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TICKETS CAN BE OBTAINED A7 THIS OFFICE.
' barle?” queried poor Janet,
THE E v EN 1 N G (.112
A CHANGE or MIND.
was five-and-forty
years of age 011 the nineteenth of
March, 18—, well, not 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-1
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
Miss Dubarle
the others.
But We have not mentioned the
most important fact of all. Miss Du-
barle had forty thousand "dollars of
her 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-
tics 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 eve-r marry. '
It was a bleak afternoon, the red
Lnd brown leaves wihrling round and
round in the blast, and the great wood
fire upon the hearth sending, every
now and then, spiteful little gushes of
smoke into the room where Miss Du-
barle and her second cousin and com-
panion, Janet Heath,
Working roses for a counterpane.
“Janet,” said Miss Dubarle, polite;
iy, “you’re a fool!"
Janet looked up with a flush of color ‘-
Dn 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 I
female. “Give ”him up, and I’ll buy
you a blue silk dress and a black lace
shawl.”
“But'I love him, Miss Dubarle.”
“Oh, psha-a-aw!” grimaced the spin-
ster. "Love, indeed! I never was in
love!”
“And,” added Janet, growing more
rosy 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
indeed, indeed, I must marry him.”
Miss Dubarle jum ied up so suddenly
that the dozing blackbird in its cage-
uttered a shrill note of consternation.
“Very well,” she said—“very well,
lanet Heath. Pack your trunk as soon
as you please. I can dispense with
your services at once. And pack
mine first, if you please, Janet Heath.”
“You are not going away, Miss Du-
in con-
sternation.
"‘I’m going to visit my relatives,”
said Miss Dubarle, with pursed-up
lips. And then littleJanet knew that
her own fate as far as any worldly
advantages to be derived from her
kinship to the heiress, was sealed.
“Put in the black silk gown, Janet,”
said Miss Dubarle, in a tone as lugu-
brious as if she were giving orders for
her own fune1al. “Of all sins, I re-
gard ingratitude as the bases-t—and
the China crape scarf—etc think that I
have nursed a viper toturn and sting
me at. last! And don’t forge-t my easy
slippers—though I don’t know either
why my corns should be entitled to
any more consideration than my poor
bruised heart.”
And then, as Janet Heath began to
m y, Miss Dubarle mal ched 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 Yoxk, and slept
that night in the fifth sto1y 01” :1 mar-
ble- f1 outed 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.
Let me see—Eudoci'a her name was.
Perhaps I’ll adopt Eudo'cia.”
And Miss Dubarle ordered a carriage
and drove to the mansion of Mr. Secor
Brooks, 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 se1vant showed Miss Dubarle
into a reception-room, furnished after
the style of LouiS'Quinze. His mis-
tress was out, but would return pres-
ently, he explained.
“I’ll wait,” said Miss Dubarle.
A wizened little girl, with her hair
. braided in long Chinese plaits, and red,
chill-looking elbows, was tinkling
away at the piano. She looked round
as the guest entered.
“You are Eudocia, I supliose,”‘said
Miss Dubarle, affably.
“Yes,” said the child. “I’m Eudo-
cia. And who are you?”
“I am Miss Dubarle,” said the heir-
ess. graciously. “You ‘ have heard
your mamma t‘e’ll about Miss Dubarle.
haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes!” said Eudoda, her small'
fishy eyes lighting up. “You’re the
old maid that m’amma says is so out~
out—~”
l
.1 .
sat together, .
enenvy.
TE
“Out of health? T1?"
“N0; some very big word ” '
“Outrageous?” suggested Miss Du-
barle, somewhat discomfitted.
“No —— not that —— outlandish!
i’you re. going to die and leave me all
:your money and then we are to travel
f in Eu1ope. 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. “So
your mamma’s kind enough to con-
sider me outlandish, is she?”
