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O_LQAQI0l0t0>0)0l010>0IQ IC -%y - ? ~v ?7 II Road' to Gi oS - ??o ! ? $, By DorotI 0 ! J Author of "licoryii'," ' cS ? x (ilpimulil. JOdiJ)!) J li LlPPIAO oibloio 101010 ioTotoToio ic CHAPTER 1. S Continued. The girl leaned her el bow a on the window-seat and looked out. "I'm not sure that you aren't right, after all," she said with a little laugh. "You do make me see things in such an inte/esting light. It will be rather fun. I will look out. % A&, you say, there are sure to be opportunities. Malu\der may be full of unexpected joys, for . all we know."^ Something in her tone luarrneu Miss Green. "But, my dear," she said quickly, "I wasn't proposing an exciting new game. It was hardly as 'fun' that I recommended you to try to help others? " "No, I known you wern't," said Tormentilla thoughtfully. "But you never can tell where your lightest words may fall and hlossom, can you? And I'll look out, I promise you, Greenie, that I'll look out like anything." She flung back her plait and stood looking at Miss Green with a happy, expansive grin. Her little white teeth gleamed between her red lips, and even if she was beginning to feel rather worried about the possible effect of her words, Miss Green met her gaze with affectionate pride. "Yqu know ycu really are quite a handsome girl when you laugh like v. ... . I J + f Tir i r\!/ In mar," sue murmureu wnu a mmnit in. her eye. i. "Ah, now you're talkiug," said Tormentilla gaily. CHAPTER IT. "Everyone thinks it such a sweet name," said Audrey, with modest pride. "It's in Shakespeare, you know." "It's sot at all a suitable one for you," Tormentilla said abruptly. '"Audrey was a great, lumping, thumping, country hoyden. And you?" She stared at the girl reflectively. Glowing and smiling, and as pink as rose, in a charming summer frock, Audrey sat beside her in the other corner of the wide window t seat; her little brown head leaning -. Hack against the brown.casement curtain; her little, slim/soft hand play' 'i ing with the cord. "You arn't like that Audrey," Tormentilla pursued. "She was much more like me; big and hearty-looking, you see, and quite plain; while J\IU "Ob, but you mustn't say such things. Not plain, really. You al.ways look so quaint, I think, in that charmingly unconventional dress," said Audrey pleasantly. "I said to mother only this morning, 'Dearest,' I said, 'isn't Miss Green?the young Miss Green?quaint? I do hope she will wear the same dress when she calls this afternoon,' I said, and mother said, 'Oh, yes.' Realiy, she ..did." "I shouldn t like to think that I looked quaint," Tormentilla replied hastily, with some annoyance. "I shouldn't like to think I looked anything so silly. I wear it becausp it's so comfortable?for no other reason. I like to be comfortable." Audrey's lovely blue eyes were full of admiration. "Oh, I see you have ideas," she said, "And .that's so unusual in girls, isn't it? How splendid of you to be able to live up to?to anything! I never can. I'm always hopelessly like other people, and that's so tiresome, isn't it?" "You're extremely like my sister Dolly," Tormentilla remarked, thoughtfully. She might have added that Audrey was also rather silly, but the girl was? so pretty, so charmingly dressed, so graceful and elegant, and, above all, so flattering, that her silliness was rather lost sight of. 'It was not her words, somehow, which flattered, but her eyes, her intent, enthralled, expression, her concentrated attention, the constant, diffident appeal of her smile. She took Tormentilla's empty cup, refilled it, and threaded her way back through the crowded room with a graceful dexterity which Tormentilla, who would have knocked over at. least two tables and collided with halt a dozen chairs, could not but admire and long to imitate. "It's lovely of you to say I'm like your sister," Audrey said, as she sank , into her seat. "Do try that almond cake. It's a cake I've always been going to make and never have someT + li i w lr TirAmon <\n orh f + n UUW. 1 IU1UIV CVCI J nv/uiau vu^ub ?.v< be able to cook, don't