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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" —