Mamma’s going to invite you to
visit us,” went on the unwisely com-
Imunicative Eudocia, “when the Fitz-
Roy 14 o1tesques ale gone. She says,
'she don’t want them to be shocked
{with your Noah’s-Ark ways. I had
is Noah’s Ark once,” added the en-
jfant terrible, “with a dog in it and
tShem, Ham and Japhet.” _
“I dare say,” said Miss Dubarle.
checking a strong inclination to laugh,
although she felt herself growing pur—
pie in the fact with indignation. “I
think I won’t wait any longer, Eudo-
cia; good-by.” _
And Miss Dubarie shook the dust of
the Secor Brooks mansion off her feet.
“A pretty hypocrite’s nest I should
have-got intotherei” She said, half
aloud, as she entered the vehicle she
had been wiSe enough to bid wait.
at least frank and truthful enough.
'Driv to twenty-seven Bachelor
ESquare, coachman!”
l Twenty-seven Bachelor Square was
a tall, brown—stone building, full of
istudios, officers and sets of chambers,
land 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
iwith the handle of her sun umbrella,
‘ and a voice answered,—
“Come 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.
I “Is Mr." Smythe in?” asked Miss Du-
barle.
“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 laundress, but you can ask the
landlord and the wine merchant, and
the tailor and the batter, 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-
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,
Miss Dubarle, as has made her will in
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-umbrella handle.
“He says,” added the unconscious
traitoress, “that she’s as old as Me-
thuselah, and can’t live but a few
days, anyhow; but I, for one, don’t be
lieve a word of it. But you ain’t
agoin’ be you?”
“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 ha .”
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 drive back to the hotel. Perhaps
she was engaged in rendering the fun-
eral rites 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 Hearth; for I
believe, in spite of everything, you are
the truest friend I’ve got, and'that
you love me, after all!”
“Indeed, indeed, Miss Dubarle, I
do!” so-bbed 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 togetheI. Untie
my bounct- stii.ngs Jr— -net~thcy’ve got
somehow into a knotaand 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 propri-a personae she
obstinately refused to see them.
“I won't be bothered!” said Miss Dn-
barle; “Janet’s my heiress, and there’s
an end to the matter.”
And the relatives discovered that
they might as well attempt to move
the Rock of Gibraltar as to alter Miss
Dubarle’s resolvel—New York News.
A Russian. chemist has discovered a
most powerful anaesthetic,
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 tho
several. '
And I,
- robe.
“Janet Heath, with all her faults, was -;
wardrobe is hung against the wall
zwith the rod at the top, gowns are
l
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' on the market.
. Ind frying
'fin ring.
A Portable \V- ardrnbe.
_A lady going abroad has made her-
self what she calls a pertable wa1d-
She frankly says that the idea
is not original with her, but is an Eng-
lish notion, and that she has only ccp—
ied an article which she once saw in
London. The thing is so convenient
and easily made, and the woman who
travels or who in summer has a room
in the average boarding house with
the usual lack of ~closet space, may be
glad to know exactly how this poxta-
‘ ble wardrobe is designed.
It is made of a large piece of water-
proof cloth or canvas such as one sees
used for gun cases, game bags and
men’s mackintoshes. This piece is
five feet long by four wide, and is lin~
ed with brown holland. On the. right
and left sides of the canvas are stitch-
ed fiaps of holland like the lining, each
flap being the same width as the can-
vas and a little over half as long.
Across the top of the canvas is fast-
ened a rod with dress hooks. The
suspended from the hooks and the
' flaps are then fastened over the gowns
1 which are thus
' against dust and dampness.
securely protected
At the back of this canvas dress pre-
server are snaps and a handle at—
tached, after the fashion of a shawl
strap. When the owner of the dresses
wishes to travel, she spreads he1 port-
able wardrobe on the bed, lays her
skirts and waists in smoothly. buttons
the flaps, rolls up the whole thing,
straps it securely, and behold! it is
ready to be carried or checked to the
owner's destination—Harper’s Bazar.
Children With Nerves.
