University of South Carolina Libraries
list eet th- )ne ea- ost are the iest is is ’s re » he le- is mg ade or the to of in ing same skirt the ;ed i tted ont, tarns and sqne the is ;nd )oks Ider the sup- are med itch eves ight aist vet, nes. < A YEAR FROM TO-NIGHT. V* A year from to-night. 8hall we«it here the same? I wonder and wonder. And stare at the flame That will not reply. Though I study its light, And sadly am thinking A year from to-night. A year from to-night. Ah. who ean foretell? Dut this I may count on That all will be well; The rest just as happy, The Ore just as bright. Where e’er I am dreaming A year from to-night. The world will be laughing. Nor hush a glad breath, Although a tired dreamer Re dreaming of death— A foolish young dreamer, Whose lips have grown white, May sleep ail forgotten A year from to-night* —Ethel M. Angler, in Boston Transcript. )3000099003 FLOYD GBiY'S By Keen E. Itcxford. 000330030 LOYD GRAY used to tell himself when he and Mary Dexter were childten, that some day, when he grew to be a man, he was going to marry the rosy- cheeked, bright eyed girl who al ways counted on him as her champion in all the difficulties that arose to ruffle the happiness of those child hood days. As he grew older, he used to picture to himself a pleasant home, and Mary’s face and smile made sunshine in it. The other lads seemed to recognize that in some way, he had an especial claim on Mary, and they never thought of interfering between them. Even the grown-up people, seeing how much they were together, and how little they seemed to care for other society, used to say: “It was going to be a match,” and it is not at all to be wondered at that Floyd felt confident of the future, so far as Mary was concernsd. So confident was he, indeed, that when he had grown to be the man he had thought so much of being, he did not feel it necessary to say anything to Mary about his plans, because he was not yet ready to carry them out. _ He felt sure she under stood all about them. He wanted to get some kind of a start in the world before he took upon himself the re sponsibility of home-making. A chance came for him to make this start in life in the West. He hesitated about taking advantage of it, at . rst, on Mary’s account, but all his friends told him he would be doing a very foolish thing in letting such an oppor tunity slip through his lingers. And Mary, when he came to talk with her , about it, thought very much as all the rest of them did. Bo it came about that he went away from Brantford to make his start in the world, and he went away, foolishly enough, without any definite understanding with Mary about the future. He understood how he felt about it, and what his inten tions were, and he took it for granted that she did also. And in doing this he made the same mistake that a great many other young men make. Noth ing should be taken for grlnted in love or war. Of course,they corresponded with each ©ther, but their letters were not at all love-like. Floyd Gray, was one of Riose men who find it exceedingly difficult to express themselves satis factorily on paper. He might think, haforehand, of a good many things he *vould like to say, and that he meant |o say, when he wrote his letter; but When the pen was in his hand, and Ihe paper before him, waiting for the yecord of his thoughts, his ideas Aeemed to desert him, and what he •ucceeded in writing was wholly lack ing in sentiment—a colorless trans cript of a few formal phrases that might mean anything or nothing. Therefore, it was quite natural that •he love he felt for Mary, in his heart, fcever found its way into the letters ^e wrote her. He had been in the West three J tars when a letter came to him from is mother that stunned him with the pews that Mary Dexter was soon to be married to a young doctor who. had I’ecen^y settled in Brantford. Married--Mary? It could not be! Phe knew—she must know—that he loved her—that he intended to marry her, and that he felt sure she under- etood what his intentions were, and had signified his willingness to wait for him to “get his start” in life be fore they entered into the partnership ®f matrimony. But when he came to think it over, as he did, when the ability to think aoberly came back to him after the (tanning effect of the bitter news had worn away somewhat, he saw what a great mistake he had made. How was she to know anything abont his intentions without being told of them? No matter what she might think abont them, so long as he said nothing she could not be expected to have any definite knowledge of his plans. He realized, when it was too late, the folly of “taking things for granted Mary married. She had done well, his mother wrote, in one of the letters he got from her shortly after the mar riage. By-and-bye, she wrote, that, after all, Mary had not done so well, for the young doctor had began to lead a dissipated life. He had re lapsed into habits formed before his marriage, of which no one in Brantford had any knowledge. Poor Mary! His