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UN MY In my dreams I often hear them, h From the hillside, from the red Have you left us altogether? (some Is it really .true, old fellow. you In my dreams I often see them. se On the hillside, on the red road. A.nd my lips would fain give answ But a mocking spirit whispers, In my dreams I often see it. see With the briar scented breezes Nothing great, nor grand, nor gal Just a kind of way back tavern i And I often hear the voices of the Kind of little shadow children in And I ;tuess that they are waiting And the dear old loony bullocks Shadow plains roll out before me And I hear the yelping brindle- a And, anon, a shadow figure by the And I note the look of longing Must the dreamer go on dreaming Must he wake to tind the vision God! who fashioned all things per: Seeping somewhere in the range LIBBY, I BRBY ANDERSON hung the disheloth on its accus L f tomed nail, and stood there surveying it. it was plain, from the way she looked, wat she was determined to speak. "Ma," she asked of the woman who was sitting before the little round stove, "what were those papers Dave put in his pocket as I came in?" "Some thiags he was showin' me." "Ma," she asked. quiveringly, "you din't sign anything, did you?" "I didn't sign your name to any thing." And the needles clashed again. She knew her mother too well to press further. "I just couldn't understand Dave -coming here this time of year," she ventured; "and I thought be acted -queer." The old woman was folding her knit ting. "rm going to bed. and you'd better -come along, too," was her reply. A week went by, and although Libby bad twice forgotten to feed the chick ens, and had several times let the ket tle burn dry, she was beginning to feel more settled in her mind. She did up her -work one morning and went to town. Her first call was at the solicitor's. and there she heard the worst. Mia bad assigned their home to Dave. She -did not make any fuss: she was too old-fashioned for hysterics. It was not until the old place came in sight that she broke down. "It's not fair," she cried out, "when rye stayed here and worked-it's not fairl" And, for the first time in many .years, she was crying-passionately -crying. It 'was a feeling of outraged justice that made her speak. for she was just a woman-the daughter of pa. "Mia," she said, "do you think pa would like to think of your assigning the place to Dave, 'when I've stayed here and kept it up the best I could . for twenty years?" The old woman put down her knit 'ting. "La, now, Libby.", she said. not un kindly, "don't take on. You'll never want for nothin'" L~ibby stood there looking at her. "'I think you don't realize what -you've done," she said; and turned to .the bedroom to take off her things. It was not until the next month, the blustering month of MIarch, that all was made clear. It 'was early in the afternoon when Libby looked from the window and saw a man coming in at the big gate. "That friend of Dave's from the city is coming, ma," she said. "Gracious!" exclaimed MIrs. Ander son, "and such a day as 'tis'" The stranger warmed his hands. and disbursed a number of pleasantries. "Well, MIrs. Anderson." he said fin ally, "your son wants me to make a little proposition to you." Mrrs. Anderson looked pleasantly ex peetanut. "D~ave's always makin' propositions," she chuv'kled. "-He's been a good deal worried about y-ou this winter-afra id you were not just comfortable out here'-you two, all alone." "Dave's always thinkin' of his moth er's c'omfort.' she asserted: and looked triumiphantly over to Libby. "Well." he resumed. turning back to the older wonanl. "it worries Di , e to think of your being out here alone now that you're getting alo':g in years. so be's rented a nice lite place in town. and he feels s'ie it wotuld be better all around I~ you'd just go in and take "ir that ain't for all the world like 175Dtve:-a lways some n~ew idea in his head. Bunt you just tell him, Mir. 3Mur rny, not to be bothering. We don't want to mo're to town-do we. Libby?" "oifwe c'an hellp it." she replied. "Dave's hcen away~ f'rm the place so long il:at he don't see jshw'tis," mna explained. "Libby and me ~wouldnt feel at home no place else." ' "It's too had you feel that way," he 'w'nt on persuasively. "for Dav-e wtas so surea you'd like the idea that he's gone ahtead and made' all arrangements. :and I'm afraid there miight be a little troubie about unmaiking them." Hie turned to Libby. "Hlow soon do you think you could Dnove? ByV the 1st of Many'" "I suppose so," she answered, in a duil voice. the oid un'mani wat'eed the white ;:ive way' to lh' -:reen on th~e hills that curved inl anid out around her Old home. -\s Im:t as she (''uld. Liib lv et her hazve lher' i:-em. Her- he~art