a CHANGE OF MIND.
Miss Duba1le was five-and—forty
years of age 011 the nineteenth of
March, 18—, well, no matter what
year. And she was stout, and short,
with no visible waist; and hands that
were red and fat, instead of white
and slender; and features that be-
longed to no Grecian type or Roman
mold, but seemed to be setting up. sui
generis, each on its own special ac-
count, with no reference whatever to
the others.
But we have ‘not mentioned the
most important fact of all. Miss Du-
barle had forty thousand dollars of
ner own.
And that was, without doubt, the
reason that her relatives sent her
pressing invitations to “come and visit
them,” and dispatched cases of wine
and hampers of game and boxes of-
new books down to Dubarle Farm;
the little girls w< ked hideous pin-
cushions and tidies to decorate her
rooms; and young men wrote acros-
i-ics for her birthday and everybody
listened politely to her speeches, how-
ever prolix they might be. For a rich
old maid is worth cultivating, and it
wasn’t at all likely now that Miss Du-
barle would ever marry.
l; was a bleak afternO‘on, the red
and b1own leaves wihrling round and
round in the blast, and the great wood
5.. e upon the hearth sending, every
aow‘and then, spiteful little gushes of
smoke into the roomlwhere Miss Du-
barle'and her second "cousin and com-
panion, Janet Heath, sat together,
working roses for a counterpane.
“Janet," said Miss Dubarle, polite-
b’, “you’re a fool!”
Janet looked up with a flush of color
on her pale, pretty cheek. She was
not at all unaccustomed to these little
Complimentary rem .rks on the part of
Miss Dubarle. _
“Be a sensible girl,” added the elder
female. “Give him up, and I’ll buy
you a blue silk dress and a black lace
shawl. ”
"I "But I love him, Miss Dubarle.”
‘ “021, psha-awawl" grimaced the spin-
ste1. “Love, indeeul I never was in
love!”
“A,nd" added Janet, growing more
my than ever, as she stooped to pick
up her ivory needle, “he says he would
be "‘ miserable without me. Don’,t
please be angry, Miss Dubarle; but
111693411. indeed. I must marry him.”
ulssuDulIanle turn 1ed up so suddenly
that the dozing: blackbird in its cage
titte1ed a shrill note of consternation.
T‘Wery well, ” she said—“very well,
Janet Heath. Pack your trunk as soon
as. you please. II-can dispense with
youri' services at once."“‘IAnd pack
mine first-if: you please, ,Janet, Heath."
“Youtara-not gong away, Miss Du-
hurled?” queried poor Janet, in con-
sternation. ~ "1 vI—milmumnmtnu
“I’m going to visit my relatives,"_
said Miss Dubarle, with pursed-up
lips. And then little Janet knew that
her own fate as far as any worldly
advantages to be derived from her
kinship “to the heiress, was sealed.
1 .“Put in the black silk gown, Janet,”
saIid'Miss Dubarle. in a tone as lugu-
brious as if she were giving orders for
her own funeral. “Of all sins, I re-
gard ingratitude as the basest—and
the China crape scarf—to think that I
have nursed a viper to turn and, sting
me at last! And don’ t ferget my easy
sliplmis—though I don't know either
why my coins should be entitled to
any more consideration than my poor :
bruised heart."
And then, as Janet Heath began to
cry. Miss' Dubarle marched out of the
room.
"I never could endure the vapors,”
said Miss Dubarle. “I‘ll go to my
niece Maria, or maybe I’ll make Her-
bert Smythe a little bit'of a visit; he’s
always saying how delighted he
would be to entertain me in his bach-
elor quarters. They both love me,
although I haven‘t done half for them
that I have for this little serpent’s
tooth of a Janet. I dare say she ex—
pects to be my heiress, but she‘ll find
out her mistake, I guess.”
And Miss Dubarle, who allowed no
suns to go down upon her wraith, took
the first train for New York, and slept
that night in the fifth story of a mar-
ine-fronted ho'tel. .
“I didn’t think I should miss that
child Janet so much,” she said rather
dolefully to herself the next morning,
as she tried to comb out her tangled
"back-hair,” and nearly strangled her-
self trying to- button up “her own
boots-“but I don’t care! I won’t give
up to her love~sick whims, and I will
go to see Maria Brooks and Herbert
Smythe. Maria’s little girl wrote me
a beautiful letter last month, and all
out of her own head, her mother said.
