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The Exeter Advocate, 1890-3-20, Page 6The Men Who Miss the Troia. Iiloaf aroun the deopo just to see the Pullman scoot, An' to see the people scamper w'eu they hear the inglue toot ; But w'at;nakes the most impression on naysom'- w'at active brain, Is the careless men who got therojest fu time to miss the train, An' some cuss the railroad oomp'uy an' some loudly their stare,. Au' soi a est gallop down the track an' try to catch the oars ; An' some with a loud laf au' joke will poultice up their pain; Vat'us kin's er people get there jest iu time to miss the train. An' there ismany deepos an' flag -stations 'ithout name Along the Cra"d Trunk Railroad that leads to wealth au' fame, An' men rusk to these deepos as fast as they can As the Train of Opportunity jest goes a -thunder- ing by. • They rush down to the stations, with their hair all stood on end, As the platform of the tail -end car goes whirliu; r°0n' the bend ; An' some men groan au' cry aloud, an' some con - coal their pain, Wert the find that they have got there jest in time to miss the train. But the cars puff through the valleys, and go a whirliu' by, An' float their banners of w'te smoke like flags of victory ; They leap the flowin' rivers an' through the tun- nels grope, An' cross the Mountains of Despair to the Table- land of Hope. The Grand Trunk Railroad of Success, it runs through every °little, • But the Cars of Opportunity they go on schedule time, An' never are their brakes reversed; they won't back up again To take the men who got there jest in time to miss the train. —Boston Gazette. ADOPTED BY THE DEAD : A STORY OF TWO COUNTRIES, CHAPTER I. The Chateau de Mabillon stood on the summit of a low but abrupt hill, over• lo ling one of the most beautiful valleys of F,ranoe. In appearance it was scarcely habitable, for it had suffered greatly in the Revolution ; and though time had veiled the rough work of the incendiaries with luxuriant ivy and creepers, the chateau was bat a ruin, with the exception of a few rooms which hal escaped the general devastation, and were stili occupied by the De"Mabillon family. Very email had that family become of late years, dwindling as rapidly almost as their fortune had diminished. Alphonse de Mabillon, at the age of five•and-forty, found himself the sole survivor of his gener. ation—brothers and sisters were all dead, more distant relatives had emigrated, and were thus lost to him, his little English wife had drooped and died long ago, and he was now left alone, save for his two children. The villagers and the mare wondered at monsieur's grave, sad face, but they all loved him, for he was the very imperson• ation of gentleness and kindness, and gave more in alms than many a far richer man. On the brow of the hill, sarronnding the chateau on all sides, was a broad terraoe, neon which M. de Mabillon might haye been seen one autumn afternoon, pacing np and down. His face was more than ordin- arily grave, his head bent as if in anxious thought ; so engroseed was he, that he did not even notice the ringing of the vesper bell, in the convent below the hill, although this was the wonted signior the appearance of his little daughter. Esperance was full of wonder as, ao- oompanied by old Javotte, the servant, she climbed the steep ascent to the chateau. Ser studies at the convent were over for the day, and she was making all speed to join her father. Why was he not watching for her as venal ? What made him look so grave and anxious ? She reached the terrane out of breath, and sprang to her father's side with a merry laugh. " Whp, papa 1 you have forgotten me, and I have given yon a surprise.' " For once," replied her father, smiling and stooping to kiss the little, flexible mouth which was pretending to pout ; " I have much to think of just now, my child." Esperance looked puzzled. " What can there be to think of, now that the harvest is over, and the vintage, too, and Gaspard, our good Gaspard, has passed his examination 2—tell me what makes you grave, papa." M. de fsfabillon paused for a minute, then, instead of answering the question, said, " Gaspard will live at Paris now, yon know ; how would you like to live there too 2 " " At Paris 1" exolaimed Esperanoe, wonderingly, " and leave the ohatean 2 Oh ! no, papa, we could not live in a great town, away from all the woods and the flo were. Besides, I love the sisters—except, indeed, Scour Therese, who ie Dross always —I could not bear to leave them." °' You will try to bear it for my sake, will yon not 2 " asked her father. Esperanoe turned pale. " Do you mean, papa, that we must really go quite away from home, and leave everything 2 " " Dear child, it is indeed thus ; I have kept it from you as long as possible, but I have had losses of late, the vintage was, as you know, very bad, and Gaspard's edu- cation has been a great expense ; we can not afford to live here any longer, so