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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Times, 1898-10-20, Page 6Vzizft LOVE AND \YAWN ittozttiPlt A STORY OP SLAYBRY DAYS, By MARY J. 1101..MHS, . CHAPTER IL Rea0 a/lathers borne was a beautiful place, containing everything whieh love could devise, or raoney purchase, and Bose was very happy there, dancing like a sunbeam through the haml- et:ate rooras of which she was the mist- ress, and singing as gaily as ber pet canary in its gilded oege by the door. No sbadow of sorrow or care had, ever messed her pathway-, and the eighteen summers of her short life had oome and gone like so many pleasant memories bringing with them one successive round of joys,leaving no blight be- hind, and bearing with them, alas, no thanks for the good bestowed, for Rose was far too thoughtless to think that the Providence which shielded her so tenderly, might baye dealt more harsh- ly with, her. put the shadow was creeping on apaoe, and Rose was consci- ous that the war -meeting had awaken- ed within her a new and uncomfort- able train of thought. Like many otb.- era she had a habit of believing that nothing very bed could happen to her, and so, let what might occur, she was sure her husband would be spared. Still, in spite of her gaiety, an unde- fined something haunted her all the way from the church, and even, when alone 'frith her husband in her tasteful sitting -room, loth the bright gas -light falling cheerily around her, and adding a fresh lustre to the elegant furniture she could not shake it off, nor guess what it was that ailed her. At last however, it came to her, suggested by the sight of her husband's evening prayer, and laying her outly head upon his knee, she gave vent to her restless- ness in the expression. "I wish there wouldn't be any war. What is it all for? Tell me, please." It was the first interest she had levineed in tbe matter, and glad. to talk with any one upon the subject which was beginning to occupy so much of his own thoughts, Mr. Mather drew ber into his lap, and. endeavored, as far as possible, to explain to her what it all was for. Much of what he said, however, was Greek to Rose, who only gained a vague idea that the North was contending for a bit of cloth, such as she had often seen floating over the dome of the old State House In Boston, and with the remark, that men's lives were far more valuable than all the Stars and Stripes in the world, she fell away to sleep leaving her husband in the midst of an argu- ment not quite clear to himself, for, like his wife, he could. not then see ex- actly what the war was for. Still, in- asmuch, as there was war, he would not play the coward's part, nor sbxink from the post of duty if his country should need his services. But this Rose did not know, and secure in the belief that whatever might happen, 1,Vill would never go, she soon resumed her wonted cheerfulness, and if she said anything of the war, was sure to startle her hearers with some remark quite unworthy of a New England daughter. She did wish they would stop having so many meetings, she said, or if they must have them, she wished they'd get Brother Tom to come and set them right. He had lived in Char- leston. He could tell them how kind the people were to Mary, his sick wife, and were it not that levee beneath him to lecture, she'd surely write for him to come. Rose alather was grow- ing unpopular by her foolish speech- es, and when at last she was asked to join with other ladies of the town in reeking articles of clothing for the vol- unteers, she added the last drop to her brimming bucket, by tossing back her chestnut tresses, and "guessing she shouldn't blister her hands over that coarse stuff. She couldn't seev much any way, and as for making bandages and lint, the very idea was sickening. She'd give them fifty cents if they wanted, but she positively couldn't do , more than that, for she must have a new pair of lavender kids. She had worn the old ones three or four times and Will preached economy every day. With a frown of impatience, the ma- tron who had been deputed to ask help from Rose, took the fifty cents, and. with feelings anything but complimen- tary to the silly little lady, went back to the hall where scores of women were busily employed in behalf of the com- pany, some of whom would never re- turn to tell how much good even the homely housewife, with its pins and needles, and thread, had done them when far away where no mother or sis- ter hand could reach them, nor yet how the thought that perhaps a dear one's fingers, had torn the soft linen band, or scraped. the teoder lint applied to some gaping wound, had helped to ease the pain and cheer the homesick heart It was surely a work of mercy in which our noble women were then engaged, and if from the group collected in Rockland Hall, there was much loud murmuring at Rose Mather's want of tien.se or heart, it arose not so much from ill -nature, fts from astonishment that she could be so eallous and indiff- erent to an object