The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

was no iairer :pot in Bnyanw than this leiL garden, whats the heizess Oi Lancewood sLood with thoughtful lace and dreamy eyes. Look where she would, nothing but beauty meg ~ Luau heady wan standmg in the 111.1 gluw oi the sunshine, near a clus- to: o; g.adioli, that formal a picture in Lhcmmlves, an crunson and gold. been; buried in the beds, butteniies ho.'eri.ng round then. She had been looking at Lhe gorgwus flowers, and Still held 0.“: in her hands. AThere M wvuuu, “Uhumb w“. 'w___., __7 her eyes, marvels of color, wonders of sunshine and shade. It was a garden rather oLd-iaemoned than otherwize, in“ of heavy, rich rose», orange and scarlet nasturtiums, big tair cluaters 01' hydrangea; there were blossoms of puryle and white canmne-bued carnâ€" atmns, and Allies “Nth wnite, pure hensâ€"a. garden wherein a poet mgnt dream), and a painter lose himeeh in the divine beauty of flower and tree. An Old-lashioncd sun-dial SLOOd near the bright g'.adioli; not far from it. was a tuuntam of rare and quaint deâ€" 5183; tame white doves fluttered round, and des of bright 791111113259 83118 in the trees. l‘he June sun 3110188, and over all floated a breath 0‘ Perfume sweet as the odors of Araby. . Viden Neslie gazed round Wxth Ann Viden Nuslie gazed round Wuu dreamy eyes. Looking at her, one would say she was rightly placed near the crimson and godem gladiuli. Sz=e was in perfect harmony with the beauty of the gardenâ€"a. tail. stateiy girl. with a Tiuan face, dark! $19“,- _- _ - .. 2 3L .. nn‘l‘l‘nq $9“: wuu a ALLA“ “We, ..-- 7, _ . Eng, splenditI in its exquisite colcung "Dd Perfect features, the eyes at .3. 1'31'6 purple hue, such as one sees m the heart of a passion flower, dark- ening with every passing Lnougnt. bright as the stars in the! sky, fring- ed with long lashesâ€"mystical, dreamy 8393. full of passiocn and Lowerâ€"eyes in the liquid depths of which it was “53 to lose both heart and: senses: straight, imperial brows; a mouth like a pomegranate bud, sensitive, sweat, yet. with some proud, scornful curvesâ€"a girl that Titian would have painted, holding with white hand a crimson flower to her lips. A mass of dark hair, soft and shining; was drawn back from the beautiful face, and lay in luxurian‘ profusion over the white neck and shoulders. In the bloom of her girlish beauty! she looked brilliwnt as a passion-flower in the sun. Suddenly (mo of the tarne wnlte dbves fluttering round, lighted on her shouidezr, and Vivien Noslte awoke from her dream. What do girls fair and young dream of in the sunshine and flowers? Of the lover who is to comeâ€"0” the love that is to crown themâ€"of the sweet, vague possibiiitias .of “to? _ 0 J No such pretty thoughts occupied the heiress of Lancewood. She had been through the Hyde woods and round by the river: returning. she} stopped to rest by the old: sun-dial,l and there her dark eyes wandered over one of the fairest scenes in Eng- land. She saw the dark masses of; trees in Hyde woods; she saw purplol hills ri<ing in the far distance, crown- ed wit h rich foliage: she saw the deep, clear river gleaming in the sun; she‘ saw rich clover-meadows, golden corn-i fields, are after acre of undulating? fertile land; she saw a picturesque park. where grand old trees of the growth of generations formed a shade for the antlered deer; and to the left lay the sunny Southern sea. She saw Lancewood Abbey, the home of her race, the grand. massive build- ing that was like “a poem: in stone ;” and the thought that brightened the dreamy eyes wasâ€""One day all this will be mine.” All thisâ€"the wealth of wood and forest, of field and mea- dowâ€"even the far-famed old Ahbeyâ€" all would one day be bars, for she was the only child of Sir Arthur. Neslie, amd heiress of Lancewood. She had the proud air of one who had always been obeyed. There was a grandeur about her such as comes only? from a’ways holding high authority. a frank