Eliot me see—Eudocia her name was.
ferhaps I’ll adopt Eudocia.”
And Miss Dubarle ordered a carriage
and drove to the mansion of Mr. Secor
Brecks, on an aristocratic side street.
“They seem. to live very nicely,”
thought the rich relation. “I didn’t
know Secor’s income justified such
style as this. ”
The servant showed Miss Dubarle
into a reception room, furnished after
'11'1'e style- of Louis Qulnze. His mis-
tress was out, but would return pres-
antly, he explained. .
“I ll wait,” said Miss Dubarle.
A wizened littlefigirl, with her hair
braided in long Chinese plaits, and red‘,
chill-looking elbows, was tinkling
away at the piano. She looked round
asfhe guest entered.’
“You are Eudocia, I suppose,” said
Miss Dubarle, affably.
#Yes,” said the child.
is. And who are you?”
“I am Miss Dubarle,” said the heir-
ass, graciously. “You' have heard
your mamma tell about Miss Dubarle,
haven’t you?"
“I’m EudO‘
“Oh, yes!” said Eudo‘da, her small ’
fishy eyes lighting up. “You’ re the
id maid that mamma says is so out-
err -..
... ._. —.—_ ,-. .. .
“Out of health?"
“No; some very big word.”
“Outrageous?” suggested Miss Du-
barle, somewhat discomfitted.
' “No — not that —- outlandish! And
you’re going to die and leave me all
your money and then we are to travel
in Europe. But papa says he don’t see
but what you‘re going to hold on
forever. What is it you are holding
on to, Miss Dubarle?”
“Hem!” said Miss Dubarle.
your mamma’s kind enough to con-
sider me outlandish, is she?”
‘Viamma’s going to invite you to
visit us,” went on the unwisely com-
municative Eudocia, “when the Fitz-
Roy Fortesques are gone. She says
she don’t want them to be shocked
with your Noah’s-Ark ways. I had
a Noah’s Ark once,” added the en-
fant terrible, “with a dog in it and
Shem, Ham and Japhet.”
“I dare say,” said Miss Dubarle.
checking a strong inclination to laugh,
although she felt herself growing pur-
ple in the fact with indignation. “I
think I won’t wait any longer, Eudo-
cia; good-by.”
_ And Miss Dubarle shook the dust of
the Secor Brooks mansion off her feet.
“A pretty hy poc1ite’s nest I should
have got into there!” she said, half
aloud, as she entered the vehicle she
had been wise enough to bid wait.
"Janet Heath, with all her faults, was
at least frank and truthful enough.
Drive to twenty-seven Bachelor
Square, coachman!"
Twenty-seven Bachelor Square was
a tall, brown-stone building, full of
studios, officers and sets of chambers,
and Miss Dubarle was well-nigh out
of breath before she reached a door
at the very top, on which a card, neat-
ly tacked. bore the inscription, “Her.
bert Smythe, Artist.”
She beat a brisk tatoo on the panels
with the handle of her sun umbrella,
and a voice answered,—
“Cbme in."
But to her amazement, the occupant
of the apartment, instead of a young
artist in a black velvet painting-robe,
was a grim female, sitting very up-
right on a‘gothic chair, with tattered
gloves and a bonnet bent on the side.
“Is Mr. Smythe in?” asked Miss Du-
barle. ' , . ~I-. . .
“No,” answered the stony female;
“he ain’t. But if you’ re Wise you’ll sit
down, like me, and wait until he does
come in. I s’pose you’ve come after
your bill?"
“Have yo ?" asked Miss Dubarle, tak-
ing the first part of the hint, by de-
positing herself on a sofa.
“Yes—for the seventh time. He
owes everybody—Smythe, does. I’m
his laundres's, but you can ask the
the tailor and the hatter, and—”
“Then,” curtly observed Miss Du-
barle, “I should think you were all
great fools for trusting him!”
“So we be," said the woman, grim-I
ly; “and I ain’t a denyin’ of that, but
you see. he’s kept us on the string all
along with stories of, his rich cousin,
his favor, and is goin’ to leave him no
end of money.” '
"Oh!" said Miss Dubarle, rubbing
her nose vehemently with the end of
the sun- -umb1ella handle.
I days, anyhow;
jlieve a. word of it.
‘agoin’ be you.
