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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1901-3-21, Page 61 EDDY. Seemed that all he eunshiee left the llouee 'when Teddy went; Never gleamed BO. 'bright a beam as Teddy's black eyes sent. Whether they tlash in anger or glow with terveet Theysre tho dearest eyes in all the world -- The eyes a the girl 1 love, Oh, Yes, roe's a girl, is Teddy, though the bears such a euceristt namel ehe- was christened Nen, but she and 1 like this one just the same. A daughter of oeleVirginie: one of the fairest, With a jewelca rnind that watches above, A peart that is brave and true. But, alas, otir northern winters were -too wild for ray Southern Hoe, And she's gone away to the soutleand, away from its winds and EnOW5, . But I'll welcome her baek in the springtime, When the *violet opens her eyes, and I'll count the time of her coming Not by months, nut by aed byes. —Rose Vann. Seethe in Scranton Tribune. A QUEE,.'N OF OLD DRURY. t ft Story of The Stage. When Barton Booth was slowly dying and 1\-trs..01411e14 otten too ill to act and ere Kitty Clive had yet emerged into the sunlit. path of prosperity, the town was anxiously awaiting the coming of some new, fayorite. Were there to be no succee.sors of Anne Oldfield and Mrs. Braceeirdle? 'Vtrere the Booths ,and the Bettertous, then, ex- tinct? In the tavern and the coffee houses, at the street COrtlerS, in the greenroom of Drury Lane and within the charmed circle of the court itself the self- same questions were asked and despair- ingly answered and asked again. Lying in her sickbed in a snaall house' near Clare market, Suetin Ford one night overheard the subject discussed beneath her open window. The unceuth voices awoke her from a fitful slumber, and, raising her wasted form o11 one el- bow, she rubbed her eyes and yawned languidly. "Zounds! 'Tis a pity Anne Oldfiele were not young again," quoth 011e speak- er, with some slight elegance of tone. faith we'll ne'ee see another like her," came the reply. The. pale face in the dimly lighted room vivified with a keen interest as its possessor eaug,ht the purport of the con- versation. . "What actress have we now worthy of the name?" another voice exclaimed. "Who can rouse us to fever heat?" "There is none, nor actor either," china - ed in a cantankerous bass. "A plague on tem all. There's not an ounce of fire in the whole fell tribe of 'em." "Yea, but ye make a mistake, Master Rayner. If ye'd have traveled as I, ye would have known of one who'd set all London agog an if she chose—a little provincial hussy, mark me, as fiery as the devil and sweeter than the angels. I saw her near by Doncaster now close upon two years agone. Her name was Susan—Susan---aye, Susan" -- r10 sick woman:lad leaped from her bed and rushed to the window, but the rest of the colloquy escaped her ears. The gossipers, already nmeing away ere she had discerned the peesonal interest attaching to their remarks, hied passed along out of sight and out of hearing. For a moment she stood transfixed, with one hand clutching the curtaiu. "Susan!" she muttered. "Susan who? Oh, can it be? Can it be? Yes, yes, Su- san Ford in certainty. God has sent him to cheer me in my illness—to encour- nge me to be well. Ala, I must get strong! I will! I will be the queen of Drury yet, and Rupert --Rupert will love Tale the more to see me idolized by all the high and great, by all the big, the mighty public!" In the buoyancy .springiug from this newly aroused ambition she strode up and down the room, her disheveled hair clinging round her frail figure, her hands tightly clasped, a keen excitement in her eyes. , She thought of all her appearances miles away in country booths, of her lit- tle successes in provincial towns, of the honey of applause even from gaping yo- kels, of her longings to do something great—to hold an audience entranced, to make them weep or laugh, just as ,she willed. HOW oftenehad she glowed with intense delight as she pictured her tri- umph in London. From every