervt package of the Pyramid. Mrs. Mary C. Tyler of Heppner, Ore., writes: One package of Pyramid Pile Cure entirely cured me of piles from which I have suffered for years and I have never had tha slightest return of them since Mr. E. O’Brien, Rock Bluffs, Nab., saya: The package of Pyramid Pile Cura en tirely removed every trace of Itching pile*. I cannot thank you enough for It. The Pyramid Pile Cure Is sold by All druggists at 80 cants per package. Treatise on oauaa and cure of piles mailed free by addressing Pyramid Com pany, Marshall, Mi ah. FCKSTEIN’S 13 and 15 Broughton Street, West. Seasonable Goods at Cut Prices EMBROIDERIES. Swiss, Cambric and Nainsook. Edgings, Beadings and Insertings, worth fully 13c and 20c yard; we sell them at 10 cents. VALENCIENNES LACE. Value 39c to 50c dozen; we sell them at 25 cents. Black Velvet Ribbon, edge, piece 29c Baby Ribbon, Best Quality, 50-yard spools 45c Black Lace Galoons—all prices 10c to 75c Ladies and Gents 25-ccnt all linen Handkerchiefs .... 15c Plaited Satin Belts —nice quality -25 c Ladies Parasols, worth $2.50, at ...$1.49 Ladies Madras Underskirts —special at 59c Ladies Black and Colored Dress Skirts, fine value. .$3.98 Ladies White and Col’d Shirt Waists, $2 quality... $1.49 Turkish Towels, extra size 25c Double Bed Sheets, good quality 49c Cotton Diaper. 24-inch, 10-vard piece 69c Mosquito Net Canopies—ready to hang up ..$1.49 White Dimities, Striped and Checked B%c White India Linon, 15c quality'. ioc Batiste Mull, very sheer, 40c value 29c English Nainsook, 12-yard pieces—special at ..$1.69 Mistral Skirting, Cream and Navy, worth SI.OO 75c Black Brilliantine, new line, special 50c quality 39c Black Camels Hair Grenadines, worth $1.25 98c Silk Grenadines, plain and figured, we close out at cost. French Batiste, all wool, now 49 c Black Peau de Soie, all Silk, value $1.25 95c Black Taffeta Silk. 27-inch, SI.OO quality i..69c Black India Silk—full line 35c yard up to $1.35 HOSIERY SPECIAL THIS WEEK. Ladies Black and Fancy Lace Lisle Hose; can’t be duplicated for less than 75c, at 49 cents. NEGLIGEE SHIRTS. Summer Underwear—Mens, Ladies and Childrens —all at lowest prices. GUSTAVE ECKSTEIN & CO. OCEAN STEAMSMP^COMPANY FOR NEW YORK, BOSTON AND THE EAST. „ cabin accommodations. All the comforts of a modern hotel. Electric lights. Unexcelled table. Tickets Include meals and berths aboard ship. PASSENGER FARES FROM SAVANNAH. TO NEW YORK-Flret Cabin, *2O; First Cabin Round Trip, *32; Intermedi ate Cabin, *15.00; Intermediate Cabin, Round Trip, *24.00. Steerage, JlO. TO BOSTON—First Cabin, *22; First Cabin, Round Trip, *3t>. Intermediate Cabin, *17.00; Intermediate Cabin, Round Trip, *28.00. Steerage, *11.75. The express steamships of this line are appointed to sail from Savannah, Cen tral (90ih meridian) time, as follows: SAVANNAH TO NEW YORK. KANSAB CITY, Capt. Fisher, MONDAY. CITY OF AUGUSTA. Capt. Daggett. May 20. at 6:30 p. m. MONDAY. May 27, at 1 p. m. TALLAHASSEE, Capt. Askina, WED- NACOOCHEE, Ctapt. Smith, WEDNE3- NEBDAY, May 22, at 9 a. m. DAY, May 29, at 2:30 p. m. •CHATTAHOOCHEE, Capt. Lewis, FRI- KANSAS CITY, Capt. Fisher, FRIDAY, DAY, May 24. at 11 a. m. May 31. at 3:30 p. m. •Steamship Chattahoochee will carry only first cabin passengers. Steamship City of Macon, Capt. Savage, will ply between New York and Bos ton on the following schedule: Leave New York for Boston, from New j Leave Boston for New York, Lewis' Pier 33, North River (at 4:00 p. m.) Wharf (at 9a. m.) May 22, 29. May 26. 