WEEKLY
1 .
JAORWALk - GAZET
[11E
FINDING THE PATH.
Dusk. was beginning to fall, and an '
I looked round over the long level 0; 1 every well dressed woman. A smart
marsh land that surrounded us an:
saw no sign of any of our party I fell 3
the first thrill of a not unpleasant uni
easiness. I glanced at my companion
She was walking quite contentedly by
my side, apparently Secure in the as-
sumption that I knew my way.
Suddenly she turned to me.
“What a queer place this would be ta .
get lost in," she said.
I think the serious possibility oi
such a thing had not occurred to her
at all. She threw out the 'remar-li
merely as a contribution to a flagging
conversation.
“Yes,” I said.
afraid, are you?”
“Oh, no; not at all! Of course yor
know the way, and that makes all the
difference.”
“Of course it does,” I answered v5.3.“
'a glimmering sense of shame.
We walked on silently for annil:”'
rive minutes, and then Miss I“il...'.“
stopped and listened, leaning fCl‘V.’.~‘..
slightly with her hair blowing ale-3.:
her face.
“Is that the sea?” she asked.
“It must be the sea,” I said, af‘.::‘ :
show of hard listening.
“But it shouldn’t be there," she said
“Why not?” I answered rather icy,
bly, in order to gain' time. "It alr.'-.;r;~
has been there I suppose.”
"Don’t be foolish,” she said. “You.
know what I mean. We must have g2:
on-the wrong path. Mr. Thirlmerc.’
she cried, “how could you have hem
so careless?”
“My dear Miss Pascoe,” I said, “ii
.I have made a mistake, I am very sor-
ry.”
“And you said all along that you
knew the way,” she pouted, trying to
shoot condemnation from her eyes at
me, in the darkness.
“You see," I said, “I got my direc-
tions from your brother—from Jim——
and he’s often so very inaccurate, isn’t
he?"
“Absurdly inaccurate," she admitted.
“If I’d known you were relying upon
Jim, I wouldn’t have come at all."
“And then I should have missed the
most delightful walk I ever had.”
She turned away from me a little,
with a petulant movement of the
shoulders that pleased me mightily.
“I wish we had Jim here,” she said
with pretty fierceness.
“I don’t," I said.
“Then perhaps you’ll be good enough.
to find the right path. We can’t stay
here.”
“There don’t seem to be any con-
veniences for camping out,” I said.
“Will you stay here for a moment
while I explore to the right? I may
get up to my knees in the marsh. You
will be safer here.” ‘
“Don’t be long, will you?" she said.
“Oh, no!” I said cheerfully. “I shall
find the path in no time.”
I started off, carefully exploring the
ground before me with my stick as I
went. There was no sign of a path,
and I began to be seriously alarmed
for Miss Pascoe’s comfort. On consid-
eration I came to the conclusion that
“But you’re no!
Lhad made rather an ass of myself.
Another hundred yards, and still n0':
path. I paused and looked back. I
could see a slight, dark figure moving - _’
toward me very caiefully and slowly.
“Is that you ?" I said.
Miss Pascoe answered,—
“Yes. I’d rather come with you if
you don’t mind. When you left me
I felt so lonely that I was almost
‘ “l am more sorry than I can tell
afraid.”
you,” I said, “to have got you into such
an awkward fix. Pick your way very
carefully. Ah!” She had stepped
with one foot into a patch of wet moss.
“Take my hand,” I said. “It is quite
firm where I am standing. Will you
ever forgive me for this?” She took my
outstretched hand, and I guided her to
safety. But because the danger might
be renewed at any moment I still re—
tained my hold of her slim fingers,
andwe went forward together in that
pleasant, companionable way.
“Don’t talk to me about forgiveness
until you have found the path and,
made restitution,” she said. I saw the
gleam of her eyes and the oval shadow
of her face, and all at once I realized
that there was only one thing I could
do at that precise moment in my life.
