Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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~AL * -~ reta s %p The strains of a violin floated from the porch of a California ranch house standing isolated near the base of a mountain. The ranch was il culti vated and there was little stock" upon the scaut alfalfa pasture. The house, on the contrary, was large, well built, and was altogether a pretentious looking residence. John Engledew had bought the land and built the house when he first came out from England ten years previous with a pretty, delicate wife and a lit tIe girl five years old. Being of a sanguine and unbusiness like dispo sition., he was cheated in the land. and spent so much upon the house that he had not the wherewithal to support the place during the first non-paying years; hence he became poor instead of rich; he was in debt and the land was mortgaged "up to the hilt." Of late Engledew had fal len into bad health, he had almost entirely ceased to work, and what little the ranch returned them when the interest on the mortgages was paid was due to the young violinist who was making music upon the porch. A believer in heredity would have bad his theories thrown into confu sion by the little musician; it was neither from the delicate, querulous mother, nor from the lazy, good hu mored, lax principled father that Greta Engledew inheritil the vigor orous will, courage and gool sense that showed in the clear, bluze gray eyes and in-every pose of the lithe, strong figure. At fifteen she was more of a woman than most girls of twenty; it was she who milked the cows, made the butter, cooked and cleaned, rode to the town to sell poultry and eggs, insisted on lazy Mike, her ten-year-old brother, at tending the "district school," and generally "kept things together" on the "View Halloa" Ranch. The fath~r was as wax in the hands of Greta, but the mother had a spice of that strange obstinacy common to the weak. She would occasionally take. determined and usually disas ti ous action in thefamily affairs; thus she steadily combated her daughter's persistent cultivation of her musical talents, while she deplored the fact that her shapely hands were sun burnt because she did not wear gloves. Greta had a pronounced and re narkable talent for music. Cld Man uel Xeres, who lived at the Mission Dolores, had discovered he:: gifts; he had taught the little b::ue-eyed girl all he knew, and when 'he died, which he did when his pupil was fourteen, he left her his voilin-a ''Strad"-of which neither she nor .any one in her environment knew the 'value. Greta arose at dawn to work in order that she might have time to practice. She loved music, but she had also other aims in view. r She was playing "Che fare, "giv ing the long-drawh, wailing notes softly, but not so absorbe= in the music as to prev'ent her hearing the! dooi- at the back of the house open and close. She stopped playing and listened; there were steps in the . itchen-light, hesitating steps. "Is that you, father?" she cried. There was no answer. "Mike, is it you?" Still no answer came. As Greta went into the house, violin in hand, she heard a distant beat of hoofs. She walked through the front parlor, through the kitchen beyond and into the small wire-inclosed "summer" kitchen that lay behind it. In this apartment she saw the visitor whose step~s she had heard-a tall man, clad in the ordinary working dress of a rancher, a sunburnt, black beard ed man, who might have been any~ age from twenty-five to thirty-'wo.I He leaned on the table for support, his breath came in gasps, and on the left sleeve of his cotton "jumper" was an ominous dark-red stain. "Who are you?" asked Greta, bold -ly. "What do you want?" The stranger' raised his head, looked at her straight from~ a pair of -handsome hazel eyes, and caught the sound of horse's hoofs; he sprang to ward her and clutched her arm. "Listen to me," he said rapidly. "I am innocent-I never touched the horse, but it's my oath against Jim Sweeney's. They're all on my track like fiends; if they catch me they'll bang me to yonder tree! Will you hide me? If you don't I'm a dead man, and I swcar to you that I'm in nocent!" "Innocent or guilty," said Greta, coolly. "they'e no right to kill you for theft:" The man looked at her and gave an odd, reckless laugh. "No tight to hang a horse thief?" be said. "You're not Californian." "No. I'm English-as you are. I knew you