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SUNDAY MORNING.
l OLD TIM& FAVGmTES
I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
I'bc little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never eame a wink too soon.
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wisli the night
llad borne my breath away.
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white;
l'he violets and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where rny brother set
The laburnum on his birthday—
The tree is living yet.
The Lady of
the Red Clover
Under the hig oak by the fifteenth
tee Mr. Arthur Clcndenning w sit
ting at 111 k ease. He was some ten
strokes behind his opponent, Colonel
Bogey, but this did not bother him in
the least, Bogey not being one of those
players avho tank their score cards In
conspicuous places on the clubhouse
bulletin hoard and mention their vic
tories to every one they meet. Nor was
Arthur annoyed by the fact that a hun
gry bunker bad swallowed up his ball
—lndeed, he hoped that ills caddy's
search for it would go unrewarded yet
a while, for it was restful here, and.
Incidentally, there was a rather allur
ing picture In the field just across the
leaf-strewn road that ran by the oak.
The picture was that of n girl framed
in red clover. It was a moving picture,
too; that Is, the girl was moving, gath
ering a big bunch of clover blossoms.
Besting against tile fence Arthur no
ticed a bicycle.
"That girl is not a slave to fads, any
how,” lie commented, lazily, to himself,
“or she would have given up the wheel
for ping-pong. The fact that she is out
here alone Indicates that she possesi s
Independence and a mind of her—what!
She’s looking at that cow as if she
were afraid of It!”
If Arthur's Imagination had been
vivid enough to have viewed the cow
ns the girl viewed it, he would not have
been so surprised that the beast should
be causing her to show trepidation. A
few minutes before, when site was sur
mounting the difficulty of the fence in
quest of tile clover she had assured
herself that she wasn’t a bit afraid of
that cow, and, as a matter of fact? she
had felt brave until the cow had sud
denly raised its head from the grass
and began to stare. Stares are always
disconcerting. Perhaps the cow re
garded her ns an enemy browsing upon
its clover, perhaps as a friend with a
handful of salt. At any rate, It gazed
at her fixedly for a moment, and then
took two steps in her direction. The
girl retreated two steps, returning the
cow’s stare haughtily. Suddenly the
latter seemed to make up its mind, and
began to advance In a business-like
way, with long, swinging strides.
A delicate, silvery shriek pierced the
afternoon air, and the flight and pun
suit began. In running ability they
were quite evenly matched. The girl
neared the fence—she gained it she be
gan to climb, it was a most alluring
picture, and Arthur Hlendennlng suc
cumbed to .a great temptation, lie ii:ul
his weaknesses. One of them had to
do with cameras. The pretty views
on tile Ferndale links are so many that
in this match with Colonel Bogey he
had directed his caddy to bring the in
strument along. At this instant it lay
at his side. lie seized it. leveled it; its
eye winked once. Then he dropped it
hastily behind a log. and was across
the road, all solicitude, just ns the fu
gitive fell, a palpitating heap, on the
grass on the safe side of the fence.
“Are you hurt?” he inquired, anx
iously.
“No, no, thank you,” she panted, "but
that—that terrible cow!”
Arthur glanced in the direction of the
cow. It did not have a very terrible
aspect, but rather an expression of
mild surprise, and even Injury, as if it
were exclaiming to itself: "Dear me.
how very disappointing! 'Where's un
salt?”
“Let me assist you to your feet,” said
Arthur, in his best manner, bending
over her. She did not move, but ex
claimed, dlstressedly:
“Oh, dear, tlie fence has torn my
skirt! You haven't such a things as a
pin or two, have you?”
There was a beseeching note in her
voice, and the young man would have
given much to have been able to have
produced a pin. tint it was impossible.
He felt of his clothing hopelessly; he
gazed out over the sweeping green of
the links, up at the trees, up at the
canopy of the heavens, but he saw no
pin.
The caddy’s curly head just then ap
peared over the edge of the bunker.
“Here, caddy.” shouted Arthur, “run
over to the clubhouse and got some
pins, safety pins, any kind, and get all
they've got in the place. Run! *
But don’t run so fast.” he added, “as
to injure your health." for the girl
with the pink glowing beneath the
white of her rounded cheeks, with the
brilliancy of excitement still iu her
eyes, and with wayward emiettes
straggling from out of her mass of
light hair, was certainly a picture—
even more of a picture than she had
seemed to Arthur from a distance—ami
he was too appreciative of tlie artistic
to be willing that such a picture should
pass quickly from his view.