the ohatean and land are to be sold, and we meat try to live cheaply with your brother at Paris.", Eaperance did not attempt to hide her tears, but she struggled to check them for her father's sake. The understanding between father and daughter was perfect, and Esperanoe, though only fourteen, was a real companion to M. de Mabillon ; he knew her innerrooet heart. They talked long together over their future plans, and Esperanoe was comforted by the trust and confidence which he placed in her, and yet more by the percept• ion of his calm, unshaken faith in the great Right whioh governed all changes. Long yeara after his words rested in her memory ; surely there are in Many hearts words and scenes so deeply impressed that nothing can effaoe them, truly God•given memories—possessions for life. Eeporance mould always recall the close of that autumn day—the sun setting behind the Auvergne mountains—the shadows gathering in the beautiful valleys below—the river hurrying on its way, hearing on its bosom the reflect. ion of a cloud crimson with sunset glory, the hoantiful old chateau, with its ivy covered walls—above all her father's face, grave no longer., but full of the mord; serene trust, his eyes looking straight into Iters lovingly and confidently. " Papa 1 " she cried, impotnously, " I love you so dearly that I shall be happy always where you are ; I shall not naiad leaving the chateau. " That will do for the present, brit yon will grow to something higher by and by," was M. do Mabillon's quiet enewer ; a rid- dle, indeed, to Jdsperence, but one which needed eolving sooner than either father or daughter expected. Hitherto Esporance's life had been singularly nnevenkful. Tho neighborhood was anneal and quiet, and M. de Mabillon, ala a member of the Eglise Refornlee, was cut off from what little society was to be had, Ever since Esperanoe could remeni. bar, she had road ever y tiay with her father, plat 0:i ie the old,. ue„ tested guidon, talked to lulagluary eiators, and helped old Javotte, the maid, -servant, in her domestic, duties ; while caoli afternoon there was the visit to the convent, a musio lesson from Sceir Angeliqus, who was young and pretty, and a long lesson in needle work from Scour '.Therese, wbo has been already stigmatized as " °rose." Now and then M. de Mabillon would take her to the nearest town to visit ane of hie few friends, but such treats were rare, and the unclouded happiness of Eaperaance's childhood arose entirely from the love and sympathy be. tween her and her father, apart,froue all other pleasures. She was oheerful and buoyaut, by nature, and the news of the afternoon did not weigh ttpon ]ler, though to a certain extent she felt it. Raving lath her father in the garden, she ran into the chateau, to find Javotte, actually singing as she went. Javotte, a middle-aged woman, with little, black eyes, and a complexion brown atnd wrinkled with care and exposure, looked up as Eaperanoeentered the kitchen, and said, in a granting but not reall . dis- agreeable voioe, " Ah, well, ma'nitaello 1 there are people who can always sing ; wheu yon are as old as I ani—." " I than sing just as mach," interrupted Esperance, laughing. " But after all, Javotte, I do not fell quite like singing to. night, only you see it rano good to sit down and ory ; near old Javotte, you will come with ns, will you net ? Now say ' yes,' direotly—do not clear your throat ! " Javotte, however, was in no condition for speaking. She finished making an omelet before venturing to begin, and then with many gesticulations opened her heart to Esperance. " It is this way, my child—monsieur tells ale of the change which comes, and at once I say to myself, ' I love ma'mseIle and monsieur, and M. Gaspard, they go—then I mast go also ; and again I say to myself, I love ray eon Pierre, he stays here, then I. must stay.' Voila ! Ma'msolle, how can I choose then, between these two ? " " Pierre coald Dome too," said Esper- ance, quickly. " Indeed, Javotte, I can not live without you ; have yon not often said how my motber asked yon to love me and care for me before she died, and will you leave me now to go away alone 2 " Javotte could not resist such an appeal ; after all, she thought, Pierre would no doubt marry, and then she Would not be wanted—yea, she would accompany ma'mselie till death. Esperanoe, disregarding the foreboding tone of the last word, promised to dance at Pierre's wedding, and ran away to impart the good news to her father. CHAPTER II. Javotte felt the change more than any one else. Perhaps the actual parting from the chateau was not so painful to her as to its owners, but the lite at Paris, was far Less congenial. She was too rnetio ever to feel at home in a city the stairs tried her temper, the noise tried her head, and altogether she was for a time most unhappy. Esperanoe only discovered a email part of her miseries, nor the good old servant was far too unselfish to