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16 WOMAN’S WORLD. The room was dark, except for the dim glow of a street light that shone in through the open window. It was that psychological moment when wo men let down their back hair, and get into something loose, and tell things, because it is dusk and they feel confi dential, that they repent in sackcloth and ashes the next day when it is light. I could only see the girl's profile, dimly silhouetted against the back of her Morris chair, says Dorothy Dix, in the New Orleans Picayune. We were too intimate to feel the need of mak ing conversation with each other, and there had been a long silence, broken only by the faint tinkle of ice in our long glasses. Presently the girl began speaking in rather a hesitating tone: “Jack.” she began. “Yes?” 1 inquired, with large en couragement in my voice. “Wants me to marry him," she went on. "So I have perceived any time these last two years,” I put in. There was another silence that 1 broke by ask ing: “I don’t know,” she answered in troubled tones. “You see, it's like this. I like him too well to say ’no,' and not quite well enough to say 'yes.' If matrimony was a four-year contract. I shouldn't mind signing with him for it, but when it comes to letting myself in. for a life job I don’t feel sure that my affection is equal to the strain." “It has always seemed a pity to me," I remarked, “that the true test of love comes after marriage, when It's too late to do you any good.lnstead of be fore, when you would still have time to crawfish away from the altar. IPs like eating cucumbers and green ap ples to see whether they agree with you or not. The information you derive isn’t worth the colic it costs. If you can still feel an affection for a man who criticises your housekeeping with a three-days' beard on his face, your love is founded on the rock of ages, and nothing can shake it.” “There’s the rub,” replied the girl: “that’s just what X want to know In advance. I like Jack's society In homo eopathic doses. Will a taste for It grow on me, like a love of olives, or will to much of It pall on my palate, like too much pudding?” “Somebody has said,” I suggested, “that the real question is not can I live with a‘man, but can I live with out him." "Oh, that’s nonsense,” replied the girl with conviction, “one can live with only one eye, or one tooth, but it’s far better to have the usual number. I’ve no notion of hobbling through life without a husband just because I can get along without a man attached to me.” There was silence for a moment, and then she remarked: "Jack's a fine fellow.” I assented. “And he could give me a good home.” I assented again. "And he's desperately In love with me. I agreed again. “And I am very fond of him, but —” “But what?” I asked. “He isn’t my Ideal,” she went on des perately. “He isn’t to me what I am to him. I like, him. I respect him. I admire every one of his good qualities, but he couldn’t thrill me wdth 3,000,000 volts of electricity. “Fond as I am of him, 1 know that when I am wdth him there Is still al ways something lacking for which my heart thirsts and hungers. There are hights In my nature he will never scale: depths he has no plqmmet to sound; doors to which he has no key. "If I marry him I shall never know one pang of jealousy, I shall never have to worry over the state of his affection, or grow gray trying to keep young and beautiful for fear I shall lose his love.” “Life on a mill pond,” I remarked oracularly, “may not be exciting, but It Is safe.” “Ye-.-s,” she answered, doubtfully, “but If one misses the rapture of love oneself —If one thirsts for champagne and gets only cambric tea!” “The French have a proverb,” I re plied, “that in love one kisses, the other suffers himself to be kissed. The question with you is, shall you kiss, or be kissed?” “Yes,” she answered. “Is It better for a woman to love or be loved? Is it better to be somebody’s ideal, or mar ry your own Ideal?” “Ideals.” I said, "are like the peaches in a basket under pink mosquito net ting. The? look so alluring that you spend your last cent in buying them, and then, when you get th -m home, they are hard and knotty and worm eaten, and you throw them out the back door.” The girl sighed. “Besides,” I went on, “if you*ask me, I should say that a woman ought never to be more than half as much in love with a man as he is with her, to start on. A man be gins married life wdth a fixed capital of domestic affection, and It is only In exceptional circumstances that he re plenishes it. His business, his clubs, his outside interests tend always to draw him away from his wife. Every lover knows the color of bis sweet heart’s eyes, and the gown he likes her best in. By the time a man has been married ten years, he has for gotten whether she has any eyes or not, and the only remarks he makes about her clothes are when the bills come in. "A woman, on the contrary. Is al ways adding to her stock of love. Her world narrows down to her husband and home, and almost any man who treats his wife half way decently can count on being loved more than he de serves. There’s something of the cat in every woman that makes her snug gle up to a warm hearthstone, and purr under any hand that