1 t This company reserves (he right to'change Its sailing without notice and without liability or accountability therefor. Sailings New York for Savananh Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 6 p. m. W. G. BREWER, E. W. SMITH, City Ticket and Passenger Agent, Soliciting Freight Agent, Savannah, Ga. 107 Bull street, Savannah, Ga. WALTER HAWKINS, L. M. ERSKINE. General Agent, Traffic Department, Agent, Savannah, Ga. 224 W. Bay St... Jacksonville, Fla. P. E. LKFKVRE, W. H. PLEASANTS. Manager. Traffic Manager, New Pier 35, North River, New York. New Pier 35, North River, New York. VIRGINIA MOUNTAIN RESORTS AND. 14 M A,-.. COUNTRY HOMES FOR SUMMER BOARDERS. In tbe Mineral Sprints Region of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Mountains, Highest Altitude. KshHarntlnir Summer Climate. Greatest Variety of Mineral Spring*. Grandest Moanlnln Surroundings. ON THE LINE OF THE CHESAPEAKE & OHIO RAILWAY one of ths safest, best equipped and most picturesque trunk lines in America. IN THIS FAVORED REGION ARE SITUATED 1 Virginia Hot Springs, Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs, Warm Springs, Healing Springs, Rockbridge Alum Springs, Sweet Springs, Sweet Chalybeate Springs, Natural Bridge, Red Sulphur Springs, Salt Sulphur Springs, The Alleghany Hotel at Goshen, Vi.. The International Hotel at Covington. Va., and other well known Health and Pleasura Resorts. Descriptive pamphlets of Resorts and lists of Summer Homes, etc., can ba ob tained by addressing JAB. FREEMAN. C. P. and T. A . So. Ry, 141 Bull street. Savannah, Ga. ' 1 WARD CLARK, C. T. A., Plant, De Soto Hotel, Savannah, Ga. F P. BCRt 008, C, P. A T. A., BA. L., cor. Bull and Bryan sts, Savannah Ga Or JNO. D. POTTS. A. O. P. A„ C. A O. R'y, Richmond. Va. ‘ anced across the broken piece. The weights are also very useful to prop and stay top-heavy, and balance them no they shall not get out of killer. A cup broken, as la eo common with fhem. can have the tape passed around It. crossing In side the handle, then be set firmly In the sand, face down, end bo held by the hanging weights pulling one against the other. The most dependable cement for china la pure white leod, ground In linseed oii, eo thick It will barely spread smoothly with a knife. Qlven time enough to hard en. some three months, It makes a seam practically lndastrudtlble. The question to it la that it always shows in a staring white line. A batter cement for fine china la white of egg and plaster. 81ft tha plaa. tar three times,, and tie a generous pinch mi It loosely in mosquito netting. Than boat the egg until It will stick to the plat ter. Have the broken egg very clean, cover both with the beaten egg, dust well with the plaster, fit together at once tie, using rubber bonds, if possible, grip loosely In very soft tissue lwper and bury head and ears In (he sand box. taking care that the breuk Ilea so that the sand will hold It together. Leave In the box twenty-four hours. After a week the su perfluous plaster may be gently scraped away. —A Laay Scoffer* Scheme.— " Martha, you are a Christian Science believer?’* "Of course, Jonas.’* ’’Wall, Martha, don’t clean bouse—Juat ■lt out In the yard, while I’m down town, and give all the room* abeent treatment ’* —Chicago Record-Herald. 15