box in Drury- Lane earls and beaux would cheer her; the pit would rise to its feet and shout its approbation. And afterward court potentates would crowd. round her in the greenroom and shower praises up- on her. But there would always come the antithesis to this bright dreara—the renewed contemplation of the dull gray of stern reality, with all its attendant poverty, insignificance, monotony. Thea Drury Lane would seem. to tower --above her 1i1e a gigantic frowning rock, and could she, weak and friendless, scale the precipice and'gain a footing on those dizzy heights? Nay, as she viewed the prospect her heart would quake, and hot tears, halt witli anger, halt from despair, would flood her eyes. Yet one day after a long period of de- spondeney her hopes had been revived to some godd purpose. While playing at Ludlow she met „Rupert Vendover, the • eldest_ son of Sir Reginald Vendover, a brave old cavalier, who enjoyed the lei- su're earned by an active limited life in the cause of Charles II. The young Ru- pert, romantically enough, fell la love with her, and for many days followed her with the cotnnany of strolling players frorn.one place to another, He urged her on in the pursuit of fame and, shbwiug ardent love of her beauty, respect for her virtee and every sympathy with ber as- pirations, very soon gained her undivided affection. Ultimately he had brought her to London, to this very house, promising, eilealuf.se what influence he had in her be - But suddenly those ambitious schemes of hers were shattered again. Sicknems Struck her down. For months she had fain in this room, weak' and spiritless, Only Rupert's daily visits bad kept her enamored of life. To ever act again seemed an impossibility. But now, through a few chance word, all the old restless eagerneee took hold of her afresh. The path of tame stood dis- closed anew, and she longed to tread it with an'all consurnine desire Suddenly funid her reverie a gust a wind slammed the open lattice against the wall. She turned, startled, and with a hysterical cry fell prone upon the bed. A minute later footsteps were heard upon the stairs. The room door wee ;Itettedand the goodwife, who tended her entered, A tall figure peered in at lier heels awl. whispered, "May I come in?" Then, seeleg, "Hearse's!" he exclaimed. "What's this?" ttud ruching to the bed- side took the senselees women :in his arms. "Susan, Susan, speak to me, dcarest! 'Tis I, Rupert. .SPeak, speak" Ile chafed her hands and bathed 1,ker forehead from a bottle snatched from au adjacent table. • Her eyelids slowly unclosed and she smiled wanly. ' 011That is.the umtter, dear heart? You tax your strength too ,•much, in'.rising. "Oh, Bupertl r am, but a little weak. I, am recovered now. I know I am. A. few 1110re quiet days and I shall move in the world again. This confinement me. I must breathe the fresh air, see tire faces Of the crowd and—and hear the clamor of the audience again." "Nay; nay, Susan, you are too weak, and you know there is 110 need to play again so long as you grant me the honor of_accepting my help.. Beceine my wife, dearest, mai we -will go away- into the country and see if the nteadows and the woods will give you strength:" "I 10:1\"0 not London," answered, "till I tread old Drury's boards. I would play, Repert. Oh, grant me this! Get ale leave to act Ophelia there, and I will Marry you on the morrow of that day— nye, whether it be that London derides or takes meeeo its arms'. • sthis, .I -ie - pert, clear! -Do this, I pray!"', "Bet, Susan, yeti are 00 wealc.'4, "I will succor my strength then. Be- sides, I aon better. Ah, yen, feel so much better! • You know •not bow' very much hotter, Rupert, dear," "Wrell, web, be it se then. But as yet, mark me, you ere too by far." "God leess thee, Rupert! '7 -Thy good- ness makeme completely:", - IIe folded her in his strong arrns, and,. as she told:him all over again of her dreams he soothed her into gentle slum- ber. And by and by, when the regular sigli of her breathing fell emon his ears, he crept from