rub the fur the right way. "Of course, the ideal Is perfect love on both sides, but in a world that Is full of misfit hearts, as well as other unequal things, this is seldom attain ed, and this habit women have of fall ing In love with anybody who is good •to them Is nature’s way of evening up “things. “A man should always marry the woman he loves, and the woman the man who loves her. The man who Is always prying to live yp ,to his wife's approval has a beacon before his eyes that leads him Into doing the very best that Is in him. The woman who Is trying to live up to her husband Is the most miserable creature on earth, tortured by a thousand jealous fears and envies. "Believe me, my dear, there more peace and rest In being the idol be fore whom incense is burned than there is in being the incense burner." “And If you do, you may not be his ideal,” I suggested. “That Is true,” she agreed, “and Jack Is a dear boy, and I am very, very fond of him,” and then she added a little wistfully, "but Its hard to make up one’s mind to bread and butter when one wants cake, Isn't It?” But I only laughed as I held out my hand In the dark to say good-night, is mostly Indigestible," l said. “arid”’we repent having eaten It when it is too late." One of the special advantages of the present fashion for thin materials is found in its effect on summer mourn ing. which is more pleasing to look upon and more agreeable, to wear than ever before. With the nets, chiffons veilings, China silks and crepes de chine in black, there is no need to bur den one's self with heavy fabrics. Mourning taffetas and muslins are also very much worn. Evening gowns for young married women are cut very lo\yback and front and deficiencies are supplied with a drapery of tulle. The very latest corset is a comprom ise between the old model and the later one with the exaggerated straight front. The straight is not con fined to the front entirely, hut is dis tributed all around, making the curve at the back more natural. In the heart of the rose the span worm Nestles. (Ah, me! I know.) And under the wreath of laurel The sharp thorns press, I trow. To the feet of the golden idol A little clay must cling. And over the gates of Eden The swords of sorrow swing. The burial train and the bridal Oft, In the roadway , meet, For this is the way Fate mingles Life’s bitter and its sweet. —Susie M. Best, in the Bohemian. According to an historian, says the Philadelphia Times, this is the way the first silver wedding came about. It j was in the time of Hugues Caput. Two- j of his most faithful servants, a man and a wothan, had grown gray in his employ. How could he reward them? Calling the woman, he said: "Your service is great, greater than the man’s, whose service is great enough, for the woman always finds work harder than a man, and, therefore, I will give you a reward. At your age I know of none better than a dowry and a husband. The dowry Is here— this farm from this time forth belongs to you. If this man who has worked with you five and twenty years is will ing to marry you, then the husband is ready.” “Your majesty,” said the old peasant, "how Is it possible that we should mar ry, having already silver hairs?” “Then it shall be a silver wedding," and the King gave the couple silver enough to keep them in plenty. Such was the origin of the silver wed ding, a custom which, spreading all through France, subsequently became known to the world. "The girls treated principal and teachers with an exaggerated respect that they most certainly showed to no other mortal in the world,” writes Mary Louise Graham of “My Boarding School for Girls,” in the Ladies’ Home Journal for August. “They could not grasp the Idea that they could talk to me as they would to any woman of my. age at their homes. I don't quite know that I ought to tell what was the opening wedge, the beginning of the new order of things. I have never re gretted it in spite of the fact that It was rather shocking, and that I was lame for days afterward. We were all assembled in the school room for prayers. I sat down inadvertently on an optical delusion of a chair, and as I reached the floor I exclaimed invol untarily at the top of my lungs: ‘The devil!’ I wish to remark parenthetical ly that I am not in the habit of swear ing, that I think It a most unladylike custom, and I would advise my girls against It if I ever dared approach the subject. In this Instance my swearing was probably a case af atavism, my grandfather being a most ungodly old specimen of a Puritan. But, to return to that morning of the school room, there was a silence -which lasted about two seconds; then one girl giggled. Well, it ended with tw r o cases of hys terics, and we didn't have any prayers that morning. But the episode proved that I was human, and so it was the beginning of better things." Absence— There is something sad in the swaying pines, There is something sad In the sea. With you not there. My own. my fair, Not there with me! Will you not come, beloved, and bring The gladness back to the sea? To the pines the vernal mirth Of the earth, And the old heart-Joy to me? —Clinton Scollard, in the National Mugazine. “Sit down and rest your face and hands,” is the quaint language In which