you? It is sucli a womanly accomplishment. Is youi sister Dolly like you?" "She is more UDlike me than you would believe possible for any human being," said Tormentilla sharply, "in ever7 possible way. She's lovely. There have never been two opinions about Dolly's loveliness. And she gets everything in the world by the way she looks at you, and by the helpless way she holds her hands. And she uses her advantages in the most unscrupulous way." Audrey dropped her dark lashes nn her rose-leaf cheeks. "Oh, but that's not quite nice, is ft?" she asked gently. "It's not always quite nice for other people." Tormentilla's eyes were moody with memory. "You don't think that I'm like your beautiful sister in every way?'' Audrey asked anxiously. "I don't know you yet. But you certainly take more trouble to be nice to women than Dolly does. I've noticed that." Audrey beamed again. "No one could help wanting to ne nice to you," she said softly. She shot a quick glance at Tormentilla out of the corncr of her eye, and then looked round the room. Her mother was busy with the tea-table and Mrs. Flanelle's account of a delightful new book. Miss Cotton was telling Mrs. Hays the tragedy of her k HHHHHBHHHi LLQi^'^^^IQIPtP'C'O'Q'P,^ ^ E HE ? *0 "etna Green f? o ??? ? o ;ea Dcakin, ? $2 T/<f; IFus/tiuy JZing," T.lc. J q if o jTT COMPsi iV T. A U rights reserved. ? Ii0i0i0iol6i6loi6i6ioioioio i poor Dalmatian, and Miss Green was obviously quite happy in making an interested third in their discussion. "You look," Audrey murmured wistfully, "like the kind of a girl one . can trust. Like a girl who spends her whole life in helping others?" "It's because I'm plain you think that!" Tormentilla cried fiercely. . "People always take it for granted that you have a sweet, helpful na- . ture if you aren't pretty. It isn't . lair." "No," said Audrey sadly; "I beg ! your pardon. It was your eyes. Didn't you know what speaking, sym- , pathetic eyes you have? One knows | at a glance that you will always understand. There are so few people , who understand." j Tormentilla was silent. This was not liKtJ uouy. JLTUliy I1CVC1 asftcu for sympathy; Dolly never told any- , thing she could help. And she remembered Mies Green's words, "Try ( to forget your grief in helping others." Here at the first appeal she ( was deliberately trying to escape, to turn her back upon real suffering, j Tears in a girl's eyes meant deep , suffering to poor Tormentilla from ] her own bitter experience and her deep ignorance of the world. The fact that this girl who was so like ( Dolly in looks should yet in many j ways be so utterly unlike her softened , her still more. Dolly got all she , wanted: Audrey obviously didn't. ( "You don't look so very unhappy," she said slowly, "not generally, I , mean. I should have thought you . wero the kind of person to be as happy as the day was long." ( "Don't misjudge me," Audrey murmured piteously, "because I try to , be brave before the world. Don't you , see that one has to smile sometimes j even if one's heart breaks as one , does it?" In spite of herself, Tormentilla grew interested. * "You see," said Audrey wistfully, "I can't talk to mother about it, and ! + iti pa ! ? o t? /I T olnrovo 4V%inlr nno vuat 10 du uaiu. x ainajo uiiija uuv ought to confide in one's mother before any one, but she sides with father in this almost entirely. , 'Darling,' she says, as she has always , done when we differed, 'it hurts me , more than it hurts you.' But I can't 1 quite see it in that light, can you?" "No," said Tormentilla, with warm ^ sympathy; "I should think not. It's simply silly." Her heart softened still ^ more to those misty blue eyes. Dolly's eyes were very bine. but she had never seen them through a mist of tears, and Tormentilla had a -very tender heart. "I'm afraid I shall only bore you,,: said Audrey, with a mournful sniff. "Don't cry,"' Tormentilla said hastily. "It would be so very awkward if you suddenly burst into tears here. I do wish you wouldn't cry. Couldn't we go into the garden or somewhere?" Miss Cotton's clear voice reached them across the room. "Yes," she