“He says 5.” added the unconscious
traitoress, “that she’s as old as Me-
thuselah. and can’t live but a few
but I, for one, don’t be-
But you ain’t
.,,,
“Yes,” said Miss Dubarle. rising.
“Please to give him this card when he
comes in and tell him, if you like, the
little conversation we have had.!’
And she was nearly down-stairs be-
fore the laundress, fitting on a pair of
silver-bowed spectacles, had read the
two words inscribed upon the card:—
."Miss Dubarle.”
The heiress was very silent during
her d1ive back to the hotel. Perhaps
she was engaged in rendering the fun-
eial 1ites on her dear departed delu-
sion! All that she said to herself was
contained in one sentence,—
“I don’t like being made a fool of,”
she mentally enunciated, “and I be-
lieve I‘ve come very near it.”
Janet Heath sat by the fire” in the
next evening’s twilight, musing. per-
chance, half in sadness, half in shy
pleasure, when the door clicked on its
latch and in walked Miss Dubarle.
Janet started to her feet with a slight
cry.
“Don’t be alarmed," said Miss Du-
barle, stroking the soft, brown hair
With a kindly, reassuring touch. “I’ve
come back to you, Janet Heath; for I
believe, in spite of everything, you are
the truest frien‘d I’ve got, and that
you love me, after all!”
“Indeed, indeed, Miss Dubarle, I
do!” sobbed Janet, with her old fool-
ish trick of tears.
“And so,” said Miss Dubarle, “you
can marry that Harry Dart of yours,
and he can come here to live, and we’ll
all be a happy family together. Untie
my bonnet-strings, Janet—they’ve got
somehow into a knot—and make me a
cup of tea. These railroads are
enough to shake one into a jelly!”
So Miss Dubarle settled back into
the old groove again, and when the let-
ters from New York came she sent
them back unopened. And when Mr.
Herbert Smythe and the Secor Brooks
family arrived in propria personae she
obstinately refused to see them.
i “I won‘t be bothered!” said Miss Du-
barle; “Janet’s my heiress, and there’s
an end to the matter.”
‘ And the relatives discovered that
Ithey might as well attempt to move
; the Rock of Gibraltar as to alter Miss
‘Dubarle’ s resolve!"—-New York News.
A‘ Russian chemist has discovered a
most powerful anaesthetic, several
{thousand times more powerful than
chloroform. Experiments are being
' made at St. Petersburg to see if, it can-
not be enclosed in bombs,- which-would”
have the extraordinary effect of- anaes-
thetising instead. of wounding the
enemy. “ ‘ ,
“SOI
landlord and the wine merchant. and .
Miss Dubarle. as has made her will in "
I not I render it harsh.
a 'A TRUSTED MESSENGER. «T
Employed by the Government for Twenty.
' Seven Years.
“One of the most interesting enur-
acters in the government service."
said an official of the State Depart
ment‘, “is Eddie Savoy, the colored
messenger of the Assistant Secretary
of State. He has been employed in
that department for the past twenty-
seven years, and is thoroughly
bued with all its customs and tradi-
tions. A perfectdiplomat in his way,
he never sees anything he should net.
see nor knows anything it is not in-
tended he should know. At least, that
is how -he impresses the people who
do business with him—~his superiors,
as well as those desiring to communi-
cate with them. His position is a
strictly confidential one, and frequent-
ly puts him in possession of highly
important state secrets, the premature
disclosure of which, in several recent
instances, would have seriously em-
barrassed the government. But never
since he first entered the foreign ofiice,
back in the' administration of Secre-
tary Fish, when the State Department
was located in the building at the cor-
ner of Fourteenth and S streets, now
used as an orphan asylum, has he
been known, to betray a trust or to
tell anything whatever about the af-
fairs of the State Department that he
was not personally authorized to tell.
