The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 07, 1907, Image 7
Jfcl -1 O I
THE RETURN.
Oe sought (he old scenes with eager feet?
The scenes he had known as a bov;
*Oh, for a draught of those fountains
sweet,
And a taste of that vanished joy.*
He roamed the fields, he mused by the
He threaded the paths and lanes;
On the hills he souglit his vputhful dreams,
In the woods to forget his pains.
t)h, sad, sad hills; oh, cold, cold hearth!
In sorrow he learned thy truthOne
may go back to the place of his birthHe
can not go back to his youth.
?John Burroughs.
1^3333 3555 5555 =$15535335
I De Mortuis. I
"_2_" ~
V. H. FRIEDLAENDE3. % \
He sat down at Emily's desk to go
through her papers. Now that the
house was sold, the servants dismissed,
and he himself back in bachelor
quarters, there was no excuse for
putting the thing off. And if Emily
had known a month ago, he could
not help thinking as he opened the
drawers, that she was to be killed
in a railway accident, she could
hardly have made his task easier.
Neat little bundles, tied up with pink
f tape and clearly labeled, proclaimed
her various activities. "Mothers'
Union," "Soup Kitchen," "SundaySchool,"
"Book Club"?how the
names recalled Emily herself. A
owift pang of compunction seized
him. Was it possible, then, that
after only a month her image was
fading from his mind? He continued
absently to empty drawers and
pigeonholes. More neat packages,
half a dozen unanswered letters and
a few notebooks?that was all
..... Yes, undoubtedly Emily
was already becoming to him something
shadowy and vague. How was
it? Rather guiltily he tried to avoid
the unexplored deeps of his mind,
but the moment of self-revelation
wa3 no longer to be postponed. He
had been shocked, unnerved, horrified
by the sudden tragedy; but underneath
all that could he deny the
existence of a shameful undercurrent
of feeling, a persistent, ever growing
joy in freedom regained? And yet,
what a good wife she had been; how
practical, careful of his Interests, unexacting.
In a thousand ways, large
and small, he would be the loser. A
good wife, but?-yes, that was surely
it?she had never conquered, never
even entered the kingdom of his
mind. And where she had never entered
could she ever be missed?
Once in that kingdom there had
had dwelt indeed a woman, but she
was not Emily.
He turned with an impatient sigh.
In the doorway stood Alison.
Of course, it was a dream, but he
was conscious of a certain admiration
of himself as dreamer. He had
remembered to make her look older
?oh, quite five years older.
"Poor Mark!" she said softly.
. 'He started. Then it was not a
dream.
"I have only just heard," she exnlfttnA/1
/rAn^ltp "TITASrA ? n f ATT? r*
^lamcu gcuiij. >? ^ c uccu iix wvnu
for a day or two, and Mrs. Heriotson
has just tokl me about?Emily. I
asked her for your address, and came
straight on." She held out her hands
In eager sympathy. He felt her fingers
cold beneath her gloves. Quite
naturally he unbuttoned and <irew
1' them off, as though they had never
parted in bitter silence more than
five years ago.
"You must get warm," he said,
gently, and led her to the fire.
"Do you think," Alison asked,
tremulously, "that ? she suffered
much?"
He shook his head. "Not at all;
the doctors said it must have been
Instantaneous."
Alison nodded in swift relief. "Ah,
I'm glad. But?oh, it's hard to realize!
We were just the same age,
and twenty-four is so young to die,
and we used to be?to see so much
v of each other."
Why had she stopped short of the
word "friends," he wondered.
"And to die like that!" she murmured.
He thought he could guess what
she meant. "There was nothing?
QOthing " he began. He wanted
to explain that death had spared
Emily the last indignity of being
rgVolting in its form, but he could
find no words.
She nodded in swift comprehension.
"Yes, yes, I know what you
mean. It would have been awful?
that."
He looked up with a grateful thrill.
Emily had never understood a halffinished
sentence.
iuu were guing tnrougn ner papers?"
Alison asked, glancing at the
open desk.
"Yes."
She leaned forward with sudden
eagerness. "What is that?"
"Which?"
She rose and picked up one of the
notebooks. "Ah, it is!" she said,
and begar to turn the pages.
"Alison!"