complain, and devoted herself more than ever to the service of the De Mabiilons. The winter was aver, and the bright spring weather was pleasant enough in Paris, even to those accustomed to a country life. Esperanoe, as she sat with her needle -work by the open window, could think of her old home almost without a sigh, so sweet and clear did the air feel, and so bright and cheerful was the sun- shine. The room in which she was seated was bare of all luxuries ; a polished floor, a stove, and the necessary chairs and tables sound cold enough in description, neverthe- less, there was an air of freshness and grace in the arrangement of the: whole which is often wanting in better furnished T001119. Esperanoe was thoroughly French, and had all a Frenchwoman's delicate taut and taste. Her mother had been of English birth, but had apparently bequeathed little of her nationality to her child—perhaps, rather to DI. de Mabillon's disappointment ; he would have been pleased to have some likeness to his fair little English wife, bat both Esperance and Gaspard, were un- mistakably De Mabillons. Esperance was not, strictly speaking, pretty, but there was a freshness and glow about her com• plexion which made np for any want of actual beauty. Her low, smooth brow and regular features were not in the least striking, bat the power of the face lay in her eyes, which, though not large, were wonderfully bright and of the richest brown color, soft and velvety in the shade, and clear as amber in the light. Her dark hair fell like a cloud round her pretty, sloping shoulders, and her slight figure and little round wtiet might have been the envy of many a belle. The afternoon was somewhat advanced, and Esperaoce, neglecting her work, stationed herself at the window to watch for her brother's return. Gaspard was now studying for the bar, notwithstanding that his father's (alien fortunes would have made some less uphill profession far more advisable. To be an advocate, however, had long been his wish, and M. de Mabillon, despite his poverty, would not gainsay him, and even went so far as to seek work himself in order to meet their expenses. This, however, was not to be had ; he was too completely the country gentleman, and too ignorant in business mattere to meet with any suitable employment. From her window au quatrieme, Esper• anme soon descried her brother in the distance, accompanied, much to her sur-' prise, by a stranger, long-legged and talwart, and, on nearer view, deoidely English. Visitors were so rare in the little alon that Esperance was in a flatter of xoitement at the very idea ; she listened agerly for footsteps—yes, there were ssnredly two people mounting the flight of fairs. The door was opened by Gaspard. " I have brought yon a visitor, claerie. Is my father not at home ? " Then as Esperance bowed to the stranger, " No, no, this is our cousin, Mr. George algrave ; yon must give him an English and•shake. We mot eaoh other most nexpeotedly at Galiguani's, each recogniz- ng the other's name." r.F3. Esperanoe looked np full of curiosity, or the Englieh relations had always been nveloped in a cloud of mystery. She was of particularly etruok with the specimen efore her. George Palgrave, might, per• aps, have been five -and -twenty ; he was all, large -made, fair complexioned, and, in sperance's eyes, awkward•looking, ad °replete a contrast to the slight, dark -eyed aspard as could have been found. Elio shook kande with him as directed, nd noticing that his French was decidedly mbarraseing to him, began to display her mall stock of English with some pride. You have made a good voyage, I hope, y cousin ? " "'A fairly good crossing, thank you ; here was an ugly son'dwester when we tatted, but it soon went down." Esperance had not the faintest idea of rho caning of " an ugly son' -wester," but she went on bravely, s e e e a 6 P 11 n 0 n b h t E 0 G a e s t e m ",And you are arrived at rade today 2 I hope you will pass some time hero ! " t wish I could, but unfortunately T must leave this evening, I am merely passing through, on my way to Switzerland. It was most fortunate that I chanced • to meet your brother ; I had no idea yon were living at Paris." " Slime the last four months. Do yo !snow, monsieur, you aro the first of oar English relations that I have seen ? Tel us of our cousins ; we do not cyan know their names ; is it not so, Gaopard 2 Mr. Palgrave looked amused. " And I have not yet had the honor o hearing yours." " For me, I am Esperanoe ; now, please our English cousins." " I am the only one of the Palgrave family ; then there are the three lklissea Collinson, or rather two, for the eldest is married—Mrs. Mortlake. The- others are called Cornelia and Bertha." " Cornelia 1 ah 1 that ie not pretty. Bertha, I like ; tell me about her." Mr. Palgrave seemed embarrassed, and was glad to be spared a description, by the entrance of D2. de Mabillon., Esperanoe harried forward to meet her