was not hardO towvard ama nowv. \Ia had niot un dierstood. And Libby was glad she :: yae those fe-w spin day11 s be feshE- was torn fr'om the old home. .lia." l began ae morning. "I thinkt I will have to he~ patrlinig up this ''Pa -king up what?' -"Wiy. don't you remember, ma, we're going to town the 1st of Mlay?" "Oh, Ia. Libby. I've give that up lone ago I'm goin~ to die on the old DREAMS. yar the far off voices calli- l road, from the rollin wa-ste 0: plam; onie t u.du in the townsm) wil :iot come back again.' e the shdow people waiting on the rolling waste of plai: er somethiinhopenil. if not certain, You shall not return again. :he dear old shanty standing. laying round the open door; idv. but a quaint o'dwooden buumng, * Lid a sort of way back store. sturdy station children, the Middle of the road; for the teamster and his wagon with their precious border load. with a mob of cattle charging, i she turns them on the rise; old slip nanel waiting, nd the'sorrow in her eyes. what ;he fickle goddess pictures? a ll too seldom what it seems? e ct, g rant that one day you will find me with the shadows of my dreams. -Pall Mall Gazel te. ~ 0 rHE.' -k0 0O O 0 a on 0@ "But you know, ma, the arrange nients have all been made. I'm afraid w'll have to go." She turned to her crossly. "There's no use to argue wi' me, Libby Anderson. I ain't goin'!" "But what about Dave," "You -an jest write Dnve, and say his mother don't want to leave the. place. Dave won't havenothin' further to say." She looked off at the meadowland as if it were all settled. Libby would have to tell her. "Ma." she said, "it's no use to write to Dave." "Why not?" she demanded, in a half frightened, half-aggressive voice. "He's sold the place. ma!" "What's that you say? Something about Dave selling my place? Are you gone crazy, Libby?" "You know you -deeded it to him, ma. It was his i,.ter you did that. And he's sold it, and we'l have to move out." Hearing no answer, she turned around, and it was then she coyeted Dave's gift of saying things smoothly. The old woman was crouched low in her chair, and her face was quivering, and looked sunken and gray. "I didn't think he'd do that," :.e fal tered. "Never mind, ma." Libby said awk wardly. "Poor ma!" It was the nearest to a caress that had passed between them since Libby was a little girl. Nothing more was said until after ma had gone to bed. Libby supposed she was asleep, when she called quaver ingly to her. "Libby." she said, "you mustn't be thinkin' hard of Dave. He must have thought it for the best." Libby was used to caring for ma, and she needed care now. "Yes, ma," she answered; "I'm sure he must" It was not until the morning of the fourth day that the silence between them was broken. Libby got up to take down the clock, when she heard a strange noise behind her, and, turn ing, she saw that ma's head was down low in her hands, and- she w as rock ing passionately back and forward, andt crying as though her old heart had broken. She put down the clock, and again she wished for a little of Dave's silki ness of speech. But she did not have it, and the best she could do was to pull ma's chair out from the barren room out into the sunshine of the porch. The hills, she thoug'- t, would still look like home. Ma did not get up at all next day. Perhaps she was ill, or perhaps it was only that she did not want 10 go out in the sitting room and see how un like home it looked. But the next day she did not get up either, and then Libby went to town for the dcetor. lHe said the excitement had weak cned her. and did not seem v'ery cer'tain she would ever get up again. That niaht Libby wrote a letter to Daxe. askingI him again to let 'ais mother die oni the old place. A w.eek passed, and an mn swer had not come, and still ma had not left her bed. The packir g was al' dlone, it was the 1st of May, and she was just waiting-she did aot know for what. Her whole saul rose up agt.ins: may 'ng ma from the old place now. when h etr days were so surely niunthered; and so she sent a telegram to Daive, telling him his mother wa ill, and asking leave to stay a little longrer. There camne a reply from his part ner. saying thet Dave wasa away, and w.ould not be home for two week's. That night the old1 wvoman :aiscd her self and sobbed out the truth. "It's Dave that's killn' me: It's to. think Dave sold the place, a nd turned me out to die:' And then the way opened before Libby. and she saw her path. The disinhecrited child wrote a letter that night, and to it she signed her brother's name. Out in the world they might h-ive applied to it an ugly word. but Libby was only caring for ma. She was a long time about it, for it was hard -to put things in Dave's round. bold hand, and it was hard to say them in his