of so much im- portance. "Wait till her husband goes, and she won't mince along so daintily, taking all that pains to show her Balmoral, when it isn't one bit muddy," mutter- ed the Widow Simms, pointing out, to those near the window, the lady in question, tripping down the, street in quest of lavender kids, perhaps, or more likely, bound for her husband's office, where, now that everybody worked all day long at the Hall, she spent much cif her time, it was so lone- ly at hones, with nobody to call. "I hope he'll be drafted and have to go, upon my word!" eottinuing the wid- ow, whose heart was very sore with thinkiag of the three seats at her fireside, so soon to be vacated by her darling boys, Eli, Jelin and Isaac. "Yes, I do hope beat be drafted, don't you, Mrs. Graham?" and rbe turned to- ward Annie, who was rolling up ban- dages of linen; and weaving in with every coil a prayer that the poor sold - whose lot it should be to need that band, might return again to tete loved cinee at home, or else be fitted tor that better home, whet() WAX is Unknown. • Annie shook her head, but made no enswer. There was no bitterness now aer heart ageinst EON Mather,. She had prayed that all away, and only hoped the anguish whioh had come to her, making her brain giddy, and her heart faint, might never be borne by another, if that could be, George had volunteered,— was to be second lieu- tenant, and Annie, oh, who shall tell of the gloom which had fallen so dark- ly around the cottage she bad called hers for one brief year. It was a neat, oozy dwelling, and to Annie it never seemed so cheerful as on that memor- able night of the war -meeting, when she had lighted the lamp, and sat down with George upon the chintz -covered lounge he bad helped. her make when first she was a beide. It is true the carpet was not of velvet, like that Rose Mather trod on; neither was there in all the house one inch ef rosewood or of marble, but there was domestic love, pure and deep as any Rose ever experienced, and there was something better far than that, a patient, trus- ting faith in One who can shed light tipon the dreariest home, and make the heaviest trial seem like nought. It was this trusting faith which made Annie Graham the sweet, gentle being she was, shedding its influence over her whole life, and softening down a disposition which otherwise might have been haughty and resentful. An- nie was neturally high-spirited and proud, and Rose's remarks concerning volunteers in general, and George in particular, had stung her to the quick, but with the indignant mood there came another impulse, and ere the cot- tage had been reached the bitter feel- ing had gone, leaving nothing but sor- row that it had ever been there. Like Rose, she wished there would be no war, but wishing was of no avail, and long after George Graham was asleep and dreaming, it may be, of glories won on battle -fields, Annie lay awake, questioning within herself, whether she ought, by word or deed, to prevent her husband's going, if he felt as he seemed to feel, that it was as much his duty as that of others to join in his country's defence. Annie was no great reasoner, logically; all her decisions were made to turn upon the simple question af right and wrong, and on this occasion she found it bard to tell, so evenly the balance seemed adjusted. More than once she stole from her pillow, and going out into the fresh night air, knelt in the moon- light, and asked for guidance to choose the right, even though that right should take her husband from her. "If I knew ha would not die, it would not be so hard to give him up," she murmured, as sickening visions of fields strewn with the dead, and hos- pitals fiUed with the dying, came over her, and for an instant her brain reel- ed with the thought of George dying thus, and leaving her no hope of meet- ing him again, for George's faith was not like hers. Anon, however, something whispered to her that the God she loved was on the field of carnage, and in the camp and in the hosnital, and everywhere as much as there in Rockland, that prayers innumerable would eollow the brave volunteers, and that the evil she so much feared might be the means of working the great good she so de- sired. And thus it was that Annie came to a decision. Stealing back to her husband's side, she bent above him as he lay sleeping, and with a heart which throbbed to its very core, though the lip uttered no sound, she gave him to his country asking, if it could be, that he might come back again, but If it were ordered otherwise—"God's will be done." There was no shrink- ing after that sacrifice was made though when the morning came, the deata-white face and the dark circle beneath the eyes, told of a weary vigil, such as many and many a woman kept both North and South, during the dark hours of the Rebellion. But save the death -white face, and heavy eyes, there was no token of the inner struggle, as with a desperate effort at self -com- mand, Annie wound her arms around her husband's neck, and wbispered to him, "You