She looked up in quick defiance.
"It's my own," she said.
"Your own?"
"Yes; my diary that I lost five and
O V?olf ''
u uaii j criiio agu.
The bewilderment in his face was
not to be mistaken.
"You didn't take it?" she asked,
slowly.
"I? Alison, you cannot seriously
think I did that?"
She was silent, but they read the
same thought in each other's eves.
"Then it must have been " He
stopped. Why say what was obvious!
And Alison's gesture was eloquent.
Emily was dead.
She frowned thoughtfully. "Then
you haven't known, Mark, all these
years, what was in. my diary?"
He shook his head.
She looked at him in grave wonder.
"Then what made you change to
me?"
He bit his lip. Did she think that
five years could heal such wounds.
"Have you forgotten?" he asked.
"I never knew," she said, steadily.
"I saw that you grew cold. I knew
you had ceased to love me. Could
the reason why have comforted me?"
"I thought you must have guessed,"
he murmured.
"Oh, I guessed and guessed. And
I decided that you had considered
v?>, si#.. .
%
yourself entitled to read my
diary "
"Alison!"
"And to be offended by its contents.
But that, you say, was a
wrong guess."
"Yes."
"Then "
"Alison, did you never freat mo
iu ujv ittue us Liiuugu juu imea me?
when you were alone?and behini
my back make fun of me, caricature
me, criticise jny clothes, my walk,
my way of speaking and laughing?"
He spoke with quiet bitterness.
She nodded emphatically. "Often.
Most of it's in the diary."
"I?heard."
"You heard?" Her look was questioning.
"I think you ought to t.ell
me something, if only one thing, that
you heard."
He was silent.
"It's only fair," she urged.
He looked up desperately. "Well,
didn't you, for instance, say that I
reminded you of Matthew Arnold's
definition of the Athanasian Creed?
'Learned science, with a strong dash
of temper'?"
She laughed a little. "I'd forgotten,
but I do believe I did." She
turned the leaves of the diary rapid
ly. res, nere it is: luarcn .10?
Emily resumed cross-examination.
Wanted to know if I didn't consider
his scientific learning colossal, unparalleled,
etc. Quoted Arnold on
the Athanasian Creed to her. Shock
satisfactory.' "
He was looking at her with startled
eyes. "The date," he breathed;
"what date did you say?"
She referred to the diary. "March
18."
"But?that was before we were
engaged."
"Oh, yes."
"But?Emily "
"Ah, I sometimes thought '
Their eyes met. "Don't!" she said
breathlessly. "I see, I see."
He began to see, too.
4<T ItorA olwflvo wnnrloro/1 " cTin
X uu ?uiTiujg ?i wuuvt vv?f w**v
mused, "why you didn't understand,
even if you had read every word of
the diary. I felt so sure you would
see it was all in self-defense. Could
a girl bear to let people think she
cared for a man before he had spoken?
There were girls who did it"?
her momentary hesitation revealed
to him as clearly as words that Emily
had been one of them, and he reddened?"but?but
that only sent me
flying to the other extreme. When
people tried to?to pump me about
you. I said anything?laughed,
mocked, mimicked, caricatured?in
sheer terror lest any one should discover
how much I cared."
He nodded. "I never knew," he
said slowly. "I was told?I thought
all the things that came to my ears
I were said by you after we were engaged."
"Morlrf" eVifl eoi/1 onH hor rnipo
quivered.
He was walking restlessly up and
down. "Our insane pride!" he
groaned. "If only we had spoken?
aBked questions!"
"Yes," she agreed tremulously;
and through both their minds passed
a flash of wonder that Emily could
have proved so good a judge of character,
should have calculated on just
that proud silence with which they
had met catastrophe. And yet?she
must have been in some doubt, or
why had she removed Allison's only
proof, the diary?
Suddenly Alison arose. "I must
go, Mark. I acted on a sudden impulse
in coming, and my impulses
are always wrong." Her smile was
very sad.
"Not this one." he ursed. easerlv.
"Alison, not this one! You are in
town? I shall see you again?"
She answered his unspoken
Jhought. "Ah, Mark, has life led
you to expect such mirades?"
"Alison!" he implored, "you'll forgive
me?some day?"