silky way. The doctor said next morning that it was a matter of hut a few days at most, for ma was much worse. "It ain't that I'm goin' to die," she said, when Libby came in a'nd foundl her' cry'nz: "but I was thinkin' of Dave. I keep thinkin' and thinkin' of him when he was a little boy, and how lie used to run about the place, and how pretty hi' used to look; and then, just as I b2gin to take a little comfort in re'meme-rin' some of the smart things he said, I have to think of what he has dione, and it does seem like he ni::ht have waited till--" B~ut the wvordcs were too bitter to be spoken. and. with a hard. scraping sound in her throat, she turned her face to the wall. Libby put her hand to something in her pocket, and thought of last night's work with thankfulness. About 11 o'clock she entered the room with the sheets of a letter in her "Ma," she said. tremulously, 'Tnere's a etter just come from Dave." "I knew it'd come-I knew it!" And he old. voice filled the room with its riumphant ring. Then therp crept nto her face an anxious look. "What loes he say?" "He's sorry about selling the place, na. He really thought you'd like it letter in town. But he's fixed it up or us to stay. He says you'll never 2ave to leave the place." "I knowed it-I knowed it well nough! You don't know Dave like I lo. But read me the letter." She did read it, and the old woman istened with tears-glad tears now alling over her withered cheeks. "You can just unpack our things," ;he cried, when it was finished, "and et this place straightened out. The dea of your packin' up, and think we vas goin' to more to town! Nice mess ou've made of it! Jest as if Dave vould hear of us leavin' the place. I dways knowed you'd never 'preciated )ave." Before morning broke ma was dead. lappy, because she had back her old 'aith in Dave-the blind, beautiful aith of the mother in the son. And: ibby-the homeless and unloved Uibby-was happy, too3, for she had inished well her work of caring for na.-London Answers. EN TI FIC'. Here's a wrinkle for melon raisers. . French farmer near 'Marseilles has isovered that by "watering" his mel-: ns with milk they will grow to twice heir ordinary size. He carries off all he melon prizes at local agricultural els. When the electrification of the rail vays which run underground in Lon on is completed the traveler will be tble to traverse sixty miles under round by electric traction without unning twice over the same piece of rack. A gutta-percha and rubber manu acturing company of Toronto has nade a belt for a grain elevator at t. Johns which is one of the largest -ver produced. It is of rubber, and easures 3259 feet. Its weight is ie tons. achinists and iron workers are reatly intercsted in the discovery of he art of welding cast iron, which W. . and L. B. Schaap, of Loveland, Col., laim to have made. J'hey declare that he compound which they have invent d also will braze aluminum as sue essfully as borax will braze steel. An institute for cancer investigation, o be in the :mmediat~e vicinity of the eademy Hospital at Heidelberg. will e begun soon, and its completion is pected in the spring of 1906. It will 'e the first large institution of its kind a Germany, and pro bably in Europe. rhere scientific investigation will be ombined with treatment of patients. Any one who can operate a typewrit r can transmit messages by the $1ur ay system of high-speed telegraphy, rhich the British postal officials have seen testing. It resembles, in some re pects, the Wheatstone system. The aessage is first perforated on a tape, a a machine resembling a typewriter. , Vhen the perforated tape is run. hrough a transmitter, a facsimile of he tape is produced at the receiving tation. and this, upon passing through n autoniatic typewriter, becomes a rinted message in ordinary letters. Carlo Baese, of Florence. has invent d a process of producing bas-rcliefs my photography. The basis of ue in ention is the property possessed by a im of chromium gelatin of swelling a proportion to the intensity, so that he light passing through a photo iaphic negative produces upon a hromium-gelatin plate a positive in istinct relief. The transparency of a dinary negative. howvever, is nlot only roportional to the relief of the orig nal model, but by an ingenious auto natie device, involving a double ex >osure, this diflicuity is navoided. and ne('ative is obtained having its lights md shades corrtectiy graded to produce he ect cf relief. 