were English the moment you spoke." The sound of hoofs ec'ho?d on the bridg2 over the ditch; the girl dragged her' unbidden guest through the kitchen into the parlor, pushed him into a deep rocker wiiich. stood with its back to the roonl, flung a handkerchief over his head to make it appear that he was indulging in a siesta, and drew her bow steadily across the violin strings. She had played three bars of the "Che fare," when there came a knock at the door. "Come in:" The door was pushed open, to dis close a group of angry nr en. The girl stepped forward. "Good-day. gentlemen!" she said, in c cear voice. "Is thr'e anyt hing 1 'au do for you?" The spoktesman doffed his hat. He was an American. and Americans are habitually polite to women. "Sorry to disturb ye-Miss Engle dew, ain't it?" "Yes, I'm Greta Engledew. Say, shall I call papa?" "Thar ain't no need, Miss Engle dew, Ye ain't seen no one pass by y ere. I- s'pose? We're out after a skunk of a horse thief; that's what's the matter with us: -;Papa's working down near the People's ditch. You might ask him." --You ain't seen no one pass?" -'. "o I've been playina here"=-di recting attention to her violin-"and I've not been out since noon. Say, Jack"-boldly turning her head to ward the rocker, at which one of the men was looking-"you've not seen a horse thief, have you?" The ocupant of the chair remained silent. The girl laughed, went up to him, and peeped under the handkerchief. The sleeve of the jumper and the cushion of the chair were alike soaked with the red stream that is sued from the wound in the man's arm; the man himself was in a I swoon. Greta dropped the handker chief and turned to the pursuers. "Sound as a church!" she said, merrily. "I guess you needn't trou ble him with questions." "Sorry to hev troubled you, Miss Engledew! Say, boys, he must hev made tracks for Blue Point Falls." "Just go way down by the People'.s Ditch and ask papa," said the girl, sauntering easily after them. "No, I guess not, Miss Engledew; we'll go by Blue Point." The calvacad'e clattered over the bridge, and the girl sprang back into the house. She ran to the kitchen to fetch water and some stimulant. then rapidly returned to the side of the wounded and hunted man, who was still insensible; she ripped up the sleeve and revealed a sunburnt, mus cular arm, with a bullet wound a little below the shoulder. Greta was capable of a little rough-and-ready surgery; she stopped the flow, bathed and bandaged the wound, put the arm in a sling, and then man aged to force some stimulant between the white lips; in ten minutes the man groaned, stirred, sat up, and gazed at her blankly. "They've gone past here to Blue Point Falls. If you're fit to go, you'd best be off to the Mission." The man stood up. "I am very miuch obliged to you," he said, faintly. "You've no need to be. )Vould you like something to eat before you go?" "No, thanks. I should like some water." She brought him some, and he drank; then he suddenly turned and said, abruptly: "You declared that I ought not to be hanged, even if I were a horse thief." "That is the view I take of it. I don't think you ought to be." The man stooped and looked stead ily into her eyes. "But I do not wis'i you to think of me as a thief-I want you to feel convinced that I am honest, and that I am simply the unluckiest man on earth." Greta gave no answer. "Do you believe that?" Greta looked at him-the hazel ey as were very honest. "Do you?" "Yes-I do." "Thank you," said the man. draw ilg a long breath. "I'll go now He paused. "Well?" "I haven't heard a violin for ten years. Would you mind finishing 'Che faro?'" "Why, you must be mad!" "I assure you I am not-but, if I aa, will you humor me?" "Yes." She played the air, and at ths end te man arose. "Thank you-I shan't forget that music nor the musician. Good-by!" "Stop!" said Greta. "Come with me-it's twelve miles to the Mission, and you're too weak to walk them." She fiitted before him to the barn a:d through the barn to the pasture; pesently she returned with a horse, bridled and saddled. "Here-you can get away on this." "No-no," said the man, gently. "You'll get a scolding if you give aay your father's horses. You sban't be scolded for me." He clasped the hand that held the bidle as he spoke. "This is my horse." said Greta, flushing, "and you're welcome. I want you to take him." Their eyes met; the man mounted silently and stooped. "Will you tell me your