independence, a certain kind of de- fianceâ€"for it was a noble face, and a noble soul looked out of it. “All this will be mlne," thought the young girlâ€""and I will make good use o? it. If I live long enough, my good deeds shall be my monument. I will leavd, a name that will live in the hearts of the people around me. [This is my kingdom, and I shall be its queen." - It was not vanity that shone in bet! face, as she said the wordsâ€"it was something higher and noblerâ€"pride that. rightly trained might havem"de her what she wished to he, a noble wo- manâ€"pride of race and of lineage, pride in a spotless name and high de- scent, pride in the grand old home that was second to none in the land. All to be her ownâ€"and she would -â€"u.<e. it royally. She had oftenetood‘ there by the old sun-dial, looking round on the vast domain, thinking what she would do when; it became here. She had been brought up‘ as heiress of Lancewood. No othergfate, no other let in life, no other poeeibirig had ever occurred to her except this. She had filled her! mind with grand and noble thoughts, all for the good of others. when she would- be queen; of the her fair domain. It\ should be a pattern; and model for all. others-mo. one should be poor or sorrowful. She? would be e lady bountiful, goxng nmongst her people with! open hands end open heart, relieving ‘all distress. There should he churches {where none had been built beforeâ€"schools, alma- houees. Her heart warmed as she thought of it all, as ehe pictured the white heads of the old and. the fair faces of the young; and all were to be made happy by her. They were noble dreamer-not out of place in the glow of the sunlight and amid the fragrance of flowers. ‘ ' The pretty tame doves aroused her tram them. She dropped the spray of gladxolns, and turned to the tountam. The gold fish almhzaoemed to know her as she touched the water softly. . Presently down a broad path shaded by acute-trees came a young, hand- some man. looking about him eagerly. Through Storm and Sunshine the tame white dress amongst the trees, and he stood 61m, silently watching her. She was smgmg just then in a low, sweet voxce, and he hemmed to the words with a. pe-uliar smile on his face. They were words by the poet Dibdign, quamt and sweet- ”I once had gold. and silverâ€" I thought them without end; I once had gold and silver-â€" I thought I had a friend, My wealth 1.5 lost,rmy friend is false, My love ls stolem from ,me; And here I lie in: misery- Beneath- the willow-tree." Be rec0gnlzed the song as one call- anal“ o ad "The Mad Lover," and. denincant smile stole over. "It is a strange for her he thought to himself. "01 hears her singing love (11 other girls do. She is far toc tor mat. I ;houid imaging”..- ‘U‘ tua‘ ‘ ' “UH-“ 'U-I-lv-GV7V Then he went up to th'e' fountain where the gold fish; darted amongst the emerald-green weeds and.the sun shone m the waters. W"UV It tuv vkuvâ€"w- “Good-morning Miss Neshe,’ he said, with a low how. 0 _L ‘I‘..“’ ".bu so IV!- The words 01 the song" ceased ab- r aptly as Vivien Neleie turned qumk- !y round. to see from; whom the greet- ling. came. A smile came over her ave. . "Good-morning, Mr. Dorman; FOG startled me. Have the books come'fl "The last were all tiresomeâ€"n‘othmg 01 any value inthem,” she continued. “Have they sent Browning's last poem?” f . ”V“. “V“ mv. u“ v v v..â€" “Yes,” he replied. “I 279.183 to tell you. They are well selected; you W111 be Pleased, I think? “If it 13 not troubling you: too much W!“ You bring- Browningv out here to me? I should like! to read in. the! sun- shgne; It IS very pleasent.” ‘ A “Yes; we this time." She spoke to him with- a kind of half-distant, half-reserved familiarity, that showed pI-ai-nly enough that {he did not consider him on an equality with hercelf. He seemed to feel. and uhderstand it. and his face. flushed sllgptly as he repliedâ€"o "â€"It 1.53 always a fileasure to obey you Mme; Nesh’e.