father. " Papa, this is our English cousin, Mr. Palgrave ; he is telling me all about our relations." M. de Mabillon's greeting was gravely polite, but scarcely cordial ; the conver- sation became at once more formal and stiff, and Mr. Palgrave's complexion grew so fiery that Esperanoe felt her own cheeks tingle out of sympathy. He father was ma - evidently well acquainted with all the y terious relations ; she heard him inquire after Dean Collinson and his daughters, after Mr. and Mrs, Palgrave, and other unknown names, yet there was a carious constraint in his manner which Esperanoe could not account for. She grew a little weary and oppressed, and was not sorry when her cousin rose to go, having refused an invitation to dinner. Gaspard, also a little surprised at his father's coldness, proposed to act as guide to hie cousin, and the two took their departure, leaving M. de Mabillon and Esperance alone. Dd. de Mabillon sighed heavily as the door closed upon them. " So that is George Palgrave ; poor fellow, I was but half civil to him—you must not follow my bad example, dear child." " Papa 1 I do not understand. Why do you not like our cdusins ; and why have yon never told me about our English relations before ? " " For many reasons," said M. de Mabil- lon. " We are oat off from them, both by distance and inclination. There has never been any intercourse between us since your mother's death ; I am too much disliked by them." " Yon, disliked, papa ! It is impossible ! M. de Mabillon smiled. " You had better' hear the whole story, and then yon will understand. When I was a young man I was travelling in Eng- land, and while spending some weeks in London, was introduced to your mother, then a Miss Collinson, sister of the dean whom I mentioned jnet,now. He was then in possession of some London living, and Amy, your mother, lived with him. They were the eldest and youngest of a large family, moat of whom had died, and one or. two of whom were married. Amy was very beautiful, and from the first I loved her. She had other admirers, however, and among them a certain Sir Henry Worthington, a very rich and-- igiittat al man. Mr. Collinson thought the connection would be a useful one, and urged your mother to consent. At the same time I made my proposal to him for his sister's hand, greatly to his annoyance. So anxious was he for the other connection that he absolutely refused ' at first to mention my name to her. His behavior at the time is too bad to be recalled ; however, at length he was obliged to yield, in so far that I was allowed to speak to your mother myself. To Mr. Collineon's indignation, she accepted me, and as she was of age he had no power to prevent the engagement." " But, papa, why did Mr. Collinson die. like yon ?" asked Esperance, greatly puzzled. (To be Continued.) The Secret of a Long Life. You somstim3s sea a wamfn whose of age is as exquisite as was the perfect bloom of her youth. Yon wonder how this has come about. Here are some of the reasons: She knew how to forget disagreeable things. She understood the art of enioyment. She kept her nerves well in hand and inflicted them on no one. She believed in the goodness of her own daughters and in that of her neighbors'. She cultivated a good digestion. She mastered the art of saying pleasant words. She did not expect too much from her friends. She retained her illusions and did not believe that alt the world was winked and unkind. She relieved the miserable and sympa• thized with the sorrowful. She retained an even disposition and made the best of everything. She did whatever came to her cheerfully and well. She never forgot that kind words and a smile cost nothing, but are priceless treas- ures to the discouraged. She did unto others as she would be done by, and now that old age has come to her and there is a halo of white hair about her head she is loved and considered. 'This is the secret of a long life and a happy one.—Ladies' Home Journal for Marcia. Squelched. 7. Mand—Isn't it a queer title for a book, mother, ". Not Like Other Girls ? " I wonder what she oan be if eke is not like other girls Mother—I don't know, nnlees she goes into the kitchen and helps mother, instead of staying in the drawing•room to read novels. Many evening dresses have a wide ribbon belt, with ends at the side of the waist hanging down a few inches. Popular dancing 80hoo1 dreams for little girls are of yellow surah, trimmed with golden brown velvet. One of my friends, who is very lazy, said : " It is animal to learn anything daring life, since we are to know every. thing after death." 1t will cost one hundred million dol. tars to finish the Panama canal, experts say. The patience of the French stook. holders may be finished inside that figure. The weight and measurements of a fully developed young man of twenty years of age should be as follows: Weight, 139 pounds ; height, .67.8 inches; length of right shoulder to elbow, 14.5 ; length of left shoulder to elbow, 14.4 ; normal cheat girth, 33.9 ; inflated, 35.8; waist, 28.7 hips, 36.3 ; bioops, 11.6 ; depth of chest, 7.4 ; capacity of lunge, 253 ; strength of beta, 338. THE LAND OF FLOWERS By No I4eana a Desirable Place Residence. of A HAMILTON Ii1.