name?" "Greta-Greta Engledew." The man stooped lower yet, sud denly flushed, and pulled himself up right in the saddle with a jerk. "Thanks avail little," he said, in a low voice, "but I shall not forget." He hesitated, then stretched forth the unwounded arm, and with his hand gently drew out the bunch of orange yellow wild flowers that glowed on the girl's bosom; he thrust them into the breast of the stained cotton jumper, and turned the horse's head. Five min'utes later he had vanished in a cloud of dust. * * * * Four years had pascsed. Greta Engledew sat in a small, dingy apart ment in Plymouth. Time had trans formed her into a remarkably hand some girl. Her violin rested upon her knee, and she tapped her little foot rather impatiently upon the floor. "But, mother, dearest," she said, gently, "what else can I do? I do not think you understand, dear, that we are positively penniless!" The only answer was a wgil from the pallid woman, in her shabby widow's weeds, who was Greta's com panon. "We had much better have re mained in California after dear' fath er died and the ranch was taken,. but Syielded to you in that. See now, dear mother-we have no relations, no friends, no interest. I cannot get employment without references. Mike is too young to be of any help in that direction, but he can be of assistance in the path I have chosen; he can protect he, and he sings very nicely." "I still tlhink it disgraceful and al most immodest." The tears welled up in Greta's eyes. "Oh, mother, do you imagine that I take any pleasure in walking miles along dusty roads in order to play my violin on the narades of sunimer watering places? But uintil T di this we were in wan-you knwv were:" "The wbole thing has :n'... a. niun die rom beginning to end," rcsilont ed Mrs. Engledew. Greta was silent. "Of course, you w",! not listen i me." the lady ccntinued: "you wi start to-morrow as you propose?" "W3 cannot pay the rent and btu food if I do not." replied Gret; *'However, I will not oppose yoi Refer it to Mike, mothr-let him d< cide." But Mike, mindful of days of sem starvation, supported Greta, and o the following day brother and sist( started on their tour. It was a hard life, unfit for a rt fined and gently-bred girl, but it wo a free and healthy outdoor ecistenc< and the weather was beautiful. For three weeks they trampcd hal pily from place to place, but on th fourth week disaster befell the youn musicians. There Is an unwritten law whic prevails in California to the effet that wayfarers may halt and refres themselves with the produce of orcl ards. Mike, reared in California, i perfect innocence plucked and ati only to find himself given into cu tody by an irate farmer, who m Greta's pleadings by roughly tellin her that, "Her was ivery bit as bad as the young limb was. He'd be boun her'd taught the boy to steal; he' go before his worship, Squire Arden Ah, he'd be lucky if he got let o with the birch and a fine"' Poor Greta found sonic difficult in getting decent lodging for th night, and would have fared badl had not a rosy-faced young woina consented to receive her. "Don't you fret about the boy, said this good Samaritan. "What a few apples! Lor' bless ye, Squir Arden's a very pleasant gentleman He's only had Combeley Dell a year since the 'old squire's death. Th old squire was dreadfully bitte against Mr. Miles, till the death c Mr. Francis two years ago made M, Miles the heir. Then the old squir made friends with him." Greta listened with little interes -she was thinking of Mike. Th next day she went with a beatin heart to-see her brother arraignea i court. The justice was a handsom man on the right side of forty grave-looking man, closely shave and with very fine eyes. Greta explained tremulously tha her brother had meant no harm-h had not understood English custom. "You are from California?" saii the justice, fixing his gaze on he face. "Yes." "I think." said the magistrate slowly, "I shall be justified in di; missing the case. You will be pre pared to pay for the apples?" "Oh - yes-- yes - three time over!" "That," said Mr'. Arden, slowly "will be unnecessary, Miss Engleden The prisoner is discharged." Greta thanked him fervently, an was turning away, eager to join Mike "Miss Engledew, one moment, said the squire. "1 .am anxious i. speak to you. Do you know m; house?" "Yes." "My carriage is outside. I wil direct you and your brother to b driven there." Greta. bewildered