said, "over the garden wall. A 1 sponge. A sponge soaked in gravy. My poor beautiful ate it, of course, j nrwl vnn L-nna/ ivliat Vinrmonc In vnn if you eat a sponge, Mrs. Hay?" "No," said the lady in tone of rapt interest. "I have had so little experience, 1 am afraid.". < Miss Cotton arranged her neat veil , round the violets in her toque, and ] Tormentilla watched her with fascl- . nated eyes, listening intently. "Well, it swells." Miss Cotton spoke im- ( pressively. "It swells and swells and swells, till you die at last in great ^ agony. My poor Mafeking's agony | was something that I hope you will never witness. A vile deed, Mrs. j Hay. Worse, far worse, I think, even , than the rats and plaster of Paris, and , that is bad enough." "Oh, infinitely!" said Mrs. Hay. 1 She was obviously burning with curl- , osity, but ashamed to show any J further ignorance. "Please tell us what you mean ! about the rats," Tormentilla asked ijoo-orlv Chn tjfnnnnrl oc DVIA TIFOC y ' K'uu ?3v.u^|^u ao ouv ti uo leaving the room, and only regretted that she had already missed so much of tliis exhilarating subject. "You put. it for them to eat dry." . Miss Cotton turned sharply round. . "And it makes them thirsty. And you placo a bowl of water in an accessible spot for the trusting little creatures to drink out of, and they drink and drink and drink?" "Dear me! How dreadful! Who does?" Mrs. Cogwheel was here drawn in. and the exciting conversation became general. "The rats," said Miss Cotton impressively. "And when the water gets to the plaster of Paris inside them, you can guess what happens." "No, I can't," said Tormentilla candidly. "What?" "It forms a paste and hardens. And as it hardens, the rats die in horrible tortures. It's a terribly cruel world. Mrs. Cnsrwheel. And now T ! must rally tear myself away." "Mother, dearest"?Audrey rose i from the window-seat as Miss Cotton disturbed the room?"I am going to j i show the garden to Miss?" "Tormentilla."' "Miss Tormentilla. What, a charm- , i ingly original name! I think it's so delightful to have a name that no one ' else has, isn't it. mother?"' "Most," said Mrs. Cogwheel amia- ' bly; always happy to agree with anv. thing. ! "A most musical name," said little ! Mrs. Flanelle, who had an artistic soul. "It brings all kinds of memories of the south?of Spain?of orange ; groves, of?" i "Yes," Miss C!ee broke in brightly. She was extremely well informed, ard had taken in an encyclopaedia from the very beginning. "It is a : kind of floury cake. The Spanish peasants subsist upon it almost eni tirely, I believe." "How wonderful of them!" Mr.?. Flanelle murmured. "We are so complicated and tied down by custom iD our meals, aren't we?" "A national dish like the oatmeal of the Scotch, and the potato of the Irish.'' pursued Miss Gee triumphantly. "But surely you must be speaking of the tortilla?" Miss Green ventured, without a smilr. A dark, slender girl, a Mrs. Standring. who had come in late and had been sitting in a corner almost in silence, met Miss Greens pleasant, serious gaze suddenly with a michievous smile from a pair of very beautiful dark eyes, but she made no remark. "Do you know,*' Mrs. Flanelle admitted in a troubled voice, "that I thought the tormentilla was a kind of wild, savage, beautiful dance, full of rviodnccc nn/1 nnp.trv and IJ1 y OLCJ J OtlU UiUUJUVMU MUV. r? ? southern love?" "Brought on by the bite of a dreadful spider"?Miss Cotton paused at the door to join in with joy. .That's it, of course, Mrs. Flanelle. The victim goes mad, and dances and dances and dances uiitil?well, you can imagine the end." "I can't, really." Mrs. Cogwheel said kindly. ' \ , "Ah,:' Miss Cotton sighed, -'he dances until at last in frenzy he sinks exhausted to the ground and expires. Good-by, Mrs. Cogwheel. You have so cheered me up. I haven't enjoyed anything so much since poor Mafeking died." "But the sound, the beautiful, soi orous sound, of \he name," Mrs. Flanelle'murmured. "It makes one 3ream of?oh. unutterable things." Lise Standring, still half hidden in her dark corner, spoke at last, and ^rppnip didn't