1' 1 Pleasure for warm, thirsty pe0ple,— it’s so delightfully cooling and refreShing— ‘ invigorates the whole sys- ‘,\ tern —soothes the nerves— . ,. promotesrestfulslumberand ‘ ' ahearty appetite for food. DAVID ‘w- RAYMOND Funeral 111.111 and Emlalmer 39 Washington Street South Norwalh Residence . Manackemo Hote1 Piano Lessons. MRS. .GEOBGE W BBAD LEY. (daughter of the late Wm.D 1.. Nash.) gives effi cent and satisfactory instructions on the Piano at her home No.193 Main street HERE’S YOUR GIIAIIGE. A fine building lot on Wilton ave. nue. If you intend to build, look at this before purchasing. Water, gas and sewer on the avenue. Will be sold at a Bargain. ____ W. H. BYINGTON, Real Estate and Insurance Room I. Gazette B’l’d. YOU KNOW “A Good Thing” when you see it-——almost every one does. The line of Suitings I am of- fering for $6.00 .and upwards are each and every one a good thing. Just a matter otchoice for the dif- ferent , tastes. The assort- ment includes all kinds, light and dark—a fine collection. Pants, $3.50, FRANK COCO, 36 Main St., Norwalk. Cleaning, Repairing and Dyeing. DORLON HOUSE GREGORY’S 10|N,T. —— NOW OPEN FOR THE SEASGN OFl189'l. SHORE DIIIEBS, RHODE ISLAND GLAM CAKE, BATHIIB, BOATING, FISHING. Electric cars to Hotel, every twenty minutes. N E.O’SULLIVAN, Manager. HALE LUE-G BALSAM 25C. Ask Your Druggist AT HOME. ~ Don’t go out of town to have your Awnings made when you can get them right here at home just as cheap. , If you want a canopy for a party or a wed- ding, [will supply it at two hours’ notice. A letter or postal card will receive.prompt at. tention. p. E. cALLAHAN, Awningrlvlake‘r, .. went to the window. He followed, and ' before, and also that I cannot marry 53 cross so, Norwal’k.‘ THE E v. EN 11»: G GAZETTE. TOLD BY _A__JOURNAL.l BY AIMEE M. WOOD. Here I am at last pleasantly domi- ciled in my aunt's house in New York, and having dispbsed of my home cor- respondence, apprising them all of my safe arrival, I now turn to you my dear journal. Let me tell you a secret. I firmly believe that Aunt Dollie has in view the-marriage of her‘step—son with my- self. I fancy she covets for him my little fortune. Now I don’t care for Claude a little bit and as for his ever falling in love with any one outside his immaculate self—out upon such a. wild c0nception of the imagination! I came here to study music, not men, I intend to give undivided attention to the former and utterly ignore the latter. . November 'i'.—A week has passed since I last closed your covers, journal. Aunt Dollie has found me a teacher, and I have begun lessons. He, the teacher, is giave and sedate but quite a young man to be the father of three child-.ren Yes, aunt says he has a wife and three little boys. Well, what does it matter? He plays divinely. He is handsome. I see his face continually while I am practising. And his voice rings in my ears. , . _ He must be much older than he looks. He has studied in Germany. I wonder if his wife was an Ameri- can girl, 01 if he met her abroad! I wonder if she plays! Perhaps she is an opera singer. These men pianists always marry singers. I refused to go to the Tillinghast re- ception with Claude and my aunt, as I wished to practise all the evening. Nothing but technic, technic, will he give me at first I detest it, and long to break my promise to him and play a noctume, or that exquisite Finland Love Song. But I must do as he says. January 30.— A piece at last! .And what should it be but the Finland Love Song! I idolize that piece! He played it for me and I cried. I hope he did not notice. But the big tears would come. Now I am at work at it, trying to play it as did he. “Read the words. Study them,” he ordered, “then incorporate them in your tones.” It is the transcription by Mosenthal he has given me. “ lead the words!” Do I not know them by heart? Are they not burned into every thought at present? Clan time, measured by long, lonely years, ever avail to blot them. from my wretched future? February 10.