A word about nervous children. Of
course there might be none. but there
are thousands. ,Never scold them nor
“make fun” of. them. They sufl‘er
enough without your threats or sar-
casm. Pretend not to see their awk—
wardness when in company, nor their
grimaces when alone. A case was
discussed the other day of a boy of
ten years old, who, on being vexed,
and often without any apparent prov-
ocation,‘ will clench his hands and
make the most frightful contortions
of the muscles of his face and head.
His poor mother fears he is idiotic.
By no means. He is the brightest boy
in his class at school, fond of rec ding
and of natural history, but he is of a
highly nervous temperament and has
not been taught to control the littlef
wires, so to speak, on which he is
strung. This is no single case. There
are thousands of children who give
way to their nerves in a like fashion.
Talk to them about these curious lit-
tle fellows that should be their ser-
vants, not their masters. Never chas-
tise them. The man or woman who
.ohastises a nervous child is on :1 level
with brutes that have no reason. En-
courage them. Help them. Be pa-
tient with them. They are the making
of our future succassful men and wo-
men, for they will work hard at what—
ever they undertake. Brace up your
own nerves first and then be indulgent
toward the capers of your over-ner-
vous children—London Mail. :_ L.
Expensive Cooking Utensils.
There is no better proof of the in-
creased interest that women are tak-
ing in culinary matters than the dainty
and costly'cooking utensils to be found
at the house furnishers. A saucepan
made of the best copper, silver lined,
and costing $42, tells its own story.
Never before in the hist01y of house-
furnishing goods has an assortment of
culinary ware so expensive been put
There are long hand-
mns m" the best grade of
copper, lined with silver, and costing
as much as most people would give
for a handsome sugar dish or a piece
of bric-a-brac for the drawing room.
Dainty little stew pans cost from $4.40
up to $12.50, according to size. The
smallest are hardly larger than a muf-
There are water boilers just
as shapely and costing just as much
as a handsome vase or drinking cup,
and what women would be inclined to
class as “dear little receptacles,” of
make and quality so fine that terrapin
stew made in them can be set before
the din-er in the same vessel that it is
cooked in. Yet a half dozen of these
terrapin stew pans, made of copper
and silver lined, cost $20—fitting hold-
ers for food so rare and far famed as
Long Island and Chesapeake terrapin
at $3 and $5 apiece—New York Sun.
To Oversee Music Practice.
'A young girl who is studying with
one of the best known pianists has hit
upon a plan to perfect herself in methv
ods of teaching by going from house
to house and supervising the practic-
ing of—her teacher’s younger pupils.
She isa sort of travelling‘musical
governness. "This is not only a great
help to her in her musical studies, but
also a great advantage to beginners
and to their parents. The great bur-
den! of responsibility for musical pro-
gress of their children rests upon the
parents: For, no matter how great
the teacher, 'he cannot enforce prac-
ticing whenhe is absent. .
Many parents do not understand
music, and " so they do not know
whether their children are practicing
their music correctly or not. In the 1:11-
ter case_they are perhaps acquiring:
habits which will retard their musical
progress. And, so the student govern-
ess has found a niche which has been
' waiting for her for some time—New
York Sun.
_. . ...._..._...... ...-...-..._--_.~. .
Never Cares to wander. .
The range of the honey bee‘hs“ but
little understood by the masses, many
supposing that bees go for miles zin
quest of nectar, while others think
that they go only a shortdistance. 1’1:
may be curious to many .toeunderstand '
how anyone can tell how {far thelbee
may fly, but this is simple whefi un-
derstood.
Years ago, when the Italian bees
were, first introduced in the United
States, these bees, having marks dif-
ferent to the common bees already
here, were easily distinguished, and
after any bee keeper had obtained (the
Italian bees they could be observ
and their range easily noticed.
bloom is plentiful near where beesare
located, they will not go very‘far,~,per-
naps a mile in range, but i! bloom - is
scarce they may go five miles. ,-I]su--
ally‘ 51129ut three miles is as far ds'i’ifey’
may go mommy.