like her tone when she heard it. "Of roses," she suggested shyly, "and moonlight, and love's young Jream, and Bianca among the nightingales, and Venice in a gondola, with the water rippling against the bows, and the song of the Neapolitan fishermen?'Ave Maris Stella,' isn't it? ?and passionate southern love, mys tery. madness, death?" She stopped for breath and laughed a little. Mrs. Flanelle took another piece of cake. "How you bring it all back to me!" she sighed in perfectly good faith. She gazed at the open window through which the two girls had disappeared. "Has your dist nguishedlooking niece any Spanish blood in her veins, may I ask?" "Not a drop, I'm thankful to say," Miss Green replied in some haste. "I wonder where she is, by the way? It is quite time? "Oh, leave her with Audrey a little longer," Mrs. Cogwheel implored. 'Audrey is so charmed with her. She is so delighted to know her. These fresh, spontaneous friendships between young girls are so?so?" "So unusual?" Miss Gee suggested briskly. "No?no,*' Mrs. Cogwheel sighed for some reason known only to herself. "So?so?" "So short-lived?" young ' Mrs. Standring asked in a quiet voice. "So beautiful," said Audrey's mother softly. Mrs. Flanelle turned her dreamy, dark eyes upon Miss Green. "Tell me," she said, "why your niece was christened by that stormy, suggestive, southern name? What is a tormentilla, after all?" "It's a little, insignificant weed," Miss Green replied shortly, "a little, common, English wayside, scrambling weed, without any pretentions to distinction, and, in my eyes, quite withaut beauty. It has a tiny scarlet flower, and belongs to the great potentilla family." Miss Gee scented a rival. "Then," said she. with playful forgiveness, "I was very nearly right in "he beginning?for the potentilla is the staple food of the poor Italian peasant?is it not? Italy?Spain? i trifling difference." Miss Green met Lise Standring's eyes again. "Don't tell her that she means polenta," the girl said under hei breath. "She's rather a malicious person. Don't make an enemy of her if you're new in Malinder. Malinder is full of pitfalls for the \unwary.*' She rose and shrugged her Shoulders ?Miss Green noticed how extremely tail she was, and how extraordinarily graceful for her height. She looked clown at the little gray lady with amused, puzzled eyes. Greenie was not quite a Malinder type. To be Continued. Tommy's Prayer. The Sunday school lesson had Deec on the efficacy of prayer, and the i teacher had done her best to instil into the youthful mind the belief that our prayers are answered. There was one doubting Thomas, however, who insisted that he knew better. "Why, Tommy, I am surprised to hear you say you don't believe oui prayers are answered!" expostulated the teacher. "I know they ain't," persisted Tommy doggedly. "What makes you think so?" asked the teacher. 'I don't think it; I know it," replied Tommy. "You know the angels brought a new baby to our house last week." "Yes, >' heard about it," said the -l. U"JC an LtJctL'll^l . A\uvt, suici;, tiiuv hmW *** answer to prayar, wasn't it?" "It was, nit!" replied Tommy, disgustedly, "Why, for six months I've been praying for a goat!"?Philadelphia Bulletin. Leather Horseshoes. In some parts of Australia the horse is shod with leather instead cf iron, the feet receiving better support, but this novelty is employed only in regions where the ground is permanently covered with grass or r? _ ? -1 TU* li <- 1aa4 Vtnvt oVl AO nne saiiu. i uiiugii me icaiu^i cmuc is more expensive than the iron shoe thp higher price is repaid by the superior advantages. It is not impossible the innovation will soon extend to every county where the nature of the soil permits it to be used.?British Australian. T>oforo the Russian war 1he street railway system of Tokio was Itss than one mile in length. Now the mile.ige is one hundred miles, with a revenue last year of $775,000. ^||^ Smart Frilfs New York City.?One-piece dresses are much in demand just now. They are exceedingly charming for the tiny f folk; they mean so little labor f?r the f making that the