I. stooped down and kissed her.
“Forgive me if you can," I said, for
I love you. I suppose now I have
trespassed beyond all hope?"
For a moment she was quite still,
and I cursed myself for such blind
precipitation by the circumstances,
and the time and place had all forced
me to this inevitable result. 7
“You think,” she said, after this
pause,‘ “that you may as well pile up
all your offenses at once and be for-
given or condemned on all counts at
one time?" '
“Precisely," I said.
in, your hands."
“I will forgive you,” she said very
sweetly, “when you have found the
path.” '
“It's a bargain then,” I said.
I took a step forward and brought
my foot sharply , against something
white that stood a few inches above
the ground.
“Why," I cried, bending to examine
it, “this must be the broken post that
Jim told me to look out for. What a
“I am entirely
close observer your brother is? This
is the path that leads straight for
home." .
"You knew it all the time,”- she said,
reproachfully. _
“No," I said. “I assure you that I
had no idea of it. We shall be in just
as the rescue party is preparing to set
out."
my hands.
ness,” I said. .,
And she forgave rue—Black and
mm..- ...
I turned to her and held out
“I claim your forgive-
. .-. -..___........ ._...-.._. .,————-.__..
A Useful Coat.
A light weight jacket is indispensable
for early spring and summer, and one
should be included in the wardrobe of
little coat is in cadet blue cloth, with
the collar and revers braided all over
with black. The front is double breast-
ed and fastens invisibly with books, the
left front being trimmed with large ob.
long buttons, while the edges are sev:
eral times machine stitched. On eith-
er hip a slit is cut for the insertion of
a pocket.
The neck is finished with a roll-over
collar which. forms small revers in
front. The small coat sleeve is finished
with three rows of machine stitching
at the wrist.
i
3 Handsome Princes-e Gowns.
The graceful lines of some of the new
princesse dresses are certainly most ex-
quisite. Drap d’etes, Henriettes, and
some of the finer grades of cloth, are
now the most used for these gowns, and
one modelof fawn gray drap d'ete is cut
to cling rather closely to the figure on
the front and sides, the front of the
bodice so slashed that very often more
of the handsome guimpe beneath shows
than the drap d’ete, the guimpe being
made of Persian brocade in a medley
of soft, beautiful colors. On each side
of the skirt front, the seam is opened
and turned back, showing a V—shaped
insertion of the Persian brocade. On
a black drap d'ete, with guimpe of
black moire, these inserted paniers in
the skirt are omitted, but an old feat-
ure of the gown is a long scarf-like
length of black net, heavily jetted,
which goes over the shoulders and falls
to the very hem of the skirt. The close-
fitting coat sleeves have a tiny moire
puff at the top overlaid with jetted
lace straps, and at the wrist they are
finished with a falling frill of pleated
chiffon, with a ruffle of the lace above.
A Queer Fish.
In the Pacific Ocean among the isl-
ands of Santa Barbara and in the lakes
ll of California there is a queer fish
‘ which spends a lazy life, floating on the
surface. for the most part of the time'
and basking in the sunshine, with part
of his body out .of the water. It is
called the molamoia by the natives,
and the “mole" or “moon" fish by the
whites. . Unlike other fishes, it has no
tail in the proper sense of the word,
only a kind of fringe acting as a kind
of rudder. It is sometimes over ten
feet across the fins, and round as a
bladder. Strange to say, it serves as a
floating island for Large numbers of sea
birds, especially gulls and cormorants,
to rest upon and preen their plumage.
When chased, the indolent moon fish
dives like a duck, to re-appear further
off. Nevertheless, it would be easily
caught it the flesh were good to eat.
but it is so exceedingly tough that it is
really only fit to dry in the sun to form
a substitute for india rubber balls.
__,._________.._
For Afternoon Wear.
A dainty bodice is made up of a com-
bination of pale green flowered silk and
plain silk. It is arranged with a tight
fitting lining, the neck of which, back
and front, is covered with a yoke of
plain material, set in plaits; back and
front yokes being out without a seam
down centre, and each of the folds or-
tucks run along previous to being laid
on the foundation. The lining bodice
hooks down the center, but the yoke is
brought across and fastens down the
left side.