I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
BY THOH4S HOOD.
I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing;
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.
I remember, I remember
The fir trees dark and high;
1 used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky;
It was a childish ignorance.
But now 'tis iittle joy
To know I’m farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
"May I sit down here on the grass
and condole with you until the arrival
of the —of the caddy?” asked Arthur.
“I presume you may sit on the grass.
I don’t own it, you know.” The acidity
of this reply was tempered by a Hitting
shadow of a smile.
“At all events,” answered Arthur,
sitting down, “you took rather quick
possession of a bit of it just now. But
it was really very rude of that cow to
disturb you. I can’t tell you bow sorry
I am.”
A pair of soft yet penetrating eyes
were studying tlie young man.
“No, I don’t believe you can tell me
how sorry you are." said tlie pretty
lips beneath the eyes, "and the reason
is that you’re not sorry at all. You’re
having trouble to keep from laughing.”
Arthur could no longer restrain the
hilarity that had been welling up be
neath a very thin veneer of polite so
lleltude. They laughed together.
“But I must have done with this lev
ity,” cried Arthur, suddenly. "I must
be tip and doing. M.v lady's bat and
flowers still lie within the domain of
the fell beast. 1 must, recover them at
all hazards. I must face this beast, or
else, ’od’s boddiktns. I were unworthy
(lie name of knight!”
He approached tlie fence, leaped over
and in a moment was bowing low in
the act of laying the trophies at tlie
lady’s feet.
“Marry, now. but you are. forsooth,
a brave knight,” she laughed.
“Ah, Indy, my life were hut a slight
sacrifice in your service, but were 1
to crave a boon of you I would plead
that you take from the heap one small
ved clover blossom and pin it in my
buttonhole with your own fair hands.”
Rh." laughed again. “Methinks you
arc a hold knight, too. But for (lie
sake of the dangers you have passed I
will decorate you. Sir Arthur—when
the pins arrive.”
The young man came very near los
ing ids knightly pose. "How under
the sun do you happen to know my
native?” lie was about to inquire, tail
be perceived, before it was too late,
that site had Hit upon the name inno
cently, as tlie usual name for knights.
"May I lie allowed to express a sus
picion of you?” lie ask 'd.
”1 hope’ 1 am not a suspicious per
son.” she answered, “but what is it?”
"Only that you have been reading
historical novels.”
"Worse than Hint. But if seems to
me that your mind also is steeped in
the romantic.”
“It is. I've just finished being thrilled
by Miss Mary Malvern's book. ‘A Court
Cavalier.’ The celebrated Miss Mal
vern is sojourning for the summer In
ibis vicinity, you know.”
"Yes. 1 know,” said tlie girl, hastily,
“nud what do you think of her hook?”
“Well," replied Arthur, slowly and
judicially, "it is not bad, not half had.
Of course, most of the situations are
impossible, and most of the characters
have no counterpart In the heavens
above, nor the earth benfcath. nor the
waters under the earth, but —on the
whole- -the story's clever.”
She smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt,
then asked slowly:
“Do you really think there is any
thing clever in it? What, for in
stance?”
Arthur liked this deference to his lit
erary judgment, and lie continued,
complacently:
“Well, in the first place, it is clever
because it was written by so very
young n person. They say she is only
about twenty or twent.v-one. Asa mat
ter of fact, however. I suppose she is
nearer thirty. And if she is as young
ns is reported. I think her mother
ought to have looked after her better,
because she seems to have had an
amazing amount of experience in af
fairs of the heart. One cannot write
of these tilings as realistically as she
does without an intimate knowledge of
them. While many of the situations
are highly improbable, as I have said,
some of the love scenes are life itself.
I verily believe tHat only a veteran co
quette could have described as Mary
Malvern does the manner in which El
vira leads the gallants on and then
flouts them. Yet there is a disiinct del
icacy and eliann about it nil. This
Miss Malvern must lie a most inter st
ing girl. I would give a good deal to
meet her. Do you know, I thought
several times when I was reading ihe
book that I could fall in love with a
girl with a infun like hers. I think we
would be very sympathetic and conge
nial."
"Not really!" exclaimed the girl on
the grass. Her lips and eyes were
smiling. 3 lie seemed to be takiug im-
By
J. Herbert
Welch : :
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
mense interest in his conversation, and
this encouraged Arthur to go on.
