W
THE SENTINEL.
Scorn xonwaut. SEPTEMBER 32.
HOUSEHOLDIATTERX ‘
Tomato Cat-up.
Take half bushel tomatoes, peel ant.g
cut. Let come to a boil, rub through
the sieve, add one pound salt, quarter
pound ground black pepper, quarter
pound of whole sllspice, one ounce
cloves,two pounds brown sugar, six large
onions, twentv bulbs garlic, one handful
of green peac leaves. If desired very
hot, add as much cayenne pepper as you
can lay on the point of a case-knife.
BOil to the thickness required, and just
before removing from the stove add three-
quarters pound ground mustard. one
'quart good cider vinegar, wetting the
mustard with the vinegar. Rub through
the sieve again. Bottle—ll'usliington
SHIP. ‘
The Laundry.
A little borax put in the water in
which scarlet napkins and red bordered
towelsjarc to be washed will prevent
them from fading.
.\\lien removed from the erson,
clothing. il' drimp, should be dried be-
fore putting into the clothes-basket to
prevent mildew,
,A handful of horax added to water
helps to whiten the clothes. It is used
by the Germans, who are famous for
their snowy linen. \
\‘ery rettv curtains, which can be
lauudrici and look as well as new ones,
are IlIftllt‘ of white muslin, with large
round
dollarwilh-troit Tribune.
Ilecclpcs.
- . Eon Cons liai-:.vii.-—'l‘:ike a quart of
water, boil and stir in a tcacup of meal;
let boil and stir; add a tcacup of buttcr;
take oil the tirc and let cool; then add
two eggs and a little salt; pour in a but‘
tried dish.
\VIHZA‘rl-ZN (liens—Stir into icecnld
water enough coarse Graham flour, un-
sifted, to make rather a still' batter, two
parts water to three of flour are the cor-
rcctrproportions: beat. vigorously and dip
into hot gem pans._ Set them on top the
stove until well heated, and fill them not
quite even full; bxrke in a very hot even
from thirty to forty minutes.
(‘lliicuLyl‘E ('l’s'l'!\lll).»— (lite quart.
milkdhrec level teaspoonfuls corn starch, §
four level teaspoonfuls grated chocolate.
Stir the chocolate into the milk. heat to
boiling. then add the corn starch dissolved
in a little milk. Let it cook a minute,
then lakefront the tire, add salt, sugar
and vanilla-to taste. ~ Spectra and flavor
one cup of cream. beat with an egg
heater. and put in the custard cold.
LvosAiss l’o‘i‘ \TOES.— l‘ut one pint of '
milk in a frying pan, add a piece of but
ter the size of in walnut, some salt and
pepper; let it boil, take. a heated teas
spoonful of corn-tloiir. mix with a little
Cold milk and add to the milk in a frys
ing pan. Keep stirring all the. time: have
ready six or seven good sized potatoes,
)t‘elt‘tl and cut intothin slices; put them
into the pan with a little parsley and nu
onion ch’o iped small; cover them with
a plate and let. them stew gradually for
fifteen minutes. Send to table in u covv
ered dish.
Qi'ixcs: Jl-Tl.l.i'.——-Iflil) the quince with
“a cloth until perfectly smooth. cut in
small pieces, pack tight in a kettle, pour
on cold water until level with the fruit,
boil very soft; make a three-cornered
flannel bag, pour in fruit and hang up to
drain, occasionally tressing on top and
sides to make the juice run more freely,
taking care not to press hard
enough to expel the pulp. There
is not so much need of pressing a bag
male in this shape, as the Weight of the
frui; in the larger part causes the juice
to .low freely at the point. To a ‘pint
of juice add a pint of sugar and boil tif-
teen minutes, or until it is jelly; pour
into tumblers, or bowls, and finish ac-
cording to general directions. If ipiinces
are scarce, the parings and cores of
quinccs with good tart. apples, boiled and
strained as above, make excellent jelly,
and the quinces are saved for preserves.
A Trump‘s Bundle.
For many years I have been devoured
by an intense and abiding curiosity to
know what. a tramp carries in his bundle.
You may have. noticed that no matter
wliere'you meet a. tramp or under what
circumstances. he has a bundle with him.
It may be done compactly up in a news-
paper or tightly wrapped in old and dirty
rags; it may be two feet Square or no
bigger than your list, but it is always a
bundle of some sort. and one to which he
clings with the tenacity of death itself.
I have heard a number of conjectures
hazarded tel to its possible contents.
Some critics have maintained that it con-
‘tains food and others that it is a mere
dummy, contrived to impose upon I
credulous landlord at ahelf‘dime lodging
house. .I have read newspaper stories of
fortunes concealed in the tramp‘s bundle,
and been told of occasions when the
bundle found in the ssession of a dead
tramp contained family papers and docu-
ments to prove that the late unlainented
was a person of high birth and exalted
connections. But of my own knowledge I
have never been able to satisfy myself as
to its actual character,so that when I was
accosted the other day by a tramp with
the usual bundle and a plea for the price
of a night‘s lodgin . I said to him:
“Tell me what is in your bundle and
I‘ll give you a dollar. "
“Honest?" said the tramp.
Iassured him of it. .
“You won‘t give me sway‘to sliving
, mull“l d rd "
“ e go on my wo . ’
” Il/J:\.ll,theiyi,“ said the tramp,in a voice
full of alcohol and mystery, “I don‘t
mind telling you. , It‘s my full-dress
suit. You see a feller in my position has
to move in society a good deal, and he
must have his dress suit ready. for he
, don‘t know when he may need iL—Ncu
‘Torb News. .
Training Carrier Pigeons.
The training of carrier pigeons begin
as soon as they are strong enough to fly.