►N'S OBSERVATIONS. OIWAND°,Florida, March, 1890. As promised, I now send you a fa notes of shy observations during a tr through Florida, and hope they may pro interesting to your reader's. We left Ha iltou 13th Fabraary and retobed Jaokso vibe just 47 hours after, having made a connections, and bad a pleasant journe down. I will pass over the incidents th occurred by the way; sufficient to say th after passing Richmond, Virginia, we Doul recognize that we were rapidly going int a warmer climate, and when we arrived i Florida heavy overcoats and wraps had t be oast aside, for there were roses an flowers of all kinds in full bloom, th darkies basking in the sunshine and lazil passing the happy hours away. Jacksonville has improved wonderfull during the past five years. It is now eai to contain about 35,000 inhabitants, but fanoy after the winter tourists bay departed 25,000 would be nearer the figure The great majority of its bueiness men ar Northerners who have lived there from tw to ten years, and are said to be doing profitable business, especially daring th winter season, when they can charge tour ists long prices for any articles they sigh require. As a plane of residence it is abet'the most undesirable I have ever seen owing to its filth and bad odors. The ver air seems reeking with malaria, an towards evening, when the wind ceases the stench one encounters on the street would not be tolerated in our fair pity fo a single day. It is most astonishing the so many Northern people live here fo months during the winter season whe there are so many pleasanter places in th States to reside. _ It appears' to me the imagine when they get to Jack sonville they have seen Florida, but Mr. Editor, you could not imagine a greater error, for one might just to well imagine he had seen Ontario by residing a few months in Hamilton. On the 25th ult., we visited the anoient town of St. Augustine, and lo! what a change has taken place there sincetI saw it last, six years ago. Upon entering the town the first thing that strikes the eye is an im- mense hotel, called the Ponce de Leon ; the monument of a millionaire's folly, and said to have oust nearly three million dollars. I am informed that it will Dost the owner 3250,000 to keep it open this winter ; besides this he has built two other large hotels on the opposite side of the street and between them is a beautiful park or garden whioh contains fountains and innumerable shrubs and flowers. The owner of the immense piles is Mr. Flagler, President of the Stand- ard Oil Co., and it is a wonder to me that he could not have thought of some more worthy object to bestow so mach of his wealth upon, he is, however, building a church, which I trust will prove a better source of satisfaction to him in future years than his immense hotels. The town does not present the same antiquated appearance that it did before the fire, which occurred about three years ago, as the only relics of the past Beam to be the gates and the old fort said to be over 300 years old On Monday, the 21th inst., we left Jacksonville at 3 o'clock p. m., and went tip the St. John's River to Sanford, thence by rail to Orlando. The sail up was exceedingly pleasant, the day beiug warm and the breezes balmy. The scenery is very beautiful, as luxuriant foliage, interspersed with orange trees in bloom, abounded on either side. It was such an enchanting sight, that the passengers seemed quite disappointed when the shades of evening set in, and finally darkness obscured the sights from view. However, next morning, . all were on deck before 5 o'clock and as it was bright and warm every one enjoyed the' eights. The soenery before reaching Sanford becomes more beantifnl, as the river in places is scarcely 100 yards wide. At one aide of the boat you can see lofty palmetto trees 60 to 80 feet high, the only oliege being at the top ; on the other side a forest that seems to be literally covered with Cherokee roses and wild vines, which limb to the very tops of the trees, greets the iew. These sometimes form such beauti• ul arches that one would imagine they were artificial. Having arrived at San- ord about 9 o'clock we had to wait a few ours for railway to convey na to oar estination, and we therefore employed ur time examining the groves and gardens bout the plane. As' there had been no rest up to that date this year vegetables f all kinds were ripe and being rapidly hipped north, the prices obtained for them eing very high. Orlando is a thriving little town in the entre of Orange county, and in my opin- on the country around it has the beat Boil nd healthiest climate of any part of the tate. Here oranges grow to perfection, nd the