may go,—I give my free con- sent," and George, who cared far more to go than he had dared express, kissed the lips which tried so hard to smile, little dreaming whet it cost his brave young wife to tell him what she had. To one of his temperament, there was no danger to be feared for himself. The bullet which might strike down a bro- ther at his side would he turned away from him. Others would, of course, be killed, but he should escape un- harmed. In the language of one speak- er, whose eloquent appeal had done much to fire his youthful enthusiasm, "He was not going to be shot, but to shoot somebody I" This was bis idea, and ere the cling- ing arms had unclasped themselves from bis neck, his imagination had leaped forward to the future, and in fancy George Grabam wore, if not a Colonel's, at least a Captian's uniform, and the cottage on the hill, which An- nie so much admired, and for the pur- chase of which a few hundred were al- ready saved, was his,—bought with the money he would earn. The deed should be drawn in her name, too, he said, and he pictured her to himself coming down the walk to meet him, with the rose -blush on her cheek, just as she looked the first time he ever sew her. Something of this he told her,—and Annie tried to smile, and think it all might be. But her heart that morning was far too heavy to be lightened by a picture oi what eeemed so improbable. Still. George's hopeful confidence did much to reassare her, and when, a few days after, she started for the Hall, she purposely took a longer walk for the sake of passing the cottage on the hill, thinking as she leaned over the low Iron fence, how she would arrange the flowersbeds more tastefully than they Were now arranged, and teach the drooping vines to 'twine more gracefully availed the slender columna supporting the piazza in front. Sbe Would have seats, too,—willow-twisted chairs beneath the trees, where she and George could sit at twilight, and watch the shadows creeping acmes the hollow where the old cottage was, and up the opposite hill, where the, cupola of Bose Mather's home wag plainly visible, blazing in the April sunshine. It wall a vent pleasant cas- TB'S EXBTER Tams tle which Annie built, and for a thee the load of pain, which, ewe George volunteered, lead lain so heavy at her !Wart was gone; but it returned again hrweehasey' eassowse,linedepraesdseci'do4writIO tinhethheolriQoawd, andsob that oethnedr Bemotatiainnetaallodohian sax 657 desolate, because hekilt:iw ne that ere asyaysre;er, ll:e should wait in vain for the loved foot- msteps tchoent al ega s da wt , eheer yr olaadu, 35,1*mithea teasing joke and words of love which made the world all sunshine. The cot- tagebrthiueisdnyg s esebur- on the hill became a wortlelese Poor Annie forced back her tar, and with quickned steps leant Aloe 'join Hall, group of ladies Taking her seat by the vvindosv, she conameneed tlae light work imposed, on her, that of tearing and, winding bandages for those who might be "Maybe there'll never be no fight, but it's well enough to be prepared," was tbe soothing remark of the kind- hearted woman who gave the work to Anleie, noting, as she did so, how the tlihe pgruerivyerieddeati, na the cheele paled at "What if George should need them?" kept suggesting itself to ber as she worked industriously on, hoping that if he did, some one of the rolls she was winding might come to him, or better yet, if he could. only have the bit of soft linen she had brought hers sela—a. piece of her own clothing, and bearing on it her maiden name, Annie Howard. He would be sure to know it, she said, it was written so plainly with indelible ink, and it would make him feel so glad. But there might be other Annie Howaxds, it was not an uncommon name, was suggested next to her, as ahe tore the linen in strips, and quick Ids thought, her handsought the pocket of her dress for the pencil which she knew was there. Glanoing around to see that no one observed her, she touched the pencil to her lips and. wrote after the name, "It's your Annie, George. Try to believe I'm there. Rockland, April, 1861." There were big teardrops on that bit of linen, but Annie brushed them away, and went on with her rolling, just as Widow Simras called her at- tention l pages agResbaose eMk.ather, as mentioned Annie could not account for it to herself, but ever since Rose's arrival at Rockland, she had felt a strange inexplicable interest in the fashion- able belie; an interest prompted by something more than mere curiosity, and now that there was an opportim- ity of seeing her without being her- self seen, she straightened. up, and smoothirig the soft [braids of pals brown hair, waited for the entrance of the little lady, who, with her pink hat set jauntily on her chestnut curls, and her rich fur collar buttoned grace- fully,- over her handsome cloth cloak, ,tripped into the room, doing much by her sunny smile and pleasant naanner to disarm the ladies of their recent prejudice against her. She was no- thing but a child, they reflected; a spoiled, petted