the rooin and weut his Way. " Not many clays intervened before a rumor sped abroad through all the town. A new actress was to appear at Drnry Lane in the character of Ophelia, and it was whispered that at last Anne Oldfield wouldjia.ve a worthy successor OR those famous boards. Susan Ford was bee name, and wild. tales went froni mouth to mouth of where she came froni and who she was. The old' publican who had spoken to such great, though unknowing, purpose. beneath Susan' S window became in his pal:tided:iv circle a man of recognized wisdom. His previous assertions eon- cernhag "the little provinciel hussy" were looked upou as inspired, and every foolish thing he now uttered was harkened to with open mouthed attention and won- derment. . 'Susan, though still troubled with occa- sional fits of faintness, studied,her part with astonishing application. Often she awoke in- the middle of the night and arose and rehearsed her scenes, 'until car- ried lway beyond- remembrance of 'sur- roundings she forgot to subelue- her voice any longer and spoke -the lines with all the feeling they -really demanded. But as the night of her. debut drew nearer she became quieter and- appeared less high strung. Only to Itupert, during the long hours they had together,- would she keep saying, with deep and soulful enthusiasm:, "I 'shall be 41 great success, Rupert. 1 lenow it! I feel it!'", At last the eventful night- arrived, and Druey Lane was packed in every avail- able corner. The beaus had taken an hour longer over their toilets, the deni- zens of the pit sported ribbons in their hats and the whole atmosphere'bespoke RIItii.OLIS expectancy. The only regret was that the part of Ophelia had been chosen for the debut, and not a character of more prominence and passion. The earlier 'parts of "Hamlet" were hardly listened to, and ever and, anon cries of "Hasten," "Ophelia, Ophelia," iesited from the crowd. . ' But from the first entrance of Ophelia every one was mute, (meant. • On the in - stint the house felt that a new genius had indeed found admittance to old Drury's stage. .Her graceand charm won every heart; her mellifluous diction soundedqike ninsio and he expressive, beautiful face, -im- pressed, one and all with grave and pure ad.miration. , ' Rupert sat In a box, 'his heart" full to overflowing with fie keen -joy that' had never'before been his, gazing intently at the woman he loved so aedentlje He' had waited patiently all the long, long months einee he had -known her without decrease ef love. ,' And now at last he was within sight of supreme happiness. On the inorrow she was to be his wife. As the mad scene thew near, the nedi- ence exhibited a still more lively interest in the debutante, and when at last she - came on the stege as the demented Ophe- lia whole' house burst forth into ap- plau.se. . 'But she seemed to note it not. Her whole soul was Pent up iu her role. She leaked as -though she saw- no one, ,heard nothing. She was the, hapless- Ophelia, eone other. She instilled a strange and melancholy wildness into the part. Tears stood in every eye, and not a disturbing sound was heard throughout ih.e house. Gradually she seethed to become tnore distraught, until lri one last terrible cli- max, she gave vent to a. frenzied shriek and fell upon the stage. The audience sat breathless, a pallor on every cheek, and none dared anPlaud. Rupert had left the bbx and gone to her 'tiring room before the,conclusien of the scene: A. feeliag of 'uneasiness which he could Pet; throw off disturbed He had never klI0)1711 such acting. Yet was that rot cause for joy? A noise -was heard at the door ot the room as he 'smil- ingly reassured himself. He juniped up and flung it open.' Su- san Wag struggling violently in, the'gresp of two men, the words of the nsad‘Oplie- lia still upon: her lips: , s Th(ilenegre'.711' 8e ref'9snil'Itel el fte°1!". 5' Oyu° ,11 a nadrs Tac °e1 urnoli; (If , Suddenly Ler eyes alighted , upon, her - With -a supreme effort she dragged herself free from them Then her Voice rang out: • No, no; he is dead,. So to toy deathbed! She sank to the floor, rind her life,pase Id away in one bort sigh.