largest grove is situated in this onnty, being 160 acres in extent and in ret -class condition. The soil in nearly all parte of this State s exceedingly poor ; most of it consists of are Band, something like you see at Bur. ngton Beach in the vicinity of the Ocean once, consequently a great deal of money as to be spent upon fertilizing it. 1 hould say you could not grow as much on en acres here as upon one in Wentworth aunty. One orange grower told ms that e spent $50 per acre this year in fertiliz• ng his property, and that added to the riginal Dost of the land would make it other an expensive piece of ground. I annot say muoh for any country that egnires the planters to obtain such exor- itant prices for its produce in order to make fair remuneration—it reminds me of the ational Policy—imagine gardeners getting bout 32.50 per bushel for tomatoes and eying they are not making much out of hem. It is entirely upon the early crops hey depend, for when vegetables, etc., pen in the north they cannot be sold here t any pride, as the oost of transportation too high, and they are quite inferior to urs both in appearance and flavor. The range is the staple fruit, and upon its reduction the success of the State depends.. is, as far as 1 have Been, the only thing at grows to perfection, for all other fruits nd vegetables eeem stunted in growth. The climate is very variable. I have periencod warm weather 01000 coming ere until Sunday last. Dating the greater art of last week it was exceedingly hot. n Thursday, the 27th nit;, the thereto - der stood 88 ° in the shade ; at 12 con it reminded me of our July eather at home. On Sunday it mmonced to rain, the first they have had ere in four months, after whioh a cold ow from the north set in. This inoroaeed much that heavy Underclothing and over- ate had to bo resorted to. During the ght the thereabnieter took each a dip as register 3 ° of heat. I saw ice about an gbth of an inch thiols: at 9 o'clook in the orning-gaito a change in temperature in es than four days. The damage done to o country is moat disastrous. Thousands w ip ve m- n - 11 y at at a 0 n O d e y y d z e e. e 0 a e • • ti t a e r t r n e y of dollars were swept away in a single night. It was a pitiful eight to walk into the country and view the damage done to bananas, tomatoes, strawberries, etc. The orange trees did not suffer so much, as nearly all the Drop has beeu gathered, and owing to the extreme dry weather most of the trees have not yet started to blossom. There has been some damage done young trees, out these can bo saved by timely pruning. I fully intended visiting the Indian River country, but have decided not to do so as I have been very much led astray in my calculations of the State from the informa- tion obtained from "guide books" and "pamphlete ort Florida." American migration agents can make a glowing sketch of a country when they wish to boom it, but if the stranger believes every- thing he reads in their produotione he will be woefully disappointed when he visits the plane and sees for himself. I would strongly advise any one in Canada who has entertained golden opinions of the Sunny South and feels like emigrating here to just stay where he is, far rest assured the people of Canada have pleasanter homes and enjoy life much better than those who are unfortunately settled in Florida. I will leave here this week and return to Jacksonville by the Ooklawaha River, said to have the finest scenery in Florida, and after spending a few days at Washington will return home.—Yours sincerely, DAVID glen. What a Lady Does Not Do. There are several things always absent in a true lady, which girls will do well to notice and remember. A lady, for example, will never ignore little kindnesses. Conclude in a crowd that she has a right to push her way through. Consume the time of people who can ill spare it. Wear on the streets a dress only fitted to the house or carriage. Talk loudly in public planes. Wear a torn glove, when a needle and thread and a few stitches would make it all right. Fail in answering letters or returning visits, unless she is 01 or in trouble. Fret about the heat or the cold, the sun, or the rain, the air, or the lack of it. Make an engagement and then not be on time. Complain of her family, or discuss per- sonal affairs with strangers. Always believe the worst rather than the best side of a story. A lady does not do any other than make the best of everything the, world, the weather and herself. She believes in the golden rule and endeavors as far as possible to live np to it ; and'that's what you and I onght to promise every morning that we will try and do during the day.