child; she would im- prove as she grew older, and came more in contact with the sharp cor- ners of the world, so those who ha.d the honor of her acquaintance, receiv- ed her with the familiar deference, if we may be allowed the expression, which had always marked their man- ner toward William Mather's brid.e. Rose was t oo much accustomed to soci- ety to be at all disconcerted by the hundred pair of eyes turned scrutiniz- ingly, toward her. Indeed, she rather enjoyed being looked at, and she toss- ed the coarse garments about with a pretty pleyfulness, saying that "since the ladies had. called upon her she had thought better of it, and. made up her raind to martyr herself one afternoon at least, and benefit the soldiers. To be sure there wasn't much she could do. She might hold yarn for some- body to wind, she supposed, but she couldn't knit, and. she didn't want to sew on such ugly, scratchy stiff as thoes flannel shirts, but if somebody would tinned her needle, and fix it all right; she'd try what she could do on a, pair of drawers." For a time one seemed inclined to volunteer her services, and Widow Siram's shears clicked spitefuily loud as they out through the cotton flan- nel. At last, however, Mrs. Baker, who had more than once officiated as washerwoman at the Mather mansion, °ewe forward and arranged eome work for Rose, who, untying the strings of her pink hat, and adjusting her tiny gold thimble, labored on until she had succeeded in sewing up and joining together a long leg with one some inches shorter, whicb had. happened to be. lying nears Loud was the shout which a discovery of this mistake call- ed forth nor was it at all abated when Rose deraurely asked if it would not answer for some soldier who sbould chance to have a. limb shot off just be- low the knee. "The little simpleton I" muttered the widow, while Mrs. Baker pointed out to the discomfited lady that one divis- ion of the drawers was right side out and the other wrong! There was no alternative save to rip the entire thing and with glowing cheeks, Rose began the task of undo- ing what she had done, incidentally letting out, as she worked, that Will might have known better than to send her there,—she shouldn't have come at ail if he had not insisted, telling her people would call her a secessionist unless she did something to benefit the soldiers. She didn't care what they called her; she knew she was a democrat, or used to be before she was married; but now that Will was a re- publican, she hardly knew what she was; any way, she was nob a secession- ist, and she wasn't particularly inter- ested in the war either; why should she bel—Will was not going, nor Ilro- ?ther Tom, nor any of her friends. "But somebody's friends are going, —somebody's 'Will, soznebody's Toni; as dear to them as yours are to you," came in a rebuking tone from a straight-forwara, outspoken woman, who blew from sad experience that "somebody's Tom was going." "Yes, I know," said Hese, a shadow for an Instant creaming her bright face, 'and It's dreadful, too. Will says everything will be eo much higher, and it will be so dull at Saratoga and Newport nest summer, without the Southern people, One might as well stay at borne, Tbe war might have been avoided, too, by a little mutual forbearance from both Nitta* until naattere could be amiably adjusted, for Brothet Tom said so iitt bis letter WI; night, and a heap more whieh.I Met remeMbet," tfere Rase pawed quite exhausted, with the effort she had made to repeat the opinion of Brother Tom. She had read, all his last letter fella indorsing as =mob of it as she understood, and after a little sbe went on; To be Continued, SPAIN AS A REPUBLIC. It Lasted Xess Than Two Tears and. Clad Flive purereut Enters. Twenty-five yeaes ago Spain was a republia Her existence (luring this period was more stormy than at any other time during her history. So uncertain was the republic tlattt the Malted States and Switzerks,nd alone recognized it as a legal Govern- ment. The other nations stood aloof, knowing that the republic would be of short duration. And so it proved. The republic lasted less than two years and during that time five men in suc- cession acted as helmsmen to the rud- derless ship of state, which drifted hither and thither, purposelessly. In its formation, the republic was unusual. It was a most peaceful re- volution. In the morning Spain was a Monarchy, in the evening a republic, There were no excesses attending its birth, no extravagant exultation, no threats of vengeance on the part of monarchists. No barricades were rais- ed and no swords were drawn or guns fired. Later there was plenty of bloodshed, but none at the birth of the republic. The formation of the republic was due to the difficulty experienced in securing a sovereign satisfactory to the Cortes. Don Carlos was impossi- ble to those who no longer believed in the divine right of kings. Alfonso was distrusted bemuse he was the son of the ex -Queen Isabella, notorious for her excesses. Anaedeus, coaxed to ste- cept