The material is gathered to the yoke
front and tack. and over the shoulders
is a piece of passamenterie, terminat-
ing at either end in a trefoil design,
across the front being sewn to the yoke
edge. The basque is worn inside the
skirt and finished with a. silk belt.
Tight fitting sleeves, with three chiffon
epaulets over the shoulder.
Ginger Pnddln‘.
Cook two ounces of butter and three
ounces of flour together for six minutes
(taking care the flour does not acquire
any color), then stir in by degrees half
a pint of hot milk, and continue stir-
ring until the mixture is thick and per-
fectly smooth; sweeten slightly with
caster sugar and put aside until cool.
Then add four ounces of preserved gin-
ger cut into small pieces, two table-
spoonfuis of the syrup (or more if not
sufficiently sweet), the yolks of two
well beaten eggs, and lastly the Whites
whisked to a. stiff froth. Pour at once
into a pie-dish lined with pastry and
bake in a quick oven forvfrom twenty"
dye‘to thirty minutes.
.uL~_...
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i
WILLARD POPULAR wrr H AMERICANS
0! All English Actors Who “Visit 011!
Midst" Be Seems to Wear nest.
There is a. right welcome visitor from
foreign shores in America, a gentleman.
Edward S. Willard byname, who long
ago won our favor and has retained it
by his genial qualities and admirable
rat. Perhaps 'no other English actor
ever entered so "fully into the goor will
of the American people.
This time Mr. \Villard brings two new
characters in addition to the familiar
but still unworn personages identified
with his fortner visits. One of them
is “David Garrick,” a character which
seems peculiarly adapted to his person-
ality and talents. Indeed the verdict
of other cities where Garrick has been
given by him is that if Robertson had
written the play to measure-it could
not fit the requirements of Mr. Willard
better that. i: does. In many instances
EDIVARD S. WILLARD.
much surprise is expressed that the ac-
tor did not discover its fitness for his
role long ago, and all familiar with his
characteristics will undoubtedly echo
that sentiment. In addition to ele«
gance of manner, refinement of touch
and admirable poise, Mr. Willard pos~
sesses a quality which is wholly apart
from the endowment of some comedi-
ans who have recently attempted this
role. His sentiment is manly, sincere
and full of genuine sympathy, and he
should, therefore, be able to express”
the most vital peculiarity of David
Garrick.
The other new character which he
holds in reserve is “Tom Pinch," from
Charles Dickens’ novel of Martin Cth-
zlewit. The play in which this charac-
ter occurs is a dramatization of certain
incidents in the novel, bringing to View
the lovable, unselfish qualties of the
devoted Tom Pinch. While there may
‘be some lack of dramatic coherence in
this play there is no doubt that the
central and subsidiary characters will
endow it with a. vital interest.
[LIGHT-EYED PEOPLE AT A D!SCOUNT
In Parts of South America a Man’s Life is
I Not Safe Who Possesses Then}.
i
‘ A correspondent states that in many
parts of South America the Indians
are suspicious and very dangerous.
Some of them will trade with strangers,»
but can never be relied on, while others
{will be friendly and have'a fairly good
reputation in the matter of dealing
with foreigners. But on one point all
the tribes agree; they do not trust a
man with eyes like a. cat. In many
light eyes-is never safe, and..:.: m-
places in South America a man with
light eyes is never safe, and the In-
dians are apt to kill such a man on
sight. If no present opportunity
.should offer itself of gratifying this
prejudice, they will often hang around
for days for the chance of disposing of
{the intruder. It is related that not
long ago a French trader was sitting
among some rGoajira Indians, discuss-
ing business, when a party of the same
tribe, who had been filling up with
mescal camealong, and the cry was
raised, “A man with eyes like a cat!