one genial host I know invites his friends to make themselves at home. The words recur every time I see a woman's face full of unneces sary lines. If she had only rested her face, if not her hands, what a differ ence it would make! Creams and lotions for softening and whitening the skin, says the Philadel phia Press, can be made and bought everywhere, and women can be di vided Into tw,o classes—those wh< al ready use them and those who cannot be induced to do so. But do they fol low' the simple preventive method of resting the face? Women who ride in the street cars frequently need to keep their minds on their faces. Talk of the bicycle ex pression! Look in the pane of glass opposite you and note the heart-brok en droop to the mouth, what a stern concentrated frown of the brow char acterizes the street car expression. For beauty’s sake read a book, if your eyes can stand it; or talk to your next neighbor, if she will let you; or get out and walk if you are not going too far, or, if none of tehse plans are practicable, as soon as you reach rome smooth your face, tired out with think- SURE TO ASK The Kind of Coffee When Poatnm la W ell Made. “Three great coffee drinkers were my old school friend and her two daugh ters. “They are always complaining and taking medicine. 1 determined to give them Postum Food Coffee instead of coffee when they visited me, so without saying anything to them about it I made a big pot of Postum the first morning, using four heaping teaspoons to the pint of water and let It boll 20 minutes, stirring down occasionally. "Before the meal w r as half over each one passed up the cup to be refilled, re marking how fine the coffee was. The mother asked for a third cup and In quired as to the brand of coffee I used. I didn’t answer her question Just then, for I had heard her say a while before that she didn’t like Postum Food Coffee unless it was more than half old-fash ioned coffee. “After breakfast I told her that the coffee she liked so well at breakfast was pure Postum Food Coffee, and the reason she liked it was because it was I properly made, that Is, It was boiled i long enough to bring out the flavor. I have been brought up from a nervous, wretched Invalid, to a fine condition of physical health by leaving off coffee and using Postum Food Coffee. “I am doing all I can to help the world <eit of coffae slavery to Postum freedom, and b • gratitude of many, many friends.”—Myra J. Taller, 1023 Troost avenue, Kansas City, Mq THE MOKNING NEWS: SUNDAY. AUGUST 4,190 L SAVES MEAT LIEBIG COMPANY'S EXTRACT OF BEEF Makes Meat Cos Further Makes Soup Taste Richer ing the gloomy thoughts that come when one is alone, in an. upward direc tion, however “little time” you may feel you have for “facial massage.” The two saddest things on earth are the creases between the mouth and cheek which have been called the pa rentheses. It rests a face to wash it, give it a dry rub, more often than women who have notibns “complexions” es say it. Expression is rriore than com plexion. A few moments' daily rest on the lounge, whether spent in sleep or not, is absolutely essential to give those well-worked muscles a well earned-repose. To talk much when one is all tired out cuts up the face into a map of life whose lines are not easily erased! But when finding yourself worrying too much rush put into the fresh air, hunt up an absorbing book or enter taining fellow creature and rest your face while each discourses to you of things which take you out of yourself. As she walked into an uptown drug store somewhat famous for its soda water, her appearance seemed to indi cate that she needed no particular in struction in the use of cosmetics. She was a large woman, had arrived at years of discretion and was handsome ly, if somewhat flashily, dressed. Passing majestically by the soda wa ter fountain, says the New York Sun, she sought one of the clerks and said something to him. What she said couldn’t be heard by those standing near, but the clerk's voice hadn’t been filed for some time, so there was no difficulty in hearing him when he said: "Certainly, we have Just the thing. Step this way.” He led the way to a counter directly opposite the fountain and took down from a shelf containing proprietary ar ticles, several bottles. He recommend ed one after another, but they wouldn’t do. Finally, he took down a bottle and said: “1 think this will be Just what you want.” The woman scanned the label care fully and said: "I have tried this, but it seems to make the face rough and burns horribly.” The clerk, with an eye to business, and all unconscious of his unflled voice, said in tones that could be heard half a block away: “Well, you know in making up the face ” “For heaven’s sake! Don't give your directions for the benefit of the whole store!” exclaimed the woman in a tone which only those in her immediate vi cinity could hear. “Pardon me,” said the clerk, “I for got that anybody was around." Then, as if to make amends for any and all breaks, he started out all over again in the same tone: “As I was saying, actresses in making up the face al ways rub a little of this on, then ap ply the powder puff and then rub the face with chamois.” By this time every one of the fifteen or twenty