The young birds are taken in a covered
basket to a place about half a mile from
their home and set free. Those which
do notgo home are considered worthless;
those which do so at once are tried-gain,
the distance beini‘itncreued. each time,
until it is found t the Will go back,
no matter how far away y may be car-
ried. The messages conveyed by these
birds are usually written washotogra ed
on very thin paper, and ti arena the
leg or one of the tail feathers in such a
manner that they, do not impede the
flight of the birds. ‘
Thovaiuew’of ‘ our mailing,»
, in wot-is wetter m “MW" " tough. and t. ecabinhung together. The
It) increased, from tea
“I!" “0.009
In 713‘; I 7 .
dots the sire of a silver half— !
KEEP run IJPI5£R "also.
Bear your burdens mentally.
What-error they be;
Never let them over you
Gain usendency.
Never let them master you.
Never for them woit:
Bands of labor strong to bear,
Ring the Bell of Fate.
-TmtSi/lfnga.
siren MOfifiTAIN.
nv r. 1.. nearer.
ON,
adding to the never-melted accumula-
lorthern slope of Silver Mountain. Huge,
undulating drifts, too, projected along
the lofty crest,thrcatening to break away,
and start the annihilating avalanche.
From the dingy log dzns below. the
rienced eyes. Stout. hearts had those
seekers for silver, but apprehension of
the snowvslide could shake even them.
But from two log-shanties, placed one
above the other in a clump of giant
smoke still arose at lllL‘_lIlIil‘lllltg and
evening, and from the ranged mouths of
two tunnels that. were being driven in
the slope above, there still came daily
the silvery elink of hammer striking
drill, intermitted by a mutlled roar, as
reast.
In the inner of these slianties lived
“l'uele Jimmy" Trout, with his son,‘
y‘oung Jimmy; in the lower, “old man“
rail. with his son Sam.
These were rival claimants to the same
load, to which old man 'l‘rsil gave the
significant namegif “The Last t‘hance,“
: and which l‘ncle Jiinfny, in more cheer-
ful spirit, called “The Blue Bird," as a
harbinger of the spring of hope in the
winter of his life. .
Many were the complications involving
; intricate points of inincrs‘ law about this
3 disputed claim, and which claimant had
. the right thereof no man could tell. The
listener to [little Jimmy‘s wrongs would
be firmly convinced that he must be
i right, until he heard old man 'l‘rail ex-
patiate on the equity of “first diskivery,“
marking each "pint“ with a hard fore~
finger in a horny palm, to the utter cou-
fusion of all previous convictions.
l-Ineh indigimntly rejected all attempts
of. arbitration; and as, fortunately for
themselves, both were too poor for the
expensive luxury of litigation, it only
remained, as l'iiclo .liiumy declared, “to
sit right thar until they‘d sot it out, re-
yni‘dless of expenses.“ And though
_ 'iicle Jimmy, with his rotund body and
I red taco set in a casing of close-cut gray
whisker, was one of the casicst-going of
men, the energetic and determined air
with which he made this declaration was
indicative of a protracted “set“ on the
part of the Blue Bird. ‘
As for old man Trail, one look in his
cavernous eyes. as he ran his hand slovw
, ly over the tangles of his unkempt beard.
would sullice to show that there was as
little yiéld about him as about one of the
granite crags that guarded the entrance
to the Last (‘hance Tunnel. .
Jimmy, who was, to use his father‘s
own expression, “light compleetct ,“
ltood a clear ten inches above the head
of his house; strong, too, of arm and
shoulder from swing of hammer, and
every whit as stout of heart.
That stalwart son of the Sierras, Sam
Trail, though of leaner build than Jim-
tu ', was in size and strength his in itch,
“ ark com ilcctcx ,“ and in other re-
Ioects like too sombre and solf'contaiued
o ristener of the Last Chance.
Often when at sundown the two boys,
tin buckets in band. met at the little
spring that served for the use of both
cabins. brows bent in wrath were re~
flected in that crystal basin. For the
; feud Went loyiilly down from father to
‘ son.
‘ Even the two “jacks“‘one of these
Mexican donkeys being owned by each
claimant. and used for packing up sup~
lies from the camp blow——becainc im-
. tied with partisan animosity. Each
grazed aloof on the bunch-grass growing
gen the. breezy slopes; and, meeting by
the cabin doors, they bit and kicked over
the bacon rinds flung thereme with a
heartiness that pertook of the
their res )ective masters.
It‘ha been “skiffiug” snow on the
mountain for a day or two. But the
morning was clear, and the sun, hanging
on the pines that crested the o pesing
slope, shot his rays through littering
articles of flying frost into be open
our of the upper cabin. Within, the
two Trouts sat at their slab table before
a Spartan breakfast of slapjacks and
salt pork.
“Jimmy, that outfit down thsr,” said
the elder Trout, indicating the cabin be-
low with his hand as he a oke-—“they
lent to camp yesterdav. buppose you
take the jack and go
our grub pile is gettin‘ low, and git the
drills sharpened. I‘ll rustle round and
wash up some . clothes while you‘re
gone.“
The air of the early morning was keen,
and Jimmy waited until the sun was
well up before he put the packssaddle on
the jack, and started down. t‘ncle
Jimmy, meantime, set the camp-kettle
on the coals in the rough fireplace, and
prepsied for washing.
Daily the two 01 men passed each
otheron the deep-worn paths leading
from cabins to tunnels. but without a
word or look of recognition. But, rigid
or was the silence maintained between
them, it could be broken by one thing——
want of tobacco. After a few hours‘ un-
. satisfied craving for this universal solace
. of the miner, either would yield and ap-
' ply to the other, never to be refused.