—Penny Pic. feria] Magazine. A Poeelble lenreentIon. Wife—eefft it a fact, dear, the hand. emae men are proecebially disagreeable? don't known 1 al. ways try to be pleasant.--:-Lonclon Fun. THE WARDROBE. Same Novel and Pleneinw Ideas In Tritankina's and AceesNoeles, &great (1001 at velvet is W0111 not only in doep pr rieh tones, but in tints of the tamest delicacy. . Very pretty evening gowns have a silk slzirt ppon which are flounees of tulle. These flounces are borderedand headed am) cosTume.,- by tiny pink ruches; very full. The bod- ice is entirely cf tulle, also adorned with, ruches,' to match the skirt, - One of the most attractive accessories to the toilet is the 'wide belt or corselet °entirely embroidered with' cabochons, beads or metals. Today's illustration shosys a costume of red serge. The skirt is composed of three circular flounces, the upper forming a long tunic and all bordered with lines of narrow black galloon. The collet and the blouse are of red velVet, and over the latter is a short bolero of serge trimmed with black galloon and tiny red velvet buttons. This boleeo has short, tight sleeves bordered with galloon, from be- neath which emerge full, long sleeves of red velVel, having deep cuffs of serge trimmed with velvet buttons. The hat of blaclr velvet is trimmed with points and . loops of the same material and jeweled ornaments. This same idea could be car- ried out in brOwn very effectively. , J UDIC CIIOLLET. CHILDREN'S FASHIONS. Styles For 'Little Girls and Those 05 Larger Growth. The loose, straight sack is 'much ,worn by children, the necessary breedth around tile lower part being given by curving the underarm seam. For young girls the jacket having a straight front is the fa- vorite. It is fitted at the back and sides and has two darts which talse it in at the waist, so that ouly the immediate front is straight. 'I'lae top of the sleeves is usually extended a little by cordings, GIRL'S cosmtrene, stitched straps or an interlining of halt - cloth, sb as to .give the narrow, undevel- oped shoulders an appearance of ,greatet width. Red ismuch liked for little children this .winter, also blue in all shades from navy to cadet. A pretty style of dress tee' a little girl is the "quartermaster" ayes consists of a plaited skirt and a Etta, jacket closed with gilt buttons. 'rhe cut shows a reclingote gown fee a girl of 14 years. It is of beige cloth and has a yoke, plastron and tablier of brown velvet. Tho fronts are laced over the plastron 1.)3e btown cords and gold but- tons, end the yoke and front of the ta- blier heve horizontal stitched plaits and bands of beige cloth embroidered with brown. The seams of the redingote are open at the front and are laced 'across brown velvet panels of brown cord and gold buttons. The top edge of the redin- gote is enabroidered with brOWn. There are open sleeves of beige cloth dt elbow length laced svitli brown cord and gold buttons, and beneath them full, long Slew/es of brown velvet, gathered in at the wrist 1)y a band of beige cloth. The Alen Who Handle Millions, The government is mere trustful Or the employees in. Its financial center than is any private corPoratien. , • the United States treasury the whole outpnt of the nfitiole'S cum'eney is handled by men who are Under neither surveillance nor bond. The paying, tell, er hantiles $4(),000,000 or $50,000,000 a year. The exchange clerk has every day 160,000 in .change at hand. The money In charge pf the keeper of the cash - v r°°111 runs 'from $170,000 ,000 upiard, and the chief of the issue divisiou bandies millions every day. Any Of these men could get away with enote mous amounts of money end be reason- ably secure against detection for a con-. siclerable length of time. Nevertheless, peculations from the treasury have been few and small in amount during its history. There is an axiom in the department which runs as follows: "Wherever' money is handled there is a point at which the honesty of the individual must be the main reliance." And, so the treasury dispenses with the services of spotters. However, private business interests'involving,the handling of large sums of money are not likely to `follew this example. Spotters may be an evil, but they are a necessity. in the present phase of hunian development, .and uetit ,soine psychological chemist devise's it 'prep- aration to make men 'honest ° the tyPe is likely to persist.