heart went ont to her in pity, for, though he had lost her, he loved her still, A year later an irresistible longing came over him to visit his old home. And he went back to it, bronzed al most to swarthiness by Western winds aud son, and with a face so hidden by the beard he wore that his eyes were about all his old friends coaid see to recognize him by. It happened that Mary was one of the first persons he met on his arrival in Brantford. He knew her the mo ment he saw her, and yet—she was«o changed that he could hardly believe it was the Mary he had loved so long. Her face was pale and!grave. Her eyes had a look of settled trouble in them. The girl was gone, and in her place he found a woman whose life had not brought her happiness. He had hoped that the old love had died ont in his heart. He had felt snre of it, because he had accustomed him self to the thought that Mary could never be nearer to him than she was jit present. But when he met her, and felt the touch of her baud iu his own, and looked into her grave, thoughtful eyes that kindled with warmth again at sight of him, he knew that he loved her the same as of old. He told himself that it was wrong to feel like this. She was the wife of another. But the heart cares little for cold, abstract reasoning of this kind He loved her, and there was no way of evading the truth. “But I can prevent any one else from knowing it,” he said. “I don’t know that I am to blame in loving her, but I would be to blame if I let people find it out, now that matters are as they are.” He met Mary’s husband frequently at the village drug store. He under stood when he saw him why her face had such a sorrowful look in it. Young Doctor Becd was dying slowly. Con sumption had set its seal upon him Aud he was going down to his death under the influence of the demon of drink. There was not a day when ho was sober. The village druggist al lowed the poor fellow to help himself to the liquors on his shelves, and he availed himself fully of the opportun ity to deaden and stupefy the pain of his disease. Floyd could not but pity the victim of his own weaknesses. There was something winning about him. He could understand how Mary had been attracted to him. He wondered if it were not possible to save him yet, and he tried to do so, for Mary’s sake. But he was soon convinced that re clamation was out of the question. The only escape from the terrible in fluence that was over him vas through the door of death, and that door was already ajar for his entrance. Listen ing to the cough that racked the form of the dying man, Floyd realized that the end was not far off. It might come at any time. One day he saw that Reed was in au unusually wrought-up condition. He was weaker than usual. He coughed more. His nerves seemed all a quiver. Time and again, as they talked together, he pot up and went behind the oouater, and poured him self out a little glass of liquor, which, for a short ’ time, seemed to relieve the tension of his nervous condition. But the effect of the drug would speedily wear away, and another draught was soon necessary to keep down the torture of the pain withifi. Floyd wondered how a man in such a condition of physical weakness could stand the usual effect of so much iquor. The pain he felt must be powerful enough to counteract it, he thought, aud again he felt a great pity for the poor fellow, whohad*made such shipwreck of his life. By-and-bye, a terrible paroxysm of coughing seemed to aliA>st exhaust the man. When it was over, he got up, trembling in every limb, with great drops of sweat on his ghastly face, and went behind the counter for another drink. Looking at him with the pity he felt expressed in his face, Floyd. Gray saw him reach up for the bottle from which he usually drauk, but he saw, with a thrill of horror, that he took down one instead whose label told that it contained a deadly poison. He poured out some of its contents into a glass, with an unsteady hand, too keenly alive to the torture of his inward pain to notice the mistake he was making. Then it was that the moment of Floyd Gray’s terrible temptation came to him. If poor Reed drank the draught he had prepared for himself he would die. Death would come speedily. It would relieve Mary’s life of the burden it was bearing, and —she would be free! Free for him to woo aud win her! It seemed to him that it was an age that he sat there and debated with himself as to what he should do. Should he let the man drink the draught that had death in it, and thus remove the obstacle in the way of hap- draught of happiness yon might drink if it were not for him. He stands be tween you and 4II you have b' pod i tt, for years. It is in your power to choose between possession and loss— utter loss, remember, for Fate w.ll surely bring this man back from the brink of the grave to thwart yon in your desire for happiness. Fate like; to do these things. Why should yon hold yonrself guilty for the man’e death? Yon are not offering him the deadly draught. You are