I am reminded of this by the impor-
tant part he played in the events at-
tending the recall'of Sackville West,
the British Minister, during Cleve-
land’s first administration, as well as
those in the more recent case of Senor
Polo, the Spanish Minister. He acted
as the trusted messenger between the
Secretary of State and the foreign
minister in both cases. Secretary Bay-
ard selected him to personally hand
Mr. Sackville West his passports, and
Secretary Day confided to him the im-
portant duty of handing to Senor Polo,
first, President McKinley’s ultimatum
to the Spanish Government for the
evacuation of Cuba, and next the 011i-
cial papers insuring him safe conduct
out of the territory of the United
States. ' ‘Eddie,’ as he is familiarly
called,- was fully impressed with the
importance of - these missions, and
adopted assimple but shrewd method
.to satisfy _the'head of the department
of their successful exeéution. .When
he handed Minister West the package
containing his passports he asked him
as a favor to show that they had been
properly delivered that he write his
autograph on the official envelope and
give'it to him. Mr. West did as re-
quested, and Eddie took the envelope
with its autographic indorsement and
broken seal back to the department
and showed it to Mr. Bayard. He fol-
lowed exactly the same course with
equal success in delivering the ulti-
matum to Minister Polo. The tWo en-
velopes are now Eddie’ s’ pnivate prop-
erty, having been presented to him by
Secretaries Bayard and Day, and are
treasured by him as relics of impor-
tant events in the diplomatic history
of the 'United ‘States.”-—Washington-
Star.
AUTOMATIC WOOL DRYER.
Accomplishes the ‘Work Without Leaving
Any Harshneu.
One of the drawbacks of rapid wool
drying is the necessity of maintaining
alow temperature to avoid harshness
in the fiber. Harshness is due to two
causes, the existence of a high tem~
perature while the dry stock is being
manipulated, and the lack of air cir-
culation. The result of these condi-
tions is that the stock becomes what
,is known in the wool trade as “baked.”
A high temperature on a wet fiber will
Ordinary wool
dryers maintain either a uniformly
low temperature throughout the dry-
ing, and thus avoid harshness at a
sacrifice of capacity, or they secure
high temperature, but produce Lharsh-
ness. In a new automatic wool dryer
both these difliculties have been over-
come, the stock being subjected. to a
high temperature, say 180 degrees, at
the wet end, and then carried on into
successive compartments of gradually
reduced heat to about 110 degrees at
the finish, The drying is accom—
nately through thl‘ stock and steam
coils placed in a compartment at the
si'deof the machine. A constant sup-
ply of air saturated to grade is main-
tained at the top of the machine, and
each chamber receives its specially
heated supply of fresh air. This grad-
ing of heat in the successive chambers
produces a soft fiber, free from harsh-
ness when dry. 1n fact, the wool has
the advantage of being subjected at
every stage of the process to a scien-
tifically adjusted combination of heat
and moisture. The machine is built in
sizes ranging from 2,000 pounds to
12,000 pounds’ daily capacity—St.
Louis Democrat.
Et' queue of Gulf.
Here are some things which you
will do well to remember when you
go on to the golf links, either as a play-
er or as an onlooker: Standing so
that a shadow fals upon your part-
ner’s ball is not only impolite, 'but de-
trimental to-the success 'of this “driveJ’
Standing on the putting green after
you have “holed out,” whether it -s
to gaze at the scenery or write down
your score, will exasperate your best
frind on earth if he or she happens
to be playing behind you. To play
first and to shout “Fore!” afterward is
apt to add insult to actual injury.
“Fore” is called as a warning that a
“drive” is about to be made. It is not
an expression of consolation after one
has been bit. If/ you choose as a part-
ner a' woman who keeps you. back by
slow play, don’t quarrel with her on
this account. Abide by your choice
and do what you can to help her en-
;Iloy one game.
a
in)?
capacity by maintaining a uniformly '
plished by circulating heated air alter- .
.1 ‘ HER VANITY PUNISHEDJ’T
kl
A Little Slx Year-01d Felt Thai: She Had
‘ Round :1 Just Reward.
A dear little maiden of six, the
daughter of a South Jersey clergyman,
came to New York for the first time
the other .day to visit a wealthy aunt.
In her simple home life in «the country
no one had ever paid much attention
to the beauty of her coloring and the
pathos in her eyes. She was simply a
child, to be spanked when she was
naughty and let alone when she was
good.
When she arrived in the metropolis,
dressed like a quiet little sparrow, her
aunt fathomed the sensation that she
would create if put in an artistic set-
ting. So she hied her to a swell es-
tablishment where everything that is
dainty and chic in children’s clothes
can be had for-a price. The child
was soon transformed into an infant
belle. Four or five artistic creations
were tried on and purchased, and final-
ly she iS‘sued from the store radiant
in a fluffy white gown and a big pink
picture hat. Her delight in her new
clothes was simple and unaffected and
no thought of how they might affect
other people disturbed her. Her beau‘
ty_ was fairly dazzling.