busiest mother does \ not hesitate to undertake them; they j are simple and childish and are alto- z gether to be desired. This one is s made with a prettily shaped yoke and ] Is adapted to all seasonable materials, j White lawn raakes the one illustrated, however, and the trimming is narrow c frills. If something more elaborate e were wanted, the yoke could be em- a broidered by band or cut from allover material, or the edges of the yoke and the edges of the sleeves could be scalloped. Indeed, there are various ways in which the dresB can be treated, but the simple one illustrated id admirable for everyday wear, and is pretty and attractive. The dress la cut in one piece and to seamed under the arms only. The yoke, however, is made in three pieces and with shoulder seams. The opening is cut under the box pleat at the oerttre-back and the dress is closed Invisibly, while the yoke is buttoned over jnt? place. Thw <rtrantity of material required ior me dikuiulu &iz.e uuui jccud/ io three and one-half yards twenty-four, two and three-fourth yards twentyseven, one and seven-eighth yards thirty-two or one and three-fourth yards forty-four inches wide, with th*""? yards of ruffling. Styles of Early Thirties. Old-fashioned sashes in bright colored ribbons will be worn again on the simpler lingerie dresses. Tied in f' a large butterfly bow at the centre: h back, they recall the styles of the s early thirties, when bob purls and a shoulder tippets were worn, too. This ii is another indication that the present e fashions cater primarily to the t younger set. f Work Apron?The work apron that includes generous pockets is th<< prac- v t.ical one, and this model, in addition ? i:o that advantage, is shapely and be- d coming at the same time that it is a eminently useful. In the illustration, fl it is made from an inexpensive t printed wash fabric and the edges c are piped, but linen and gingham, a chambray, and, indeed, almost any a simple: washable material is quite ap- s propriate. The straps are crossed at f the back and buttoned into place at c the shoulders. * a The Popular Sash. Sashes are seen on almost every ' fostume, whether to add the universal b touch of black or to complete the 1< color scheme. On the cuirass frocks t they are worn between hips and a knees, where the pleated skirt is b joined to the fitted bodice. Again n on frocks with a slightly high waist 1 at the back the sash is knotted quite n a few inches above the normal waist I line, and the long ends hang to the s hem of the skirt. ii New Model Sleeves. Sleeves of the new models of blouses and dresses show fulness at f the elbow. Ruffles of pleated net, t batiste, plain or lace edges, and at- a taehed to a heading of insertion, may s be bought by t lie yard and made up v into side frills for the shirtwaist or v coat suit. s Marquise Parasols. We are to use the little Chautilly lace marquise parasols, (he doll-like n affairs with which our pretty ances- o tresses used to screen their faces. b - 1 1 V ' of Fashiorr||^ | Hints on C/OlorBlue 6Uits the golden-haired girl, ind makes her hair look more beau* ,iful, but it seems to destroy all the jeauty of some gray-eyed maids, and t ie most unbecoming to those of at i ill sallow complexion. Now, gold in iome form will conceal any little yelowness of the skin, and white comng in contact with the face subdues .he ill effects of blue and preserves ts good ones. Only to the youngest ind fairest do pink and white seem udtable, and yot white is much used >y the old, and sofi white laces are Jocomlng even to grandmothers. Straight Pleated Skirt. The Bimple skirt that is so devised j in to give .the effect of a tunic is one jreatly liked this season, and this nodel obtains .the- rqsjiLL, with the east possible labor. In reality the ikirt ia a straight one, and conseluently it suits washable materials mrticularly well, yet the wide tuck at cnee depth gives a suggestion of the avorite tunic and is essentially imart. Embroidered muslin is the naterial illustrated, but the skirt will ie found available for the foulards ind pongees and for all the thin