"Forgive?" She turned away with
a sigh. "It would have been hard,
wouldn't it," she mused, "if I had
married five years ago?"
He caught his breath. "Allison!
You didn't?"
She shook her head. "No, I didn't;
that would have been only hard."
She turned toward the door. "Really,
I must go, or I shall mis3 the train."
His voice was heavy with disappointment.
"Then you aren't on a
visit in town?"
She stood still. "A visit in town?"
she echoed, and her lips were white.
"Oh, no." Suddenly she swayed toward
him. "Help me, Mark," she
breathed piteously.
He bent and kissed her hands.
"My dear! My sweet!" He stopped
with a hoarse cry. "Alison, you said
you " He pointed to one of her
hands.
"It was five years ago," she gasped.
"Oh, Mark, if it had been, I think?
I could have forgiven her."
His eyes questioned her passionately.
With a little cry she released
her hands and stumbled to the door.
"Don't go, Alison," he implored.
She shook her head. "I must.
rinn't Vrtli unrlnrcfonrl *>" CVio
for an instant. "Didn't I tell you it
wasn't a visit?" Her voice broke.
"Mark! Mark! Don't look at me!
There are no miracles! It's a honeymoon."?The
Sketch.
Money in Frogs1 Legs.
Thanks to the perseverance of a
number of prospecting youngsters,
residents of Haddington and Overbrook
may now have daily suppers of
choice frogs' legs. A veritable mine
of frogs was discovered a week ago
by members of a juvenile baseball
team who were playing near Sixtythird
and Market streets. A fly ball
was knocked iuto a ditch, and the
fielders who chased it found fully
two dozen frogs holding a convention
on the shore of the little stream. The
game was stopped and the boys got
busy in the ditch with their bats.
More than half a hundred frogs were
captured in the first raid. They
were made ready for the market by
the youngsters, who had little trouble
in selling them at fifty cents a dozen.
Sinre the disnovprv tho hnva have
been prospecting daily, and hundreds
o? frogs have been gathered in during
the last few days. Unfortunately
for the discoverers, the news has
spread, and now the frog fields have
been invaded by so many youngsters
that the price has been cut down.?
Philadelphia Record.
Gateway Thr<
5?^** 'i ^
k>'tiil&2rl ft' * ." V, ^'".t\V'*W' < "' '_ & ?. ?MS> yj^-'.' ' ??*<#.
"-Ox
- *\t';.,-*'i';'.": ' ? \JjF' -. ' " > '
". $ * * .?
>?:- ?\ 'r^al^'''"'''^s*~"'-'
THE PORTAL OF THE SIMPLOIS
Attachment For Brooms.
In the illustration below is shown
a dustpan attachment for brooms,
such as is used in sweeping the floors
Df dwellings, the invention of a California
man. It can readily be applied
to any ordinary broom and operated
to enable the dirt to be swepl
into the pan conveniently and without
necessitating the sweeper tc
stoop closely over the dustpan dur
ing the operation.
The attachment connecting the
dustpan with the broom is made ol
wire bent to form a clasp to the
broom handle. Between this clasi
and the dustpan are two wire rods
the dustpan being pivoted on the ends
of the rods. The dustpan is made o
sheet metal in the form of a box, hav
ing an opening at one side, and th<
bottom constructed with a projecting
!? . 1 "** "
Dustpan on the Broom.
lid to catch the dust. In sweeplni
the attachment is securely hel<
against the broom, the bottom of th<
dustpan being held against the sid?
of the broom and the broom used ii
the ordinary manner. When the dir
being swept up is collected at sonn
point the broom is turned around, s<
as to enable the dustpan to descent
to the floor in such a way as shown ii
the illustration. The mouth of th;
dustpan is then disposed toward th<
broom and on the opposite side o
the dirt, :ch is then swept into th<
dustpan.?Philadelphia Record.
Both in the United Kingdom and ii
the United States alcoholic bever
ages contribute more than a fourtl
3f the total receipts to the Treasury.
A/roI/ao fit
lnan^o ill
V:>/ ^ -l. "
^ I ^ ' '
WONDERFUL "GRAB" MACHINE
YORK'S BARGE CANAL?BUI
400 FEET LONG, AND
DIRT DIPPER SUSF
Self-Measuring Bottle.