and exceedingl: thankful to be restored to Mike, en tered the smart dogcart, and wa driven to a beautiful old house 0. the outskirts of the moor. They were shown into a room where a servant brought them lunch eon. An hour later the door opened and their host entered. He advance< and held out his hand. "You do not remember me, Mis Engledew?" "I have never met you before, think, Mr. Arden." "I thought you did not remember but a man does not readily forget th' woman who has saved his life. D< you remember these?" And wit1 loving care he drew from a big, bulk; pocketbook a bunch of faded ani withered flowers. Greta started. "Will you play me 'Che faro' to day?" said Arden. softly. "You see I have, the same flowers still, Mis Engledew, and the horse is very hap py in our Devon pastures." Greta turned white, and wouli have fallen had not Arden caugh her. "Your sister and I are old friends my boy," he said, as he turned smiling face to Mike. "I owe he more than she guesses-more thai I knew until this moment." * * * * Greta Engledew was playing "Oh Ifaro" under a cedar tree on the law) of a pretty cottage where.her mothe was installed in great comfort. Miles Arden sat beside her'. ing notes died away, "three month ago I said that a man does not for get the woman who has saved hi 'life. That was a half truthn-wil Iyou hear the whole to-day? A mal may forget the woman who has save< his life, but not the woman who fill it with a love that will last as loni as his life lasts. Greta, I think loved you even that day, for it wa very hard to ride away without tak ing-what I take now.'"-New Yor] Weekly. As London Sees Us. It is too bad that the fascination of bridge whist should be the allege cau: of the abandonment of thei business by the New York securit insurance companies. Gamblin among the women of New York is o: the increase, and a not uryusual thin; is for a woman who has incurrea debts in play or in horse racing t take out a burglar policy for severa thousand dollars, representing to he husband that she was in fear of be ing robbed. After a short time th woman goes to a pawnshop, gets loan and raises the cr:: that she ha been robbed. The husband in tur: makes a claim upon the insuranc company, and usually some sort c Ievidence is produced to support th burglar theory. But such wome: are happily black swans in New. Yorli __Tnann Evening Standard. .._ d CHILDREN'S SPINNING. n2 A spider was swinging her'2 f in glee r From a moss-covered sw .mg bough: A breeze came rollicking u:> from the sea. And fannned her beautiful brow. She hung, it is true, with her pretty head down. Uut her brain was c->ol as you please The fashion quite suited the cut of her gown, And she could look up in the trees. She saw where a humming-bird lighted 'own; At his throat a bri '.t ruby gleamed: h On his head was a golk'and emerald crown, :t And lie sat on a bough and dreamed. h1 The spider ran un on her silver thread, And looked in the little king's facee: jf J maY but sit at your feet." she iuid, n -I'll spin you some beautiful lace." The humming-bird looked in her shining And'then at her nimble feet. G And said to himself. I have found a prize, i She is useful as wvell as neat. I "You may sit by my side, i it please you d Sawi le the summer time through: d And since you spn on a noiseless wheel I'll do the huming for you." .-elle W. Cooke. y THE ROBIN I'HAT REMEMBERED. e There was trouble in Robintown, Y in the Apple Orchard country. Father n and Mother Robin were flying from tree to tree in great distress, ".nd all their friends were hurrying to s see what had happened. I knew the e secret the two had guarded s-> care fully-of the nest in the old Sweet William apple tree with its three e tiny, wide-mouthed babies. I thought r of Neighbor Browne's black cat, and left my work to hasten out and see ' what was the matter. e As I stood in the old orchard, lis t tening, I heard a faint cry from the e grass under the tree, and, after care ful search, found one of the ijaby rotins lying helpless on the ground. e I suppose it must have fallen over a the edge of the nest. Somehow, too, it had broken a leg, either in its fall or in its struggles after it t reached the ground. e Tenderly taking it in my hand and speaking a soothing word to Father and Mother Robin, who r cease-: their plaintive cries w:hen they saw their little one in my hands, I took the little sufferer to the house, lined a box with cotton for