matfrials of the season. It would be j avely made from marquisette or from otton voile; it makes an excellent aodel for foulard and all the muslins .re just as well adapted to it as the j lie Illustrated. The skirt is made in one piece. It an be finished at the lower edge ither with a hem or an under-facing nd the tuck is laid on indicated lines. The quantity of material required or the medium size is eight and onealf yards twenty-four or twentyeven, seven yards thirty-two, or five nd five-eighth yards forty-four aches wide. Width of shirt at lower dge is four and one-eighth yards, or wo yards when pleats are pressed lat. Semi-Princess^ Dreps?To bo made /ith .three-quarter or long sleeves. I lerai-princesse gowns are much in I iemand and are always pretty and ! ttractive. This one includes a novel at bertha and sleeves that are among he newest and prettiest. Flowered irgandie is the material ilustrated, I nr\ it is trimmed with lace bandlnfi ! nd made with yoke of net, but every easonable material that can be made ull is appropriate, and the list iuludes silks and light weight wools s well as cottons. Tricot doth Corsets. The desire of worsen for comforta- ! le corsets, even though they are Dng, has brought about the use of ricot cloth in their making. This is little stronger than the elastic webiing, which wag not firm enough to laintain the figure in its proper lines. Tiis new cloth is easy over the body, ot pressing it. down as coutll does, f one's hips cannot stand the presure of boues, gusset of the webbing 3 inserted. J i Frock Adornment. Ornaments, tassels, balls and ringe, echoing crystal and bead efects, play a part in evening frock dornment, and draperies on the wing leeve order, the points often finished fith tassels, often mitigate tho seerity of the line in close-fitting j leeves. j i Coarse Net Cloth. Heavy Jinen is used with coarse J et, cloth and silk, while linen crash j ften serves as a foundation for om- ) roidered jokes, guimpes aud vests. MMMIMal ?rz Ufei; 055^1 EM "E Fire will completely consume pure . Kugar, but will leave an asii if the .sugar be adulterated. The correct technical term for the fluid in a storage battery, which is i often called acid, is electrolyte. This fluid is a mixtnre of four and a half parts by volume of distilled water to one part of pare concentrated sulphuric acid. Should it become necessary to replace St on account of loss by spilling or leakage,the strength above indicated should be used, but evaporation loss should be made up with a more dilute acid, consisting of ten parts of water to one of pure concentrated sulphuric acid. A French inventor has produced a ; substitute for cotton made^from wood pulp, and samples were exhibited at the recent meeting of the National Association of Cotton Manufacturers by Joseph Hope, of Rouen, France. Cloth woven from the fibre is said to stand bleaching, dyeing and finish^ ing as well as cotton and to have a more brilliant lustre. Old fashioned sandpaper was made with selected sand?hence the name. What is known as sandpaper now is 411 maut witii cru&iieu gra&B aiiu jo really much better than the old time product. Old bottles, etc., are first crushed and then ground, and the various grades of fineness are secured i by sifting. To get the powder on the [ paper hot glue is applied as it passes j through a machine and the powdered glass is sifted on at the same time. Then a wooden roller passes over the sheet and presses down and smooths the sand. An important paper on oils used for switches and transformers was recently read at the Manchester session of the Institute of Electrical Engineers. It was pointed out that very ! little attention has beeii paid to the quality of .the oil used in this way, and that any impurity in the oil would rednce its resistance to a flow of electric current, also that the specific resistance at different temperatures varies -with the grade of the oil. Careful investigation of this subject was urged with a view to obtaining oils of standard resistance values.? Scientific American. The collection of fresh-water sponges of the