.v I: THE ARTFUL unis. H. ‘9” BY FREDERICK PALMER i‘rclessor Hilsdrup tugged at the ' but rope for the second tfmc, and glared more savagely than eve) at the beiutiful thing in crispy bromi and yellow lying between two sp1.;;s 01' parsley. Such a frOWn when aimed at such an omelet was unworthy of any air-minded man. All of Mrs Hodg- scn’s omelets were wonderful, and this was one of her best. When he had taken Mir. Hodgson’s dicwing—room floor, with a sitting- room looking out on a delightful little garden and the bare walls of the Brit- izh Museum, some three 1;- nths be- fore, just as the Winter was breaking. and settled down to wed; on his “Isaac Newton and His Compeers," such an omglet had come up in the com- pany of a well-loaded fruit-stand for his first breakfast. As he pushed his chair back from the plate with on! ' a faint trace of yellow left on it, he de- termined to have that omelet’s coun- terpart every morning. He had it, and . enjoyed it with a leisurely taste that enriches life for a man of fifty-four, until a friend, who introduced him to mutton-pie luncheons in the British Museum restaurant, assured him that eggs were the making of biliousness. In truth, between mutton-pies and hard work, the professor’s stomach was quite out of order. “Good morning, professor!” It was Mrs. Hodgson herself who had entered. “Don’t you know,"he growled, “that I am of a bilious temperament, and omelets are not good for me?” “One of my omelets?” she asked doubtfuily. She had never seen the professor in such a mood before. She was at once indignant and chagrined. “All omelets are alike, madam!” “Mine are no better than anybody else’s?" “Madam,” continued the professor in a cold, hard voice, “I told Harriet last night that I most especially wanted a mutton chop for breakfast.” “Then—I ate it!” “You ate it!” “Yes—I didn’t know. Harriet didn’t :say anything to me about it. I sup- posed you would have an omelet, as .you always had.” . “Always! Always! For threemonths! It’s a wonder that I have anything in .my body except a liver!”He tried to annihilate the omelet with one glance .and Mrs. Hodgson with another. “When I saw only one chop in the larder," said Mrs. Hodgson, her nat- ural snap and dignity returning, “I supposed it was for me, of course, as I usually have a mutton chop for break- fas .” “Ah! lets.” “You don’t eat your own manu- scripts!” she replied with asperity. "If you will wait only a few minutes I will send out for a chop,” she added more pleasantly. You don’t eat your own ome- . ._... .......- .. .... *4... 0 “Nof” said 'the professor, sitting down at the table with the air of a martyr. “No. I am a busy man, Mrs. Hodgson. I will eat this now that it is here And, Mrs. Hodgson, I wish you would not arrange my papers on my desk any more. Don’t touch my desk. You can throw away anything you find on the floor.” “But, sir, you showed me how to ar- range them when you first came, and you said I did it so nicely and saved you a lot of trouble.” This was too much. The professor felt that his dignity was at stake. “Mrs. Hodgson,” he thundered, “I shall leave when my week is up!” She tossed her head and said, "Very well," with aggravating sweetness. The professor settled down to his ' breakfast muttering something about “impudent woman,” Once out in the hall Mrs. Hodgson stamped her foot and exclaimed, “The old £001!” That omelet tasted uncommonly well, as if to tantalize him. He ate, it all, even to the last fragment, which tan- talize-d him still further. Then he went over to his desk to write. His pen, his paper, his notebook were where Mrs. Hodgson had placed them, which was just where they ought to be. This also was most tantalizing. Yet he found himself a few moments later car- rying his overcoat down stairs on his arm as usual, and harboring a faint notion that he ought to forgive Mrs. Hodgson. She was pruning the flowers on the stand in the hall, and Harriet was near her, receiving some orders. "Mrs. Hodgson, would you—ah?” he asked politely. “Harriet,” said Mrs. Hodgson, as she continued to snip off dead leaves, “help the gentleman on with his over- coat." He was rudely awakened next morn- ing by Harriet, who was sweeping and dusting in his sitting-room. Hereto- A Mrs. Hodgson had made it a point to attend to this herself, doing