the throne was wearied with his task and willingly abdicated. He found it impossible to bring about any harmony between the Spanish parties. In his letter of abdication he said that be would be willing to return when "plots, perils and obstacles" had been overcome. Th; Cortes gladly accepted his abdication, declaring that when that condition existed should he desire to return to the country he could do so, though Rot to reeeiveeethe crown again, but te, accept another dignity, "that of a citizen of a free and in- dependent nation." USE OF HASHEESH. The Cause of Insanity Among the Illative of Unita. The reports of the asylum at Cairo, Egypt, as to the native patients there exhibiting the nature of the mental disturbance associated with the exces- sive use of hasheesh are said to show some remarkable facts, it appearing that in 41 per cent of all the rciale patients aasheesh alone, or in combin- ation -with aloohol, caused the mental symptoms. while this was the case with only 7 per cent. of the females. As to whether there is a special recognizable form of mental disturbance produced by hasheesh,' authorities conclude that in a considerable number of cases in Egypt the hasheesh is the obief if not the only cause of such mental disease. The usual types of the disease are hasheesh intoxication—that is, an el- ated and reckless swaggering state, with optical delusions and hallucina- tions. Acute mania is another form of hasheesh insanity, involving fright- ful hallucinations, restlessness, sleep- lessness, incoherence and exhaustion; again, there is exhibited a weak -mind- edness, and the patients, though well behaved, being excitable about the small things and unconcerned as. to the future. HTJSBANDS AND WIVES. "It all depends upon the way in wh'oh married life is commenced as to whether a couple have or have not any secrets between them" says a writer. "There are, no doubt, occasions on which it would be fax better for the wife's happiness and peace of mind that she should be kept in the dark, for a time at least, during her hus- band's season of anxiety, "It is easy to see that it is not wise to make a rule of always being quite open and communicative, for if silence is only fallen back upon in times of calamity or misfortune of some scirt it will be tantamount to a confession that something very un- toward has happened if ever the per- usal of a letter or the answer to a question is denied the wife. "My own opinion—after a twelve years' experience of married life —is that it is far better to start from the commencement, not by being mysterious and secretive, but by being, in all save purely personal and family matters, cautious and not over -com- municative. The change from busi- ness and its anxieties la the peace of home life will be far more keenly ap- preciated if 'shop' is not talked at /some, and this may be the excu.se any husband can offer should he wish to pat his wife off ea inconvenient topip. "And here, too, arises a much discus- sed question: -- Should marriech. folk open each other's letters? There can, to my thinking, be no two answers to this question, the only reasonable one being that they should not. "There are hundreds and thousands of remarks which a near friend of husband or wife might make quite casually which might give offence and pain to one for whom the communieae Lion was not intended. There may be letters coming which, if read by both, would open up some old Sete, or re- quire a deal of explanation and a raking up of past history, which was long over and done with, and it ever a particular letter, which, if read by wife or basbana when intended for the other, Jihold be suppressed by the ad- dressed, vagtip suespiciote if nothing worse, is awakened, and, it ttikee a long time to allay it. "Let husband and wife truist each other thoroughly, and then they May keep their own-arithiett probably May also be other people's—seerete from first to last with ineptenite PALL FUN. Tom Inuit—What did that telephone - girl say to you wham site broke the en- gagement? ,Tatee Potts—Ring off. Did you enjoy the cathedrals abroad, Miss Shutter No; the horrid things were too big for nay caraera. A Possibility.—Etael—Do you really think the Czar wants to diserre. Eur- otopedfisTeormm—sWnsepli10,1pon,erhaps he only wants Wonderful Chilti—.That is a ,nice lit- tle boy of the Smiths. Remarkably so. Even the neighbors like him. Go it Alone—What do you think of the huraan race, Mr Silverberg? Mr. SdielrEfverbeberrgew—Vrieolls, bray enose.inefrendt, Itank Precocity—He was a very precocious boy. Indeed? Yes, at seven years of age mes the; erde at hd e Greek, ing. rudimentsandof ft collegetenhe ybe al The Grand 'Vizier was ambitious. 1 tbink; said he, that my head will be on a medal some day. He 1 said the Caliph, Good idea 1 • I'll have it struck off at ortoe 1 Aline—Isn't it sickening the way Miss UpatosDate tries to put on maia- nish airs! Anna—Perfectly! Pretend- ed to lose her collar -button this morn- iitneewwashen she knew all the time where Tommie—Hullo,. Jimmie, wbat kelp' you? Jimmie—Me and the ol' man WA an arg'meztt. He want ed me to haul some wood into the bade yard. Torarnie—How did it end? Jimmie—In a draw—I draw - edit, As to Color.