U. S. National Museum is now being critically examined by Dr. Nelson Annandale,sSuperintendent of the Indian Museum in Calcutta, who is an accepted authority on this subject. Under the title of "Description of a New Species of Spongilla from China," there has just been issued paper No. 1737 of the Proceedings of the U. S. National Museum. In this publication Dr. Annandale describee as new Spongilla (Stratospongilla) sinensis, which appears to be allied to Spongilla aspinosa Potts, from which, however, it differs in its compact structure and lack of flesh spicules. This specimen was found on rocks in the canal in southern Kiang Su, near Shanghai, China. The type is in the collection of the U. S. National Museum.?Scientific American. MUCH TRAVELED HOBO. Circled the Globe Five Times and j Has Picked Up Many Languages. Frank C. Welch, of Pittsburg and , the rest of the world, has just arrived ! in the City of Mexico over the Na- i tional Railway from Laredo, having ! ridden the distance on every portion j of the train except the car seats, and | meeting with some discouraging de- j lays on the road. Mr. Welch, known j to hobodom as "Penn," left San Luis | Potosi in a car of imported corn. At the tender age of eleven years J Mr. Welch, now twenty-seven years j old, had a difference of opinion with j his father which resulted in his leav- | ing home. With a boy companion j they started for Boston, intending to j sell newspapers enough to pay their 1 passage to England. At New York j City they changed plans, for financial j reasons, the companion abandoned i the trip, and Welch, having exhausted | his nerve and resources, was weepipg , on the docks when a seafaring man.j hove to. This person happened to f have a tramp steamer of his own, and ! he adopted Welch for a four years' j voyage. When the boy got home he was so thoroughly saturated with the idea of traveling that he has been at i'. ever since. Five trips around the world and to every continent of it, | and eleven trips across the United , States, besides numerous zigzags into j various corners, have been included in his sixteen years' wanderings. He i has kept a record of his tramps and > has gathered a smattering of various foreign tongues, besides a geograp'n- , ical vocabulary that is rather astonishing. He claims 540,000 miles of travel, making an average of 110 miles a day, since he first left home. | He has not willingly stayed in one place more than ten days, and he claims to have been under arrest only twice in all the time.?Mexican 1 Herald. i ITis Ruling Passion. Secretary of Agriculture Wilson in an address at Washington said of farming: "The successful farmer loves his work. Every detail of it interests him. Thus 'fcruire Plowlands proved himself a poor theologian, but a good tarmer when he met, one Sunday morning, his tenant, Hedge. " 'Where have you been, Hodge?' said the squire. " 'I've t'oen to church, sir,' Hodge replied. ' 'What was the sermon about, Hodge?' " "It was something about Joseph going down to Egyp. to buy corn, squire.' "The 'squire brightened. " 'Did the parsou say what corn is orth down there?' he asked."?New 1'oik World. V I-'TTjjp" ^ EMOTION. In each pure rose of art?earth's richedt dower? Lives an emotion moulded to a flower; s In every soul that wins through valorous strife Trembles emotion moulded to a life. ?Richard Watson Gilder, in The Atlantic. : PITH AND POINT, "A foo! and his money are soon: parted." "Yes, but you never call himi a fool till the money is gone."?Cleveland Leader. Belle?"Oh, if the Lord had only: made me a man!" Nelle?"Perhaps He has, dear, but you haven't found" him vet!"?Cleveland Leader. "See here, did you tell Von Clabber I was the worst liar you ever met?" "Not much, old chap L I told" , him you were the best."?Judge. Howard ? "Bridget, did my wife come in a few minutes ago?" Bridget?"No, sir. That's the parrot yo?hear a-hoilerin'."?Harper's Bazar, "This play is epicv," so he said, As to his seat he roves. And she made answer: "On that bead I'm with you, I smell cloves." ?Town Topics. "Was your husband kind to yon during your illness?" "Koind? Ah, indade, mum! Moike was more loikea neighbor thon a husband."