Let us kill him now.” There was a
scramble and a daring rescue, for the
trader’s companions reached his side
only .‘just in time—St. Louis Globe-
Democrat.
li‘rances Had a Mind of Her Own.
When Frances Willard reached her
18th birthday, says the Boston “'0‘
man's Journal, she celebrated her ma-
jority by beginning Scott’s “Ivanhoe,"
a book which her father had forbidden
as he disproved of novels. In answer
to his stern remonstrance, she told
him that up to that day she had obeyed
him in the matter, but,, "Now," she
continued, “I am 18, I am of age, I
am now to do what I think is right,
and to read this fine historical story is
in my opinion a right thing for me to
do." Her father was taken aback,
but he saw the funny side of'the mat-
ter, and, remarking that she was “a
chip of the old block,” made no further
effort to kep her from reading good
stories.' '
——
IN WESTERN KANSAS.
Stranger — Ever have malaria out
‘r-rc ‘.‘
li‘armer—Not'sI know of; but we‘ve-
.-.i Mary Ellen Lease, an‘ Jerry Simp
Soil. .
" . . --.a.m“w_LJ..2£_- .
I
The Latest In Collins-cl.
The newest mode for dressing the
hair, but which unfortunately, is be-
coming to few women, is high up on
the head- . To do this it is necessary'to
.. "Y
ing. 1.
first wave the hair all round, and then,
divide cl! 9. portion for the 'front.
Comb .the remaining hair well up on
the crown and tie there securely. Take
the front. piece of hair and comb it
A“
back to the crown, arranging it rather
high to accord with the present fash-
ion, then roll the ends round the fin-
gers to form a small pad and? pin to
the crown. Divide the back hair in
two pieces, take one portion and coil it
round to form the high loop, as in Fig.
2; twist the ends neatly round the loop.
The second piece of hair is to be made
into a rather smaller loop, and pinned;
somewhat flat on the left side of the
head, as shown by Fig. 3, then with
(’18: 4. ’v
the ends of this piece of hair, make
I nice French curl, by lightly twisting
the ends round the fingers, and‘ pin it
down to the right side, as Fig. 4 shows.
When completed, two tortoise shell
daggers should be arranged rather on
top of the head, and a comb at the base
of the dressing. .
A. Blf of Home Life.
“He is getting worse than ever!” ex-
claimed my mother, who sat in the
dining-room darning socks. “How ever
that boy does manage to make such
holes in his socks I cannot think."
My scientific father (reading paper
on spectroscopy): “All our observa—
tions go to show that the present is a
time of abnormal activity in the sun's
lower limb, producing immense holes,
rents, and fissures in the outer envel-
ope."
“Well, I never!" said my mother.
“Does it say that? How they can ever
know such things by staring through
a spyglass is more than I can fancy;
but I have noticed the same thing every
mending night. There! the clock is
striking twelve!” ‘
My brother Tommy, from upstairs,
who is supposed to be asleep: “Never
mind, mother; it’s never too late to
mend!”
To flake Children Attend School.
The club-women of Chicago are turn-
ing their attention to the enforcement
of the compulsory school law. The
law, as at present existing in Illinois,
provides that all children between sev-
en and fourteen years of age shall be
compelled to attend school for at least
Iixteen weeks in every school year,
provided that “such children are not
receiving education somewhere else, or
Ire not physically incapacitated.” It
is this qualification which has proved
I. sufficiently large loophole for a good
many children to escape through. What
the club-women mean to do is to study
the efficacy of the law and how large
I percentage of truants it admits the
existence on and upon these data they
will shape their future action. In
their efforts they have the co-Operation
of the officials of the compulsory de-
partment.
Mllltnl'y Instructor. ‘
Visitor—What would you like to be
when you grow up?
Johnnie—I think I’d like to be a sol-
dier. .
. “But then you might get killed."
“Who would kill me?”
“The enemy, of course.”
“Then I believe I’d rather be the en-
_emy_.I’—New York World. . ,,
C
meson Ano LACE IN PROFUSION.