'Tersely Put. Bobby has just reached English com m.itionl in his school. and. his fathe s a newspaper man, who prides hi: self on his 'oncise style. Bobby came :ome from school the other day:. in highi lee because his teacir had priaisedi ls composition on G;eorg~e Washing on. Hie showed the production to is ather with pride, but was somewha restfallen at his palrent's criticism 'Too many words, my son. T1oo mar y ords altogether. Why can't your eacrs instruct you how to exp:'ess -our' ideas tersely? Now, just sit down it that table, take this p'neil, cut out ivery vord you can spare without aving out a single idea, and if your nother dloes not agree with me that the :mt is better than this composition hich your teacher praises, I'll give zou half a dollar." The ind took the >ncil and fell to work. while his ather read the paper. After a long :ime Bobby b)rought the heavily scored manuscipt to binm, sauying: "It was iard work to keel) in somethinig onl avery one of the things Washington is ramous fo-, dad, hut I guess 1 did it." l'his is how the result recad: "George Waishinlgtonl became the ather of His Country because lie had no little boy of his own to whiip for :utting down cherry trees, and lie is emarkabe among American states men because he would not tell a lie." amma awarded the half-dollar to Bobby.-New York Tribune. Defects in Fog signaing. The present arrangements for fog ig::alling are antiquated and out of tochi with the requirements of the times. While perfectly satisfactory for the more leisurely working of rail aays prevalent during the seventies of last century, they are not adopted o the ideas of working and time keeping held by the business depart-. ments of railways, or by passengers, at the present time. Their defects are -merou-letriea1 Review 'FOR DOGS AND CATS." ti Around the new, low fountains al The P. C. autoc::-ats il Have placed a sigi of wisdom fi That reads: '"Er Dogs and Cats.'- ti Will it catch the eye of puppies tc Or kittens, do you think, a1 And lure them from destruction To a strictly ha::mless drink? . Or will the knowing sparrow, E In thankful attitude. Spy this and flit. rcniarking, "beg pardon, I initrude?" N Do they expect the bison, The sprightly kangaroo. The araceful boa-constri:-tor. Will want to drink there, too. Or must the val: and ernu. On litte- eity bats. Be barrcd from this reireshment Designed -For Dogs and Cats" I -Katherine L. Mcad., in Life. GIVING AN ORANGE PARPTY. Have you ever given an orange .v party? It is curious and amusing from the w very start, as each giest is rcquested M to bring an orange-which request be ig accompanied by no explaiation is :7 quite puzzling. -and therefore gives an 0' added interest right at the beginning. to Usher each arrival into the dining :l room, where they are received by the ti, range Aid Committee. whose first a duty is to aid you in yegistering your ki range and tyiu a ribbon marked by to a letter around it sc you may identify di It later. w Then all the guests assemble in the g dining room, while the committee con- pl tinues with its work, which is to count s; the seeds. Each orange is cut in half. al the seeds are ex:racted. and, after be ing counted and duly credited to the tiL "THE ORANGE-AID C03. wner as entered on the register, they o~ are put into a transparent glass bowl. pt Now the guests partake of a repast omposed of every conceivable form of range you can think of-sliced or nges. orange ice, erangende, orange- cc favored candy, ete.-after which you ox nnounce that a prize will be offered ti o the one who guesses nearest to the ai umber of seeds in the bowl, and a T ooby prize given to the poorest c: uesser. Also, two prizes will be p warded to th'e two guests having the --j ost numiler of seeds and the least as umbet in their respective oranges. g Appopriate' prizes are in order for a li; dzen orange sodas at a good soda E ountain for the grand prize, and a E mall jar of orange marmalade will fc provoke a good deal of mirth when it Tr s given to the winner of the booby E prize. r And by the'time the party winds up E you will find the bowlful of orange a. es havc sprung up into a splendidl h crop of fun. Yet. If you prefer other u: fruit, you may call the party after al most any variety containing a moderatre mount of seeds. a ithmough we would ot advise a watermelon party, as then the committee would have to spend a week or so counting the seeds.