?Life. "What monogram would you like on your stationery, madam?" "Why, I don't know; but the one that is > most in fashion, of course."?Buffalo Express. The Loafer ? "Alas! my Bhl|>doesn't come in." The Real Man-~ "Then get a move on and help sons? other fellow unload his." ? Boston Transcript. "Mother, may I go study bridge?" "Yes. my darling Mabel. Learn all the rules you can by heart, But don't go near the table." ?Harper's Weekly. "Some of de smartest men," said Uncle Eben, " 'pears to use up deir smartness in makin' mistakes dat nobody else could have tho^'ht of."? Washington Star. Gwendolyn ? "Do you know that Softhead actually asked me last night whether I could not learn to lovehim?" Violetta?"Why shouldn't he? One is never too old to learn."??Judge. Miss Gabby?"Lsura says she camevery near refusing Freddy last spring." Miss Gnshy?"Did she say why?" vMiss Gabby?"I guess it warbecause he didn't ask her."?Baltimore American. "Do you believe," asked the lawyer,, "you could decide this case purely on the evidence?" "Yes," replied the prospective juror, "I think I could, if the defendant would return the silver watch he stole from me one time."?1 Chicago Record-Herald. "John, I understand that you havebeen saying mean things about me to your acquaintances." "Why,dearest!; Everybody knows that isn't so! Why, I tell everybody that it is you that have made me what I am." "That's what I mean."?Houston Post. "That speaker always starts off,"said Farmer Corntossel, "by tellin'" what the country needs." "Naturally and properly."' "I s'pose so. Only I notice that when a man goes out of his way to tell me what I need it's always somethin* in his particular lineo' goods."?Washington Star. Ingenious Artist?"I have invented a scheme for insuring the authenticity of my pictures. You see, I put my name on the face of the canvasbefore I commence painting. 'If at any future time there should arise any doubts of the genuineness, I have written instructions on the backs of the pictures to the.effect that if thepaint be thoroughly removed by pumice-stone the true artist's name will appear."?Punch. The Habit of Saving. " "Whatever objection, real or fancied, there may be to the postal savings bank scheme, now enacted into law, whoever may reap the greatest benefits from the deposits?the Government, selfish private interests or the depositors themselves?the simple fact remains that the n ;w Institution will tend to promote thrift among men, women, boys and girls of limited means. The habit of saving, once formed, becomes ineradicable. It is as hard to get rid of the habit of smoking. It preserves self-respect. It is a great economic, intellectual and even moral for the> individual and for so ciety. There is no reason why the habit of saving should degenerate into a miserly, niggardly, mean hamt. Iago is never cited as an author"?: on ethics, but he had a clear and level head. And when he implored Roderigo, the Veuetian gentleman, to forget his futile and unrequited passion for Desdemona and to "put money in thy purse," to "fill thy purse with money," to "make all the money thou canst," he was giving him the best possible advice under the circumstances. If Iago had been a member of the present Congress, 'he would surely have voted for President Taft'a savings plan.?Boston Globe. A Wot Harvest Relic. A curious token has just been lound at Barton, inscribed "Tunsten and Happing, 1312. One Halfpenny. Payable at the Corporation House." This was the year of the wet harvest. the worst ever Known, it rameu incessantly all September, October and during most of November, and on November 29 farmers were carting: barley, a sharp wind frost prevailing. Wheat was sixty shillings a coomb, and so bad was it in quality that dough made from the flour resembled slime. Every Monday morning the overseers and church wardens met at the parish churches to devise means to provide employment and relieve the starving poor.?London Standard. The German Emperor has seventynve titles and the King of Spain fortytwc.