—March Ladies' Horne Journal. As Bad an Constantinople. Did you ever notice what a variety of dogs is to be seen running about the streets ? There are all kinds—big doge and little dogs, dogs with long legs and doge with short lege, fat dogs, skinny doge, one eared dogs and two eared dogs, wet dogs, doge with pedigrees and dogs without pedi- grees, lame dogs, lanky dogs, doge with tails and doge without tails, yellow doge, hungry doge, one -eyed dogs, mangy dogs, doge that have been washed and dogs that ought to be, cold dogs, Spitz dogs and dogs that don't, snarly dogs, dogs that bark and dogs that bite, familiar doge, nine dogs, oold-nosed doge, dogs with fleas and dogs without fleas, soiled doge, spavined doge, rude doge, mild dogs, 'boisterous doge, gentlemanly dogs, dogs with bass voices and dogs with tenor voices, old•dogs, puppy doge, and all other kinds of dogs that ever were heard of —Dundas Banner. The Red -Headed Girl. The glory of the New York belle of this day and generation is her raddy locks. Having made up her mind to the correct thing she dose not rest until she has metamorphosed her black, brown, golden or ash -colored tresses into a shade so in- tense that it puts the brightest carrot that ever graced a kitchen garden in the shade. She is not auburn -haired, not red-headed, but has hair of fiery flame color, the most intense shade known to the hairdresser. She has, perhaps, saorifieed her olive akin and a pair of grey eyes to the whim of the day, and, not content with this, clothes herself in red fox fur, red gowns and a red hat. It is striking, it is the fad, and who dares say it is not charming ? A Modern Education. Fond Mother—How did yon get along in school to -day, Susie 2 Tired Child (wearily)—Oh, I missed in my geography again. I forgot whether the Patnmayo joined the Amazon east or west of the confluence .of the Maranon and Ucayale Rivers, Same Child (years later ; witeand mother) —What is it you want to know, pet? Little Daughter (straggling over a prim. ary geography)—Where is the Amazon river, mamma ? Mamma (after long refleotion)—I think it's somewhere in Africa or Asia, I forget whiob. Something Has Happened. Can yon grasp the idea that an iceberg such as just reported, 700 feet hight, that is, 700 feet out of water, and seven miles long, must weigh thousands of millions of tone ? Fresh water, yon see, and only about an eighth of its balk visible. Which means a mountain of ice 5,600 feet high. Higher and bigger than any other of the ttdirondacks ; say about the size of Mount Washington, not as we see it, but from the sea level. Something has been happening up there among Greenland's ioy mountains. —New York Tribune. A Mean Husband. Husband (greatly excited)—Get my hat, dearest. A dog oateher has stolen the poodle and says he is going to kill it. Wife — The hateful man l Are you going to see if you can take it from him, darling ? " No, I am going to see that he keeps bis word." Foolish in a Wise Age. ' Biggs—What sort of a fellow is Boggs ? Jigits—A fool. Ho don't know enough to sneeze when he'd got the influenza 2 For street wear in London ladies are now wearing their dross ekirts four inoheo from the ground. Vice•President Morton, who is visiting the South, says its resources are being developed with marvellous rapidity: The cotton prop now averagce 7,000,000 bales. The number of cotton mills in the South ten years ago was 160, with 14,000 looms. Today there are 14,000 mills and 215,000 looms. The mileage of railways in the South, which ten years ago was less than 20,000, is now more than 40,000. Sir Spencer Ponsonby Fano is to be- come Black Rod to Queen Viotoria at a salary of 310,000 and a fine house. He will have nothing to do but draw his pay. IDEAL ORES3 Ole` W Q* N', °Plutons et' 1?rorutuent Wolnee on the Su4j,aot—No "Gowns" fgr Business Women. Five questions on the subjeot of dross have been put to some of the leading auth- orities on dress reform by the New York. correspondent of the Chicago Times. They are &B follows : 1. What, iu your opinion, will be the dress of the coming women ? In what general respects, it any, will 11 differ from the present feminine attire 2 2. Is the tendenoy of fashion in the direction of more graceful and artistioally eatisfactoryoostnmes 2 3. Is it in directions favorable to health and greater freedom of body ? Will the corset be dispensed with ? Will you indi- cate any desirable dress reforms 7 4. Is there any proepeot of the differen- titation of a " business dress " for women employed outside their homes 2 What would be a suitable model for such a gown ? 5. What is your idea of the ideal dress - of women ? Tho all -absorbing subject ie riwelt on at length by each one who has essayed to answer, but the last question is rather more interesting to the average women and is answered by them as follows : A dress like that worn by the zonaves in the war, minus the ugly cap. Alice Stone Blackwell. My idea of the ideal dress for wcman is dress that will well protect the body, but leave every muecle free. Hence it must be short, and light, and loose.