“ ”Then pray let me have Browning at. once. I have but an: hour's 1818\11‘6; I must not lose it tin talking- Again; hlsfaceflushed. fie waited until he could speak 'calmly, and, then Profiucing a letter. he said-â€" "The post-bag was delayed thfs morning; I have only just: opened It. Sir Amhur has written to meâ€"and‘ this is for you." She fancied there was somethmg strange in his mannerâ€"something Cf hesitation and unr‘ertaintY- Then she took from his hands. the letter whwh was to change the whole course or, her life. "It 13 from Sir Arthur.’ she said, qmcklyâ€""a letter from my father! How cruel of thelpoat to delay th‘s morning, above all others!” She Opened the envelope with im- patient fingers, wondering why the young secretary lingered there, look~ mg.__z_1t her with 1511‘.‘hl strangq eyes: ‘ “What a long letter!" she said, laughingly, ”This extends to over- a page; Sir Arthur seldom writes more than four lines.” "Let me find you a. seat,” he DTP" poaed, "while you read it. You Will be_ t1 red _of standing.” Still with the same strange expres- sion on his face, he brought one of the little garden-chairs to her, and she sat down. "Why do you nét go for my book?" sh_g_asked, with laughing impatlence. “There may be a {message fbr- me 111 that letter, Miss Neslie,”- he replied. ”Permit me to remain while you read it." She sat down where the hunt. odor of the Iiliese floated roumi her. where: the cooing of’ the white‘ doves reached her, and read .,the words that darkened her whole life. "My Dearest Vivienâ€"Writing, as you. know, always fatigues me; I de- test it. But I have something to tell you which will astonish you greatlyâ€"- perhaps even anger you. .“It wxll be fooliéh. of you, Vivien, to be angry, for I have perfect and undisputed right to please myself; no one has any right to take umbrage or offense at whâ€"a-bl do. ”I feel a certain degree of, of reluc- tance. m making my announcement-â€" Why, I cannot tell. You would wwh me to be happy, and I have sought. happmess after my own fashxon. Vivxen, I have married again. My wife 13 a beautiful young: French g1r1 -â€"her name; was Valerie d'Este; she is very piquzmt, attractive, graceful. You Will be sure to admire her. We were man-red in Paris, and- intend return- ing home next Tuesday. “Now, Viven, remember that, P0138 angry and vexod aponcjt; is 91mph? a waste of time; I' had a nght to please myself, and I have.-done so. If this wife were to die, it. would be no one‘s affaxr should I marry atmrd. Tell M13. Spenser to have the rooms in the western wing set. in order and prepared for Lady Neslie. Tell all the household of the change, and see that my wife is received' with due honor and xespect, . - "O ‘ ."‘ “bigâ€"@brncvl to yourself, Vivien. What 13 done us done. If- you- are vnse, 1n- stead 'ot battling with the tide of events, you will swim-with it. From cvcuw, ’vu "m an...» n...- -v. -..-.._. you, my daughter, I shall expect love, kmdnese, affection, attention, and con- sideration; for my wife. It! you show an Lhts, well and. good; it won! retuse it, you will see. the! result. Meet me until a emxle, Vivien; let! me hear no reproachee. “I had a right to please myself. Your whole future will depend on your “treatment of Lady Noelle. VVâ€"wwvâ€"w 'â€" "My fondlyâ€"loved daughter. adieu. We shall be with you: an: flaky. end hone to had alla‘things well. ‘ Arthur Noelle. 4 She read the letter slowly. end‘ the! tnrnecb back and read. u. again. the young secretary watched her; tntent- ly. He saw the colon (ode from her taco; the light die mm hen eyes; he saw hen lips grow white, es they had. never been before; he watched her variously. keenly. her he would have {swan hm life to one he! tron: pain. { suddenly, with en “8171“". uh. r O we have several poetxcal works Lover," and. agaln a .e stole over. his face. age for her to 31:13," himself. "One never giug love ditties, as She is far too impel-la! 10V! “Yes," she replied, slowly. "L can? not believe it. My eyes, my senses must have deceived mes the words 1 have seen cannot poeebiyt be written there. Read iL, and teil me if the news be true.” He read the letter. She stood wat-. h- ing him with a bewildered, dazed look, With, white parted lip 1 and darkened eyes. Then he laiddt down on the eun- diat, and turning to her. saidâ€" “It is quite true, Miss Neslie. I knew it when I brought this letter to you." “You knew it!” she cried. “How? "Sir Arthur wrote to tell me. I re- ceived his letter this morning, and I felt sure that yours contained the same intelligence. It was for that _. . “.1 rawc 1'11 LcuIbe/uvu. .