women at the soda fountain had become intensely interested in what the clerk was saying, and nearly all of them turned around. They look ed at the customer and all smiled. But the woman who was looking for a satisfactory cosmetic was quite the mistress of the situation. Looking at the clerk as if she had not the slight est Idea of what he was talking about she said: “You quite mistook what I asked for. I don't want any cosmetics. I never use them under any circumstances. What I asked you for was a bottle of witchhazel extract.” The clerk looked at his customer for a moment as if he didn't quite know whether he was In Manhattan or Ho boken, and meekly replied: “Oh, I beg your pardon, will you have a large or small bottle?” The woman, in a loud tone, said that she would have a small bottle, and then in a much lower tone said: “And put in that bottle of face cream. You’re too stupid for any use.” The clerk followed both directions, and when the woman went out, a man who looked as if he might be a person having authority in the place called the clerk over into the corner near the cashier's desk and said: “That woman is one of the best customers for face polish we have. I fear you have lost her for the store by that Infernal calliope voice of yours. For heaven's sake cultivate pianissimo or get anew job!” The rest of the women went on drink ing their soda water, and all smiled In dulgently at the clerk as he passed to the other end of the store. Pride— "Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?” If I could make proper reply My wisdom would raise me so far o'er the crowd That none would be prouder than I. —Washington Star. Little Kindnesses— You gave on the way a pleasant smile And thought no more about It; It cheered a life that was sad the while That might have been wrecked with out it; And so for the smile and Its fruit age fair You’ll reap a crown some time— somewhere. You spoke one day a cheering word. And passed to other duties; It warmed a heart, new promise stirred And painted a life with beauties. And so for the word and its silent prayer You’ll reap a palm some time— somewhere. You lent a hand to a fallen one A lift in kindness given; It saved a soul when help was none. And won a heart for heaven; And so for the help you proffered there You’ll reap a Joy some time—some where. —D. G. Bickers In New York Tribune. It has often been remarked, says the Chicago Chronicle, that while many women have defective memories re garding events of importance in the j world’s history they never forget the date upon which their friends were born. They may forget their own birthday—the exact year In which they first saw the light—but their memories never fail when a like date In a friend's career is concerned. They have all such dates stored away in their minds so j that they can be brought forth at a moment’s notice. These are generally | what might be called personal dates and would be regarded as highly unin ; terestlng by most folks, having to do } sometimes with Johnnie's first tooth and when Mary’s curls were cut, but j to the woman herself they are as mo ! mentous as the signing of the magna j charta. There Is one woman especially who | has so many anniversaries of one kind and another in a year that it is im possible for her acquaintances to re , member exactly what she Is oelebrat- ing. But this is riot all, for it wouldn't be expected of neighbors to rejoice with one, but even the woman's husband is sometimes bewildered by her calendar of events. “This is an anniversary, Fritz,” she will say to her liege lord at the break fast table. "Did you know it?” "Know' it? Of course I did,” Mr. Fritz responds, knitting his brows. “Let me see—July l. Oh! certainly, it’s your birthday.” “It’% nothing of the sort,” says his better half irritably. “I should think that any man who had been married to a woman three years would know by this time that she was born in October, but I have to tell you so every year. We were introduced to each on July 1. Now, do try to remember it always.” "I shall,” replied Fritz obediently, but he doesn’t. He gets the day that they met mixed with the day that he first called her “dear,” or with the date upon which they became engaged, or the one upon which they had their first quarrel or that upon which he placed the engagement ring op her fin ger. • The governess is not an American in stitution. Even the rich families of the large cities, says the New York Sun, do not depend on a governess for the education of the girls. Sensibly enough, the children are sent to a private school, where they are not only taught, as a rule, by more competent teachers, but have the advantage of proper dis cipline and of association with other girls. In England the governesses are thicker than blackberries. Even poor families cannot forego that luxury. The governess herself works hard and errns little. One v'ho gets SSOO a year is in luck. Here is an instance to show how much less a good many of them have to put up with. The principal of a woman's college received a letter from a rector saying: “We want a refined, ladylike and well-educated governess for our little girl. May I ask if you think Miss X would be equal to teach the usual Eng lish subjects, also