On this morning old man Trail, who
had sent Sam to camp the previous day,
I had resisted this craving a whole day,
but at last he succumbal, and slowly
sauntered up to the Trout cabin.
i “Kin you spsr‘ me a piece of terl-nekcr
till my boy gits backf" he asked in his
deliberate s h, disdaining politer
forms of lslutntiou, as he paused on the
doorstep.
l‘nele Jimmy, in overalls and red
shirt with rolled up sleeves, was vigor-
ously soaping flaune s. He pointed with
one suds—dripping bend to the rough
mantel.
“It s on the shelf. Come in and help
yourselffi‘ he said. endeavoring vainly to
throw a hospitable heartiness into his
tone.
' The old man stepped in, drew his
sheathknife. and was about to part the
coveted plug, when the attention of both
wm can ht by a sound, . loud and strange
among 3w many noises of the mountain,
coming from above. 7
“The slide i“ cried the old man.
Almostss he spoke the topmost of the
pines snapped before the avalanche, and
then it struck the cabin. Stout. as this
was itshivered to the shock, the logsron
the upper side were driven party in, and
the centre roof-logs. already burdened by
the weight of the dirtroof. . were sprung
l
i
dun and splintered with...“ Ominous.
. But t s rues timbers were green and
Heavy snows had fallen that‘season, 5
tions in the gulches that gashed the
miners read these snow~signs with expe~ ;
pines well up on the mountain side. .
isnt powder shattered the mountain‘s
spirit. of 3
own to-dsy. fut"
bedded base, and the slide broke over it
sfidqbeing partially broken by the visa,
tore over it, closed the stout slab-door,
and passed on down with a roar. Then
followed darkness and silence.
All their tools were in the tunnels;
they had nothing wherewith to effect an
escape, even were escape possible. For
tunately the fire had gone out, so there
was no smoke to add to their torture.
But hidden thus from all the world, sud-
denly shut away from all its hopes,
,hatreds and fears, those two" were to
T await, together, the inevitable.
For a time the suddenness of the
i cuastrophe stunned both in silence. It
:was broken at length by the old man
‘ Trail, whose gruff tones were hardly
, recognizable in this softened whisper:
“Uncle Jimmy, I‘m mighty glad the
boys is both safe."
“I‘m with you thar, old man,“ Uncle
lIiimi‘ny replied; in a voice equally sub~
lli‘t .
The minutes, as they passed, might
have been years, so faint. and far away
, seemed their dispute over the lead.
“I‘m sorry, old man. “'e mought ’a‘
settled thisherc business ‘twixt me and,
you long ‘go; but now, I reckon it‘s
goin‘ fur to settle us,“ and l'ucle Jimmy‘s
voice gave faltering indications of break-
ing down.
about enon h ersl , could
speak out on oceasiogn. gen 1’
"New, Jimmy, I was bringing up a
coffee t. ’Taint no use standin‘ doin' .
nothin. and we‘ll melt some snow and
have some coffee. I‘ve got some already
ground in the pot.”.
"I‘ll make the fire," said Jimmy, start-
ing upss Sam unhooked the coffee i:
from the crosses of the pack sad le.
“There‘s a big mountain rat‘s nest under
this rock. I‘ve noticed it every time I
passed, and the sticks are good and dry.“
The tire was quickly made, and coffee
was boiled. Then, cups being wanting,
the pot was set away in the snow to cool
sufficiently to permit of drinking from
it. Sam, meantime, cut slices of salt
WOMAN’S WORLD.
PLEASANT LITERATUBE FOR
FEMININE READERS.
The florid that Rule: the World.
Regarding man‘s supremacy
'l he youth an i maiden quarrelled:
The ban l that. wields the pen, said he,
is the hand that rules the world.
Then quoth the maiden chipper,
\\'hile her rel lip she curled;
Sir, the hand that \vields the slipper
ls 1h: hand that rules the world.
—‘Bf'$’o'b Courier.
pork from the piece in his lack, and ,
these, having been singed in t n: fire, the g
two ate. and drank alternately from the
same spout in loving fellowship.
In the background the jacks hung
over the feast with pleading eyes. Each
was rewarded now and then by a tidbit
of rind from his master‘s hand. And.
when the pork was finished Sam got out
a small sack of oatmeal, and pouring it:
little into his hollowed liitli‘l, the two
jacks licked it up by brotherly turns.
Soon after the meal the wind began to
fall, and the clouds. breaking away, the
“ Ilrarc up, I’ncle Jimmy l The boys
is l ozh safe. and me and you was a-gittin‘
old, and couldn‘t in natur‘ ‘a‘ belt on
much longer. And arler all. Uncle
Jimmy, this here aiut a'pluin‘ plnyout ;
it's jest a slip in the paystrcak. and we‘ll
strike it agin ‘acrosl the range.”
The old man‘s voice was wonderfully V
sun, now declining. struck into the
, gulch. Then they widened the steps
lsutiieiently to vermit of the jacks clain~
- boring up, and set out for the shanties.
l The trail was obliterated, but the
1 snow was packed hard and they had lit~ :
étle difficulty in gaining the site of the
cabins. Theirtlicir fears were confirmed.
“'omcn as Spinners.