As the aunt led her into a. trolley
car and they took their seats every
eye was on-the child. Smiles greeted
her wherever she looked and finally
it was forcd upon her that she was
the observed of all observers. The
roses in her cheeks. deepened. She
twitched and turned, unable, in her
sweet innocence, to endure the admir-
ing glances showered upon her. In a
little while her eyes filled with tears,
and sobbingly, she buried her face in
her aunt’s lap and tore the picture hat
from her head.
“Oh, auntie,” she said, “take it
away. i look like such a fright in it;
everybody is staring at me. It’s God’s
punishment for being so va1n”——‘lew
York Mail and Express.
' THE TODDY ITREE.
Nltnro Ens nu- Bum Shops and Drunk-
. , ardc Among Insects.
Nature'has her runi sheps, her sa-
loons: She produces plants which de-
I'Vote themSelves to the manufacture
{and sale or intoxicants. The South
f'American toddy tree is well known
{to naturalists. It is well known also
”:toIthe South American beetle. 'When
the latter goes on a spree he never
goes it "alone, after the unneighborly
habit of the human drunkard, but he
collects his friends and accuaintances
to the number of thirty or forty; the
whole crowd run their short horns
through' the bark of the toddy tree,
revel in the outflowing juices and,
while inebriated, are easily caught by
the human natives.
The toddy tree parts with its liquor
free of charge. There, are other plants
which are less generous. They exact
no less a penalty than the death of
the unfortunate drunkard.‘ And what
do they do with the body? Strange
as it may seem, they eat it. In this,
manner they obtain the food which
nourishes them and sustains their
healthful existence. .
At the end of each of ~their long
green leaves these plants have a pitch-
er-shaped receptacle.~ «We might style
this the growler, but it never needs
to be brushed. It is always full of what
called bug juice—a~' watery liquor,
sweet to the taste and inebriating to
the senses. Only in fine weather is
the groWier open 'for business. On
rainy days it is firmly shut up to keep
ont‘the rain that would dilute and
spoil the contents. Nature’s saloon
keepers do not water their stock.—
William S. Walsh in Lippincott’s.
Making Manila Hemp.
Every engineer knows what Manila
hemp is, but few'are aware that it is
the product of a species of banana,
{which is cultivated in certain locali-
1ties in the Philippine Islands. The
gplant called by the natves “abaca,”
throws up a cluster of sheathing leaf
stalks to a ’height of 20 or 30 feet,
1which spread out at the top into a
crown of huge, undivided leaves. When
it is three years old, it is cut down,
and the stalks are 'torn into strips.
These strips, while still fresh, are
drawn between a knife and a wooden
block, and the soft cellulose matter is
removed. The fiber is then :hung up
to dry in the open air until it mm for
use. Each stalk gives about a pound
of fiber, and two natives —will turn
out about 25 pounds a. day. The in-
side fiber, which is thin-and weak, is
used by the natives for making arti-
cles of dress. The familiar Manila
rope is made from the fiber of the out-
er layer, which is hard and strong.
The whole supply of Manila hemp
practically comes from the Philip-
pines, and the United States Icon-
sumes 41 per cent of it. Last year
this country took 417, 473 bales out of
the 825,020 bales exported, Great Brit-
ain coming next with 385,182 bales.
The continent of Europe took 22, 373
bales.
IAll Was Not Well at Eight. Bells.
Dr. Field, who was the eXamlning
surgeon for the Naval Reserves while
the recruiting was being done in.New
Orleans, had many a good story to tell
of recruits in the service. A good one
he tells is of a German who was walk-
ing his post and calling the hours as
is required. He called “seven bells
and all’s vell.” The next call, how-
i'ever, was a variation. It was: “Eight
bells and all is not vell; I but droppit
my musket oferboard.—New Orleans
Times-Democrat.
Contented In It Is.
‘ “I regret that I’ lost my temper,
this morning, Harry,” she said.
“I don’t,” he replied sweetly, “pro-
ndediyou never find it again.”-—Phila-
delphia. North American.
with special appropriateness might bet
THEYEAR -I.
1)
BY
SUBCRIBING
FOR THE ,
N. Y. WEEKLY TRIBUNE.
BOTH P APERS
sen“ toI a-nv Ad dress
FOR ’
.ne ,_ I’
\.
. innsrssantnz 011111118 T0 smarts.
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Norwalk Chronicler