=-S„,„H. Adams .ein Ainslee's. ' A Precocious Baby. The baby was only 4, but she was, an only child and Imdslived with her par- ents largely in hotels, ,and she Was a self possessed 1,ittle niaieleir, She. -os always•a model of prbprietysas te man- ners, so that when one day • a: young man, a friend ,of her'vapa's and 'main- ina'S. and e great admirer of the little asked to take her eut to luncheon all by 'herself' she ,iwas allowed' to go. A very ,tiny girl nitly go without a chaperon'- sometiines.. The little"' girl was to do the ordering. She undertook this respbusibility with confidenee and, taking dp`the menu,, studiet.1 it with as much gravity tie if the letters were not as unreadable to her as Greele, would have been to her timennaa, "I will have soine ineat and some po- tatoes," she said gravely, "and by and by I may have some ice cream." The order was given, the cream fol- lowed, and the little lady was an alto- gether charming, dainty and sweet lit- tle companion for luncheon_ The meal ended With the dignity with which it, had begun, the young woman donned sdertl.'i her wraps, and as tber young man was preparing to eier tohe door ske relnarlied gravely: , - "And now I will have some flowers." It NraS the last touch of grown up- ness, and it was, the proudest young man in New York who took home a pretty and dignified baby with a big bunch of' roses in her arms. IL Patent Role. • Of the many extraortlinarY thingslor which patent protection has been granted a hole seems to be the most useless and impossible. Yet there -are many patents for holes, and, what is more, the patents arevalid and valu- able. One of the best relates to holes iu ships' bottoms for the admission and escape of water to the condensers. Every one who has seen a. screw steamer under way will have noticed a stream of' 'water issuing from het -side; a little above the water line; that water is pumped into the ship for the pur- pose of condensing the waste steam that leaiies the cylinders and'returning it as water to the boilers. At last it occurred to a genius that if a hole were made in the bottom of he ship forward of the condenser and another abaft it, the water would cir- culate around- the condenser without the aid of a pump. It is for the shape of these holes, so that they will offer less resistance to the water when the ship is traveling fast, that several pat- ents have been granted. A Testamentary Puzzle. An Englishman who recently died bad three children, one son and two daughters, and be mentioned all of them in his will. The first clause Is, "I leave my piano to. Mary Elizabeth, when Arthur has done with it." The other clause is, "To Susan Jane—she may take what- ever Arthur wishes to give to her." There is no doubt of Arthur's stand- , _ ing in the document, but the pointed question is raised, Are Mary Elizabeth and Susan Jane beneficiaries under the will? The One, flacegt1pn. Towne---He's;quite a linguist', 1 be- lieve. Browne—Yes, he c.nn converse itt. 14 different tongues. Towne—Se I understand; but there's, one tongue be has never succeeded in Mastering. ' ISrowne—WItat's that?. Chinese? ..ToWnee-No,,his wife's. Might Be Ont 0 e t"ttrB. y case Is pecuular,' "How so?" chorused the other letters of the alphabet. "Well, when it comes to making. 