piano and violin? She w'ould be required to look after the little girl’s wardrobe, as to mend ing and so on. We offer a salary of £2O a year and a refined home in a beauti ful country.” The principal wrote in reply: "Dear Sir: I am sure Miss X’s father had no idea what salary was offered or he would not have applied.” This brought the rector's wife to the front in the following letter: “Madam: Our advertisement in the Christian, fully stating salary and re quirements, was answered by Mr. X. among some forty others in a gentle manly and straightforward manner. Therefore your curt and insolent reply to my husband’s courteous Inquiries respecting Miss X is totally inexcusa ble. Your opinion with regard to salary was neither asked for nor required.” It would be interesting to know how many replies and of what nature such an advertisement would get in this country. How many young women are pining to take charge of a child, teach her the usual branches, the piano and the violin, mend her clothes “and so on” for SIOO a year? Kindergarten teachers, by the way, receive from S4OO to S6OO a year In Eng land. The average annual salary of a head mistress in an elementary school under the London school board is SOSO and of assistants about Juniors receive very much less. Salaries in the regular day schools begin when there is no degree or certificate at S4OO and scarcely rise above SSOO. For those who have a degree they begin at SSOO and in exceptional cases reach SI,OOO, sometimes even more. The head mis tresses in these schools receive from 11,000 to, in a very few cases, $5,000 a year. Fashionable women who once have an acknowledged position, says the New York Tribune, can do pretty much as they like, that is, they can deviate from conventional ideas in their habits of life without losing caste, and be a law unto themselves as long as what they elect to do Is .merely an eccentricity of taste. When Mrs. Jack Smart announced that she was tired of renting a cottage at a watering place and Intended keeping her Fifth gvenue home open all sum mer, and that she and her two daugh ters would practically pass the season In town, her friends declared that there was no reason why she should not suit herself. In fact, the women applauded the Idea when they found a luncheon table always attractively spread with cold dainties In her large darkened dining room, cooled with Electric fans, when they ran up to ,town for a day’s shopping. The men, who were obliged to spend the week In Wall street, were welcomed to din ner, and were sure of finding cooling drinks or her sideboard during the evening, and a comfortable cushion on the front steps. Here Mrs. Jack and her pretty daughters held a small court during the long, hot evenings— or would pick up their trains, pin on their hats and stroll with favored swains to the nearest soda water foun tain. The house itself looked charm ingly comfortable. The rugs and car pets were all rolled up, and the polish ed floors were cool and inviting. Fresh chintz, with an especial pattern for each room, covered the furniture, while Venetian blinds excluded the glare from the curtainless windows. Flow ers were everywhere. Great bowls or roses, minlonette, carnations, hello- A Wife Says: “We have four children. With the first three I suffered almost unbearable pains from 12 to 14 hours, and had to be placed under the influence of chloroform. I used three bottles of Mother's Friend before our last child came, which i/TfjflfS. is a strong, fat and L healthy boy, doing Mp* 5 ■ my housework up \ to within two hours , _ of birth, and suf- (©)'■ Sjs§i||F ' fered but a few hard vVj[ fijHF '**') pains. This lini- / 7 sSJJf ‘ § mentis the grand-/ f A // A TANARUS// est remedy ever jtf Mother’s T Tl Friend ' n* will do for every woman what it did for the Minnesota mother who writes the above let ter. Not to use it during pregnancy is a mistake to be paid for in pain and suffering. Mother's Friend equips the patient with a strong body and clear intellect, which in turn are imparted to the child. It relaxes the muscles and allows them to expand. It relieves morning sickness and nervousness. It puts all the organs concerned in perfect condition for the final hour, so that the actual labor is short and practically painless. Dan ger of rising or hard breasts is altogether avoided, and recovery is merely a matter of a few days. Druggists tell Mother's Friend for $1 a bottle. The Bradfleld Regulator Cos., Atlanta, Qm* *ad lee aar tret illustrated book. > Abbzys A teaspoonful of Abbey’s Salt and a half tumbler of water is jiU that is required to make the most Palatable, Refreshing and Healthful Beverage imaginable. It tastes not unlike soda lemonade and is unequaled as a delicious, cooling and invig orating drink. At moat or by mail, tt, 50c and SI.OO par bottle Scad postal card for sample to j The Abbey Effervescent Salt Cos. 9-15 Murrey Street, New York For sale by FI PPM AN BROS, and LIVINGSTON S PHARMACY. trope and other sweet-scented blos soms filled the house with their per fume. “Yes, I was enjoying it all immense ly,’’ said Mrs. Jack, in answer to the inquiries of her friends. “It is so en tirely novel, don’t you know! In the way of outdoor life we have automo