- mamm I ventured t-o'diébiey you» and remain here instead of looking for the book." ”UUD. “Then it is true," she moaned: "my fa'fheu‘, tas a wifeâ€"Same one in my mo‘her's place. 1â€"1 cannot bel’eve it, Mr. Dorman. Why, only ten minutes since I was thinking of all I would persuade him to (loâ€"and now I find he has a wife. He has been all 1he world to meâ€"as I have been to him: and now he has a wife. The love and the home that have been mine so long will be mine no more.” '7 I.‘ I II\ In 'JIU “V ”\u. v- “Nav, Miss Neslie,” said the calm. pitying voice, "it wi‘.) not be. so bad as that. You are. and always wi‘l be heiress: of Lancewood. The- Abhev will always he your home. unlessâ€"" The-n he stopped and hecifated. “Unless my father shouId have a. son to Puccemd him, in which case Lancewood wou'd newer he m‘ne," she said. slowly. “lef an hour since. Mr. Dorman, I thought myself as cartain- 1y heiress of Lancewuod as that ' the sun shone in the skv.” "You must not look on the WW? darkest sides Miss Neslie." cou-nsaled the young secrefary. ”Sir Arthur saw. +hnt Lady Neslie is young and beautiful." of suprnme comfemp’t. She interrupted him with a gesture “One must be as weak as a man." she said, "to care much for youth and beanty!‘ _ l‘--- u' “Pardon me," he continued, gently? "I was about to say that, being beauâ€" tiful, she is almost sure to be kind of heart. Minds and faces are in harmorny." She interrupted him again. "How little you know ofthe mate ter, Mr. Dorman! As though beauti- ful women ever cared for anything exâ€" cept themselv’eq." _ _ -â€"â€"â€"..v- "Being young,” he pursued. "she will be timid, and will not! venture to take any leading part in the manage‘ ment of the household.” She laughed bitterly. “Did you ever see a timid Frenfih- woman, Mr. Dorman? I never did. W’hat can have possessed my father *0 marryâ€"above all, to marry a Franch girl ?” “Perhaps," said {.119 ynumg secre- tary. with a meaning look that any «no Imam proud wou‘d have, unders*oo4, “Sir Arthur may have fallem in love, as n'hers do." “Love!” she repea‘e'i. scomfuuy. "Prav. pardon me, Mr. Batman. 17‘1“ the notion of mv own father's! falling in love iq too abcurd." There. wasâ€"571V int'eVrval of uncomfort- able silence: it was brrken by the young secrmfary. who caid: "I am sorry, Miss Npslie. to bring a disagreeable matter before 57011.th Sir Arthur savs he wiches archos of eves-greens erected in the drive. I am to consult you about them.” “You may spare me the insult, sir. If I erected an arch at all. it wou‘d be one of yew and cym'ees. _ H“- bowed, being quite at a 1038 for wank; "Sir Arthur has; aiso directed that the Pictures in the blue room' .c'han be placed in the apartment in the ’westâ€" 3:}! wing known as ‘my lady’s bouâ€" 11.9,, ‘ ‘ “That was my m'offher’s woolly" cried the girl, with flashing eyes; It shall not be touched 3" "D91? Miss Naslie, " pleaded {.116 secremry, “do be]? eve me: opposition is all in vain Let me 0.01111qu you to comply wifh Sir Arthur‘s wie-hes." “I do not need your counsel, Mr. Doc-man, and please do not call’ me 'dear’ Miss Neslie. I am not so deso- laM yet as to require that." He drew back with such an express- sitm of intense pain that her proud heart was touched. She held out her hand to him. “Forgive me." she said. "I need not weak so unkindly to you -- you have not displeased me. But I any so hurt, so grieved, so wounded, I do not, know what to say.” "If speakmg harshly to me could lessen your pain, I would submt to it forever," be repliod. She did not seem to hear 'himâ€"and he was quite accustomed to have the passionate utterances of his great love treated with silent indifference. um_!1 _._A n It- “ __‘__ n -k- -..:.l “Tell me," M}. Dex-mam," she said, after a pause, “all that Sir Arthur re- quires to be done.'