——He played for me at my lesson today the Chopin Nocturne in C minor. I hope no one will listen to it in fu- ture with the heartbreak Lendured throughout its rendering. . Chopin no doubt felt it, as he wrote it, thinking of George Sand and his love for her. It was the inspiration of a great love and heartache which he poured into that composition. ‘ How he played! He must have some- time loved deeply to be able to render it thus. My heart throbs yet at the memory, and I can scarcely see for tears while practising. Yes, he no doubt loved his wife—loves her yet. Strange I never see her—nor the children. Yet no one ever comes into the studio but pupils, so that it is not strange, either. What eyes he has! I must write no more to-night. March 18. -I had a scene with Claude to- -.day Can he not see that I detest him? It began by my aunt leaving us to- gether in the drawing room. He took my hand and gazed into my eyes. As I looked down into his mean- ingless orbs, a recollection of other eyes sent a subtle thrill through my whole being. I dashed hastily from my seat, nearly upsetting Claude, and I felt his arms encircling my waist. “IVill you be kind enough to leave me in peace?” I said sternly, moving away from him and putting a chair between us. ‘ “Peace! Amy, I wish I knew what that word meant! “’11! you be kind enough to grant me peace!” “Well, I am sorry for you,” I said at last, coldly, “but I have told you that you, Claude—n01 any one else, for that matter I am going away to Italy or Ger-.many, or maybe to Egypt. I want to get away somewhere!” With the words I left the room and betook myself to my own March 28. —-He has giv r911 me a book to lead. “Amy Fay’s Letters .” He admires it very much. I wish I were a writer and a musician. How de- lightful to combine two talents! He has marked some of the passages. Here is one:— “My whole attention is now bent up- on t’one. Ah, me, ‘that's the thing in playing. To bring out the soul there is in the key simply as touching it, as the great masters do. It is the pianist’s highest art, though amid the dazzle of piano pyrotechnics the pub- he often forgets it." - It is just the passage for me at present. I am learning slowly but surely under his care-taking cul- ture, to bring out the soul there is in the key. ._He shys no word of praise. But I know him well now. I feel the applobation of hisslook, the kindling of his glance. April 23. —Ah, me! That .I should ever live to see the misery of this day —-this night! . Oh, my journal, how can I tell you the shame, the misery, the disgrace, that has come to me? “No mme priceless visits to his studio. No more lessons eage1ly,fevc11s|11y looked forward to! Today I played for him as I nevei playedbefore. The music took pos session of me, and I seemed to forge \v.~,.wn. I‘, all butthat I was near, him. As _1_ finish-red, he turned from the studio window, where he had been standing luring the whole of my playing— imned and drew near me. From his lips came the first words of praise I have ever had; from his eyes a burning confession such as matched the fire of my own soul. “Miss Duval, I congratulate you. No pupil of mine has ever equalled all that you have achieved in six short months.” 0h fool, fool that I was! Could I not see that he meant only friendly encouragement? Why need I have turned faint and pale, and reel into his arms under the intoxication of his eyes, his magnetic voice, the sweet de- lirium of those unexpected words? His lips upon mine brought me to my senses. Again and again he kissed mc—ovcr and over strained me to his heart niurmuring words which I shud- der to remember, yet upon which my guilty 111e1no1y dwells in a sweet in- toxication of delight. I 100‘ (1. up at him, opening my eyes wider, wider, as the dreadfulness of it all dawned slowly upon me. The outraged wife! The little ones trusting a father’s love! And then above all came suddenly to my compre- hension the insult to myself. I flung as: de his enfolding arms and with sud- den stxength flew to the hall; snatch ing my hat from the rack, and push- ing aside an entering pupil, rushed in- to the sheet. Oh, that I should have lived to see this day. ' May 20.———I am calm now.-I care not what bat-comes of me. I have consented to marry Claude. He is happy. Aunt is radiant. 