biling, yachting, driving and riding in the park. During the hot part of the day we wear the thinnest wrappers and read novels by the electric fans, which keep us perfectly cool. In the evening after 5 o'clock we see men galore. Jack is perfectly delighted, or at least has the grace to say he is. And as for 'the girls and me, we are passing a beautiful time. Of course, under the circumstances, Milly and Betty are great belles, and between you and me it looks as if our summer in town would bear far reaching results for both of them!” And now It is Mr. Barry Pain who says his say about women and humor. Mr. Pain is something of a humorist himself, and is supposed to know the article when he sees it. He is willing to give the deveil his due. This is not intended as a reflection on women, this mention of the devil. It is simply in tended to express Mr. Pain’s frame of mind. Permeated, therefore, with the determination to be just though the heavens fall, Mr. Pain says that it has never been far from his thoughts to say that women had no sense of hu mor. "I said,” admits this just man, “that women had not ,in the highest sense, humor, which is a very different thing. A musical ear is not the same as a talent for composition. The abil ity to appreciate a dinner is not the same as the ability to cook it. I have never dfenied that women could appre ciate fun when they met it. They are like men in that respect; some can and some cannot. There is no sex disabil ity there.” Mr. Pain declares, says the New York Sun, that women have produced no permanent literary humor. But his idea of justice hangs before him and he hastens to add that in conversation women supply the needs of the mo ment in humor better than men do. “The male mind,” says Mr. Pain, moves perhaps more surely and cor rectly, but it certainly moves more slowly. The man thinks of the right thing to say, but he thinks of it about thirty seconds too late and by that time—well, the ‘bus has gone on.’ Wo men, at least in what is called the up per classes, are much more ready.” Mr. Pain goes on to say that men’s relaxation is in business. This comes as a surprise in regard to the British “upper classes” which are commonly supposed to despise business and all persons and things pertaining thereto, with the exception of the sheckels which a good business rakes in. Mr. Pain not only knows humor when he sees it, but he can give a receipe for making it. “A sense of humor,” says he, “is practically the same thing as a sense of proportion. If you have a good sense of proportion an overstatement or an understatement makes you smile. A man, whose termagant wife fell out of a window while shouting abuse at him down on the street, said, when told of her death; “ ‘Don’t make me laugh! I’ve got a cracked lip.’ “That was a grotesque understate ment. A case of a grotesque overstate ment is in the story of the American who complained of finding a tin tack in his hash. He was asked if he expected an ivory-handled umbrella in a fifteen cent dish.” Mr. Pain has such a keen sense of humor that he likes this good old story even in the form in whch he tells it. Even a woman, if an American woman, would prefer the much cleaverer vari ation wherein the hash eater discovers a brass button in his food and is indig nantly asked if he expected a full uni form. In his story the ivory-handled umbrella and the tack have no mean ing, except that one is big and one is little. But never mind. Mr. Pain does not have to tell his American stories to Amercan women, so there is no harm done. Next hear Mr. Pain on the subject of unconscious humor, with two good sto ries, one of which is not altogether new. “Girls,” says he, “like men, women dogs and everything else that breathes, occasionally give us some unconscious humor. One of the best instances of this sort of humor is furnished by the women who spend one-half their time reviling the other sex and the other half imitating it. "When I think of unconscious humor I am reminded of the old story of a man who went into a woebegone restau rant and ordered a. fried sole. Immedi ately afterward came a man who also ordered a fried sole and added: ‘And mind! If it isn’t fresh I won't eat it.’ The waiter wearily went to the tube and shouted down to the kitchen: “ ‘Two fried soles. And hi! the last one 'as got to be fresh!’ Then Mr. Pain tells of a man whose appearance somehow did not please a passing 'bus drver. The latter calmly lowered his whip and knocked off the man’s hat, then whipped up his horses. "The injured man,” says the humor ist. "tore after the 'bus, Just succeed ed in catching up the tail of it and pinched the conductor’s leg. I suppose his idea was that the whole thing was cast in one piece.” Mr. Pain tells of two little girls In whom he unexpectedly discovered an unmistakably creative sense of hu mor. It was at the seashore, and the little girls had thin black legs and faces like undertakers. They had also a small pail and a shovel of the regular sea shore variety. When first observed by the humorist they had their eyes on a fat old gentleman asleep on the sand with his back against the wall. The funereal little girls whispered together, they solemly filled their pail and, still solemnly went to the