Sleeves Are Made of Dlil’erent Material
from the Bodlce.
(By'special arrangement with the NY. Sun.)
. Trimmed skirts are here in'gr'eat pro- _
fusion among the lately imported mod-
els. Rows upon rows of lace insertion
encircle the skirts of foulard and taf-
feta giow'ns as well as those of trans-
parent materials. In some models the
deep circular flounce is almost entirely
composed of alternate bands of Isilk.
and lace- insertion, either black or
white. 'When the lace has a, straight
edge it is finished “’iltlh a tiny frill of
narrow edging or gathered baby rib-
bon. This sort of trimming is applied
to organdy as well as silk gowns. One
elegant imported costume of black taf-
feta. has several rows of black Chantilly
insertion around the circular flounce;
beginning'at the upper edge and leav-
ing a wide hem of the silk at the bot-
tom. The bodice and sleeves are,also
encircled with rows of insertion, of
which all the edges are finished with
a. frill of narrow lace.
A detailed description of the use and
varied kinds of tiny ruch-ings which
flourish in‘dress decoration would fill
a. volume, and literally miles of this -
popular trimming adorn our new
frocks. It is made of chiffon, tulle,
gauze ribbon, and pinked silk, in all
colors, varying a. little in width, ac-
cording to the mode of using lit, and
also of narrow lace edging in both
black and white.
True lovers knots of lace insertion. .
with the material cut out underneath,
spread their graceful shape over the
front and sides of some of the thin
gowns, and itwine in and out among
yards of ribbon on others. Surely this
is a ribbon season, a lace season, and
every other kind of season which can
be specified by variety in dresstrlm—
mings.
Another feature of dress which can
be very useful in renovating old gowns
is the sleeve of different material from
the bodice—not just anything that
comes along, however, for the sleeves
must be of handsome lace, fine em-
broidery, 'chiff'on, or jeweled net, or
something which is a. part of the trim—
ming on the gown. Still another thing
you notice in the new gowns is the
collar band, which is often without any
frills at all; and, again, you see little .
pointed bars of silk, velvet, or lace like
the band itself directly at :the back.
The very latest whim is to cut the
band a, little wider, in slightly pointed
shape, at either side of the fastening
in the back, to give the effect of an
:xtra finisih w..ich is so becoming, and
add a narrow frill of lace. inside.
' toes.
THE WEEKLY MENU. H x‘.
SUNDAY. ,
Dinner.-—Raw Oysters. ROB“
Chicken. Cranberry Saute. mashed
Potatoes. Peas. Celery Mayonnaise-
Wafers. Cheese. Orange “ Ice» Cream-
Coffee. ', '
_—
_ _ ’ MONDAY. . 7
~ Breakfast—Quaker Oats, 81183"
and Cream. Eggs. Creamed Pota.‘
Corn Bread. Coffee. _
Luncheon.—Cold Beef. Baked PO‘
tatoes. Brown Bread. Apple Sauce.
Tea.
Dinner.—Vegetable Soup. Sirloin
Steak. Mashed Potatoes. Boiled
Onions. Lettuce. Tapioca Pudding.
Coffee. _,
TUESDAY.
Breakfast—Shredded Wheat, Sugar
and Cream. Hash. Toast. Wheat
Cakes. Coffee. .
Luncheon—Pork and Beans. Gra-
ham Bread. Plain Cake. Prunes.
Cocoa.
Dinner.—-~Potato Soup. Roast Leg
of Mutton. Mashed Potatoes. Par-
SIliDS. with Cream Sauce. Water-
cress. French Dressing. Wafers
Chocolate Pudding. Coffee.
WEDNESDAY.
Breakfast—Oatmeal. Sugar and
Cream. Oranges. Lamb Chops
Rolls. Coffee
Luncheons—Cold. Mutton. Tomato
Sauce. Bread and flutter. Jelly Cake.
Ten. ‘ '
Dinner. — Tomato Soup. Boiled
Fish. Curry of ' Mutton. Potatoes.