'boodle,' I alWays, load, and, you will, notice, there is absolutely no reason why I should be In 'debt.' "—Exchange. Debt. remarked the solue Coloring. Scribbell—What makes young 'Pen- ner so blue? Wright—Oh, he's green at the busi- ness, and he's discovered. that his tnan- uscripts are never read by the editor. k STREET FACE. A glimpse ot red eyes in the street AS I Inary (41011„?;; A face too pale, to he Sweet, Woo sad to be otroug; A face that will nevermore know 'hough it die in its pride, That last sad eolace of woe, Tho power to hide: ' Ah. sister, we seemmot to me kor what to do, . But the street has beeozne onelong prayer In pity of you! ' , -"Amos New Lippincott. "I hope it is soniethieg good for you, Dick," she said. "Is it?" ' "I don't know—yet," lie said slowly -- "that is, until I've heard what you have to say." it llaPPened that at this moment Phil Halstan was wending his way homeward. Ile let himself in with hie latchkey and went un to their room. The door was not quite shut, and he lieartl voices--Madge'e and another's. • • :0.000.0.000.400.0.0.040.0:t• alia11:11:riejoe0;:i.t:ieilN):.:1:eillilictleili.17: gedhlig\Tvtl‘ei:11,ii,ateeaid,litiel fialilitetgilliwe.;allititillilig,'eil0',I.ev: wasil'n11 tIcliges.•1 0:0:0111.11a1:1111;141:telecsen.v dovt:11001::::111eltil::::1(ntisyriledelleeal nYd1:1 0 ii ciihNGE of poRpo - , ,,i,„,„ is this, A good post ;abroad' , 0 ' *0 saying., "But I didn't thin, 1 1 8 the first stair and listened. 0 There was a pause, Outside Phit - eeo —only open to a merited Irian too.was a 41•:: A Story,. AbeNoto-----a;taiiierntilt:t NVb..0' Had 4: l,l'sP°dbabn.yistiedIro.' , arinialeli7urning his ° ° elieht nieeement se head he found Lintell had crept to his O0le.o.oe)o.oleo+feoteolposteopo.04 side. "Many happy returue' of the day, Phil, i wels'illeoriw telinqL eli,eenalrndionAsi.adg.e's voice. mdeoair.,nri'ngs.heGocoadlibeydr,out. '`'It's a lovely I "I'in so sorry, Dick, but"— man in a velveteen *coat., She nodded was a pause, then in a whisper, "There's hall she was met by an elderly loolcing loved you--alwaYs shall! But"— There She rail down the stairs lightly. In the NetIerislY' liOrea'ecig_ey'et,ouDloiveek—imael?m7ay,s have brightly to him and he opened the door Phil!" :e , , , ' .... ., ,, 1 sk d- Ohl Lintell laid a hand on the eoung man's shoulder. "Your brother's birthday'? ie a e ,, Nilliyi;'eas. 6 111,4ee. must _(10 something' tonight , hiliNs'irlollistly.tt,'°,1sli'ulvrie:.,!:;1,.. el:)iihstiel tt;Wviol°11.tinill'I'dt annueldiendwe'a'in'eecely;lliee'relc.11 .,,hnhenor of it,. and You must help us, Mi. • to give up this.' •• - Lhitell. „GoodbY 1 shall be late for mY ' ., "You don't,understand, Dick," There • 'bus!" n' Blail Haistan `IYS'eorme e tearsdayPilhfilMw1:11111geh'ea s rg°ireeeett,lalii'stistti,mhee. i emerged frem his room- He was a 'tall, &anions, but just now—he- wants' nev help. t well built. young fellow, with a somewhat oh, Dia, len so sorry, eue'd eaues leave heavy, indolent looking face. -He ate a eyhohun_soele„nes go with you—though I lov 1 •• ‘ . 1.'eitsttel 1..e tllyb r oplki i')eeadianstto, then,riiiegi'elihtaitg' ;V; Phil Halstan „shoot< old Lintell's han A , the (.1n-iiiitileeotnih:is'Aesieosoktoarr°ssgtc'suw,t1Yeter°ptrintdo from his shoulder and rose suddenlY -te• ' his feet. He steed for a moment nude - his' face; :- ,' cided, then crept away ori tiptOe down, ' "Ugh!" t he•exclaimed. "How l'°"11)1y the stairs. Old Lintel' folloWed, mean and sordid .it sail 1°°kess-1—.8-hall I "What are you g'oirtgIo dc;?" he said- evereget out of it!' e I .. l.'resently he rose and, going to a cor- li , Phil made no reply. He crainmed his, window,n'telsreib:i`Htehes'ahi;in.sf b edre7orefoitrV‘araidga forward an stepped hhead, opefidd he door and pped into the street. Old Lintell went easel. He is 't ed at the blank canvas. Then he fele for "Amo and they walked away together. his box of brushes and- fingered them Are you going to let -her lOse her one meditatively. Finally he laid them. down big chance of happiness?" said, old Lin- ancl looked out of the window. tell in a low voice, "or going to continue There was a tap' at the door, and the next moment old Mr. Lintell entered. He lived on the upper floor and had got to be very friendly with Madge and her brother. . "I won't interrupt you," lie began with to idle your life away ---she keeping you9" Phil hardly seemed to hear 'him. , was ,striding along with hiS hands thrust deep in his pockets, his eyes staring . straight ahead of him, Suddenly , h.e threw his head back. a glance at the easel. "I'only came to "You heard—she doesn't want to go; eff4-hy:Ilaksinty pbeiesa.rseevidshoens4":;;” er ied Phil herself," he cried, almost fiercely. "She'ev the door.,. s?