A novelty, which at first glance appears
freakish, but which nevertheU
' 1 ) ?- L .1
(ill iPEii j
Measures the Dose.
less could be used to good advantage
is the self-measuring bottle showi
* -'Y '
ough the Alps. j
v* >: -/,V. ^v: ' ' .
: I] - ' }
; - - *
f TUNNEL ON THE ITALIAN SIDE
.Two Necessities in One.
i A New Jersey man has conceived
, the excellent idea o! combining a
> shQe horn and a shoe buttoner. In
stead of having two separate imple
ments?a shoe horn and a shoe but
toner?these two Indispensable ne:
cessitlss are combined in one. Aa
; WJ "";
II V
I
0
LOMR ? JULI.""J
Shoe Horn and Buttoner.
shown in the illustration,, one-half
comprises the shoe horn and the other
half the shoe buttoner?one part
not interfering with the use of the
other.?Washington Star.
i Duke of Braganza, Crown Prince ol
Portugal.
e Dirt ji ly.
EMPLOYED IN EXCAVATING NEW
[LT LMKE A BRIDGE-TRUSS,
WEIGHING 380 TONS?
'ENDED IN CENTRE.
here, the invention of a Rhode Island
. man. Its usefulness will be apparent
. at once. This dose-dispensing bottle
has an inner partition, which is made
integral with the bottle and extends
part way across the interior. In the
partition is a recess for holding an
ordinary dose of medicine. Naturally,
by inverting the bottle, the contents
will flow to the top through the
opening between the partition and the
side of the bottle. When the bottle
is again righted to its proper position
me rect'ssiiu puiuuuii win icuiu uuc
amount of the required close, the balance
dropping to the bottom of the
bottle. Upon removing the cork and
tilting the bottle only the liquid in
the partition will flow out.?Washington
Star.
A Missionary to the Kurds.
Dr. Jesse Malik Yonan, of Urmiav
Persia, who is now on a visit to the
ttm!4 a/1 C7fnf/\n a at11t
UIIJICU giaica, io LIIC UUIJ vjiitiouau
physician' among the fanatical Kurds
. of Northwestern Persia, where he is
, doing medical mission work at his
1 own charges.?Christian Herald.
Middle Names Are
Few Men In Country's Ei
A Sort of Hero Wctrsl
Tn o 15 + tlo rtnmn?nr nf Vftiinc 1
a few nights ago the question of
middle names came up, and inquiry
showed that five out of six of those
present had middle names. One said
he once dropped his, but took ft up
again at the request of his father.
Another said he never told anybody
what his middle name was, and three
admitted that they regarded theirs
as a nuisance. Then they wondered
when middle names originated and
what good they were anyhow.
Every person must have remarked
the current fad of writing out the
middle name in full. This fashion
sprang up only a few years ago, and
has Tbeen much affected by some people.
Until it became the vogue, a
person with a middle name would
nave oee? laugnea ai lor Tricing it
out in full, but fashion justifies
sverything. Some people, desirous
to be differentiated from the common
herd oven divide their names in the
middle?as G. Washington Sykes,
W. Shakespeare Boggsor T. Jefferson
Jones. This shows that the owner
knows how to wear a middle name
without being tripped up by it, as a
militia officer sometimes is by his
iword.
Middle Names More Common Now.
\
But the question recurs when did
middle names become so popular and
what good are tbey? There is reason
to believe they are far more common
dow than they were a few generations
ago. In a list published in The News
i few days ago of pensioners of the
Revolutionary War who died in Iniiana,
out of 810, there were only
twelve with a middle name or initial.
Any one company that served in the
War of the Rebellion would show
more double names than this, and
any page in the city directory would
show two or three times as many.
Benjamin Harrison had no middle
name, but the company which he
raised and commanded as captain be
fore he became colonel contained
fifty-five officers and privates with
middle names?nearly five times as
many as there were among the 810
Revolutionary pensioners who once
iived in Indiana.
History seems to show that middle
names were not common during the
Revolutionary period nor for some
time after. Few of the prominent
soldiers or statesmen of that period
had double names. Of generals there
were George Washington, Anthony
Wayne, Henry Knox, Arthur St.