simply allow ing him to do as he pleases. Snrelj you are not responsible for the result. Let him driuk it—let him die! Coward! Murderer! The word* seemed to form themselves in letters of fire before Floyd Gray’s eyes. He sprang to his feet. He was at Reed’s side before he knew what he was about, almost, and he dashed aside the glass that was almost at the other’s lips. “What do you mean by that?" cried Reed, angrily. “Look at the label and you’ll know why I did it,” answered Floyd, his brain whirling dizzily. He knew, now, that all I have written down had passed through his mind in a few short seconds of time. But it had seemed an age, as I have said, and the reali zation of it came with a reaction that made him weaker than the man at his side. “I got hold of thp wrong bottle, it seems,” said Reed, frightened almost into soberness by the discovery. “You’ve saved my life, or what little there is left of it. But it wasn’t worth saving,” he added bitterly. “I be lieve I’ll go home. Somehow I don’t feel as if wanted another dram. I’m scared, I suppose.” “Let me go with you,” Floyd said, and the two men went down the street together, to Mary’s home. They parted at the gate. “I suppose I ought to thank you for what you did,” Reed said. “Ido thank yon, though I think it would have been better to have had it all over with as soon as possible.' I’ve wished I were dead many a time, but—I’m afraid to die, so I keep on living as long as I can. But I can’t keep on forever, can I?” and he laughed in a way that made Floyd shudder. “Well, good-bye, till we meet again. I you like. If I had known you years ago you might have helped me to be a better man. But it’s too late for that now.” Reed held out his thin, blood less hand, and the two men stood for a moment looking into each other’s faces. Floyd coaid meet the eyes of the other without shame or fear, and he thanked God for it. Pock«itbo«kn of Monkey Skin. The fashionable leather for pocket- books and bags is monkey skiu. A Novelty In Taffeta. A charming |novelty is the use of regular clan plaids in taffeta for shirt waists. These waists are worn with a linen color, gold studs, aud a black ribbon belt with a gold buckle. The skirt is usually of navy, black or dark- green serge. Tho Autumn Jacket. Jackets for fall wear are to be made longer than last year. Flat bands are the most appropriate trimmings for heavy goods. Costumes are made of two shades of cashmere, cloth and other heavy goods; the darker color forms the side seams and upper part of skirt. The jacket may be finished with bands of velvet or fancy goods. Tho rest is of satiu or brocade. Shirt WaUU For Little GlrU. Shirt waists are now part of every little girl’s wardrobe, and certainly they look much better ou children than they do on older women, who have the shirt waist habit to au alarm ing extent. It is a mistake to have too elaborate shirt waists for children. The prettiest are really very simple, and look best worn with a ribbon around the throat instead of a collar. rose.” Because she is able to sink into a state of inaction she does so, and thus lets herself drift toward tho saddest and most hopeless of • ts- an empty life.—Chicago Times-Herald. 350 women of Loudon popular re- The next morning Dr. Reed was dead. he heard that A year later he came to Brantford again. And he came because a letter from Mary had told him that he might. He had written her in his clnmsy, awkward fashion, a letter that made it unnecessary for her to take anything for (granted. There were none of the ■‘graces of finely worded phrases abont it, but it went straight to the heart of the matter. “I love you. I need yon. Will yon be my wife?” And she had answered: Come.” When they stood up before the man of God, and the marriage words were spoken, a thought of his awful temp tation came to him. What if he had yielded to it? But—he had not yield ed, thank God, and there was no sense of guilt to cast a shadow on the Tappiness that seemed opening out before them.—New York Ledger. piness, or should he save him from the consequences of the mistake he was making, and in doing it, put away f rom himself, forever, perhaps, the possibility of the happiness he louged for? Who knew? Reed might get well, after all. Stranger things had hap- 'pened. Now was the chance for him to make sure of the future. Let the poor fellow drink the draught, and die! It would be better for him, bet ter for Mary, better for himself. But—would it not leave upon his conscience a stain almost like that of murder? Could he afford to carry with him through life the conscious ness that it had been in his power to put back, death from this man for time, and he had made no effort to do so? But—death was a question ol 1 time, sjmply. Why not let the man meet it now? Was it any kindness to him to prolong his misery?. Then something seemed to whisper to him, Do not be deceived. The man wil not die. Fate will step in and woi& a miracle to keep yon and the woman yon love apart. Prevent him from drinking that