“Yes, really. And another thing I
like about her is lier ferocity. Why,
when she gets a couple of swash buck
lers together in a dark alley in old Ten
don she writes about the encounter sc
that you can fairly bear their hard
breathing in the struggle. She enjoys
it herself. I’ll venture to guess that
Miss Malvern lias plenty of grit, and
would stand her ground in the face of
danger.”
“You don’t think she is afraid of
cows, then?” From under her eye
lashes the girl on the grass glanced up
at him with a quizzical look of inquiry,
“Oh. I hog your pardon,” laughed
Arthur; “I wasn’t thinking of compari
sons. To he afraid of cows is perhaps
more charming than not to be afraid
of them. But, referring again to Miss
Malvern, do you suppose she will
marry, and become more or less com
monplace—it’s an effect matrimony has,
you know—or do yon imagine she’ll re
main true to literature? Tell me, just
for the sake of discussion, what yon
think the probabilities are. Asa wom
an, you can, of course, weigh them bet
ter than I can.”
“Well, I don't know,” said the girt,
thoughtfully. “I don't believe that
marriage need be commonplace, and—
but here come the pins.”
Arthur followed her glance, and saw
with displeasure that tlie pins were, in
deed, arriving. He uttered silent male
dictions upon the caddy's short, sturdy
legs that were comingover the green so
rapidly and conscientiously. He busied
himself with the young woman's
bicycle when she was closing the rent
made by the fence rail, and when he
had reluctantly led the machine out
into the road because she said she posi
tively must be going he remarked, as
suming again ids knightly tone:
"If m.v lady should chance to pass
this way on the morrow at the same
hour, she will find a knight to tilt a
lance in her protection, if need bo,
against the cow, or any other peril.”
“The knight has been very kind,” she
smilingly replied, "and I thank him,
nud 1 will say that I have enjoyed his
conversation more than lie can imag
ine, but I could not ask him to risk his
life again for me.”
"But is lie not to have a name to
dream on. nor any hope of tlie future?”
"He should lie full of hope for the
future,” she called hack, after she had
mounted, “and as for the name, 'tlie
lady of the red clover' should lie a good
name to dream on.”
Arthur watched her till her figure
grew small on the road and disap
peared around a turn. That night it:
his dark room he rocked a photo
graphic plate to and fro in tin* develop
ing fluid with great care and much
anxiety, and felt the amateur's glow o!
enthusiasm In triple quantity when tlie
picture began to take distinct form be
neath His eyes. First there was a Hit
of road, then lit" grass, then the fence
and, finally, rising in triumph on the
uppermost rails, the lady of the red
clover, while behind her peered the
mildly surprised face of a cow and ar
expanse of field.
"It is a very well-balanced picture:
the composition is nearly perfect.'
murmured Arthur, the amateur photo
grnpher, as lie bent over the plate
“Bhc's a sfljjunlng looking girl,” mur
mured Arthur, the young man. as he
held tile plate to the light. After ex
pending much time and labor on tin
prints he .framed one of the best ot
them and gave it flic place of lionot
among the divinities on his mantel
piece.
“And here's the picture of the girl,’
he remarked to Bob Wilton a night <r.
two afterward, as he finished the reci
tal of his interesting experience. Boh
glanced at the photograph.
“Wb—at!” lie cried, bursting into a
great laugh. “My dear fellow, pre
pare yourself to bear up b tientli a
blow. This lady of the red clover,
with whom you talked about Miss
Mary Malvern, and with whom you
tried to make an appointment for the
next afternoon, is no less a personage
than Miss Mary Malvern herself.”
Bob lost no opportunity to tell the
story at the golf clubhouse. It very
speedily reached the drawing rooms,
and one morning Arthur received a
faintly perfumed letter on a delicately
tinted blue paper.
Its contents were ns follows:
"My Hear Sir—lt to ms that the
laiight is a very modern kind of knight,
who, when he is succoring ladies in dis
tress. takes snapshots of them. Was
the deed quite knightly? Since the
lady of the red clover has un desire to !
remain perpetually in distress on a
fence, she must ask that the prints bi
surrendered to her and that the plate
be destroyed. Very truly vnurs.
“MARY MALVERN.
*'P. S.—Since the knight’s act of de
ception has made his trustworthiness
appear to be a somewhat uncertain
quantity, the lady considers it a wise !