.\ hundred years ago in every rank
wont ‘ll eirued money; the lniics of
county families as delineated in the
pictures of social life drawn by SmoL
h-it and Fielding used to supplement
their incomes by sending lliankcts‘
and hose to the lo al fairs. these
llllll£s ha: in; been spun or knit by the-ut—
sclvw and their maids during the long
winter evenings. In the fariniiigclass,
an-l anion).r ncayly all others, “h unespun“
was the universil “car. In this matter
of spinning acne ilooked upon by our
l‘orciiiln-rs tl‘ltl the ancient world as a
wo-iuiu‘s hereditary vocationi females of
every rank found a scope for their talent
and industry anJ the power of earningr
something. The lttgal ll'rm of lift litt<
lllll'lti‘il uoiiiaii is still “spEIisti-r.“ lt is
ll'llt‘ that in the spinning industry many
women and gills are still employed, but
clear. as he paused and seated himself, Both had disappeared, and no human the p.-sitina of a mill or factory hand is
composedly on the bunk.
rroped his way to him, and kneeling,
rested his head and shoulders on the
blankets. Then the hands ofthose au-
cicnt enemies met. and clung in a tirin-
locked clasp, reassuring oath to ends as
they waited for the end.
To Jimmy, a visit to the, camp was a
welcome break in the monotony of life. on
Silver Mountain, and his shit was ac~
cordiiigly light as he proddeil the jack
down tin-drifted trail with the pointed
end of the scrub onk stick that served him
alike for stall and good.
As he progressed downward. frosty
clouds passed between him and the sun, ‘
giving the air a sudden chill as their,
shadows darkened the sparkling surface ‘
of the snow. The summit was lost to.
view, and, driven by the wind, snow bo~ g
gun to fly, coining partly from the clouds ‘
and partly from the drifts above. Jimmy,
however, was used to these mountain
“‘sipinlls," and knew that. as long as the
nimble—footed jack could keep the trail,
he was safe to follow.
A mile or less from the cabin the trail
made an abru it head around a granite
crag. l‘iriii— cdded in the mountain,
this thrust its tapering pinnacle to the
tops of the surrounding pines. Where
the trail hugged its base there had been
a “catch“ of soft sand conglomerate
which, worn away by action of frost and
air, hail gradually dropped out and been
washed down the slope, leaving a slielv.
"lg recess.
Just as Jimmy reached this recess he
encountegcd Sam Trail, coming upward.
The two iniinical jacks, brought sud-
denly face to face. alike laid long ears
buck and breathed forth defiance in
trumpet notes that woke the echoes of
the mountain defiles. llehind each pug-
naciouslittleheast his equally pugn'acious
driver halted spiarely in the middle of
the narrow trail.
“'l‘urn out 2“ cried Sam Trail, in such a
tone that Jimmy would have shot both
jacks head first down the slope rather
than have complied. “Turn out, and
let my jack huxrthe rork.“
”Turn out yo‘self!“ retorted Jimiuv.
“My jack‘s got as good a right to the iii~
side as yonru. Everybody turns to the
right, and I‘m n~goin‘ to.“
.. “The pack ‘ll tip. my jack over the
slofe cf 1 take the outside,“ replied Sam,
“and I aint a-goin‘ to do it.“
Both boys and beasts were by this
time half—blinded by the. snow. which
was beingr sucked around the era: and
whirled in their faces by the rising wind.
Their passions kept pace with its fury.
Each jack stood ready to rush opcu~
mouthed; each driver got a firmer :11!st
on his osk stick and made a forward
stride.
Just then, half~brokcn by the wind, ‘
came the sound of muffled thunder from
the dimtion of the shanties. Following
it, from immediately above them, came a
‘ crunching noise that caused the uplifted
sticks to be held in sir.
i The snow-caps above had given way,
' and gathering momentum with increas-
ing bulk and velocity, the slide, to which
the one at the cabin was but a plaything,
came tearing don n, carr ‘ing along the
granite boulders scatterer in its path.
lleforc. its rush, the giant pines. with sap
hard frozr‘cn, snapped like reeds, each
’ making a sharp report above the duller ,
, rumble of the mass. i
l (‘ounted by the beating of their hearts, i
fit was longr before it. struck the crag. i
lingo as was this. it trembled: but noth‘ '
ing less than an earthquake could have
i tumbled that mighty cone from its im~
and pasied on.
Coweriug in the recess, the boys were 3
covered with snow as the great avalanche
thundered past. swept the pines from the
slope below, and shot up on the opposite ;
side of the gulch, where at last it settled
with a sound and a shock that. seemed to
‘ shake the mountain.
‘}0 Sam, my pa and yoiirnt" cried
Jimmy, in a voice quite different from
his former one. “That first. one sounded
like it was at the shantics.“
As he spokc,\vith one accord they drew,
nearer together. No longer they seemed
to be the two who had so lately met on
the trail. And the slide had wrought
other changes. Even the wind, no more
soughin through the broken pines,
whistle in altered cadence about the
naked pinnacle of their bulwark.
“We must git out and , git to the
shanties somehow. Let’s take the shovel
and cut steps in the snow~bank.“ said
Sam; pointing to a new shovel with its
handle slipped through the many turns
of rope that held the pack on the saddle
of his jack. .
Both brightened at the prospect of
action. M cutting the steps, was out
first, and Jimmy elainbering after, they
stood looking around.
The dark n trees were gone. Some,
torn up by t e roots. had been carried
bodily down; while here and there the
stamp of some broken giant stuck up its
yellow s inteis from the snow. '
Beth ooked above, but the view was
limited by the snow, driven by the furious
wind, which, as they stepped from the
crag, struck them with ul power and
forced them back. .
“We can‘t go up egin it," said Sam
“It‘ll fall ’fore long,rI reckon. It didn‘t.
look like moi-em a. squall as I came up the
trail. And maybe, Jimmy, the slide
didn’t strike the shuttles; and of it did,
our ‘I might ’a’ been in the tunnels"
‘3 yr wasn‘t." said Jimmy, shaking
his has “HOW“ 'ust going to wash
up} clothes when I , t.“ .
‘ “Them shantieswas both put there to
stay, and yearn was the stoute‘st’ built—s
l
gwere turned loose in this.
had some ditliu-ultv, too, in locating the
exact spots Where. the cabins had stood.