draught, and in doing it yon dash away from your own Ups the The Gateway to Pacific Trade. Hon. Frank A. Vanderlip, Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, contributed to the Century an article entitled “Facts About the Philippines, with a Discussion of Pending Problems.” Mr. Vanderlip says: While it is true that the islands lie little ont of the direct line of ocean traffic in voyages by way of the east ern passage, there are reasons which operate strongly for a discontinuance of navigation by way of the Straits of Malacca and the China Sea to the Orient. The voyage by this course is one dreaded by all navigators at cer tain seasons of the year, when the’ Straits become the center of the worst storm disturbances known to the world, and when navigation is consequently restricted. With the opening of the Nicaragua Canal, how ever, the trade of our Atlantic ports with the Orient will take the safer and shorter route.thus provided; and in addition to this, the commerce of much of Europe which now seekA the East by the voyage through the Medi terranean, the Suez Canal, the Ihdian Ocean, and the Straits, or bylthe Cape route, will turn in the opposite direc tion. The possession of the Philip pines by a progressive comnlhreial power, if the Nicaragua Canal project should be completed, would change the coarse of ocaan navigation as it concerns a large percentage of the water-borne traffic of the world. Eu rope looks to the Nicaragua Canal and the Pacific as offering a better route to the lar-Eastern countries, and in the event of its completion the archi pelago will be the gateway to all the trade of lower China and the countriek south. Hong Kong, the great ware house where are stored and whence are distributed the products of the earth in the maritime trade of China, may, in the course of these changes, now in prospect, become scarcely mori than a distributing point for the trade of the valley of the Si-Kiang. The Phonograph a Teacher. The phonograph is now used to teach foreign languages. With each phonograph the pupils receives a text book and twenty loaded cylinders. Each lesson in the book is arranged in the form of questions and answers. The pupil,, ready to begin, puts the cylinders of the first lesson in the ma chine, the tabes to his ears, and starts the phonograph. Cycling to Church at Eighty-four. Mrs. Radle, a widow eighty-four years old,living in the eastern suburbs of the town, purchased a bicycle re cently, aud it is said that she has been making rapid progress in learning to ride. For years she has walked to North Dorr toatterd church services, but on account 01 her declining strength, she has now adopted the wheel as the easier means to get to church.—Dorr (Mich.) Record. Woman’* Work In Prague. Mme. Peskova, of Prague, was re cently decorated by the Emperor of Austria in acknowledgment of her great work among women. It is said that she is the second Austrian woman to be thus honored. She is a poet, editor and writer on educational mat ters, but her chief work has been the building in Prague of a magnificent woman’s building, which cost $200,000, and which is the centre of woman’s activities in the Austrian Empire. Here two thousand young Bohemian women are prepared each year for the University of Prague. A Stylish 1 A dress in a style which promises to be very popular in the autumn is of softest tan col^r. The short jacket, which opens in front to display a vest of white lace over pink silk, has six pieces, one placed over the other like so many little square boleros. The belt is of the lace aud silk, but a tiny basque formed by two frills of the cloth gives breadth to the top of the skirt. The skirt has the same effect as the jacket, opening iu front to show a panel of pink silk under lace and having five overskirts, the top one at ■ about the height of the knee. Tho neck is finished by a Medici collar and a soft cravat of pink and white mous seline de soie. GOMlp. Iu Maryland in 1820 women who were property owners and had no hus bands were entitled to vote. According to tho registrar-general’s latest blue book, Scotland still con tains many more women than men. Spain has only seventy-four women classed as literary writers and only seventy-eight women physicians. Mrs. L. P. Johnson, a loading busi ness woman of Idaho Falls, has been nominated for Governor by the Pro hibitionists of Idaho. ; Anywhere from 300 to journalists and authors meet once a year at some sort for a swell dinner. The Army and Navy League of At lanta, Ga., Mrs. William Y. Atkinson, President, has raised a fund to be ap plied for the relief of soldiers aud sailors and their families. It is reported that of tho eighty- four women admitted to tho St. Louis (Mo.) Insaue Asylum last year, sixty- eight were those who had been en gaged in domestic service. At ti e University of Berlin, Ger many, female students are not per mitted to wear their hair in braids down the back. The young ladies who persisted in doing so were dis missed. Miss Anna E. Mitohenor