-New York Evening M1ail. A SIMPLE EXPERIENT. Cut two slips of paper long enough for each to encircle the ottside of a e: bottle, leaving an uncovered space be tween ,the slips. Fasten them in place y a thread and then wrap a piece of wine around the uncovered glass be- 0 tween the strips. To one end of the' twine tie a nail or some conv-enient lhock. Hlol the other a end with one hand and withr the other move the bottle quickly backwvard and I ti w PAlEr. AND STuING ARE PLACED a forward. This is done in order that the i twine my rub upon the exposed glass h between the paper bands. This action tl will shortly cause the surface of the tl las to heat. After it is well heated tl ro :ome cold water on it. Now, by q; shl; stop. you may break the bottle a h: so evenly that there will not be a one;> :ged place In the entire circle of hi the I; 'ak. t But of what use is this bit of appar- 04 tiy superiuons knowledge? Well suppose, for instance, the glass stopp~er e n your cologne bottle (if you are a e girl) got stuck and refused to budge. All you have to do to dislodge the stop per is to wind a heavy cord around the .C neck -e -om one to pull one end taut, ti D BO}3 ke hold of the other end yourself .d work the neck mildly to and fro the string, just as you did in the st experiment. This continued fric' )n will cause the neck of the bottle become so hot that it will expand, . the glass stopper will be loosened ough to allow it to be pulled out ithout further trouble.-New York ,niing 3Iay. RTURING A CHEERFUL SPIRIT Lucky was the patient in Cedarville ho could secure the services of mty" lond as his nurse. but he nt make up his mind that while all - wants would receive due attention . lie woild have a fair amount of dling. there were some things in ih he could not count on having own way. Now you just take that look off r face, won't you?" she half axed. half-comnmanded a man who is fecovering from pneumonia. "You 't half as sick as you were a month : I-t your thoughts dwell on that, (I let 'ei dwell on this: There's lots folks outdoors a-falling from the o' buildings and a-getting run into over by automobiles and contrap 1s of all sorts, besides those that e yielding to temptation o' various ids and being sent to Jail, and then State prison. And while all these adful things are going on outside, iat is happening to you? You are :tting well at home, in peace and Lty, and what's more, in as hand me a walnut bedstead as there is in I Cedarville! "You let your mind dwell on these iigs a minute, and then you turn ?iTEE AT WORK{. *r and go to sleep."-Youthi's Comn COING DOWN THE NILE. Some years ago an Englishman was~ ming down the River Nile, in Egypt, a large boat loaded with grain, and ebirds came off from every village ate the gr3in piled on the deck. Englishman asked the Egyptial ptain of the boat, "Who owns this i?" The Egyptian captain said, own it." Then the Englishmal ked. "Why let the birds eat up the ~?" The Egyptian asked tihe Eng a:n, "Who made the birds?" The iviishmanl answered, "God." Th( yptianl asked, "Whether grain was a d which God intended birds to eat?' i Englishman said it was. The yptian said. "Can the birds sow and ie the grainl for themselves?" The rglishman' said, "They cannot." Then d tie Egyptian, "Let thlem eat; God tsprovided enough for bo0th them and 'Our Dumb Animals. "ROTHER. WHO KNOCKS." w players are blindfolded and sil n back to backt. Anothler playei eps to them and taps one of their ntly on the head. Thle child thatt h touched asks the other blindfolded "rother, who knocks?" Ef it guesses who it was, the "kuock ~"must take its place. rs. Gertrude Atherton, the author .says Harper's Weekly, tells of the ulations of a friend ill Newv York, oo is the mother of' a particular'l3 w ievi~ious5 boy of sonie seven years. "ne evening recently." says Mrs. therton. "wihen tihe mother was5 get ng the boy ready for hed~ after whal 'tered 'a day of unmitigated out lousess'W5 on the part of her hope ,ishe said to him: 'Now when you say your praye'rs >.ight. Richard, rememiber to asi ad to make you a better boy. Yot :v certainly been bad to-day." &oin~gly the youngster began hi: itito to tile Almighty in tile usual m. Before closing with the custom~ Ani." I e added: "And please, God, make me a better hen he paused a moment, and. te uc tter consternation of tile long suf iig moter, he concluded his pray with unabated gravity': "Nevertheless, not my will, oh, Lord, at Thine be~ done." About Colds. If nnoyed by an attack of catarrh, c umes of a tablespooniful of tinc iref benzoin compound in the root' night will help to relieve ii. If the throat is affected by a smuart aad rasping, wet the end of a towel cold water, bind it against th-e rt and wind around the wvet en. i ry, warm end of the towel. It me orning the soreness will be re To alleviate a cold. go to bed with little eucalyptus oil upmi :1n old dkkrchief, or withi a saucerfl of s sme on a table by the bed. Un si eously inhale this dur'ing the giltand it will ward off a cold ou e'ta rec when the cold is devel )d.-Philadelphia Inquirer. In the days of the comlmonwealtl] ..i....