1 alone am tortured—- wretched! My trousseau is purchased. .I gave aunt permission to buy what she Wished and I suppose I am envied. My outfit is certainly superb. We are to be married in July. Claude insisted on some fay in June, but there I was obduratc. July or never! We shall go to Europe immediately. My packing is all done except putting you in, my journal. I’ll leave you till the last. My head aches and I am goingto steal away for a quiet walk in the park. Midnight. th, I am so happy after weeks of misery. He is not married—has never been. Oh, how could aunt so cruelly deceive me? I will leave her house forever and fling into her step- son’s face the flashing ring which binds my life to his no longer! To -day I went to the pa1k and resting (for I seem to have no strgen th of late) upon a rustic bench, 11 atching the squirrels and list- ening to the song of the spring birds, I saw him approach. I felt my hands grow icy and my heart leaped in my throat. He came and took the vacant place beside me. I scarcely knew him, he seemed so worn,- so changed. And yet I would: have known him. I felt his coming, his presence, before I saw him in the distant path. He sat down near me, without explanation, without apology, even without the begging of the privilege. “You must listen to what I have to to say,” he began coldly. How thin and pale he leoked. Oh, how my guilty heart ached in pity for him! I felt I ought to rise and Spurn him from me,,yet I sat silent, motion- less, speechless, as one in a dream. ' “I have but a few words to speak,” he continued, looking straight before him into the vista of trees beyond us. “I owe you an apology which I can never blame you for ‘ not accepting. Neither can I blame you for giving no heed to my letters.” “Letters!” I gasped the word faintly “My letters,” he repeated. “Did you not receive them?’ “\ever!” , ' _ “You did not receive them?" He repeated the words as though dazed, brushing his forehead slowly —.happy ‘with a thin white hand. “I have never received one line from you!” ‘ He turned his eyes upon mine. I re- coiled at the eager. gaze fixed upon me as though to search my soul. ‘ “0, pure, honest eyes! I cannot doubt them!” he exclaimed. He rose and took my hands, drawing me to my feet. “Amy Duval, send me from you if. you will, but hear me this once,,I love you! You are the only woman I have ever loved.” “Your wife!" The Words came faintly from my lips,'but their effect upon him was electrical. "‘My wife!” Amazement filled his tones—expressed itself vividly upon his pale countenance. ‘Who told you I was married? he asked at last, fierce- 1y. “My aunt.” A succession of changes came over his face. There was silence for many moments, then he raised his eyes from the ground, fixing them again on my own “And you have thought so—how long?” “From the first ” “It is false—Amy! You believe me?" “Yes.” He drew me to him. There were no spectators but the squirrels and we ii 11 not care for them. objections to this trying shade. WIDE COL LARs 11-15 LATEST" Traci k, A Gray Gown and Gray Feather bra Very Fetching. “Is she well dressed?” is a sign in. cant question in these days when the fashionably attired woman possesses that mysterious, indefina- ble charm called “style” is considered- decidedly more attractive ti an the merely pretty woman without this eu— viable Quality. Among the latest ideas in dress is the gray skirt of barege, cashmere, cloth, or taffeta silk, worn with vari- ous waists as a substitute for the black silk one which has done duty so long. Lace and chiffon bodices, in white, cream, or very delicate tint, and made with transparent Sleeves, are exceed- ingly pretty with the pale gray skirt. Gray is surely the color of the mo- ment for wool gowns and many other features of dress, and the contrast be- tween this Quaker shade and the bril- liant reds Which dominated dress earl- ier in the season, is certainly very .. er - " // 11mm!!! @uuww' .J l L.’ striking. A pale pink silk bodice trim- med witb black velvet ribbon and steel beads makes a lovely combination with the gray skirt. A gray gown and a gray feather boa are two things to be desired it you would be in the latest fashion; yet. there are compensations among othe1 colorings Which can be made to an .11 er ve y nicely if the gray govn is an impossibility. Gray is a. color which must be'chosen very care- fully or it will prove most unbecom- ing; but the fashion for color in the bodice does away with many of‘the Shot ya- and mauve silk makes a stun- 111115; gown trimmed with black lace inse;:icn set in to show the white silk underneath. One little accessory of dress which ls veiy fetching is the necktie, of net, 51111, 111 mull, with lace ends. WhiCh folds nanowly, around the lower edge of Lhe collar band, and tiesin front in 1 tom -ii.