Clair, Francis Marion, John Sullivan,
Nathaniel Greene, Artemus Ward, Israel
Putnam, Rufus Putnam?each
having but one name. The same was
true of nearly all the commissioned
officers in the Revolutionary army.
Presidents Without Middle Names.
Of the thirteen presidents of the
Continental Congress, between 1775
and 1788, not one had a middle
name.
Of the fifty-five signers of the Declaration
of Independence only three
had middle names. The bold signature
of John Hancock would not be
as effective if he had had a middle
initial, and that of Benjamin Franklin
appears more dignified without
one.
Among the 350 delegates to the
Continental Congress, from 1774 to
1788, only twenty-five had middle
names.
In the first Congress under the conofifnUnn
holrJ in 1789. Out of fiftV
nine Representatives only five had
middle names. One of these, a member
from South Carolina, bore the
singular name of John Baptist Ashe.
Another, elected first Speaker of the
House, was Frederick Augustus Conrad
Muhlenberg, of Pennsylvania. A
third was John Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg,
also from Pennsylvania.
Both of these men, by the way, were
preachers, both quit the pulpit to
enter the Revolutionary army, and
both achieved distinction as soldier3
and statesmen. Their father, also a
clergyman, was of German birth, and
they got their middle names from
/Miafom in flArm?nV.
IiiC {Jicraiuug au ??? .
Few Among Early Statesmen.
Of our eight Presidents from 1789
to 1840, only one had a middle name,
and of the fifty-three persons who
served as Cabinet officers under the
five administrations of Washington,
Man.
A man's life is full of crosses and
temptations.
He comes into this world without
his consent, and goes out against his
will, and the trip between the two is
exceedingly rocky. The rule of the
contraries is one of the impcrtant
features of the trip.
When he is little, the big girls
kiss him; but when he is growi:., the
little girls kiss him.
If he is poor, he is a bad manager;
if he is rich, he is dishonest.
If he needs credit, he can't get it;
if he's out of politics, you can't place
him, and he's no good for his country.
If he doesn't give to charity, he Is
a stingy cuss; if he does, it is for
show.
If he is actively religious, he is a
hypocrite; if he takes no interest in
religion, he is a hardened sinner.
If he shows affection, he is a soft
specimen; if he seems to care for
no one, he is cold-blooded.
If he dies young, there was a great
future ahead of him; if he lives to
an old age, he has missed his calling.
The road is rocky, but man loves
to travel it.?Life.
No Fake, This.
Sir. Cocklin. walking in thick
grass near the Marico River, Bechuaualand,
was thrown to the ground
by a fourteen-foot python, which
coiled around his legs and then tried
to drag him to a tree near by, so
that, by coiling its tail around the
trunk it might proceed to crush him
to death. When within two yards of
the tree Mr. Cocklin got a hand free
and shot the snake, which was so
heavy it needed three men to lift it.
?East London DiSD?.tch.
: ' '..V ~ ' * > " v; *
\ \
a Recent Fashion |
irly History Had Them?
(lin.
Adams and Jefferson, only two Had ;
middle names. John Quincy Adams,
elected in 1824, was the> first President
with a middle^ name,, and Wil- 1
liam Henry Harrison, elected in-1840,
was the second. The names of early
statesmen like Alexander Hamilton,
Thomas Jefferson-, Edmund Randolph,
Albert Gallatin and others of
that period, sound better without a i
middle name. Andrew Jackson, Abraham
Lincoln, William McKInley
and Theodore Roosevelt belong to a i
later period, but they? too, were fortunate
in not having been loaded
down with a middle name that might
have proved an incumbrance.
So it seems quite clear that middle
names were far less common in
this country during the Revolutionary <
period and; for many years afterward
than they are naw. So they were
in England. Up to comparatively recent
times few of the great names in
English literature or history were (
double, and it Is fair to assume that
they were no more common abong
common people than they were
among the celebrated. Such names
as .William Shakespeare, Oliver
Cromwell, John Milton, Isaac Newton,
Francis Bacon, William Wadsworth,
Charles Dickens, Robert
Browning,. John Bunyan, Thomas
Carlyle, Daniel Defoe, William Pitt ;
and many others of renown, would !
be handicapped in history by a mid- I .
die name or initial. ?