-. .... threatened with er, - 111 CHIFFON VEILS IN VOGUE. The popularity of chiffon veils still keeps up surprisingly despite the fact that winter is here. The coming of the automobile into such general use is to some extent undoubtedly responsible for this, but the main reason is that women have come to realize its effec tiveness from a decorative point of view. They have learned that it has more value in that way than merely as a covering for soiled hats. Both the yard and a half and the three-yard lengths are called for in the more subdued colorings - brown, navies and blacks, with browns well in the lead. There is some demand for the fancy form of this veil, but it is not so strong as the plainer styles. The demand i'or mesh veils is still very good, black Tuxedos with small dots. both chenilled and woven, being the leaders. The large dots and fancy colors have met with a fair degree of success. Iut only in the larger cities. The American woman is. as a rule, not given to making herself conspicu ous. WOMEN'S VOICES. A Phfiladelphian who has been back a week or so from an extensive tour of Europe concludes that American women, as seen in the general view in street and shop, are all right to look at, *but," he says. "I never knew how bad they were to listen to until I came back and heard their voices, high pitched and with a nasal twang that seems excessive after a summer's re spite. I reaily think it must be worse than when I left, and if there are any statistics on the subject, I would be willing to bet on it. To me it is now so noticeable that I wonder every time when I see that other people. do not seem to hear it. Of course, you can get used to anything. but when I do find a woman now whose speech is of the low, full-voiced kind you hear in Europe, it acts like a positive rest for the ear. They say. I believe, that the feminine nasal squeak is worse in the country than in the city, but I don't see how that could be possible. Physi cal culture will never fulfill its fune tions completely till it does away with the high-pitched voice."-Philadelphia Record. THE FASHIONABLE FLOWER. The fashion in flowers has turned toward poinsettias, Tiis large, red, barbaric blossom makes a brilliant note of color for the winter decora tion. It is seen on half the well ap pointed tables of this season. The flowers are often arranged with ferns in a huge white and gold basket for the centre of the table. These baskets are immensely popular. They come in every shade of straw. They are square, round, empire and boat shape. When there is a handle it is. twisted with tulle or simply tied with a huge bow of satin ribbon in the centre. Ex cept at very ceremonious dinners, this basket of flowers is preferred to any centrepiece. The wide, openmouthed French ones, gilded, are especially at tractive. They must be heaped with fowers carelessly put into moss. Another fashionable centrepiece for the table is a huge transparent French bowl, filed with the most 'vividly col ored fruit. Through the fruit are masses of red or yellow flowers. Holly is especialiy used because of its col oring. This bowl is mounted on a wreath of asparagus vines. RESTING A GOWN. "Did you ever try giving your gowns short siestas or vacations':" said the talkative girl. "3My gowns need pos itive rest cures, I don't know whether they get sp)ells of being tired of life. like I do. but, anyway, they become utterly bored and fagged looking, worn with the stress of life. A periodical disappearance and freshening do won ders for them. I have a certain chif foni of which I am esp~ceially fond. I ind myself inclined to wear it everyv evening, until it looks rather shabby to me; yet if I carefully lay it out in tissue paper and put it to rest in my boy (ouch for several weeks, it comes out all new to mec again, and positively sintillates wvith stored crispness.'' IWomen take a lot better care of their evening gowns than those in which they are seen daily. Isn't it strange how many wvomen will wear a tailor made day after day. ev'ery time they go out, yet never think of having it pressed? Yet a man always has the suit he isnt wearing in the hands of te tailor. being eleaned and pressed. Womens taiior mades are a good dcal like men's clothies nowadays: that is, in the cloths of which they are made. They are almost as lible to being kneed or wrinkled: and there's nothing freshens a gown like a good brushing and pressing. SUFFERING FOR BEAUTY. You must suffer to be beautiful, according to a French saying. There sens to be some truth in the state ment, if a lady's maid in Paris is to be believed. She has revealed the secrets of her mistress's boudoir, or. rather, torture chamber. The lady hrself is now beautiful, but one won diers that she is still alive. For months she lay flat on her back on the hioot-. motioless. with her arms close to her side, during several hours every day. This~ wa. it appears. to .improve her iure. During the rest of the day, for the same period of time, she sat on a highi stool giv-ing and rocking' the uppner part of her body backward aud forw ard and from side to side unening*ly. By this process she is sid to have acquired a stat -esque throat and a sylp~h's waist. 