Bees have been RHONDIO go as far
as eight miles in a stia‘gm nine, cross
ing a body of water that 1. QW‘T‘T‘“ t0
land. 1- .
If, while the little bee is out of its
home or hive, the hive should be re
moved some ten or twenty feet, ac-
cording to the surroundings, when it
came back to where its home was first
_ located it would be hopelessly lost. If
its home was in an open space. with
no other objects close, it might find
its way home, but, even if the hive
should be moved only a few feet.
many of the bees would get lost.
So to move a hive, if done in the
winter time, it would be all 1ight, but
if in the summei time it she“.~ lo .7 done.
after dark, or when the bees are not
flying. and even then the bees should
be stirred up some and smoke blown
in at the hive entrance and a board or
some object placed in front of the
hive so that the bees in coming out
may mark their new location. Bees,
no doubt. are guided bv sight and also
by sense of smell. They are attracted
by the color of bloom, as, if they are
at work on a certain kind of bloom,
they are not likely to leave that par-
ticular kind of bloom for any other as
long‘as they can find that kind.
Again, bees are often attracted to
sweets by their sense of smell. for
they will go after sweets even if in
the dark, if close. However, any kind
of sweets may be placed in glass in
plain sight, but if covered. so as not
to emit any smell, the bees will take
no notice of them—Baltimore Ameri-
can.
Fall Plowing or Stubble Land.
The most common mistake in pre-
paring ground for fall grains is waiting
until just before seeding time or about
the last week in August and the firs
in September. There are several rea- -
sons why early plowing is the best.
The weeds that have started after the
cutting of the small grains are turn-
ed under and kept from seeding. This
is no small consideration where the
ground is at all foul. If some of the
weeds near the surface should start
after plowing, go over the field with a
.harrow or some kind of a cultivator
and, allow none to develop.
The chief value of early plowing is
that the land has an opportunity to be-
come well pulverized and compacted
before seeding time. If the land is
hard when plowed the numerous work-
ings which should be given it. with
the rains of late summer and early
autumn. 'will dissolve the clods and
obliterate damage, if present when the
seed is sown. Many failures with
winter grains can be traced to late
plowing and imperfect preparation 1
the seed bed.
Begin plowing as soon as the shocks
have been removed from the field.
This will vary from the second Week
in July to the first week in August.
A depth of about five inches is usually
sufficient, depending somewhat upon
the character of the soil. In' a few
days go over the field with a harro‘w’in
order to level the ground and create 'a
soil mulch to prevent excessive evuf
oration. Drag or roll several times
during the fall and follow each time
with a h‘arrow to loosen the surface.
Seed the fall grains from September
10 to 20, always using a press drill.
‘ Finely Cut. Silage Keeps Best.
The extra labor involved in removing
the wh01e corn from the silo is ahséri-
ous‘drawback to that method of-stor-
ing. although fodder corn placed in tho
silo whole has in many instances come
out in good condition. All things‘con-
sidered, however, close packing proves
most desirable. Cut silage can be
more closely packed and the ‘air will
be more completely excluded than
when the crop is put in Whole. 'For,
these reasons the finely cut silage—Will
be subjected to a smaller degree of fer»
mentation and the losses should be cor“
respondingly less.
The advantages of slow filli11--
against rapid filling have been strong—
ly urged as :1 mucus of procuring
so-called sweet silage. The term sweet
silage, however, is a misnomer, when
used to designate a definite condition
Such a product as strictly sweet silage-
never came from a silo, and the term.
if used at all, should be one of degree
rather than of kind.
Slow filling causes a g1eater degree
of heat to develop and this tends to
soften the mass and cause closer
packing, while the high temperature
does not favor the forming of acids.
At this high temperature. 135 to 5'1'50
degrees F, certain forms of fermenta-
tion often progress rapidly. and” ithe .
fact that less acid is formed When
slow filling is practiced does not prove
that there is a smaller loss of food
constituents during the siloing pro-
‘cess.—-American Agricultturalistt. 3
L“... . ._ _ -1
Norwalk Chronicler