°"'f°rget ail -about' it." as the old'man moved toward "A girl with a heart like Madge's never "Fact, is,I don't think I shall do much forgets," replied. old Lintell. 'What are more work now. Rather thought of giv- ing myself a -holiday. My birthday, you know!" he added, half jocularly. - Old. Lintel' came forward slowly. He looked at the blank canvas. - "It' e going, So be a great thing," ex- plained Phils -"I'm working out the idea now—it takes time,' you know." •, Thw 'old man nodded and looked (Mt ef the' window. He had hem] thinking, a good deal Of Phil lately—this.boy -Who got up late, Sat dreaming half the day and loated the other, who had never earned a 'penny M. his life, kept in idleness by a detoted sister who as typist in a solici- tor's office worked hard from. morn to night, believing in him heart and soul. He glanced up- sharply at Phil. -"Alight I see your portfolio?" he said. "I used to know something about art." rhii pulled it out with alacrity and opened it for the old xnen's inspectien. Mr. Lieteli turned them over one by ',no: They were crude and badly done, with. 110 sign of distinctive ability what - "Web?" asked Phil eagerly, Ile.shared his sister's belief in himself. ',Give me your candid opinion." Alt. Lintell wiped his glasses and pro, eteded,to oblige him. Ile told him the truth—the Unpleasant, naked truth—and a wave of color swept oVer young Phil's cheek. Theri he. laughed. "It's too ridiculous!" he cried. ()Id Mr. Lintell rose from his chair and made his way to the .door. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I thought you Might to know." , Phil laughed again 'as the door cloeed en the old min, but it was an uncomfort- able sort 'of:laugh—the laugh of a than Wisest), mind has been suddenly confront- ed with amew aspect of the case.. He strode up and down the room. , "Of course I shall be famous some day, —shall pajt little Medge,back'a thouSancl- folc1-'-Land she doesn't 'mind Working at present," he reflected. -"And he said I hadn't a particle -of ability, that 1 Was ‘I'LlSting njy IiMC,,that I ought to be calm- ing inY keeping Madge, instead of letting nee— " He glanced toward the 'window., The sun was shining temptingly. He' walked to the mantelpiece , and ,found two half crowns which Madge had left there. :Unthinkingly he slipped these into his pocket, then; taking his hat and stick, made his way out of the'11013SC. He meant to go` for a long walln to think. ont "his great ialea., But he found he could thielc of nothing but Old Liu- tell's words. 'The idiotic sentences kept rumbling through.his head. Ile, Phil Hol- ston, a mere loafer!The thing was ab-' surd. • Madge herself would be the first to -say eo. ' He walked for sometime and made an effort to think et something else., Pres eritly he dropped intr.!, 00 chearerestaurant- to have lunch. He sat down at a table. Next Olden two Men were talking rather exeitedlY. • "I don't care who it is," one was de- -daring emphatically, "tbe chap who loafs while a woman worke for bin is a hound aud deserves to be kicked! Why, I'd sooner sweep the roadway!" rbii, with a red face, rosseand hurried- ly left the phtee. * e It was half past 2 the same afteenoori eN5:fh etihl elqhaddigi see rai nn. Bligiohottnlyst7i rt: las ctia br6lia8 rSsi into the sitting town. Her- face was -flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Site saw a young ,an standing by the sviadow. His beck was furled to her. she cried joyously, "I have. hal t holiday i" Thc figure in the window turned, and she gave a little cry of surprise. "Dick!" she, gasped in astonishment. Dick Evington came tosvard heie'hold- Mg out his hand. "Just Dick," lie answered, with a smile. He caught her hand and stood II in Part. looking into her face. "Something has "Elver In nenateur theatricals?" huppened, Madge, and I've come up at "Juet. once." once from Aniugton you about tell "Wha parl, Ohl you take?", to brown veeeeediee is trimmed wan pea, "Me? I took all the abuse. 