■precaution to be a spectator u> us* do- j
struct ion of the plate. She will be at ;
the golf clubhouse, with a mutual i
friend, to-morrow afternoon at 4
o'clock.”
*a* a a
“But why," asked Arthur, in a tone I
of mock complaint, "did you allow me j
to go on so foolishly about Miss Mal
vern gild her book?"
"Oh, I was not responsible,” laughed j
Miss Malvern. "It was fate, who had !
witnessed the snapshot, helping me to
get even.”
"Well, then,” said Arthur, "we start
fair. Will you drive first?"
"No: I prefer that you he in the lead, j
There may he a cow on the course, you
know.”—New York Times.
The National Museum at Belgrade i
has come into possession of a collec- i
iion of OS.OOO Roman copper coins re :
cently unearthed near a Servian vil ]
lace The oldest of them belong tc I
the time of Caracall*
A COMPLEXION TREATMENT.
Mow a Woman’s Featur*** May He Made
the Envy of Her Friend*.
A complexion treatment from tbc
good old days, when gentlewomen did
not leave their health entirely to the
care of other people, reads pleasantly
enough. It will be worth transferring
to those brocade MS. recipe books
which are a fancy with women of
taste. For a good complexion take
one heaping teaspooutul of dried elder
flowers, or twice as much of fresh
ones still lingering along shaded
meadow paths. Pour over it one cup
of boiling filtered water and cover
close. Let it steep fifteen minutes,
strain and add sugar and lemon to the
taste, omitting them if so preferred.
Make this tea fresh every morning,
and drink it half an hour before break
fast for one week. The next week
use chamomile flowers instead of older
flowers. Prepare the tea and drink it
the same way. Drink these teas alter
nately for three or four months, and
after that twice each week. They im
prove the health and nerves In every
way, as well as the complexion.
On hears constantly of the virtue of
scrubbing the face and keeping it
clean, but there are women with deli
cate faces who <lo not hear well this
sort of housemaid treatment. Scrub
bing Irritates many skins, brings out
a plentiful down on some fresh looking
faces, and sets up a bleeding Inflamma
tion in certain eases of blackheads and
pustules. To cleanse the face thor
oughly by a simpler method, when it
has been exposed to much dust and
grime, ruii it over with sweet olive oil.
Let the oil remain from ten minutes to
half an hour, as time allows, wash it
oft with warm water and tine soap,
wiping with a Turkish towel, which is
advisable for the face always. Finish
by dashing cold water ou the face, and i
wipe again.
One of the latest adjuncts to 'he
toilet is a lace edged perfumed cloth of
peculiar fabric, which is carried about
j with one, and used to give the face
a smart rubbing for a moment or two
each hour. In the vestibule or dress
ing room, or before leaving one's own'
room to receive visitors, a few touches
with this prepared cloth will, it is said,
leave the skin with a peculiarly tine
finish, like that of statuary marble,
which i not ft polish, it must be re
membered.
j To cleanse the hair perfectly, without
i leaving it dry and brittle after wasli
-1 ing, first: rub a lotion of equal parts
j of olive oil and l ay rum into tlie scalp
; thoroughly. Let it remain half an
hour, and then wash hair and scalp
with hot water, having one teaspoonful
of borax to the gallon, and a little
j good soap. Rinse well in three warm
waters, wipe with Turkish towels and
dry in the sun. This does much to
preserve the color of hair, whether
dark or blond. Observe the proportion
of borax, and use very little soap, good
castile soap being best.—New York
Tribune.
Mode* For Juveniles.
The extreme length of an infant's
first clothes has been very much modi
fied. and it is no longer considered good
taste for a baby to wear a gown four
times its own length.
Ultra-fashionable mothers dress their
little girls in nothing but white until
they are ten years of age.
...
Sailor suits are always pretty for
both boys and girls. Those of blue or
white serge made in regulation style
are still the smartest.
...
For Master or Miss Baby handwork
Is the rage. Fashionable mothers pre
fer a hetu put iu by hand to an‘em
broidered ruffle, and a hemstitched
tuck to a hand of inserting.
...
White muslin frocks of very sheer
stuff', trimmed with tucks, outre deux,
pleats, lace-edged ruffles or hand em
broidery are best style for young girls’
party wear until they “come out.”
a * *
The Russian blouse suit is still very
choice for small boys. When a little
cider they wear the full knickerbocker
and Norfolk jacket of cheviot.
fit:*
Cloth, ribbed silk, beugaline and pip
fin are all used for babies’ coats, with
white the preferred tone, until they are
two years old; after that pale blue or
pink Is permissible.