What Does the Change Signify?
Abraham Lincoln has been dead; a
little over forty years, and some of
his namesakes are in evidence* as
witness Abraham Lincoln Brick, of
this State. We have also George
Washington Cromer, and the present
Congress contains George Washington
Taylor, of Alabama; George
Washington Prince an* George
Washington Smith, of Illinois; James
Monroe Miller, of Kansas; Benjamin
Franklin Howell, of Now Jersey, and
Andrew Jackson Barchfleld, of Pennsylvania.
There has not been a Congress in
the last fifty years that did not contain
one or more members, sometimes
several, named after soldiers
or statesmen of the Revolutionary
period. Both armies during the Civil
War contained hundreds of soldiers
bearing names of the Revolutionary
period.
There is nothing discreditable In
the kind of hero worship that leads
parents to name a child after a great
man whom they greatly admire,
though it sometimes happens that the
son, when he grows up, would prefer
a different name. Napoleon Bonaparte
Taylor, formerly an honored
lawyer and judge of this city, and a
very r?odest man, used to regret the
name his parents had given him, and
Andrew Jackson Barchfleld, a member
of the present Congress from
Pennsylvania, is a red-hot Republican.
But a large majority of middle
names are given as a sort of annex
or make-weight to the first name to
preserve family names and traditions.
This also is a commendable
motive, but why have middle names
at all? From a practical point of
view they are superfluous, and that
makes it all the stranger \vhy they
1 should have come into such general
use in this practical, utilitarian and'
commercial age when the tendency is
to shorten words and eliminate superfluities.
Many a man who has had to write
his name several hundred times a
day has regretted the necessity of
lifting his pen to write and dot the
initial letter of a middle name. Prob
ably one reason why middle names
have become so much more common
in modern times than they once were,
is that for centuries the common law
assumed ths.t the full legal name of
a person consisted of one Christian
name and surname. No legal importance
attached to a middle name, and
if a person had one it was not a misnomer,
in legal parlance, to omit it
in an indictment or pleading.
This is no longer the rule of the
law, but it was for a long time, and
during that period middle names
were almost unknown. Their general
use in this country is of comparatively
modern growth.?Indianapolis
News.
Slang.
In a paper contributed to Putnam's
Monthly recently Herbert Paul, an
Englishman, deplores the decadence
of the English language. He thinks
he may be forgiven a passing qualm
when he finds such a phrase as
"queering the pitch" in the leading
columns of a great newspaper which
"used to be a fountain of classical
English." He is not so "futile and 1
pedantic as to wage war against
slang. But its proper place is surel> '>
private conversation." t
Is it? We ourselves are moved to i
record a passing qualm. Only the i
other day in a household where the <
Lares and Penates were shipped di- .
rect from the Athens of America, we
overnearci a conversation Detween a
nice old lady and the ten-year-old
daughter of a Radcliffe graduate. It
bore somewhat remotely upon the
virtues of thrift, and so we cannot
be quite sure whether the old lady's
manifest bewilderment arose from
the irrelevance or the phraseology et
the child's impulsive avowal, "I'm
going to plant all my dough in a
bike."?Life. '
Impediment in His Hearing.
A small boy who lives near Bean
Lake was fishing, and his mother
had to call him five times to make
him hear. Finally she landed on (
mm, auu, suaiuiig nmi in a. leniuiimanner,
wanted to know why he did
not answer. This was his reply: "J
didn't hear you the first three times,
and the last time I had a bite."?Argonaut.
(
The average American church
member gives fifty-four cents to for- j
eign missions. The record is held by.
the United Presbyterians, wiio giva l
I 51.77 a menh - I
?
' ' ; v; .7 .- a - J
S 'I
Steel Knives CTeaned.
Steel bladed knives robbed with
mutton suet before l&yine them awav
will not rust. Mutton suet hardens,
but beef does not, so, be careful about
this.
Shirt Waist Holder.
Fasten two tapes on the corset at
the waist line, one on each side.
Have a good sized eyelet made on the
3hirt waist at the waist line in the
middle of the back. After the waist
is on pull the tape through the eyelet,
Beparate, and tie around the waist
uiider the large hook on the coraet
Newspapers as Fuel.