-hand knot; again it appears, .. as a ShOit be)” made of two accordion- “My letters, Amy. What could have 5911111141 81105 been—” . .. . _ a: a: 1 11- c ‘ I: a p ‘11: I have had a long talk with aunt. She cried and begged me to forgive her, and from the heights of my bliss l have promised bdth to forgive and ‘ forget. Claudewill find another heiress to support him. I shall go to Europe but not with him. [Good- -111th my journal! I will put you in my trunko now. Good-by! Good- by! » m ,flir.,§§aaewa‘é‘ta11s of trimming and finish on the summer gowns are the‘most telling points in fashion this season, and the little ends of ribbon and frill 3f. lace or hemstitched batiste set in it the back of the neckband make a, vast dlft'erence in the becoming effect‘ Wide collars of linen trimmed with up: plique lace are seen on wool EOWfiS, and wide collars of different shapes 1nd materials are a distinct routine of he latest d1 esses. who , WASHIN‘GI " crowns” soo snore A M1NUTE."" " the New Automatic Hotchkiss Mltralueov use Accomplishes this Feat. A startling development in gun mak- ing is the new automatic Hotchkiss mitrailleuse. It fires off five or six hundred infantry cartridges per min- ate. This little marvel of mechanism per- forms the most astonishing functions with twice the rapidity and more than ' the accuracy of human intelligence. [t loads a gun, closes the breech, fires. )pens the breech again, throws out the empty shell and introduces a new car- tridge exactly as a soldier would do. The gun is furnished with a butt and a shoulder brace, so that the guns, nor may take careful aim. When in use it is mounted on a tripod, the rear . arm of which contains a saddle, on 'wh-ich the gunner may take his" seat. the gun can be raised or lowered and turned to the right or left at will. The tripod also can be made as high or as low as needed, and the gunner may assume a standing, sitting or re- :umbent posture. Two men can easily carry it from one spotto another. Its total weight is only fifty pounds. In transporting it, the gun and its tripod are separated, and each is packed away in a leather case. One mule can carry both cases, one ar- ranged on either side, as well as a‘ strong box containing accessories and sufficient ammunition to last for a pe- riod. Another mule is laden with supple- mentary ammunition packed away in two boxes, each containing thirty-two strips of cartridge. The mi-ttrailleuse can be mounted and dismounted by any soldier of average intelligence and without the use of tools. The motive mechanism being rectilinear allows of the use Of the gun at any inclination, either above or below the horizon. The cartridge is in contact with the heated portion of the gun only at the moment of dis- charge. Two men are needed to manage it with the most favorable results, but at 1 pinch one man will suffice. The firing can be conducted slowly, at the rate of one hundred cartridges a'min'ute, or rapidly, at the rate of six hundred. This feature makes it unique among modern implements of war.— New York Herald. 1‘11. Emits. id'ud'iriE‘Kn-uclo. ‘ It was the practice of a certain Lon- don editor some years ago, to write his , leading article. or articles at home the night before publication. The rest of the week he did nothing. One night A THOUGHT 03-" P'o‘s'TER'iTv. She Found Her Ready MadeObitnary on File for Future Use. 4 A clever bit of forethought occurred to a popular young woman in New York not long ago, and perhaps her example might be copied-to advantage by some of her fellow citizens. She suddenly realized that the purveyors of news were probably the only people who were quite prepared for her death, Every well ordered newspaper, she dis- ered, keeps 1a “biographical, file," where is a ready-made obituary of . each individual of public interest, wait- ing for publication whenever his or her demise may be reported. With her, to think was to act. She at once betook herself to the'main of- fi'ce of a prominent New York daily, and frankly asked her question. It was as frankly answered. In fact, from a pigeon hole there was drawn an envelope containing a fairly accu- rate account of her life up to, date, and a blank wherein might be written the date of her death. Inclosed with this was—to use the young lady’s own ex- pression—“the most atrocious photo- graph imaginable.” She read the no. rice with interest, correcting one or . two minor errors, and then, turning to the editor, said: “I’ 1! send you a. decent photograph to.morrow I couldn’t stand having that thing published after I was dead, when people might have forgotten how I really looked. ”-——Puritan. . __,__._._ CATERPILLAR LACE VEILS. 