. *
The miniature man wears a top coat
of tan covert elotli just like father's,
and the new ones this seasou are with
out the yoke across the back.
* # 3
Russian blouse suits of white broad
cloth, with a black patent-leather belt,
are very smart for small boys.
...
Heavy guipure lace in wide bands of
inserting form effective trimming for a
little girl's party gown.
$ * *
Blouse "waists are always more be-
coming to a young girl than a fitted
one, and a yoke is less trying than
when the material is drawn up to the
neck. The yoke to relieve the waist
may be simulated by lace or bands of
Persian trimming if preferred. Fancy
white collars are often worn where
there is no yoke to modify the severe
outline.—Philadelphia Record.
Walking Dresse*.
The colors of walking dresses are to
continue bright in tone, while embroid
ery and applique are to be more pat
ronized than ever. Cloth and taffeta
decoupe will he found on a prominent
pedestal, and a trimming of linen lace
worked in wool or silk will lie seen
decorating some of the tine cloth
gowns. Glace coats and entire glace
dresses will again be well established,
gnd as for the fashion of their make
—well, in this instance fashion will a
tale unfold, for every coat worthy the
designation novel shows a tail at the
back, and perhaps this is a very de
sirable state of affairs in view of the
fact that we continue to patronize the
tight-fitting skirt, which is in truth not
entirely becoming to every woman who
elects to wear it. That small tail at
the back immediately takes off the too
suggestive look of tightness.' In the
front the coats are for the most part
cut round and boar revers or a narrow
galloon. Many coats are, however, out
three-quarter length, either with a belt
or to fit tightly to the waist at the hack
and to be semi-fitting in the front. The
skirts are unmistakably shorter, but
as unmistakably on the ground; in
stead of wearing a train of six inches
we wear a train of four inches. That
is all the public protest against long
trains has done toward their abolition.
1.-t urn lit the "Girlie Girl.”
From certain reliable reports it ap
pears that the “giriie girl," sometimes
known as the “steel engraving lady,” is
scheduled for a return engagement in
society after an absence of who can
say how many years? At least that is
the way some persons who say they
pray for such a return put it; others,
and we are Inclined to consider them
more knowing, have it that the revised
girl or woman is to lie a happy blend
of the two. wearing broad, sensible
shoes when common sense seems to in
dicate such footgear, and slipping into
high-heeled dainty foot-coverings when
these seem not only possible hut the
proper attire; while with each change
of shoes there will be a total change iu
the style of gowns and hats, to pre
serve a sartorial harmony, and also a
quick change of mind and manner to
suit the whole. To do this successfully
will come easy to very average girls,
but it is feared in some quarters that
even men who are in most ways su
perior are going to find it very difficult
to follow these feminine loads.—Bos
ton Transcript.
New Sweaters For the Athletic Girl.
Among the smart wear iu “sweaters”
are hand-knit white wool ones, having
a beautifully designed stripe raised
from tlie separating stitches of plain
knitting barely perceived. Tl#>o stripes
are vertical, consequently becoming to
the figure. For a collar and cuffs to
the bishop sleeve are wide bands of
plain knitting in light blue, or green, or
red. This gives the smart air—which
all such hand-knit sweaters have
lacked heretofore. Fifteen dollars may
seem rather a stiff price, but is in real
ity a moderate one. if the time and skill
to knit one is taken into consideration,
to say nothing of the quantity of wool,
or the unusual wear they are sure to
give.
Black still continues to be the most
popular color in the new hosiery.
A touch of color in the embroidery
on black stockings is very smart.
The severer style of silk or flannel
shirt Is takiug the place of the drossy
blouse.
Ermine wifi he very fashionable,
partly as a medium of black and white
combinations.
The cape collars that are so popular
just now call into service all kinds of
short-haired furs.
Many of the new felt hats have the
rough hairy surface that goes so well
with zibeline costumes.
Women are fashion are setting aside
their light and gossamer hats for those
of more substantial make.
Lace hats are still very fashionable,
and as the season advances this mate-,
rial will t o appllqued on to fur. /
Basques have become very popular,
and will be retained even if longer coat
skirts are mot universally accepted.
Anew shape in felt has a deep
turned-up brim and a helmet-like
shaped crown, through which a quill is
thrust.