a resting place. and set the broken leg as well as its restlessness would allow. Such a hungry baby! It was always ready to be fed and n-ever ceased to nave too much. Would it be possible for a growing robin to overeat, I wonder? The days passed by, and Tony as I named my little charge, grew large, and he and I became the best of friends. The broken leg was Sstrong again, and beore long Tony was hopping around the room and following me from place to place about my work. But I knew I must I not keep my little pet a prisoner. So one sunshiny morning I opened the window and let him Icok out upon the beautiful free world. -He turned his head from side to Sside, studying the strange, new'. Scountry; but soon he heard the hap p~y notes of other birds not far away, and, giving me a brigh'. look from -the corner of his eyc, away he flew -to freedom. But every morning 1 Tony appeared at my window for~ his breakfast, and often he w'ould a come into the tree in front of the house and sing me one of his most [ joyous songs. If I went to the door and called "Tony!" he would give ;a quick, short cry and stretch out a his woundeli leg, now entirely w7ell, in a peculiar way, seeming to re 2 mind me of the accident which had y brought us together. i When autumn came and the rob ins flocked together, ready to escape the cold by flying south, I expected - to say good-bye to my little friend ,forever. I often wondered where s he spent the snowy days and if he - ever thought of me. Imagine my surprise, then, one bright spring I morning, to hear outside my window t that peculiar call which I knew only Tony would make. ,I hastened to the door, and, sure i enough, there 'as my liatle friend. r The spots on his breast had given 3 place to an even red, and the mate that he had brought with him told me that he was now a full-grown ,robin, ready to face the responsibili ties of life. What his mate thought of such unusual proceedings I would like to know, but Tony had not for gotten, and had come to tell me their happy secret, "Mrs. Tony and -I are looking for a nice, shady plaee in Robin Town to make our home -this- summer." SI am .sur'e they found it, but 1 wonder whether Tony ever told his childrn of strange adventures, "when I was a boy," in the giant's eastle. and how the giantess proved a kind friend and helper in his need. ~ -Alice B. Fletcher, in the Congre TYLER'S GIANT. Tr ier was three years old. He had a giant, Bad Habit. And the giant made him obey and do what was wrong. Mother anC Tyler went down to the old farm to spend the summer with Grandmother Tyler. One afternoon they all thought Tyler was taking his nap. Pretty soon grandma tiptoed to the porch and beckoned to the family who were sit ting there. -There on the end of the couch in the sitting-room sat Tyler, with the pudding dish between h.-s krnees, eat i::g the custard which had been made for supper. Mother was ashamed. But gr'andm~other said, "Hush: Wit!" When supper was finished, a ndmiother said. "Louise. would you like some custard for dessert?" And Louise said, "Yes, please, grand moher." But grandmother said, vey sadly, 'You can't have any, Lonnie Tvier's big giant went into DEPARTMENT. the pantry and ate our custard all All the other grown people around the table also asked for their share of the custard, one after another; but they couldn't have any, because Tylr' s big giant had eaten it. Oh. but Tyler was ashamed! Truly. he was. It was dreadful to have a giant that ate up everybody else's dessert! And Tyler found out what mean things .iauts will do-if little boys let them.-Christian Ob SPELLING MOUSE. Grandfather Chase was walking in the garden -one fine day when Fred came home from school, after lie hrd bern going.there for a few "Well, dear," said grandfather, "I suppose you are getting to be a amlous scholar. You can spell al MoSt anythiuig no, cafi't you?" "Yes. sir, 'most anything!" an swered the little boy, who seemed to think that his words of two and three letters were about all there were in the world. "Well, can you spell 'rat?' asked grandfather. "Oh, yes, sir: R-a-t, rat." "Very well, indeed, my dear. Now can you spell 'mouse?' " Fred looked a little puzzled, thought it over in his mind, and then said, "No, sir, I don't believe I can spell 'mouse.' " "What, can't you spell a little bit of a mouse? You can spell a great big rat and can't spell a little mouse!" The child wrinkled his forehead and tried to guess; but, finding he couldn't, he looked up into his grandfather's face and said, "I know I can spell 'rat,' but I can't spell 'mouse:' for I guess a spelt mouse is a great deal bigger than a spelt rat."