In the spring and fall when you
want just a llttte heat, or in an
emergency when you must make a
cup of coffBe and cook an egg?get
your newspapers together, and make
"knots" by folding them lengthwise,
and twisting them and tying them.
You will' be surprised at the amount
of heat generated. %
Old Skirts Renewed.
If you have an old last season's 'v.^f
3kirt which has lost its freshness buy
some contrasting material and put it
twe>? bias folds on the skirt. Make
a inmnDn wolct onH Half nf eomo
gpods as folds and you will have a
pretty suit to wear with ^hite waists
011 cool days. When re<w .varm leave
off jumper and wear skirt and belt
with a white waist.
To Shrink Wash Goods. ,
All washable fab.rics should always .
undergo a thorough shrinking before
they are cut. This is ab; ?cely necessary,
as a first laundering would bo
likely to reduce the dress of which
the material was not shrunk beforehand
to such dimensions that it
would be unfit for further uso. To
shrink wash fabrics they should be
immersed in hot water a?id hung up
to dry without wringing them.
When the materials are partly dry,
they^ are carefully pressed under a
cloth to prevent their becoming.
glossy on one side.
Washing Soda.
The kitchen should never be without
concentrated lye and washing
soda. The lye ought to be used once
a week to. clear away the grease col-v
lected on the inside of the waste pipe
of the sink. Dissolve the lye in boil- ' , ^
ing water and pour down the pipe
while it is very hot. Washing soda
may also be used for the same purpose,
as well as for cleaning pots and
kettles. Fill your utensils with hot
water, and set over the fire, with a
tablespoonful of soda. It is well to
boil out the coffee pot occasionally
with this same solution.
Luncheon Lore.
Women have still a great deal to
iearn in the matter of economy, in
food. They crowd the tearooms and r&jjg
"quick lunch" restaurants, and spend
in the aggregate an enormous amount
of money, in the majorit" of cases
for food that neither nourishes nor
satisfies them.
business women in particular ana
brain workers especially among them
ought to know food values and plan
their meals accordingly. They havt
not yet discovered that lettuce is /'$g
twice as cooling as ice cream, and
that mince-pie is not a dish for early
summer. v
It is not necessary to emulate the steak,
fried potatoes and coffee of
the average man. In fact, such a "
diet would disagree with most persons
if partaken of to any great extent.
A thin soup is usually twice as palatable
as a thick one, and is nearly
in some cases quite as nourishing.
Tnis, witn a sanawicn or some coia
meat, lettuce or water cress, and,
perhaps, a simple sweet?not pastry?makes
a satisfactory midday
meal.
Where this is the principal meal of
the day, more may be partaken of, _?s
but, especially in summer, all rich
and heavy "made dishes" should be
avoided, and plenty of fresh vegetables
should be eaten.
Swiss Eggs.?Four eggs well beaten,
one-half cup cheese, one pint
milk, salt and pepper. Bake untilset
and well browned.
Cress and Cucumber Salad.?Wash
and chill watercress and add one cucumber
pared, chilled and cut in
lice; serve with French dressing.
Sweet Apple Custard Pie.?Two
well beaten eggs, one cup grated
sweet apple, one pint sweet milk, two
large spoonfuls of sugar, a little salt
and flavor.
Oyster Toast.?Chop a dozen fat
! >,'* ? A
oysiers, season wuu peppei auu oaji,
add a trace of nutmeg, melt a lump
of butter in the chafing dish, add the
oyster meat. Beat up the yolks of
two eggs with a gill of sweet cream,
stir it in the dish until the egg is firm
and serve on buttered toast.
Cheap Fruit Cake.?Two eggs,
three-fourths cup of sugar, one-half
cup of butter, one-half cup of mo
lasses mixed witn a good one-nan
teaspoonful of soda, two cups flour,
one cup of chopped raisins, a little
clove and cinnamon. Will keep a
long time and improves with age.
Egg Cookies.?One cup of sugar,
two eggs, one-half cup of butter, one
half cup of. sour cream (sour milk
cau be used) with half a teaspoonful
oi soda dissolved in it; stir these together,
not beating the eggs. Add
enough flour to roll out as soft as
they can be cut. Half a cup of co?
coanut can be added with the flour it
desired.
J