This they at length did, however, by,
the aid of the torn and twisted trees.
'l‘hcse. they saw, had broken the force of
. the slide, and deflected it as well, so that
ithe main shoot had turned and passcil
. directly over the lower cabin. The upper .
one, inhabited by the 'l‘routs, had been ’
coveted but a few feet from the great‘
sidepressure of the mass.
Alter they had determined the loca-
tion, Sam rinsed. and leaning on the
shovel which he had brought up, said,
with generous self-restraint. “ Now.
Jimmy, we aint got but one shovel. ’
Which shanty shall we go at first 5“
“Let‘s draw straws,“ replied Jimmy,
ter a moment‘s indecision.
“All right; you fix ‘ciu.“
Jimmy stooped, and taking two are
dies from a broken pine bough at his
feet, turned his back.
“Short is our shanty, long is yoiirn.
Draw. Sam,“ he said. as he fac d about.
lincli _ knew the minutes now \\ ere
fraught with life or death to their im~
prisoned fathcrs. Jimmy's big hand ‘
treinlv'cd as he held the fateful needles
pressed between thumb and linger. Sam‘s
can, brown one never quivcred as he
reached and drew—the short one.
“Your shanty,“ he said, with a long
breath, and flungr oil his coat. “I'll take
first shift. We'd hiter run in an in.
clinc, so as to strike the door, ef it‘s still
thar."
Taking short runs. after a couple of
hours‘ rapid work, they heard a inutlled
cry from within. Then the door was
soon leached, fen‘cd open, and there, to
their great joy, each saw his father.’
To the anxious boys the faces of the
fathers looked white and ghastly from
their confinement in the stifling place,
but the fre~h air soon revived them. The
old man 'l‘rnil, struggling to his feet, was
the first to speak. .
“\Ve might er knowcd,l'ncle Jimmy."
he said, “that the boys was bound to git
us out?“
“Old man,“ l'nclc Jimmy replied. too
much imprixscd by recent events to think
of aught else, “this slide has settled it fur
lilt‘. S‘pose we cut tlicclriiiu in the mld~
dle and you take lust choice."
“I was ji“! thinkin‘," said the old
man, with due deliberation, “this here
thing of drivin‘ in two tunnels side
and side is kinder foolishness. If we‘d
consolida‘e on one We‘d strike pay rock
all the quicker.“
“l‘hat‘s a fact, pardner. and we can
call it the Last (‘hance.“ I'iicle Jiintiiy
responded with sclfqiciiying alacrity, for
the Clif‘ltiltlultiq of his tind is a matter of
moment to the irospcctor‘s heart, and
that of the Blue liini had been evolved
only after long and labored thought.
"I was thinkin‘.“ the old man replied,
with the same thoughtful slowness*“ef ,
it‘s all the same to you, pardoer——of con. 2
solidstin‘ the names likewise into "The
Blue Bird‘s Last i‘liance,‘ and so a—lettin‘ ‘
of Silver Mountin know this here thing
betwixt inc and you and Jimmy and Sam
is done settled, now and for good.“
As the old man concluded he extended
his hand to l’ncle Jimmy. The “shake"
that scaled the compact then went round.
It nd so. despite the torn trees and drifted
devastation. the sun set in peace on Silver
Mountain.—— l'euflf‘s Companion.
of
l
~—-————-——
A Strategic Crow.
I must not stop speaking of crows
without telling how one of them freed
its young from a cage in which I had
placed them. The cage was a latticcd
summer—house and the two young crows '
The crow
evidently noticed that I went to feed
these and some .abbiis whenever the bio
dinner bell rang. This was suspendet .
over the kitchen and was erected to call ‘
the hands to dinner, from any part of
the place. One day I was in my office, a
little room in the front yard. when I
heard the bell ring. lat once arose and
started for the kitchen to get food for 1
my crows and rabbits. I found the cook
in high indignation, bein unable to
discover what mps’csllion ind rung do
bell er half hour ’fore dinner. I very
shortly discovered the crow. rin ‘ng it.
Taking the food out, I went to t e rab~
bit; or suininerdiousc. The crew flew
quits. near me. I opened the door. At
once it made a gauge attack on me.
Throwing down the food. I looked about 1
for a stick to defend myself. In doing
this I left the door 0p9n. The two
youngsters hopped out. Seeing these
the old one flew into a tree and called
them to join her. I madeafurious rush, .
but. it was too late. Both were in the
air. They escaped. To 'this day I can
recall the grin of exultstion which
illuminated the face of that crow when
she saw my chagrin.—-.Vempliis Am‘andu.
Wanted.
A hot for the head of a fountain,
A glove for the hand of fate.
A shoe for the foot of a mountain,
A link from the chain of debate.
Aspokefroin the wheeloffortune,
A chip from the “pole" of the South,
A drink from the fountain of knowledge,
Award from thoriver’s mouth.
'Adroptromthe ofsmrow,
Alookfromthe scoot thestorm,
A knock at the dou- of repentance,
Atbrobfmmtho‘ooeuu’sheort.
A glance tromtheeyoot a needle,
meCupid‘shew adult.
A ottbellock
Soinomflkot'humu
even pa always flowed thakl’, For Still.
. edly.
. im iortant days.
l'nclc Jimmy Asound broke the solemn stillness. They not an enviable om-.—~ ll'umaii‘r .lrwsy.
l-‘ull Bonnets and Hats.