-Every Other Sunday. CANNED FLOWERS. Ethel's auntie was canning straw berries. Ethel liked to watch her, and to think how nice the berries would taste next winter, when the snow was on, the ground. She looked out of the window at the lowers, and said, "I wish we .ould can some of the flowers, auntie, and have them next winter." Auntie laughed, and said, "Go out doors, and watch the bees awhile, and then come back, and tell what you think about it." When Ethel came back, she said, "I watched the bees a long tirme. They went to the flowers to get their honey. I think that honey is canned lowers. I will remember that next winter, when I eat the honey." Primary Plans. Rachel. When Rachel stepped upon the scene, not with the customary stage ride, but with a dignity and majestic grace all her own, there was first a spell of intense astonishment and then a burst of applause. She stood still for a moment in the folds of her classic robe like an antique statue fresh from the hand of Phidias. The mere sight sent a thrill through the audience; her face a long oval, her forehead, shado.wed by black, wavy hair, not high but broad and strong; under her dark arched eyebrows a pair of wondrous eyes that glowed and blazed in their deep sockots like two black suns; a finely chiselled nose with open, quivering nostrils; above an energetic chin a mouth se vere in its lines, with slightly low ered corners, such as we may imagIne the mouth of the tragic Muse; her stature, sometimes seeming tall, sometimes little, very slender, but the attitude betraying elastic strength; a hand with fine, tapering fingers of rare beauty; the whole ap parition e.cciting in the beholder a sensation of astonishment and in Itense expectancy. - Carl Schurz, in McClure's Magazine. - Windlows of the Stage. "Monsieur Beaucaire,"' which was revived at the Lyric Theatre, is the sort ~of play which will continue re peatedly to come to life. It is known as a "romantic English comedy," with the Bath of the days of Beau Nash as the scene. The splendor of the costumes, the magnificanlce of Ithe hero and of his good lady, are such that it is not becoming to quib ble at deta ils, but there is a most per plexing detail of the scenery beyond our understanding. Act IV., accord ing to the context and the pro gramme. is laid in the pump room; but what window of that. buildirng looked immediately upon a park even in the year 1735? A royal Duke of the House of Franice is the hero. It is really too exciting a spectacle to watch in the warm weather;. the fight in Act III.. where we see Mr. Lewis Waller with cloak and sword contra munim, is :n particular more of a winter spectacle. Whether his sword play is orthodox or not does not matter; it is a line sight and the costume play of thle future, moreover, will have no such thing unless the hero scatter' his foes wit. the tricks of jiu-jitsu.--London Times. Would PunishUntruthful Advertisers William Gray, of New York, secre tary of the National Association of Retail Grocers, says he will try to ob tain the enforcement of a law against false advertising which was passed by the New York Legislature in 1898. The law forbids the disscfminatonl in advrtsemenlts of untruthful state monts r'egarding ti :value, price and methods of production of merchan ~ise offered for sale. No prosecution under the lawv was ever instituted. rh gr'ot rs' association is sadid to have obtained evidence agtainst s - erai navertisers.-Fourth Estate. DINNER TABLE TALK. We have shown a !amentable ds position of late to discuss across our dinner tables such topics as do not make for mirth and cheerfulness, and in consequence the digestive laugh is but seldom heard.