_’ "Sir Arthur wishes to have trium- phal arches erected all along the drive. They are to be surmounted by the word, ‘Welcome.’ Bewishes also that 1 every servant belonging to the house-; hold should be in the great; hall t0! bid Lady Neslie welcome home. He wishes therooms in the western wing to be prepared, all the pictures of the Blue Room to be placed in! the hou- tloir, dinner to be ready at eight in- etead of «muâ€"he invite: me to «line ;-â€"emd.leetly. I an to say to you tint :he hopes neither expense nor trouble will he wed In Weaning my Nee- lle heme” She turned her proud hoe to him. ”Do you know, air. that that; is the very welcome my- mother received when ehé eeme, e bride, to Ianeewood Abbey twenty years ago!”- ' '1 can imagine it.” was th‘q cautions “And do you think the samq wel- come given to her will be“ given to this French girIu-this~ git} of nine- teemf I tell you ‘No 1' I would rath- er out off my hands than use even one finger in such sacrilege. Let those who will erect triumphal arches -- I shall not." The yâ€"oung secretary looked terrib- ly perplexed. ”VI-can understand your feelings," he began. ' éhe turned again with her queenly gesture of impatient scorn. - Ta be Continued. Can-led on at Night Only By Silent Men in non“. France is called the country of “frog eaters.” but it is very likely that more frogs’ legs are toâ€"day eaten in the United States thzn in any other country in the world. Those who have ever tasted Lhedelicio-uJ flesh of a frog’s thigh always want more. Frog hunting is ;_:al’w;1y8 done at night. and the darker the night the better. Nothing can be ,done at catching frogs when the moon is out. The hunter’s outfit oon gists of.‘ a smell, flat-bottomed boat, a light, somewhat like that used as at headlight on 1000- motives, though not as heavy: a cane fishing pool-3 about 10 feet in length, to one end of which is securely fastened a hook hxving three prongs extending from a singbe sh nk. and: a box; with a small sliding cover over ”the top. in iwhich to pm 1h: frogs. The hunters alw ya go in pairs. as one. man cannot lmanxge the boat an! catch the frogs. \Vith a dark night and still water the hunters Listen their headlight on the buw of their boat, one of them takes his pl .006 back of the~ ligh. with the fish pole in his Lhand, wh‘le his companion, who is to act as punter t1 the boat, takes the eet pole, with which to“ push the craft along, \and stations himself in the stem. The man in the bow keeps a sharp lockout within the radius ml the StI‘GLm of light, while the man in the Stern: shoves the boat forward slowly, steadily, and noise- lies. 1y. occasionull ' {turning the bow tfrom one point 0 the. compass to an. lather. A frog is soon sighted. He sits. for instance, on a log, facing the boat, at a. dist.inoe oil :30 01‘ 60 feet. His blink- ing eyes are fastened upon the blind.- ing light, which seems topossess [or him a strange fascination. The boat. is moved cautiously toward him. care be. ing taken to prevent it from swerv- ing from its course, for the removal of the full glare of the light from his eyes for an instant would break the span“ and lose the frog. As long as the light is kept full: upon him he re- mains withom moving. The boat and men are behind the lughb and he sees nothing but. a sun ( f: intense hrilliancy gin“? night at glee“ darkness: _ _ k Having reached a point within five or six feet of the frog? the! man in-{lhe bow of the boat signs 1'; tq his com-pan- ion with his hand, and ihu boat is held sti'll. Then he reaches out cautious- ly