The llliljtll'll)‘ of the fall lioaiiets and
liatsarc neit. trim and stylish. 'l‘lierc
arc. however. a number of l‘arisian
inolsls that are too bizarre for general
taste. tine bonnet in golden fawn-
coiuicd velvet, like a silken fur, affects
the shape of au'old-fashioned calcrlie
just in front. but at the sides is round.
and very slit rt above the cars, and is tied
down by strings of changeable flame and
fawn color. The bonnet outside is
trim‘m-d with a high corouet of red,
g dd. brown. olive, muss-grccn and
lawn colon-J fcatlici'dips, effectively
eioiipcd. Another bonnet, with a petite
house front and a short rctrousse back.
‘is made of two ri: li shades of Forms
viuTci. gai‘uitzi-eil \vitli deep yellow
ve \ct loopsand two tiny East Indian
birds i f brown and yellow p‘utuaize. A
, downy l’cll hat of deep t‘t‘l’lt has a large
? turned-up brim. and is trimmed with it
1 start of plaidcl velvet. and a large bird
with illlls'l’t‘lilt‘ll wings. All thew
_ iii ulcls are striking in cilia-t. and should
ilicwforv lie a ioptiui only by those )‘illlllh
fit: at d beautiful devotees of style who
an- nol at all afraid to venture upon and
introduce an eccentric and to them be-
coming fashion. —~..\'uc York Post.
Blsulnrck‘s “'ife.
The London correspondent says of
. Princess Bismarck:
,She cannot be called lovely. She is
past sixty, very tall and very gray. Her
face is very strong. with large cheek
bones. \Vherevi-r Mrs. Bismarck is she
rules. When she enters a house every
window must be closed tight and no door
can remain tiecdleSsly open, as she shares
with the French their morbid dread of
currents of air. At table she is fond of
talking, and speaks very loud and decid~
She gets very much excited in dis‘
mission, and to contradict her is not safe.
She is very fond of music and discusses
it tearnedly, although she really knows
very little about it. This causes many
wordy battles between her and her old
friend. Baroness Willie Rothschild, one
of the friends gained in llismarck‘s less~
The Baroness is‘ old,
am like most Rothschilds not remark-
able for beauty. but she is bright, really
knows something about music, writes
l-‘ieuch songs and coinpows a great deal.
She plays and sings her own work, and
she and the Princess Bismarck do a great
deal of talking about it. The Princess
shares her husband‘s digestive trouble.
and relics, like him. upon the advice of
the expert Dr. Schweininger, but like her
grand husband and the old Emperor she
quite refuses to be governed in her liv-
ing by medical advice, and my corre-
spondent writes me how she drinks chums
pague almost frozen.
A Valuable Autograph.
A very charming young lady. with an
autograph album in her hand, approached
Mr. E. .\i. Rimiter, the Treasurer of the
, New York Central Railroad Company, at
a social gathering a few evenings ego, and
requested him to add his name to her col-
lection.
"See,“ she said, “I have only names of
rominent men in my album, and I have
orig wanted yours to complete it."
“Oh, I don‘t believe you really care
very much for my autogra ih 2“
“Indeed. i do," assert the lady. “I
wouldn‘t miss getting it for anything."
“Not for a hundred dollar bill?" asked
the New York Central‘s Treasurer.
"No, not for a hundred dollar bill."
Mr. Rossiter took the album, and with
a stylographic pen wrote on a blank
of the book a check on the Chemical
National Bank for $100, payable to the
young lady.
“There." he said, as he handed her the
album, “I have taken you at your word.
You can take your choice between keep~
ing my autograph or rtin with it and
getting the hundred ollar ill."
The lady was highly delighted at this
addition to her album. and showed it to
her father. He is a business men, and
his first set. after reading the check was
to turn it over and glance at the back.
There, in a bold hand, was the indorse~
meut:
Rig; tassel, life is mum
V0 IS no I .
“Emmet: J. Jesus,
1&7. Narragansett Pier.
T“Who is this Jones?" asked paterfam-
i me.
“Oh. that is a young gentleman whom
I met at the se ishore a few weeks ago,”
avowed the daughtei.
“\Vell," said the old gentleman. “ I
don‘t. so his indorsemcnt adds to
the value of the check, but if you should
ever try to cash it you will have to ex-
plain how it got there.”——Nou York Sun.
The Per-clan Womon‘o Bath.
The bath takes up a good deal of the
time of all Persian women. Even the
poorest will attend the Human at least
once a week. For the lady the bath is
one of the serious sfiairs of life, and takes
up daily from two to four hours of her
time. t is something more than our idea
of a bath. The victim isscrsped and par~
boiled. The roles of the feet are pumieed
until they are soft and tender as those of
a little child. The hair is thoroughly
washed by means of hot water andthc
as naceous clay for which Shiraz is
co abated. Then the attendants mix in
a brazen bowl the aromatic beans, with
the requisite amount of lemon juice, till
a brown paste of the consistency of grunt
is produced, and handfuls of the repul—
sive looking compound monitored over
the lady‘sheed. Thmthehoir, collected
intents-Ashanti opi-
smeared over the eyebrows; the sole! or
the feet, the toes, the mofthehpnd}.
and the finger~tipssre so covered With 1‘-
Aud now the lady has to sit perfectly
still for from one to three hours, till, like
amecrschnum pipe, she colors; and it is
exactly the color obtained on thebcet
specimens of pi s that it most fashion:
able among the ersian ladies. Day after
day the bath is thronged with women,_
each sitting perfectly still for thecolor to“
“ take.“ ~ But they have their reward. for
the henna dyes the hair a beautiful deep
warm chestnut: hence gray hair is unv
known among Persian ladies. “'hile the
coloring process has been going on,
tongues have been running. and a good
deil of scandal has been exchanged. The
female barber, with a pair of tweezers,
has removed every outlying hair from the
region of the lady‘s eyebrows. It is the
ambition of every Persian woman that
her eyebrows shall it}:*t't,nf‘ at least appear
to do so. So attractive are eyebrows
that meet that they are called the “bridge
of love.“ The first care. then, of the
Persian beauty is with a little pencil of
antimony to unite her eyebrows, and
then she proceeds to make them appear
of unnatual thickness; her eyelashes are
pcucilcd. too, in a manner not unknown
to our own countrywoiueu. By this
time the lady will have set iked many
kalizins or water pipes, she will have par-
takeu of tea. and rcgalcd herself with
iriilIcc: it‘cd slii'tln‘ts, too, will not have
been wanting. Iler fingertips, ituilsaud
palms, as well as the soles of her feet and .