-Ladies' Pictorial. MEMORY BELLS FOR LOVERS. Memory bells are toys peculiar to Japan, and are given by Japanese youths to tleir sweethearts. They are constructed of slips of glass so delicately poised that the least vibra tion sets them jingling. The mem ory bells are hung in a window, where the draft will set them in mo tion. The delicate tingling serves to remind their owner of the giver, hence the pretty fanciful name. TO MAKE A HAPPY HOME. An American writer says: "You want to help the man you marry to be fine and strong and true. Show him that you believe he has all those qualities. You will raise his own self-respect and bring him to the level you tell him he occupies. Be lieve in bim; be gentle with him; don't contradict him when, he is tired; let him think he is having his own way in his own house; feed him with w:aat he likes and laugh at his jokes. Herein lies the secret of a happy 'aome." SOUVENIR OF DEADBEATS. A framed piece of needlework, consisting of buttons sewn on a silk foundation, was recently sold by auc tion in North London. It was madei by the wife of a country parson who used to utilize in this way the but tons found In offertory bags in her husband's church. Tho peculiar collection covered a i number of years, and it was seldom, 1 indeed, that a special collection of 1 any kind was taken up without a . number of buttons being deposited, , some by mistake, but most of them purposely. WEDDING SUPERSTITIONS. The bridegroom who carries a min- I lature horseshoe in his pocket will l always be lucky. The bride who dreams of fairies on i the night before her wedding will be I thrice blessed. Never give a telegram to a bride E or bridegroom on the way to church. < It is a sure omen of evil. Marriages on board ship are con- I sidered unlucky. If you can't be married on dry land remain unwed. The finding of a spider on the wed ding gown by the bride Is considered a sure token of happiness to come Home ohat. ORIGINAL, NOT OUTRE. Very original, without being in the least outre, is a confection of white lawn. It is slightly open at the neck, trimmed wita wide, em-t broidery insertion and embroidery edged frills. The skirt has the effect of a three-tier tunic, opening over a panel of pleated lawn, each tier beingt edged with frills, the, top one being further ornamented with bands of insertion in continuation of those n the blouse bodice. V-shaped bands of insertion outline the neck, edged on the one side with a frill, which lightly drapes the shoulder. Ihe frilled sleeves are of elbow 1 ength. The neck of this dress could easily be trarasformed into a high one I by the addition of a tiny yoke of em- e roidered lawn.I To many, however, it is charming ly becoming to have the neck cuti just to the base of the neck, or a 1 rifle below. t . t PASSPORT FRANKNESS. "I wouldn't mind traveling," said 13 n art student who sailed for Europe 11 ast Saturday, "if I didn't have to b ead such an unflattering description I f myself in my passport. Somehow hose little slips of paper have the a abit of telling some very discom- e forting truths. Physical peculiari- c ties that the owner had deluded her- t self into believing were only minor a efects after all, are noted in the assports as means of positive identi ficaton. Take my mouth, for ex mple. I have always known that it a ad attained to considerable width; ~ ut it had never occurred to me that t was of extraordinary size till I aw it down in the passport, 'big outh.' I know another girl who C ad always been decidedly proud of her large, dreamy eyes-that was hat she called them-till she sa~w hem described in the passport as pop eyes.' That took some of the onceit out of her."-New York Sun. c PRETTY EYES. s The woman who wants pretty es will not have them circled with b ark lines. Nor will she have great e sacs under her eyes. The pretty C girl's eyes are never heavy in the ids. They are never laden under eath with great bags. They are ever red as to the lashes, and the c brows are never unruly. On the tl ontrary, the eyes 'f the pretty girl t are of tue shining variety, beautifully a lear, and of the kind which can open s widely and look one right in the face. h To get eyes like this e , must not si use -.ie eyes. The gi. who sews S late at -ight, the girl who rubs her r eyes, the girl who lets her lids and b lashes become neglected, this giri z cannot hope to have pretty eyes. a 't he eyebrows should not be ne- si ected. The woman who wants d nice eyc'hrows can heaL a little al- V nond oil and apply it nightly to the! ci eyes with a small brush. In this tl nanner the eyebrows can be' influ- is ned. Often they are inclined to G grow straggly. But by painting then with a brush regularly they can be trained into shai:e. h H-ETTY GREEN'S CAREER. v 'idn name-Metty Howland1 i:tg.ace-New Eedford, Mass. ji orn--NoV. 21. 