parade and empt ied the sand down upon the old gentle man's head. According to Mr. Pain the two little girls never smiled while they were doing this and, having done it, walked away with dignity. At the next flight of steps they went down upon the sand and looked along the wall untl they found a sleeping old lady when they repeated the perform ance. As Mr. Pain says, “They empt ied the sand wth no Jubilation, but in the same accurate and perfunctory manner with which one drops a three penny piece into the offertory bag.” This humorist was so lost to a sense of humor which he saw it that he thought the little girts were as solemn as they looked. It was somewhat a shock to his convictions about feminine lack of humor when he came across the two children an hour later lying flat on the sand and laughing until they were almost as black in the face as their stockings. And the moral of this is: Perhaps women laugh, but are not always caught at it. “Life is a strange thing, and one never knows when one is badly off,” observed Amaryllis profoundly, says the New r York Commercial Advocate. “Which is a familiar saying turned upside down,” said Araminta. “It always has been a mystery to me —as well as a few million other deep thinkers—why people who have noth ing to live for cling to life, while mil lionaires and heads of families and tenderly loved maids and able-bodied young men shuffle off this mortal coll with all speed and no hesitation at the first unkind blow of fate.” "Have you been dipping into Wer ther. Amaryllis, dear, or is your diges tion a bit awry?” inquired Araminta with solicitude. "I have been dipping into cheap res taurants, my love, and they are as good at upsetting one’s internal mechanism and depressing one’s spirits as any German novels I've ever heard of.” “Well, don't do it again.” “It makes you philosophical in a Schopenhauer sort of way,” pursed Amaryllis. “I fancy he lived on cab bage stuffed with chestnuts and pump kin soup with cherries in it before he wrote his cheerful little dirges on life and the desirability of getting over with it as quickly as possible.” “What did you eat" “Well, I ordered chocolate, but it had a purple tinge, and not being as brave as the man who ate the first oyster, I demurred and sent it back. Then the maiden all forlorn who wait ed on me suggested in a hoarse, con fidential whisper that could be heard a block off that I 'take the 15-cent din ner.’ As it was 4 in the afternoon and I was after a cup of tea and some toast and tarts I demutTed once agaip. Finally I got the tea, and, being in a chastened and feeble frame of mind by that time, drank it. I ate some bread and butter, too—home-made bread. Hence these philosophies!” Amaryllis paused and made a wry face at the thought of the bread, and then babbled on flippantly. “Sitting opposite to me at the same coffee-stained, crumb-strewn, fly-in fested table was a woman of thirty- five or forty. She was well dressed and evidently refined. She was plodding conscientiously through the 15-cent din ner. When I sat down at the table rhe wiped her eyes furtively with her handkerchief and bent her head so that I could not see her face clearly. For five or ten minutes she continued to eat and drink apparently unaware of my presence. I picked up a newspaper and began to read. Then my opposite neighbor gave up her pitiful comedy and I saw a tear roll down her cheek, then another and another and then rhe pushed aside the plates and glasses, put her elbows on the table, leaned her head on her hands and wept, frankly, bitterly, unrestrainedly. “When she finally raised her head with a defiant look, I looked across at her smiling sympathetically. “ ‘I can’t help it.’ she said desperate ly, ‘l’m worried sick.' ’’l looked around at the greasy res taurant, deserted now, except for us two, and squalid and unkempt at any time, and didn’t wonder she was wor ried. " ‘You've had some trouble?’ I said. “ ‘Oh. I don't mind ordinary trouble,’ said my tearful companion. ‘l’ve had to make my way in the world since my husband died ten years ago, and I’ve done it pretty well. I’m very sav ing, and I work very hard. I live on so much a year and put the rest in the bank. I have saved—a—good deal,’ and she fell aweeping afresh. “ ‘Surely, the bank didn’t fail?’ I asked, all indignation and sympathy at once. “ -Oh, no, but to think that I never spend a penny on pleasure and always take my meals here because it's cheap, a*d work so hard, and now the doc tors tell me I cannot get well. I won’t live six months, they say. There is just a chance for me if I go on a sea voyage.’ ” “ ‘But how good it is that you have some money saved and can take the voyage. You may be stronger than ever when you come back and be able to make more money. (I didn’t want to be sordid. Araminta, but I didn't know exactly how to -be consoling.) But the weeping lady waved aside my cheefful suggestions: ‘lt isn't spending my savings that I mind, or giving up my work,’ she said. ‘lt’s the idea—of of dying. In six months. They say “a chance to get well,” but I know that I shall die. I went to three hospitals and they all said the same thing. The doctor thought he would cheer me and said I wouldn’t suffer much. As if I’d J mind suffering! I’ve suffered enough trying to live, and I’m not afraid of it.’ •• But death isn’t such an awful thing after all,’ said I. ‘Now, if you were leaving little children or a very happy home. But you say you work very hard, have no pleasures and —and eat here. That isn't 4fe; what life should be.' ” 'But it’s life.’ sobbed the poor creature “ 'What have you decided to do take the trip?' “ Yes, I've bought my ticket and I’m going next Saturday. One brute of a doctor advised me to stay in New York and spend my money giving "my self good food and comfort— until —until the end. But I won’t die a day sooner than I can help. And I may get well. Doctors don’t know everything ' and she wiped her eyes; gathered up her gloves and purse and prepared to go. "I sat awhile over my alleged tea and pondered. I felt for her from my heart. But no amount of wrestling with my spirit could make me under stand why she wanted to live. And that, my dear Araminta, is why I’m depressed to-day.” FAVORITE OF LOUS XIV. The First Love of the Man of Many Intrigues. Louis XIV had many amours dur ing his reign, but these may be divided into three periods, identified wtth three famous women, noted for their beauty. His youth, and promise are typified In the bright, beauty and delicate love liness of La Valliere, its splendor and triumph in the matured charms of Madame Montespan; and Its shadow and decay in the astute intellect and rigid devotion of Madame de Mainte non. The King, like Charles II of Eng land, was attracted by personal beau ty, but unlike him he was not content with a dumb Venus. His loves needed to possess a bright wit and a clear judgment to retain his fancy. Francoise de la Baume created by the King Marquise de la Valliere—was of a noble family, long established in Touraine. She was beautiful and gift ed with more than ordinary talent. She had the figure of a Venus, al though petite. “La petite la Valliere,” her friends called her. She was softly rounded, had a beautiful complexion, fair hair, blue eyes and a smile at once tender and modest and was well cal culated to captivate a youthful prince. Madame de Sevlgne gives Jha follow ing picture of La Valliere: “Exact counterpart to Montespan, she is a little violet which conceals itself under the grass and Is ashamed of being the mistress of the King, and also of being an unwededd mother. Never shall we have another cast in such a mold.” When the King first saw Francoise de la Baume at court he promptly fell LA MARQUISE DE LA VALLIERE. in love with her. He took so little pains to hide his feelings, that his mother remonstrated with him, but to no pur pose. This sentiment was returned by Madame de la Baume who loved him as a man, not as a king, and who nev er throughout life formed another at tachment. She was capable of a deep and steadfast love, and had a tender conscience. Her connection with the King weighed upon her mind and heart and several times she tried to break the chain which bound her to him, retiring repeatedly to a convent. But the King’s entreaties were always rewarded by her return, for her love for Louis was stronger than her con science. She was not ambitious like Montespan. She was unselfish and un suspicious. Montespan, indeed, culti vated the friendship of La Vailliere in order to be in the company of the King, supplanting her later as his mis tress. Some writers claim that La Valliere retired to the convent at which she died, because of the King’s coldness to her when he became enamored of Mcm tespan. The King seems to have ‘ap preciated true worth and beauty in women, but he was weak in love and quite capable of admiring several at the same time. -x At last when ill from remorse ana anxiety La Valliere again asked per mission to retire to a convent, the king, fascinated by the more magnifi cent beauty of Montespan, did not then object. He wished, however, that La Valliere should choose some order in which she might be distinguished, hut she, truly repentant, did not desire this. Before going into the cloister she threw herself at the queen’s feet and humbly begged her pardon for all *he sorrow which she had caused her. This was in 1675, when she Joined the Car melites of Rue St. Jacques. She was then 37 years of age. She took the veil in the presence of the whole court. She died in 1710—five years before the king It was generally supposed that the Marquise de la Valliere was the moth er of “The Man with the Iron Mask, who for between thirty and forty year? was confined in the Bastile, always wearing a mask to conceal his face. Mademoiselle de Blois, married to a nephew of the Prince of Conti, was also the offspring of Louis XIV and the Marquise de la Valliere. She was treated by her father with the same respect as if she were a legitimate child. Her dowry was princely, and the marriage festivities were truly mag nificent. Her mother was living at this time the life of a nun—apart from her children, and it is sorrowful to imagine her feelings when she heard in her narrow cell the details of the wedding festivities. Frederique Seeger. —Former Governor Taylor of Ten nessee has been invited to take part in a fiddling contest betw-een the old set tlers of Missouri, which is to take dace at Kansas City on Aqg. 10,