it so quiet- ly that the professor was never dis- turbed. However, he had his chop for breakfast and everything else, even to the overcoat lying on the chair where he had thrown it the night before, was as he had ordered. ' After ransacking the drawers of his desk and pawing over the disordered papers on top of it in a vain search for his notebook, which contained the fruits of three months’ researches, he was anything but reassured by a hazy recollection of having nodded over it and having carelessly laid it on the chair at his side. This had happened before; but he had always found the notebook on his desk in the morning. “Did you see a book on the floor?” he cried to Harriet, when she had an— swered the fierce ringing of the bell. “You—you said hanything on the floor”— “Find it! Find it!” he thundered. The professor paced up and down with anger in his heart against Mrs. ‘tleman was coming in an hour. . an n 1. Y .1 N o a w‘ A i. r. Hodgson and her omelets, until there was a soft knockat the door, which he recognized as. Mrs. Hodgson’s. He pre- sumed she had come to apologize for what she would doubtless call an “un- fortunate accident.” He would let her know in plain terms that hers was the worst conducted house in London. “Your book, professor,” she said, holding it out to him. "Though Har- riet had found it on the floor, I picked it out of the rubbish, thinking I could do no harm, any way.” “Er—ah! Thank you.” ' “And I have let the mom for Satur- day,” she went on in a voice which he thought was assumed to annoy him. “Er—ah! Very well.” ,His friend observed that the Museum mutton pie on that date was especially good. The professor ate of it heartily, but was soon feeling so badly that he concluded to devote the remainder of the afternoon to sear hing for rooms. After climbing the stairs of seven dif- ferent houses, he began to speculate upon how in the world landladies were able to let such miserable, ill‘kept apartments to anybody. At one place, in a moment of absent-mindedness, he actually asked if the cook could make good omelets. When the landlady said “Yes,” he told her abruptly that he wouldn’t think of taking her room‘s. Weary and croSs, he returned to his rooms. In the morning noisy Harriet robbed him of his sleep, and he went into his sitting-room to face a .' chop and a disordered desk again.- On Saturday morning when he went. out to his chop and disordered desk, two strange trunks in the corner of the Sitting-room reminded him that he had not engaged another lodging. Mrs. Hodgson came in. She hoped that his luggage was packed, as the other gent The professor did not reply. Twice he lift-r ed his cup of tea and set it down with- out drinking. “Then I may take it that you are ready?” she asked. “No. As a matter of fact, I’ve been ’so busy that I haven’t had time to 7 he house. i come. ‘ sibly inconsistent with the dignity of l‘ i _ ' ‘ ' '1! . Don t dare to come back WlthOLt it' j the author of “Isaac Newton and His look about much for a place. If you have a small room that I could have only for a week, it W0111d”~—ll€ spoke with great ixserve—“be in the nature —ah—of an accommodation.” It happened by mere chance,” as Mrs. Hodgson was careful to explain, that this was possible. Harriet! was sent to help him carry up his belong- ings. When the wreckage left by the wayside had been collected and every- thing he possessed was piled helter- skelter in the little room on the third floor, the professor concluded that he would make no attempt to put things right for so short a stay. He heard a cab drive j131p in front of The ,new lodger must “have Prompted by a curiosity pos- Compeers,” he went to the window. He stepped back in surprise. None . N‘ellie’s Cottqge Home. Words by WILLIAM H. UKERS. A ndam‘e .mf kiss that dis-taut shore, landthat's lost to me, see her fan-cy free, to ture I love well - mem - brance bit - pic - ter ten '- der lit - tie to .