—Lucy Stone. The ideal dress has not yet dawned upon our eyes ; it must be an evolution, and we have but just began to evolute. Bat one thing is already clear ; it mast be (1) modest, (2) hygienic, (3) pleasing to the eye and satisfying to the mind. " May theme things be." -==Frances Willard. 5. The " ideal" would seem to be various costumes for varying 0000sions, adapted to the season, the climate and to the occupation and taste of the wearer. It seeme to me that there should not be any "gown" to a businese woman's dress. —Mrs. Celia B. Whitehead. 5. '.The ideal dress for women will differ according to temperament, to profession and circumstances. These differences will be founded upon common sense and the study of artietio principles. Dress meet become more and more the expression of the individual. I do not believe that man's dress will ever be accepted by woman ; it is not adapted to her needs in a single par- ticular ; besides, it is the very essence of ugliness. Women must study the possi- bilities of beauty in dress, for we need to arge the gospel of beauty and grace if we are to hope for the trinmph of woman's superior aingdom. A beautiful woman is a power for good and whatever legitimate means are within her reach—physical cul- ture, dress, the cultivation of facial expree- sicn, or hygienic forces—which will keep off the ravages of time are to be encour- aged. The long, graceful, clinging robe is most beautiful for omissions of leisure,— Annie Jenness Miller. 5. I think that an ideal outfit for woman would consist of bifurcated undergarments made of an, elastin weave, to cling to the body and yet give with every movement— there beiag enough of these garments tofur- nieh the necessary warmth—and a light, flowing drapery for artistic effect. I do , not believe in disoarding drapery. for it accentuates grace and elegance of move- ment. I believe that those who concede to woman the prerogative of draperies do it through an instinctive feeling that there is a oorreepondenoe between the nature of a gracious woman and the graceful, flowing outlines of an artistio drapery. I think that draperies should be of light, clinging materials. I would do away with stiff, heavy materials, and retain only the soft silks, cashmeres, crepes and other like fabrics, if I hadmy way, and tba length should be regulated by the occasion for which it is made.—Miss Mabel Jenness. 5. The ideal dress for a woman is, in my taste, based upon the Princess style, with train and long, flowing lines for house and plain tailor gowns for street. — Olive Harper. 5. The ideal dress must be designed by ooh woman in accordance with her own eeds. Its details must depend on the cession on which it is to be worn. A street nit is one thing, a house toilet quite nether. For the hoose a woman may ndu!ge her artistic instincts as to color nd style. If she does not disobey health rinoiples the more she idealizes the better, nd it is a pity that men have not equal iberty.—Lucy M. Hall, M. D. e a 0 s a a p a 1 Culture by the Armful. Yee," said the old gentleman who had founded the public library, to one of the attendants, " it is worth all it Dost me ; every cent of it. It's a pleasure to stand here and see the yoang and the old Hooking here and bearing away wisdom and culture by the armful. Now look at that girl. No doubt she will have me to thank for some- thing that will be of benefit to her all her life. What book was that she carried. away?" "' The Poisoned Hatpin ; or, the Secret of Mand McManne' Barak Hair,' and a very interesting book it is, sir." His Wish Gratified. Montana Pete (looking at hie overdone beefsteak and jabbing his bowie knife through it) —I'd like to see the scoundrel that cooked this meat. Large Woman (erose -eyed and red- headed, appearing a moment later)—rhe waiter tells me yon wish to see me, sir. Montana Pete wilts. Very Wrong. " The Sugar Trust seems to die hard." " Yes. 'There is lots of sand in the Sager Trust." Parson (to candidate for Sunday -school) —Have yon been christened, my toy ? Boy—Yeah, shir. Got marks in three plashes on my left arm If they could only tarn out upright men as they do upright pianos there would be more harmony in the world. "Light out ?" exolaimed her father as he suddenly entered the room. Her young man immediately took the advice. Sir Julien Panncofote and Secretary Blaine have become warm friends. They liked each other from their first meeting and further intercourse has strenghtened their regard for one another. Elieee Milne, the famous geographer, is in Algeria. Next year he will visit the United States. His vast work, of which 15 volumes have now been issued, will be finished within two or three years. The health of the Ding of Holland, who is now 73 years of ago, is mnoh improved, to the disgust of the people who were arranging not long ago for a regency. A mat oh is already being arranged for the young ting Alexander of Servia, who 1s not yet 14 years old. The proposed alliance is with a Grand Duohess of Russia. Tho sermon that did not make soma body thick is a monkery of religion.