—Once a book acoosted a newspaper, although they were by no means in the same set. You are yel- low with age, remarekd the Book. No, replied the Newspaper, it's not so much age as competition. Dolly—Papa, do they get salt out of Salt Lake? Papa—Yes, my dear, large quantities. Dolly—And ink out of the Black Seal Papa—No; now keep quiet, onnolltyceYIselsesiro.f—A3froen ?there any women She—Do you know, that kitten there reminds me of you? He—I'd like to know where the connection is? She— It seems to have just about as much success in catching its tail as you do in finding your moustache. Papa, said the beautiful girl, George and I are two souls with but a single thought. Oh, well don't let that dis- courage you, replied her father kind- ly. That's one more than your moth- er and I had when we were married. It is quite an honor, I'm sure, said the mosquito, it reference to the bar at the window, that this should be put up solely on my account. The gall of the creature! exclaimed the fly. I'd like to know where I come in? No Happy Medium.—Miss Hichurch— we have a dreadful time with our der- gymen! Visitor—What's the trouble? - Miss Hichurch—Well, the last one was so religious that he negleeted social matters, and this one is rick social that he neglects the church After the Cerra:Aim—Papa — Now, Johnny, r have whipped you only for your own good. I believe I have only done my duty. Tell me truly, what do you think yourself ? Johnny—If I should tell you what I think, you'd give me another whipping. Gillings—You said the kerosene was perfectly safe, and that it could be used without the least danger. I took your word and what is the result? The stuff has exploded and made a ruin of our kitchen. Dealer—I said the oil was not dangerous, I did not say anathing at all about the • servant girl. Fable—Once upon a time a Peasant had a Goose which laid golden eggs. Of course the Peasant kilied the Goose, in consonance with the agrarian pol- icy of the times. Alas exclaimed the hapless fowl. with its last breath, if I only hadn't been such a goose! This fable teaches up not to be too benefi- cent lest we undermine our health. How did the charity dodge work last terra? was asked of the university stu- dent who is packing up his traps with a view to another go at the classics. Did it add much to your allowance? Fizzled clear out. I wrote the gover- nor that I wanted some money to help a poor family that was in an almost starving condition. Inside of forty-eight hours he sent me a barrel of flour and two hams. Ethel—Mother, can I take my wax doll to heaven with me when I die? Mother—No, Ethel you cannot take your dolls to heaven. Ethel—Can't I take these little bites of dollies? Moth- er—No. Ethel—Well! can't I even take my rag doll? Mother—I told you, Ethel, that you could not take any of your dolls to heagen with you. Ethel— Well! then I'll take the whole lot and go to the bad place. HE OR, SHE. The word "ship" is masculine in French, Italian, Spanish and Portu- guese, and possess no Sex in Teutonio and Scandinavian. Perhaps it would not be an error to trace the custom back to the Greeks, who called ell ships by feminine names, probably out A deference to Athena goddess of the ego. flaut the sailor assigns no such racoons. The ship Is to him a ver - able sweetheart. She possesses a waist, collets, stays, hoes, bonnet, ties, ribbon, ohairt, watches and dozens of other feminine valuables. A PERTINENT QUERY. To me, said Willie Washington, fey- e•riably, you represent all that is most sublime, t believe that destiny intend- ed as for eaoh other. Are you alluding, inquired Mae Cay- enne, icily, to the affinity pornilerly eupposed to exist between the Sablinie and the ridiculotis MONARCH'S INCOMES. les -a Not Awls e Very Clreat Bartlett on Their SubJeetti. The theones of Europe require every Year for their Inaintenanoe a sum of 40,000,600 sterling, or three 'times the animal income of the richest man in the world, sage London Tid-Bits. Even this stupendous] sum could be comfort - ebb' packed in three large trunks, al- though the constituent sovereigns would forni a pathway of gold nearly a yard wide, on which the kings and queerts of Europe could walk in state- ly procession from 'Charing Cross to St. Paul's. Tea Iview of this display of gold it cer- tainly seems scarcely credible that it only represents a yearly contribution of 3 5-8 pence for eaola subject througb- out Europe, or the cost of an ordin- ary packet of cigarettes. iAs migbt, perhaps, be expected, the sultan is the costliest of monarchs, but even in his case a contribution of 2s 5d, from every subject would furnish his anneal exchequer. The kings of Belgium and Greece rank next to the sultan in costliness, but at a great interval. Fivepence a year is all the claim they make on eaeli subject's.loyal generosity. Austria ranks next, with' a