'The lady's nose, having a soaring nature, was corrected and made Grecian by the constant applicationl day and night for months of a spring bandage. One nos tril was originally larger than the other, so she wore a small sponge in it for a year. Her cheeks have been anlea out and runded by ininctions of paraffin. Her ears for nmonths were compressed against the sides of her bead by springs, while heavy weights were attached to the lobes to produce the required elongated shape, which has been successfully achieved. Hav ing suffered this complicated martyr diom for a year, the lady, as already stated, is now beautiful. -ovdor Never read facing the light. Do not read while you rock. Don't read on a moving train. Don't tax your eyes when you are tired or hungry. Don't try to read just one minute more in the dusk. No man ever loved a woman just be cause she was good. N. man is ever really in love who c-an say so with all the ease, ardor and elat of a stage lover. The man who says pretty things to his wife all the time must have had lots of practice either before or since his marriage. The husband who never gives his wife a decent word or compliment would knock down any otaer -an who would treat her ij the same way. Women compositors have so increased in Edinburgh that 'n some of the large establishments they form nine ty per cent. of the force employed. They do not belong .tc the union, but the union allows its members to work with them. There is a growing fancy for hair pillows in place of feathers. These re much cooler than the old style ead rest, have no odor and retain their firmness. The married woman who earns wages may, in some cases, not have to work as hard as the woman who is trying to make her husband's salary cmeet the family expenses.-Washing ton Star. After all, one should not be a fair weather girl. All days can't be sunny, and, besides. one always knows that the sun is still doing business up there in the blue, and there's not the slight est chance of it getting lost. Sooner r later the old warm rays will shine out again. TJalk hopefully to your children of life and its possibilities; you have no right to depress them because, yon aave suffered.--Woman's Life. Tabs finish many a bodice bask. Plush is much used in smart iiead Soft fabrics prevail for afternoon wear. That Frenchy little velvet bow is be ing overworked. A curious red on the crushed straw berry is favored. Warm colors reign supreme in the complete wardrobe. Hand embroidery on tucks is dainty for the debutante's frock. The tiniest fans are of peacock feathers with tortoise shell sticks. Skirt flounces caught dowvn at the bottom in puff effect are new-old. Every gown has its shoe or slipper to match and the stocking follows suit. Exquisitely lovely are the pale green art nouveau combs with jeweled floral The blouse with strapped front and a long silk scarf pulled through is popu Hats of moss, with clusters of' red berries tucked in the green, are a love ly novelty. Velvet blouses, both simipl~e and elab orate. are to be taken into considera tion this year. A blouse~ that is "different" is of black taffeta with a tucked chemisette of white muslin. There are brown blouses so alluring that ong wants to buy a brown suit just to match them. Mass creamy white roses on the back of your evening toque, where they will rest against the hair. Fasinating things are shown in warm room gowns of eiderdown, quilts d satin and cashmeres. Washingtonl's Birthday. For nearly a century and a quarter good Americans have celebrated the birthday of George Washington as a time of patriotic rejoicing. The first rcorded celebration occurredl in Rich mond. V'a., in 1782, and in 1793 Feb ruary 22 was set aside as an annual holiday of public observance. George Washington was born on the Wakeield estate in Virginia, February L (old style), 173o2. He died Decem ber 14, 1799, at his Mount Vernon hme. This beautit'ul and historie homestead has since become one of the rost sacred places in America, and in the old house are gathered many interesting relics of the (days when "the 1"ther of His Country" still lived in th copanioiship as w: s Demem or of his countrymen. One story of the life of this loved and grtly honored patriot furnishes one of the most fascinating nu. ratives in literature. It is called "Irving's Life of Washington," and was written by Washington Irving, himself a great American and a namesake of our first President. Read this biography and when you cele. rate the memory of Washington remember that his great ness was founded largely on his strict honesty, his unselfishness and his love for his cuntry