her toes, have attained a bright chest nut ‘
hue, which will last a week.
is carefully washed once more.
seldom under a yard lotus.
more: for the Persian \ioinziu never cuts ,
her hair. except in front. )crliaps. when
two heavy love locks are le"t on either
side of thcfacc. The l.tili“~’ now return
home to their noniiday l-r ‘akfasts. After I
breadfast there is generally a siesta, and
this in a hot country is almost a ne-
ces~ity. About J tea and pipes appear,
and then the lady receives callers. or
pays visits. or perhaps docs a little shop-
ping, or takes the air initiated on her
amblin: route or a donkey, of snowy
wliiteiicss.—Sf. Jumn‘s “Kurt’s.
It is!
Fashion .\'n‘.¢“.
Black stockings are fashionable.
A R rival of tinsel is talked aluut.
The sailor hat Continues to find favor.
Silver jewelry is as much worn as ever.
ll-mp earrings, plain and filigree, are
fashionable.
§liort, puff: bangs are looked upon
with the most favor.
0n black cloth both black and silver
braid is highly estccxucd.
Silver parasol handles show many
designs of leaves. flowers. fruits, etc.
The corro t jacket for fall West is in
cloths of color to match any costume.
Ribbon folds are especially in wane.
and will continue to be throughout the
3 Work.
The hall l “a for the
. . . . t v v ‘ . s
often much l .“m'l‘l of (h‘u‘n‘h'
! is this verse:
sr‘llSOll.
cotton dress materials in quaint fantastic
designs.
Some of the rough woolen stalls come
in large blanket plaids, others in medium
sized checks.
Net draperies with flouncings of
guipure love are noted on dinner and
evening dresses.
Modistes predict that white coats will
become popular during the winter for
visiting costumes.
broche moire skirts.
The cheering fact presents itself that
the. crowns of hats are lowering and the
brims becoming wider.
Russian net has the popular fancy and
full vests, plastrons and sleeve puffs of
black Russian net are seen often.
The favorite colors in the ew felt hats
are not browns, grays. Gobelin blues and
tapestry greens. in fine grsded shades.
(‘rs lisse is u beautiful tissue, but
never ‘coming to any complexion. Still
accepted as being particularly moilish
and especially stylish, lace straw and
brocade is prominent.
The same latitude in details is seen
this fall in fashionable garments, hats.
helmets, frocks, and wraps that has prev
veiled in bygone seasons.
A big bow of ribbon, with long loops,
placed on the top of the crown. with the
oops falling downward in front, is the
latest fancy in hat trimmin".
White at the neck and wrists is per~
missible in deep mourning, and a finish
that has a )l’itlly look is a flat fold of
white lisse t at shows just over the black
edge.
“’ood, bronze, and tawny tans are the
preferred autumn tints for the principal
tort of suits that are made of two fabrics.
ose colors combine Well with almost
all bright ones.
For tailor-made gowns tine smooth
colors most in vogue embrace black,
zinc dark blue, mode. gray, olive, mauve,
tan and claret.
Among revivals in mediieval styles of
dress, those for children, reproducing
the garments worn by little people in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are
Tilly picturesque and also very comfort-
s e.
Steel, copper, gold and silver braids,
and sometimes all of these combined, are
used in decorating Jackets, suits, and
wraps of various km s. The lmttertts in
which these bnids are put on are exceed-
ingly novel and very elaborate.
Wives in Korea.
Easy marriages and quick divorces are
common in Korea, and among the ser-
vants in the foreign houses here some
amusing illustrations occur. In one
family where the services of an extra
maid servant were found access: the
Korean cook was asked if he could find a
woman for the place.
“Oh, yes," soid the cook, “I am going
to homers-led soon and perhaps my wife
will do."
“Whom are you to marry? “'hst sort
of a woman is she! and how old i" put
the master.
“Oh, well, there are two or three that
I know of, end I will let you see them.
and I will marry the one that will suit
you but for a servant.”
They tried to inculcate hi it American
morals into him, and him that he
must marr the one he loved best with.
out consi ing them in the matter“
all; but the cook was bound to be oblig-
in ', and when he brought as his bride s
ntgher eicciookiug young Korean woman,
tiltsg had to believe that he had consid‘ -
e the family‘s wants in making his
choice. In sshort time, soil to relate, he
beat and abused. her, and, finsll being
discharged, diyorced ‘her, whi for a
Korean woman is a position of gut dis~
grace. Thoma in the enscof course in‘
cars no blame. In the old Korean tsmes‘
wives. who had murdered their has:
huh, were buried in the grand t‘
their clue, and every punt-Junior.”
that-Bonnier.” . that. h
Aldl-imv done ’
° ”a amid.
what Iii. New.
loaves. Smell «intuitions! thedyesre
I'olonsises with only a hint of looping
will be Worn over velvet and antique ‘
broadcloth is in special favor and thel
Mikado and Mandarin prints are newl
I
it remains fashionable for neck lingerie. 2
In the imported lists that have been :9
g lib.