is the superintendent of tho Tuscarawas Electric Road, which is ten miles long and connects the twin cities of Uhrich- ville aud Dennison with New Phila delphia, Penn. In the five years since Yale Uni versity opened its graduate depart ment to women 170 have availed them selves of the opportunity and nine teen have taken the degree of Ph.D., for which the requirements are becom ing more stringent each year. Mrs. Henry Nash, of Slade End, Wallingford, England, has been elect ed church warden of the parish of Sot- well, Berks, for the seventh time. Mrs. Nash is an active member of the parish council, a supporter of woman suffrage aud an earnest philanthro pist. The first kindergarten school w; nr founded iu 1858 by Miss Carol Louisr Frankenberg, at Colfimbm Ohio. Ten years later, Miss Elizi- beth Peabody, of Boston, who is gen* erally regarded as the founder of the American kindergarten system, went to Germany to study the system un der Froebel. The London School Board has de cided that one of the two medical practitioners to be provisionally ap pointed for one year to examine de fective children shall be a voinan, who, as part of her duties shall be ex pected to examine such of the Board’s women applicants for teaching posts as prefer the services of one of their own sex. LETJI BE. L*t be the river! What does it avail To strut;trie with the current’s destined course? The strongest effort does but faint and fall. Skill yields, out-tired, to resistless force, The highest rock is overleapt by spray, Tho silent waters fret each bar away. Vainly the bull warl* fashioned deep and wide. Now bed contrived, new turu by cunning wrought; Steady, resistless, onward flows tho tide, Each Catherine wave with gathering purpose fraught. Till, full and free, rejoicing lu its strength. It sweeps to ocean’s mighty ar:u* at length. Let be tho river! Let the loved alone To meet tho late, uud shape the circum* stance. Wo dream tho future, fancying ail our own, What does but wait the call of time and chance; Foredoomed, the path before tho pilgrim lies, Tho sunsot lurking iu the morning skies. Let be tho river! Hall Its rippling smile. Listen to its «ong, and shiver to its sigh; Let Us chafed beauty weary hours beguile, Watch how It darkens to tho darkening sky; We cannot cloud or brighten, speed or check. Nor alter ou its way the tiniest beck. Let be the river then! Where lilies float, Aud blue forget-me-nots beside It shim mer. Take gladness in its suns’ reflected mote. And soothing from its moonlights’ dreamy glimmer: Happy if still your faltering footsteps tend Ucside its varying currents to the ondl —All the Year Round. The Graceful 8ash. Nearly all the dressy toilets this season display a sash worn at the left side, directly iu front, or in the centre fit the back. Chiffon sashes accom pany many of the chiffon-trimmed evening gowns, but the worst of these airy and graceful sashes of transparent textiles is, that after short wear, especially at the seashore, they get into a stringy condition that is any thing bnt decorative. Sashes of Swiss, organdie, aud other muslins, as well as those of sheer grass-linen, are open to the same objection. In their per fect freshness lies all the charm of such materials, and much greater care is necessary to keep these in an nnrnmpled condition than the more familiar sashes of satin moire and faille ribbon. American Engagement*. The America.! custom of a purely sentimental engagement frequently discourages all considerations of the everyday needs and conditions of life that young people must meet after marriage. Tho mention of finances is too frequently ignored. After the betrothal the young wom an finds herself an idol in the eyes of her fiance, and unless she has a firm mental equipoise and great common sense there is danger that this adula tion will turn iter head and that she will become affected and conceited. The result, if she is a weak woman, will be that all the selfishness that lies within hf r will come to the snr- iface, and that In the wedded life she will be unwilling to assume the ener getic housq vifery duties, and all probability w.ll sink into a complain ing, petulant* woman, who missing the constantly expressed adoration of her engagement days secretly blames her husband for the result. There is no doubt that a great deal of the nnha^piness of married life is a result of the selfish bathos of senti ment and sclf-adnlation into which the woman all >ws herself to sink during the engage ment. If she is naturally inclined to indolence, this tendency will be '.reatly fostered, for ehe will see her b e smoothly mapped out be fore her by another and herself de livered f .om the necessity of exertion —her en ire future painted in the at tract* vo ol: evanescent “coulenr de used Vo Hector J klyi Faililon’* Fancle*. The apron-front effect in trimming is still the correct thing. A pretty way of making black shirt waists is to cross-tuck them. Extremely large white chenille dots are seen on colored veilings. Many of