1 A Square Yard Weighs Only Four and On. . ....._ _._..._..__..‘ .- his articles had not come to hand at : the office. Ten o’clock came; ‘11, i2, and still no sign of an article. There was commotion in the office, and at last a messenger was sent to the editor‘s house. He found him with a glass of brandy and water before him, and newspapers scattered about. There was no article written. “What do you want?" asked the edie for “The article for tomorrow." “Didn’t I send it?” “No; at least, it has not com-e to the office.” “Give me ‘The Times.‘ ” “The Times” was found and handed to him, and with unsteady fingers he cut out one of his leading articles. This he stuck upon a sheet of paper, and then, taking up his pen, wrote at the top: “What does ‘The 'l‘im-es' mean ‘by this?” In that form and with that introduction it appeared next mo1n-ing as the edi 1"s leading article. —S-an Francisco Amonaut. A Unique Marriage Ceremony. When two.Negritos, a people of the Philippine Islands, are to be wedded, the whole tribe is assembled, and the aflianced pair climb. two trees grow- ing near to each other. The elders then bend the branches until the heads of the couple meet. ‘ When the heads have thus come into contact, the mar- riage is legally accomplished, and great rejoicings take place, a fantastic dance completing the ceremony. "I told her I would lay the World at her feet.” "What did she say?” “She said that if I was that athletic I ought - -- to be travelling with a show.”-—-R0x- bury Gazette. w‘ Half Grains. A way has been discovered by a bot- anist to make a veil far lighter and more delicate than any other fabric in the world. His idea is ingeniously sim- ple, for he employs caterpillars to do the work for him. Having made a paste of the leaves of the plant on which the caterpillar he uses feeds, he spreads it thinly on a slab of stone. Then, 'with a camel- hair brush dipped in oil, he draws the pattern he wishes the insects to leave open. The stone is then placed in a slanting position, and a numberof cat- erpillars placed at the lower side. A particular species which spins a very strong web is chosen. The creatures commence at the bottom and work their way up, eating and spinning their way to the top, carefully avoiding. the oily part, but devouring all the rest. The lightness of these veils is amaz- ing. One measuring 261/2 inches by 11 inches weighs a grain and a half. A squ.‘ 1": yard weighs 4%,» grains, Whilst the ~11: 1? amount of the finest silk 33,311.31? v. 'cighs 137 grains—more that .t11i11:. tiz.‘ .es as much. i comfort. l more on a wheel than whil‘ew‘alm. .1 Jonnhy Bull Bun. John Bull occasionally perpetrates a. bull right is quite as “bully” as an Dish buli. .‘icwrding to “Law Notes,” of Angliud, an English Judge, in, sen- tent-i; 1g a prisoner, recently said: “Are , oz; 9.11 are that for these repeated breaches of the law it is in my power to sentence you to a term of penal ser- vitude fai exceeding your natural life? And, win1 t is more, I feel very much inclined to do it. ” Sweet Content. . Wayworn Watson—Everything is‘ gett’n’ to be done by machinery these days. It is something awful. 1 Perry Pattetic—I don’t see no call for you, nor me, neither, to git excited about it. I guess no machine won’t never take up our trade and ruin it."— Cincinnati Enquirer. l EnghshmaEf—“Patrick, what do you think of. emigration as a cure for the ills of Ireland? Patrick—Emigration do be all might, ear, but th’ landlord: must be th’ wan to emigrate. —-New York Weekly. “Old Gubwell seen: to have an end- less supply of stories. " - “I do not know about tut; but he does seem to have a sum ”fi-‘fifiess stories. "~Indlan‘apolis Journal. Riders who must wearbicycle shoes should get a perfect fit if they ire A misfit is noticed THE ORIGINAL Stamped a: BOS‘S” . .lways the Same it s l s ) 6 .o s o a o o 3: o 1 a lights the Way and stays lighted. All brass. nickeloplated-no tin; outside oil~filler, cotton packed oil fount; double convex ground‘photo- lens; burns kerosene. throws a light 90 it. and weighs but 12 ounces. , Three years a leader, and three years’ improvements now added. Absolutely the handsomest and best bicycle lamp ever made. Sold by all leading dealers. ‘ THE PLACE 8; TERRY MFG CO. delzs‘eedurnew,¢h¢apethmp_thgus 1' 1.9;}. 247' Centre Street, New York. ‘1
Norwalk Chronicler