- ses and the mem - ry's all that's Hal - low‘d in re - mem - ber’d moon - light sweet TOEJW. C. !. Far 2.Mem' - ties Music by DAVID WALLACE. be - yond the shin - ing waves that of a hap - py time and 3. To dream the old dreams once a - gain and by the glo - ry far a. side the dreams, walks this my as be - like I’ll find whet - e'er , I - Way I of ‘the days that are no more The vio-lets and the pan - sies and the dreamin sb th ' The love-light in her bon - nie eyes, her g y 6 sea, kiss-es all for me, That The For roam, sea - waves’ foam, roam, 1‘ - gar - den spot, m sweet per - fume - I Nel - left ' to me of Nel - el‘ - Iie:s cot - tage home. he s cot - tage home; he’s cot - tage home; 1 other than his mutton-pie friend was ito be his success: in the drawing- room floor. His misery was increased the following morning when he saw Harriet taking one of Mrs. Ho-dgson’s works of art into the one who had sworn that omelets were the enemies of mankind. . He now fairly hated chops, and con- descended to ask Harriet for an ome- let for breakfast. She brought him one—of her own making. He was on the point of telling her of something that was not to be spoken of lightly, but he sighed instead. A work of art i was not to be expected from Harriet. He did not go to the Museum, and strategetically contrived to avoid a meeting with the base interloper all the week. But once. he had a very narrow escape. He had to wait at the head of the stairs while he saw Mrs. Hodgson help the interloper on with his overcoat—convincing proof that a man who ate mutton pies would stop at nothing. Though he became the terror of the landladies of Bloomsbury, Saturday found him with- strange trunks in his disordered little room, and still with no apartment engaged. It also found him meek as well as mis- erable. .He went down stairs and knocked I On the door of Mrs. Hodgson’s little I room on the ground floor. There was no answer. Harriet came up from the kitchen to say that missus was making the other gentleman’s omelet. She opened the door and offered him a chair. He waited in vexation, longing for revenge, longing to show up the mutton-pie interloper, who secretly ordered omelets, in his true colors. Finally, Mrs. Hodgson entered, flush-ed with the successful outcome of a work of art. “Really, Mrs. Hodgson,” said the professor, affably, “I have been so busy, and to get a room requires a deal of looking about, doesn’t it?” - She did not say whether it did or not. “If it would not be too much troutle —wrou'ld you accommodate me again?” “I haven’t a room left.” “I’m—I’m sorry.” “There are the hotels, professor.” “Mrs. Hodgson—Mrs. Hodgson!” he burst out tragically, vill you not go on making omelets for me forever?” After a littleblushlng and parrying, she said that sin: would, and put the seal on her acceptance by immediately giving the base interloper a Week‘s notice—The Sketch. l | t I I i I HIS DOWNFALL. l He used tn be a. “ladies man," I Babbling and gay: 1 He wore his hair in bangs and had i A winning way— ] He used to be a “ladies‘ man." But things are run on another plan 'l‘o-dny! - Now he's just. a woman‘s man. ‘ Silent and meek; His wife says men are fools, and he’s Afraid to squeak: She’s big and strong and runs affairs And sits upon him if he dares Cleveland Loader. . \ 'l‘n sneak l Gen - tie Nel - lie. fond heart Nel - lie, Nei Eekzurrm OUGHT TO BE AN EASY TASK. 1‘0 Keep Sober Elva Years in Order}. Gain 84,500,000. One glass of whiskey drunk any time during five years by a dissipated young man whose bibulous habits were known the country over would have cost New York a magnificent sub- urb. , The young man was George Cracker, son of the California millionaire rail— road‘ owner. He was such a star drunkard that his father tied up the millions that” would have come to George Crocker in a trust instructed to keep them for fifteen years and then give them to George Crocker’s broth- ers and sisters unless the young man braced up and kept sober for five years. If George kept sober for that period at any time during the fifteen years he was to have his share of the estate, a matter of $4,000,000, and an- other half-million that had been set aside by old Charles CrOcker during his lifetime as an inducement for his son to be good. Ordinarily it would be too absurd for conception that New York should care whether a young Californian got drunk or not, but in this particular struggle between virtue and inebriety the great metropolis’s interest was material andintimate. If George Cracker on his cow ranch near Promontory, Utah, whither he re- treated to better withstand the assault of the drink devil, had been tempted by a glass of ’Mormon