the new coats have tho re- vers turned back and covered with lace. Cloth walking gowns are being ap- pliqued with ribbon in bowknot ef fects. Embroidered chiffons are being much used for veils and hat trim mings. Long sashes with lace edging are to be worn in all colors with white gowns. Cloth gowns trimmed with straps o! the same material are still stylish and pretty. Beading with ribbons run through it makes a nice trimming for gowns of wash material. Standing collars for dressy waists have a fall of silk and open in the back, aud are ornamented with lace. Waists trimmed with ribbon-velvet are pretty with steel buttons at regu lar intervals on the velvet. Expen sive waists have a yoke of contrasting color. Hats of mixed straw, prettily trimmed with loops of net and jaunty wings, and the sailor shape, with a plain black band, are mnch in favor for both bicycle and street wear. Wash silks are great favorites for children’s dressy costumes. Bine and pink, pink and green and yellow and black are pretty and effective combinations when trimmed with nar row velvet or lace. The new blouse waists have large revers, edged with narrow laee inser tion over a foundation of chiffon pn fif ing. Silk waist, veiled with chiffon oi the same color, have the waist body, basque and epaulets decorated in this manner or with baby ribbon. HUMOR OF THE DAY. Mrs. Hoyle—“There are a few leaves missing from my cook book.” Mrs. Doyle—“Your husband probably took them.’’ Jones—“Why do yon say she re minds yon of brown sugar?” Brown —“Because she’s sweet but unre fined.”—Judy. Absent-minded Professor (iu the bathtub)—“Well, well, now I have forgotten what I got in here for."— Fliegende Blaettor. Little Clarence—“Pa. what is the! difference between firmness and ob/ stinacy?” Mr. Callipers—“Merely matter of sex, my son.” “You threw a boot at your wifej “Well, sho threw her shoo at nu “Yes, but everybody knows howj woman throws.”—Chicago Record./ First Cannibal—“That mission is certainly a first-class sprint/ Second Cannibal—“Yes; he’ll ma nice quick lunch for two.’’—Fact “Reggie Littleton is such ceitedthing,” said Molly; “he me a manhater just became hoj I didn’t like him.’’—Harper’s Ho—“I would give the worl2 you.” She—“Is that all? Why, offered that mneh before the' raised prices.”—Indianapolis Jot Spawker—“Your wife acema v« fond of commanding, you to J-ihiU ai>4 the eibeat^i^hippq —“Yes, it’s her raBrg| Fun. “Does my whistling “Oh, not iu the least. hearing men whistle. P«| ( for a millinery hou.ie.”^. Citizen. “Mme. Snipper has perfected a wonderful invention.” “ wfjlitia it?” “A revolving hat; it works Cutl - gregation can sec all sidos'iof it.*’— Chicago Record. Boot Boy—“I say, Sarah, w’ofeter ho a crematorium?” Metrai||2Lu Maid—“Oh, you are an ignorid^K! Why, it’s French for a milk course.”—Punch. Mrs. Brown—“I dohelioye tliat^fe Oolong is half raspberry leaves. ” XK: B.—“Shouldn’t wonder. Sage lay vary careful man; invariably cro^H his teas.”—Boston Transcript. “Yos, sir; the alligator swallowM me, boots and all; but a dynamite csM tridge I had in my pocket exploded and blew the monster all to pieces!’** “But you ?” “Oh, I’m here!”—' Atlanta Constitution. She—“You know very well that yon had to ask me three times before I would consent to be your wife.” He —“Yes, I know, and that only goes to show that it is sometimes possible to be too persistent.”—Chicago News. Jeweler—“How was your boy pleased with the watch I sold you?” Fond Father—“Very well, sir. He isn’t ready to have it put together yet; but be patient. I’ll send him around with it in a day or two.”—Jewelers’ Weekly. “Is your partaer a man of good judgment?” asked an old friend who is in the city ou,a visit. “There,” was the unctnons answer, “is a man of infallible judgment. He never makes a move without taking my ad vice.”—Detroit Free Press. “Where is your mother, Johnnie?” “Playing golf.” “And your aunt?” “She is out on her wheel.” “And your sister?” “She is training for the football game.” “Then I’ll see your father, please.” “He can’t come down now. He is upstairs, giving the baby a bath.”—Life. Wife (at the breakfast table)—“You are without exception the most ob stinate, ill-tempered man I over saw.” Husband—“Why, my dear, what cau you mean?” Wife (breaking down)— “Just because the coffee happens to be vile for once, you declare that it is all right!”—Truth. *‘They’ve taken to embalming pet dogs .in the East,” he said. “Oh, isn’t that just too lovely!” she ex claimed. “That’s what I’ll have done to Fidc.'f “Just the thing!” he re turned, suddenly growing enthusiastic) himself. “Give him to me and I’ll have it done to-day.”—Chicago Even ing Post. Sweetheart*’ Trial* In Borneo. All the suitors for a girl’s hand in Borneo are expected to be generons in their presents to her. These present' are never returned; therefore the wil j There are more public holidays ia young lady defers as long as possible Honolulu, Hawaii, than in'any other a positive ^election of the happy m»n, city iu the world. ; :*;‘r i