contri- bution of 4 3-4d, each toward. main- taining its imperial throne; Italy is fitfh on the list with 4 1-2de Sweden sixth with 4d.; then come Russia, with at modest $ 1-2d. for the "great white czar;" Germany, with 3 1-6d. for its almighty emperor, and the United Kingdom, with an individual 2 1-3d. Between the cheapest of sovereigns and the dearest of presidents there is a great gulf. A penny from each Frenchman would meet the yearly cost of three presidents, and each Swiss with the same modest coin (could seoure the services of twenty presidents. England's queen is thus the cheap- est of all European sovereigns, if the tax be levied on the United Eingdom alone; if, howevee, we distribute it over the whole of her empire, the tax would amount to a farthing for each of her subjects. As Viotoria is the least costly of monarchs she is also among the poor- est. Her total in.come available for pri- vate purposes is not much more than 4200,000 a year, or 623 an hour—a rev- enue less than some of her subjects en- aor• . ] Her entire private fortune is, rough- ly, 42,000,000—a capital which, convert- ed into sovereign.s, might be stowed away in a trunk 8 feet long and 8 feet ihi height and width. Compared with these modest sums, the czar's income and fortune are alike stupendous. His private fortune, including his mines, forests and his 1,000,000 acres, may safely be estimat- ed at 480,000,000 and his total yearly revenue at 42,500,000, or 44.15 shillings a minute.. The Emperor of Austria is "passing rich" on 41,500,000 a year. His daily allowance is £4,110, or a pile of sov- ereigns three and t half times as high as himself. The "unrivaled" William, German emperor has 4500,000 a year less than his imperial brother of Austria., but even this limited, allowance admits of an expenditure every two days, of as many sovereigns as a strong man could carry to his palace at Potsdam. All these incomes, however, look fool- ish and small when compared with the £6,000,000 a year which the sultan is credited with spending. This sum, by the way, is more than ten times as mucb as his official income, a fact from which some idea may be gleaned of the vastness of his private fortune. This extravagant monarch contrives te spend twice his own weight in sov- ereigns every day. For pocket money he allows himself over three -hundred- weight of sovereigns a week, and the same amount for delicacies for his acres of tables. Four and a half hun- dredweight of sovereigns vanish ev- ery week in presents, and the same weight of gold is required to clothe the many beauties of his harem. Com- pared with this lavish expenditure, it is really wonderful how the poor man contrives to clothe himself on a pal- try 41,500 a week, to which sum he rigidly limits his tailors. • COLOR BLIND PAINTERS. Strange That Snot a Thing Could, be, hot It Is So. "To speak of a ;color blind artist sounds like joking," said a noted Eng- lish oculist, "but strange as it seems, there are several persons so affected who can nevertheless paint extremely well. Ielumbers of color blind people there are, of course, who draw per- fectly in pencil, ink and orayons,• but I myself know a scene painter attach- ed to a provincial theatre, who, though 'color blind,' paints all its scenery and has quite a local name, not only for his 'interiors' and oak chambers, but even for landscapes. "I can tell you, of two London ladies who consulted xne for color blindness who paint really beautiful pictures. One is the daughter of a late famous artist and was taught painting by her father. She is quite unable to dis- tinguish red from green, but other colors are all labelled with thenaraes, and she has been taught which to use for certain effects. Possibly her paint- ing may seem to her eyes, as it were, drawing with a brush and 'shading' with the colors. • "The other is a lady artist of some celebrity who has for years exhibited annually in London. The public is not aware that she is color blind. She painted the 'wedding group' for a cer- tain noble bridegroom a year .or two ago, and also seveml public men's peer - traits, and one of an eminent pbysi- elan fetehed her 500 guineas, "There is a gentleman residing at Newington, who, having years ago left the wear through finding his ad- vancement hopelessly hatred by his color blindness, is at present reeking several hundred a year by his brush 40 an artist, designing most artietic and brighty colored picture 'posters' for advertisement boardixtgs." THE LINEN CLOSET,/ Women by nature, adore linen, and Upon the quality and quantity, as well as the condition in which this import- ant adjunot to every well -ordered bousehola is kept, is the housewife lauded or condemned in foreign lands. A bountiful supply of exquisite finish may not be within reach of all, but to have what you own hemmed and. well kept is surely within the simplest pro- vince, In hemming olotbs and napkins by. hand do not make an ordinary henabut rather what is called in France an ourlet surjet. Turn down the daznaekee &quarter of an Mob, as