Turnips. Celery. Salad. Eclairs
Coffee. .
I
THURSDAY.
Breakfast—Fruit. Hominy, Sugar
and Cream. Broiled Steak. Rails.
Coffee.
Luncheon—Fried Hominy Cakes.
Apple Sauce. Gingerbread. Pre-
served Ginger. Tea.
Dinner.—Green Pea Soup. Roast
Pork. Apple Sauce. Sweet Potatoes.
Macaroni. >Lettuce Salad. Wafers
Cheese. Cream Pufis. Coffee. ..
l
FRIDAY. "
Breakfast.—Fruit. Wheatlet, Sugar
and Cream. Poached Eggs. Toast.
Coffee.
Luncheon.— Oyster Pie. Brown
Bread. Cookies. Jam. Chocolate.
Dinner.—Spinach Soup. Boiled
Red Snapper. Celery Sauce. Boiled
Potatoes. Parsnips. Watercress.
Peach Pudding. Coffee.
_ .s "5 gig
SATURDAY.
Breakfast—Shredded Wheat, Sugar
and Cream. Liver and Bacon. Muf-
fins. Coffee. ' '
Luncheon. -— Scrambled Eggs on.
roast. Mustard Pickles. Brown
Bread and Butter. Preserved Cher-
ries. Cocoa.
Munch—Vegetable Soup. Porter-
house Steak. Mashed Potatoes. White
Onions. Sweet Potatoes. Lettuce.
French Dressing. Orange Float.
Coffee.
Pure Candy Good for Children.
The weight of opinion is in favor.
of a moderate amount of good pure
candy eaten by children with or soon'
after their food, and that it is not only
not in the least detrimental, but is pos-
itively beneficial. It is the cheap
sweets manufactured out of injurious
compounds that have drawn upon the
practice the odium of medical men.
Pure sweets contribute valuable force
to the human system, and need not.
be feared. A Chicago physician claims
that one can scarcely eat too much
pure chocolate. Now, if this authority
would only go a little further and tell
us how we are to know the pure from’
the impure, a great burden would be
'lfted‘ from many mothers who are anx-
ious to do right and yet are equally
anxious to contribute to their chil-
dren’s happiness.
Handsome Theatre Corsage. ' 1
The styles in theatre waists are even
more varied than in shirt waists, and
are as richly trimmed as ever." They
have not taken the severe shape which
was promised, so that the blouse and
surplice effect still remain. Revers ‘are
also much seen, and enjoy the height
of favor.
A novel treatment of bodice trim-
ming is shown in the illustration. The
corsage is made of silk, trimmed with
lace. The simulated guimpe is of the
silk, tucked on either side lengthwise.
the center panel being of fine lace in-
sertion and tucks. The epaulettes and
"overs are of the lace, stifliy interlined,
and faced with silk. Sleeves of lace
and silk, with silk puff at shoulder.
iAlrlng Spare Rooms.
Rooms which are not contantly used
men get too little fresh air, and they
save, therefore, a somewhat unpleas-
ant, close odor. When possible, the
3
windows should be opened every day ,
v'n fine weather, or at least twice a
week; and occasionally the beds should
be turned out, the mattresses being
thrown back so as to allow of a free
current of air through the bedding, and
the blankets and pillows should be
placed on chairs near the windows.
The drawers and wardrobe in a. spare
room shouldvbe left a little open. This
will prevent their getting a slightly
musty smell, which is peculiar to fur-
niture of this description when shut up
’or any length of time.
Old Gothoof (savagely): “What’s
:hat? You mean to tell me that you
ove my daughter for herselfalone?"
Young Hardupp (tremulously): “Y-
res, sir; but I think I could l-learn to
-love you t-too, sir—-in t-Hme, sir.”
Golf can positively be traced in Scot-
tish history back to 1457". and it is be-
lieved to have been played much ear-
lier even than that date.
Norwalk Chronicler