1 was. Therewas a dainty flush' on -her cheeks. cock blue feathers and re gold e' buckle, sfae manager, -you see."—Pittsburn tbereebt he nee eieeee eeea hoe look Jtmio OlIOLLL Chrettiele-l'elegraPh. 40 beautiful. you going to do?" he repeated relentlessly. "A little More time—and I might do something big," broke ont Phil. "You've loafed for three years and done nothing," said the old naafi. "You know you will never do anything in art You've Willfully 'gat your eyes and use() it as an excuse to yourself and her fcy The young man's mouth was „twitching • e°"Y"vuolues'ilvelYright!" he cried in a hoarse voice. "But what's there left for me to , do?' I know nothing, have done noth- ing," he finished helplessly. "Be a man. There's always something for a man to do. Remember what she, has done for you." They had reathed St. Mat!tin's churche at Charing Cross. Phil stopped and passed a hand over his brow. The old man watched biro, anxiously. Ile saw Phil's eye travel across the road to where the recruiting sergeants were pacing slows ly up and down, alert for new blood. Then Phil Ilalstan suddenly gave his shoulders a jerk backward. "Yes," he said between his shut teee 4 "there's always something left for a mare to odec o."' rossed the Hroad. * * * * * * That night Madge was sitting alone, reading a letter that had been brought to her by messenger. The tears'eame to:her eyes as she read the last few sentences: "For three years I have played it as low down RS R. fellow can. But ['in go- ing to be a man at last, Madge. ' If you want to make me happy., 49r, make me feel I haven't quite spoiled 34`tir life. Go with Dick." The letter dropped from her hand. "Go with Diek," she repeated in a low tone. There was a tap at the door. then a rnan was shown in—a young man with a pale and anxious face. "Madge, I couldn't- leave without ask- ing you once again. Is it quite hopeless?" he began. She raised her eyes to his, anti he saw her lips tremble. "Not quite hopeless, Dick, dear," she Whispered. ---Mainly About People, Flower Plekerit o2 Gramut,,„ The peasapt women nnd girls Of Grasse in the south of France are kept, employ, ed in picking and sorting flowers for feels fume, Grasse being the center of thatn- dustry. •- Vrolet gathering begins in March, jas- mine, orange blossom, rose and tuberose in May, the mignonette in' August and the cassia in September: ,, Tbe worle.of picking is done between 5 and II o'clock in the morning the re- mainder of the,day being spent in soreSesse and picking, apart the flowers. The Per- . fume. making begins with spreading the petals upon layers of pure larcl that cover plates of glase, and the flower layers are renewed three or four times isefore the fat has become thoroughly saturated with the perfume. Tlds perfumecl lard is the "pomade" of comtheree, out of which are made extraets and fine pomades. A I.essontei nosing. "What are you going to' do, John?, asked Mrs. alerazzle, as her husband unwrapPed a pair of boxing gloves. "I'm going to• 1 his me le' 0 ny some sone in self defense," he answered. "Every boy 11 e how to tele, S101.1 ,now- care of himself in an ernereeney. Como on, Jehnnye I won't hurt you." Twenty minutes later Mr. Adebitinle re- turned with kis hand on his faee. "Get me a piece of raw tient to put on, my eye and the arnica bottle." "Wily, you don't mean to' say that "No, 1 don't; of course 'I don't. John-' ny's sitting out in the garden now in sor- row and repentance. I've discovered that the only ray to teach that boy is with a strap."—Exchange. itedlneed. Pe-tient—The other doctor said 11 wae merely a wprain.. leoctor—Vircil, that's one way t0. reduce a fractere.—Detroit Journal.