if for an ordin- sty hem, and fold it back on the oloth. Take it altogether and, keeping the single side of the cloth toward you, hold it and hem it with the left thumb and forefinger, and oversew it as if you were doing what children call "top sewing." This is done on the wrong side of the olotb, is lasting, and makes a very sightly finish. Drawn -line insertions and hems aro done by machinery on all damask as it is impossible to draw the threads and work it by head. The roarking of tablecloths and napkins is sometimes done in delicate color, but. is never as elegant as plain white. This ha how- ever,a matter of taste. If colors aro used, be careful to choose flax or cot- ton that washes well. Let, the em- broidering be careful and the leas tem clear. To work in satin stitch, first outline and then pad the heavy parts of the design. Where the monogram is large probably all the letters ca.n be padded. This should be done very carefully, as, if unevenly executed, the work will never look well, and want of precision in the finished design is often due Mainly to careless outlining. For this portion of the work a coarser cotton slmuld be used than for the embroid- ery itself. Fasten the thread witb a. few running stitches, never witb knot—a rule to be observed also in em- broidering, except in very rare instan- ces. Finish off the thread by drawing - tee down the treeing stitches; or SOD2t part of the pattern that is already finished. Fill in ene spaces between the lines with a padding ot loosely rim threads, so that they lie thickly and solidly in the center, and. shade off on both sides. The roundness and fullnesa of the embroidery depends upon the firmness of this substratum of threads. What is known as the sloping stem - stitch is often used in linen embroidex- ing, and will also be foand useful for marking. Do not outline, the stem or stalk, for it is on this that the stiteh is most useful. Insert the neealeefaseme right to left in a slanting direction under two or three horizontal threads. and five or six of those that lie at right angles with them. Each stitch should lie half -way back of the last, the whole forming a bar made up of tiny diagonal stitches. A supply of small tray cloths should at all times be found in the linen 'press. These can be bought in linen, ready stamped for embroidering, with fringe or drawn thread already made on them. Very good tray cloths can be made from an old table cloth. Cut out the best portions and edge them with Torchon lace.. Scalloped borders for tray cloths are novel and. pretty, but are scarcely worth while doing, except on new material. For sideboard cloths a border of Virginia creeper looks ex - extremely well if done in Turkey twill, Iron off the pattern on the twill, tack it down very straight on the line and buttonhole the edges of the leaves and stalks with red embroidery cotton. When completed cut away the ground- work of the twill deists to the edges of the buttonhole work and then place stitches about ,one-quarter of an inch long from the buttonhole pattern to the linen. For those who dine a la Busse it is well to remember that for table cen- ters anything that will not wash is out of place. Splashes are sure to sometiraes mar them, and if of silk or satin they soon become unfit fez - use until dry cleaned. Colored linen of very pale shades make charming every- day table centers and offer a prac- tically unlimited field for embroidery. Doylies should in every instance match the center pieces. Do not permit table or bed linen to lie from year to year without being used. It will last longer for an oc- casional washing. If it is already very yellow cut up a pound of white soap in four quarts of milk, put it over The stove in a wash kettle and when the soap has dissolved, put in the linen and boil fifteen minutes, then wash in soap suds and rinse in two clean waters, bluing the last water slightly. The pospessor of a grass plat can whiten her choice linen by simply rinsing in soa,p suds and lying it on the grass for two or three da.ys. Rinse in clear water and dry ion the Ibis, and it will be ssveet and fresh and white, Fine napery should never be wrung with the hand, as it is apt thus to lee, strained, It should be straightened out and run as' smoothly as possible, through tbe. wringer, Of course no starch is neces- sary, and the cloth should be profusely s,prinkled over night, then ironed quickly with hot irons until perfeotiy dry before being folded. NO ONE BIM SURELY. .Princess street, sir, said a ciabby outside a. Yorkshire street railway station to his fare. Why, 'that's only half a minute's walk from 'ore. Never mind, drive away, answered the gentlemen, But I °ant charge you loss than lia pence, six ; that's the legal fare. All right, my good man ; only start quickly, and I'll give you n couple of fares. Cabby jumped upon the box with beaming face, flicked up his horse and shouted jocosely to an imaginary evife: Don't wait dinner if I'm late, Mary Atm I I'm takin' the Xing ea Rion - dike to his hinverial habode 1