Ma*y fashionable women are wear
ing the high linen Prussian collar, with
a ]catty foulard silk tie, or a large
folded scarf of the same fabric.
For the woman who goes iu for out
door sports there is a pretty brown or
fawn felt hat of the broad boat-shaped
variety, trimmed with corded silk and
shaded feather mounts.
A pale blue iamb's wool wrap gown
is quite delightfully cozy and soft,
and the trimmings consist of accordion
pleated frills of blue and white Jap
anese silk laid one over the other.
The lace cravat is a pretty finish to
the tailor-made frock, while the old
fashioned jabot must of a necessity be
fn vogue with anything approaching
the swallow-tail or cutaway jacket.
NOVEMBER 9
Our Budget
of Humor.
Anagraph.
Inna, at the Zoo, would wander
In the spooky snake-house yonder;
Pausing in the place to ponder,
Anna conned an anaconda.
—Life.
Aa Inquiry.
Puffington (proudly)—“l am a self
made man!”
Grimsbaw (languidly)—“H’m! Invent
those ears yourself ?”—Puck.
ProleMional.
Phyllis—“ The butler seems to feel
hurt.”
I Mririe—“Yes; he thinks the family is
paying too much attention to the chaaf-
I feur.”—Puck.
lonr Money or V’onr Life.
“Which do you prefer, horses or au
' temohiles?”
“Horses. With them you lose your
money, but with the automobiles you're
liable to lose your life.”
Brief anil Tragic.
Knicker—"Sh# turned up hernose at
his violets.” *
Booker—“And what did Cbolly do?” •
Knicker—“ Turned up His toes to the
; daisies.”—New York Sun.
Not Worth While.
"Did you get a recommend from your
last place?”
"Yis, ma’am.”
"Where is it?”
“Sure, it wasn't worth keeping '—
Life.
A Patient Parent.
“Janet Ainslie conies hack from the
mountains unmarried, I see.”
"Yep. It was iier last chance, too.
Her father waited on lier account six
weeks before lie went into bankrupt
cy.”—Cleveland Plain-Dealer.
No Trouble Ahead.
Bridesmaid "I hope you will iie
happy, my dear.”
Bride —"Oil! I'm sure we will. You
see, his mother died when he was very
young, and he doesn’t remember any
thing about her cooking.”—Puck.
Ills Apprehension.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bear, but
I'm not the dentist.”—Chicago Ttecord
llerald.
llis Crime.
Naggsby—“l understand Crubber is
accused of rank plagiarism in the
writings lie lias been passing off as
original.”
Waggsby “Yei one would hardly
call him a thief. He is only a clipto
maniac."—Los Angeles Herald .
Knowing.
Buck—“ Mike, can I know what I
don't know?”
Mike—“ No.”
Buck—" There is something I don't
know and I know it. Then don’t I
know what I know?”
Mike—"l don’t know.”—Judge.
What llu* Penny Saved Her
Mother—"l gave you a penny to he
good yesterday, and to-day you are
jusi trying to show how bad vou can
he.”
Willie—“Y'cs. hut I am just trying
to show you to-day .that you got the
worth of your money yesterday."
A Tittle Mistake.
ne—ou say there are no flowers
for the dinner table. Where are the
chrysanthemums I sent home?"
She—“ Oh. George, don't speak so
load; yon might hurt Gretchen's feel
ings; she didn't understand wliat they
were and lias cooked them in milk.”
A Harsh Estimate.
“What position will our friend take
on this momentous question?” asked
the grandiloquent man.
"Position?” echoed Senator Sorghum,
absent-mindedly, ”oh. he'll take pretty
nearly any jxisition that's open, pro
vided there's salary attached to it."—
Washington Star.
A Convenient Quantity.
"People always like a man who never
kicks, said the person who is endeav
oring to make the world brighter and
better.
"Of course they do,” answered Mr.
Bliggms. "They have every reason to
like him. He simply stands aside with
out protest and lets them help them
selves to what belongs to him.”
Making Merry.
The young man with wide ears had
been waiting for a chance for some
time. At last there was a lull in the
conversation, which he promptly ap
propriated.
"I heard a good one last night,” he
said.
"Did you hear about " began tlie
military gentleman in an attempt’ to
head him off.
i was talking with some musicians.”
proceeded the young man as If nothing
had happened, "and one of them said
ihat the way to compose successful
melodies was to take advantage of
every opera-tune-ity. Ha, ha!”-Wash
ington 3" —