tanglefoot, red paint, cofiin varnish, or any of the other alluring forms in which the evil spirit masquerades in Utah, he would never have received the fortune that has enabled him to buy the tract of - land at Hunt’s Point, Westchester, which he proposes making the most aristocratic suburb of New York. He paid nearly $700,000 for the land, and he is going to cover it with mag- nificant residences for sale or rent to those who can afiord to live in million- aire style. It was never a sure thing until he claimed his inheritance and a Califor- nia judicial decision pronounced that his five years of sobriety was real, valid and genuine, that George Crock- er would earn his fortune. It was in 1888 that the alternative of half a de- cade of sobriety and all this money was presented to him as a substitute for his life of hilarity with only the couple of millions left him by his mother, and he did not accept the al- ternative until the latter end of 1891—- September 22 was the exact date of this famous swear-ofE.-—New York Journal. serving on‘the Instalrnent Plan. Preacher—My man, how long are you in for? .- Boozer (seiwi'ng sixty “days for the fortieth time)~Well, boss, dis is de way of it. If I keeps on as I have been, I’m doin' a life sentence on de instalment plan. f With eyes as blue as the heart 7 I'll ne’er find a. love like No] - lie's, no of June, and hair of gol - A TEMPTING‘QFFER. ‘2 ‘ Frederick Hawkins Refused 360,000,000 7 for a. Patent on Stool-Making. It is not every day that a. man gets the chance to refuse an offer of $60,- 000,000 for a patent, but such has been the good fortune of Frederick Haw« kins, of Detroit. He has invented a. process of steel manufacture by which the cost of production is lowered from about $15 a. ton to $8, with the ad- ditional advantage that the steel pro- duced by the Hawkins process is bet- ter, more easily welded to iron and can be made in one-third the time taken by other methods. . How Mr. Hawkins produces his re- sults is a secret known only to his financial backers, R. S. and ’R. L. Greenlee, wealthy Chicago iron men, and to T. E. Lappange, an engineer from London. Mr. Hawkins’ process is what is known as the “open hearth" furnace method, in which gas is used as fuel. The Hawkins furnace is . capable ‘of maintaining a maximum heat of 4,800 degrees for twenty-four hours, against 2,800 in other furnaces. The intense heat is blown upon the mass of iron from the top instead of the bottom, and so there is, no waste, The Greenlee brothers are practical iron men, and the mere fact that they are interested with the inventor has led capitalists to make the gigantic of- fer of $60,000,000. If Mr. Hawkins can do as he says he will drive all com- petitors out of the field, for they will be utterly unable to compete with him or his process. The offer of $60,- 000,000 is said to have been made by a syndicate of which the Illinois Steel Company is the nucleus. The Struggle of the Negro. The history of the American negro; eays W. E. B. Du Rats in the Atlantic, s the history of strife,—this longing ) attain self-conscious manhood, to erge his double self into a better and .ier self. In this merging he wishes :ither of the older selves to be lost. 0. does not wish to Africanize Amer- ‘-., for 1‘ merica has too much to teach J world and Africa; he does not .sh to bleach his Negro blood in a cd of white Americanism, for he be- -':v‘.'es——foolishly, perhaps, but fervent- —that Negro blood has yet a mes- ::-:;e for the world. He simply wishes make it possible for a man tr' " 1h a negro and an American wits ng cursed and spit upon by his} ...vs, without losing the opporti . . self—development. ‘ ‘ip'nri-Ssive Silence. l‘he little girl was a member of a rge and noisy family. She was vis- ng the house of a neighbor one day; ere the absence of children and per« «.1. quietness‘of the house impressed :r. “Mrs. ,Blank,” she exclaimed at st. “is it always-as quiet here? I' .u t see," drawing a long breath," r‘nu’t see how you can breathe."-- Times. 31 ' ways true’ou-co.anon-connooooooc! den hue;......... '— \ mat ~ ter w re '1 I There is no spot on ' I \ earth fl mll. so dear as Ncl - lie’s cot - tagc 115$ ................ I roam, ....... . ........ . ...... . h /
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