1835. jf Age last birthday-Seventy. -~t Education-At Mrs. Lowell's pri vate school, Iloston. Start of fortune-Large inheri tance from her father, Edward Mott Robinson, who died 1865. Husband-Edward H. Green (died March 19, 1902). Legal residence-Bellows Falls, t. Office-No. 170 Broadway, New York City. Financial positun-Richest wo man In America, with the possible exception of Mrs. Aussell Sage, and foremost woman financier of the world. Estimated fortune-$60,000,000. Daily income-$5000. Chief property-The Chemical Na tional Bank, stock quoted at $4300 a share. Household expenses-$70 a month. Children-Edward Howland Rob nson Green, President of the Texas dlidland Railroad, and Sylvia Green, anmarried. a1RL OWES LIFE TO ATHLETICS. The value of physical training and tthletic ability in women was decis ively demonstrated in the recent San rancisco horror, when Miss Edith qllis, known among the younger so iety element of Lynn,Mass., as their best basketball player and foremost girl athlete, after suffering a wealth f hardship, survived, and attributed er 1ie to the rugged training of her arly years. . 4 Miss Ellis left Lynn to follow her >rofession as a teacher of physical ulture in the faraway Western city, and she had scarcely arrived there ;when the terrible earthquake razed .he city to the ground. The house in which she lived col apsed one minute after she had ushed from its tottering portal into :he street. She was soon caught in he mad whirl of fleeing inhabitants .nd carried whither she knew not where, fourteen miles out into the ,ountry.. Then came a long search for food .nd water, but little was forthcom ng. The suffering she endured for he next two days and nights almost elies description. She was parched with thirst and famished with hun ;er, while the only thing that pro ected her head from the elements Lt aight was a fimsy bed sheet, that he found somewhere along a trail f abandoned chattels. In a letter to her father, S. A. El is, of Cambridge, she says that her xcellent physical condition alone :ept her from death.-Boston Post. A touch of orange is considered ex remely good. Long tulle scarfs are rivalling the popular lace veils. The lingerie vest and collar are he features of some taffeta coats. The ombre plaids of which we saw ,nly a few last season will be one of. he vogues the coming season. Two or more kinds of material, ace, even embroidery most artisti ally combined appear in the latest louses. Be sure to select a round thread en for the waists you are going to mbroder. They will wear better ,nd the work will look better.. A great vogue for velvet whether i the shape of accessories like col ar, cuffs and belt or in entire cos-4 nines is predicted for fall and win Pleated tulle ruffles are even more opular than feather stoles or boas. ~lephant and smoke gray, cinnamon rown, and chestnut are the tints est liked. The soft old blues, reds and greens re particularly attractive worked in d, old-fashioned designs upon the ream ground of scrim for table and uffet covers and articles of a like Embroidered handkerchief linen ppears as yoke and collar upon a louse whose body and sleeves are of heavier quality. The embroidery preads across the lace insertion pon the front. The Dutch neck is a style that ymmends Itself especially for the ocks of young girls. The children, o, are bewitching in the low-necked ocks, and the plump little arms and ecks suffe~r nothing from exposure. Tartan plaids, by the way, are ming on fast. You see them in me of the new ties for Peter Pan aiits, in girdles and in smart little elts of silk braid, fastened with arbaric copper buckles set richly ith green, yellow and orange col' red stones.4 A Sorrow-Stricken Couple. Rarely, perhaps, has history re rded a meeting more affecting than at which is about to take place be een the ex-empress of the French nd the Emperor-King Francis Jo ph. The one has lost her throne, er husband, and, above all, her only >. The other has been tried even ore severely in the furnace of do estic affliction. The fate of his rother, MIaximilian of Mexico, the urder of the Empress Elizabeth, i the mysterious end of his only > and neir, the Crown Prince Ru oh-these are tiie blows by 'hich Francis Joseph has been suc ssively smitten. And yet "Beneathl t bludgeoning of chance, his head bloody, but unbowed."-Pall 3Ialt The women of Scotland carry evy loads on their backs in baskets, hich are strapped around their aists and over their shoulders. The money value of the coal mined4 t the world every year is more thaw ur times that of the gold mined in a e s time.