A QUEER ALBUM.
trauma AUTOGRAPHB on a;
HUMAN SKULL.
A Texan lady‘s 0dr! Fancy—So.-
ol' the Concetta of the Oeu-
tributes to the
Collection.
An El Passe (Tens) letter to the San
Francisco Chronicle describes a young
ledy‘s queer autograph album. Th0
album in question is a human skull. It
was originally the property of a Lien-
can, who died on the Rio (lrsnde with-
- out the benefit of a benediction orsboot
jack, and probably, in its time, were u
juunty sombrero and held an unnum-
bered l nautity of cigarettes between its
glistening jaws. At present it 13 simply
a polished white dome of bone, With I
brass standard screwed into its medulle
oblongata attaching it to a slab of black
marble. The pieces are held in place by
wire pins at the sutures. A taxidermist
fixed it u for $5.4..- some such trifle.
Soiuuc for the album. The ghastly
trinket is regularly sprung upon the
young lady‘s friends. with the request
flint they write something appropriate
upon it. The surface is smooth as glass,
g and slittle manipulation of an India-ink
Ibotile and n lithographic. pen does the
The frontal regions are pretty
Wt'll covered now and the rear expanse is
bat-k counties not yet heard
of the ins. riptions are
Between the eye!
from. Some
“'hcre is the putter?
\thv is the clutter!
“'bore the gray "th,
Th:- vitalized spark!
Science erru' I".
Religion linguistic
Are b VIII mun-emphatic
Atrl initial: the dark.
Behind this a disgruntled observer of
human nature has penned:
You mind me o! .‘Isccbiavelli—
A great head and no ha taboo-ii.
Asentinzentalist leaves his tribute in I
line above the ear, or rather where the
car was:
A slit-ll from which
The prom is goon.
Something in the same vein is another
inscription not for away:
Empty Scabbard: where's
Thy sword.
Directly beneath this another band has
penned the terse rejoinder:
It has marred.
0n the broad, lcvcl spice on top. as
free from bumps. vicious or in'clleetusl,
as a billiard ball, are these two stanzas:
Do the thoughts fond. furnish, wise,
That ran wiht onus in your brain.
Ever come in sp-vtntl guise.
And bold revel them ugmnl
Do they whisper. so" and low,
Through the may: v chamber have,
Songs you loved long. long re.
Senses you on e held very earl
Away over at one side somebody who
had evidently taken in the contour of the
skull expressed himself in the following
unkind proposition :
I'll w :- there is more on the outsideol
your h then then- ever was on the inside
A famous oarsman who passed thro It
Texas not long ago on his way to t r
Pacific coast. was led unwillingly up to
the depository and finally expressed him-
self thus:
I have u weakness for sculls.
An old gentleman. who declared that
the skull never belongcd to a man. but
was once part of the effects of a sennrits
and had worn a mantiiia many a time,
placed this line above his autograph:
A chntfrrlnox. minus the chatter.
A studious friend to whom the auto
graph album was suggestive of Yorrick,
drew on the hard of Avon for his senti-
ment and wrote:
bana‘ ‘ hair. ms eyes,
Suns teeth. sans everything.
It will be obserzcd that be quoted ad
Near this effort is a reflection that
it probably suggested:
I believe new that.
beauty is only skin
deep.
The last one is in a cavity that mark:
where a fine bump of vent-ration is turned
inside out, and is brief and to the point
A brine of contented
“I have lots of fun with my skull.’
said the fair collector of siasiatures, fat
the Mexican has to her min lost fl‘l‘ pro
prietorship in it. “and I use it to get rid
of silly people who always write suck
foolish things. "
“How do you ’do that i“ asked one of
her victims.
“Easy enough. You see I have an
autograph album also, and I product
them both. A bright person prefers the
skull, because there is a subject right
away. But, on the other hand, one of
the sort who write: ‘Last but not last,
and 'When this you see remember me,
get frightened and turn to the book with
an absolute sigh of relief. 80 in that
way I keep the skull tolerably select.
Would you like to look at the book i”
“Spare me,” said the unhapppy man.
Dakota once a Waste.
One day I met an old traveler, wh-
thirty yesrs or more ago had traveled
throu h Dakota extensively. This is
what e told me: “ Dakota‘s wonderful
fertility now is due solely to the coming
of the rain. Thirty years ago, going up
the Missouri and near what is now Fort
Pierre, I met an old trap and asked
himifit had ever rained t - Here
lied: “ Forty-six years ago.‘ He had
ived in the Territory that length of time,
and while his remarks wu not literally
true, it indicated the scarcity of moist-
ure. There was no such ‘ udevr,
and the alkali beds were so envy in
theirdeposits that in lieu of tolerates l
have broken cakes of it off and nude his
cuits from it. The sand storm were
terrific, and the Territory . waste that
seemingly nothing could ever reclaim."
—Pieiwrr Prat.
'A Precious Stone Indeed.
One of the tat on ire: of the
world is the prgpgty of thpophPolytechnic
BOGIC. ty of Berlin, Prussia. It; weigh' a
little more than six ounces. n: my‘ of
the Polytechnic Societ on the grounds,
stated in full at their iseulsion, words!
have settled if: value at the frightfulsmn
of 64,000,000 marks. or SIQMOOO. It
need my be :13 that such a trounce
is not ‘ y to II I purchaser at such
price-Harp“: A salon-Ac. .
The first Ben). Player.
The first man who ever '
was Joe Sweeney, and m
was an ere-feted gourd with four things.
Jpegnve his first nines inpublieina
circus tent He was a deck hand, werk~
hurled a «one of. tin ~43“ W.
incomes-inst. ' human-cash
Lynchburg. utter-word it. with
get—Minnow
Norwalk Chronicler