with the pole and hooks, being care- ful‘ nut to allaw‘ the pole or any por- tion) at his arm to come in front of teh ray utf light and thus produce a shadow. to frighten the frog. The books are extended until they .are on the side of the frog Opposite the boat and directly over the frog’s back. A sharp, quick, downward pull is then given the pale, and Mr. Frog. is caught. This is a remark I made to my wife at the dinner table a few days ago, as we were discussing in a general way the possibilities and probabilities of the! future. If the reader be a married} man I need not give her rejoinder. It! was the good old chestnut: “No, it: only seems so; the men do not stay5 widowers long enough to be counted.” “ But," I urged, give it a careful test; go over the history of our town for 20 years as to the families we know personally. You count, not the widow- ers, but the instances in which the wife died first, and for each case I’ll give you! five where the reverse occurred.” Pencils and paper came into quick requisition. My list ran rapidly up to 53, while I almost pitied the good wo- man opposite, who chewed the end of: her pencil and upbraided her memory,T as she was compelled to stop at abegâ€" garly three. This test, I admit. al- though I did not to her, is hardly con- clusive, but just look at the authen- tie statistics upon this point. The Westminster Review is authority in the statement that in England, to 586,644 widowers there are 1,410,684 wi- A A ‘A ‘1‘ 'Y--: vvv,vâ€"â€" ‘ flows, an excess of 821.040. The Uni- versal Review” gives for every 100 wi- dowers’ 194 widows. In some cases the growth of these oompanionless wongen Dav vv â€"â€" vâ€"‘â€"_. is even greater matter for surprise. For instance, the census for England and Wales for 1881 gives 52,091 widows at the age of 24! These strange dis- proportions seem- largely due to the fact that men marry later in life than formerly, while the marriegeable age of women remains unchanged. Men often urge as one argument for nor insuring their lives the "even chance" that they will outlive their wives. The above ehowe this chance to beeo uneven ee tobe scarce worth considering. But it the probabilities were heavily the other way. the eriet- once of children 'would in most" cases over-balance it. Think this over and be honest. Look at this subject squarely. Your wife will not urge you to lneureâ€"probghly the will hen dleep- am "iiâ€"Edi {1 ion really love be}. your duty compala you to out ovary mime shield bgtwjxt {not 9nd. gant. "IIIBE _in}â€"â€"finâ€"{h five inndrod is no} situated a ta h. gnawed in outflow no “life insurance. provided he is in-l amblg. Not on. in five hundred. dy- ing mum-ca, an honestly say to his wife: "I havo done what In your tntnro 17.11.10." I know. this :11 sound: "its, flat to: memberâ€"cnbjootl grow trite bouts. ,3] unh- mum-mm icon“. THE HUSBANDS GO FIRST. FROG HUNTING. 5 About the House. Now is that, sad time of year When no flower or leaf is here; When in misty southern ways Oriole and jay have flown, And of all sweet birds, alone The robin stays. So give thanks at Christmas-tide Hayes of springtime yet abide! See, in spite of darksome days, iWind and rain and bitter chiil. Snow and aleet- -hung branches, still The robin stays! QW””QO”MO”O§ So much has been written concern- ing the servant-girl question that it seems almost as if the housewife ought to know by this Lime what to expect of her maid, and what her maid expects of her. A certain man who seems to know as much abouL the subject as the aver- age woman nus issued a proclammion that tells bow to have and to keep ideal servants. His recipe follows: Run your household on business principles, servants should have re- gular hours of service daily. Complete freedom afLer work is done. Do not; be too pretentious with only one muid-of-aU-work. One afternoon and evening out each Week. Claim, wholesome bedroom; substan- tial food. Social privileges within reasonabfe discretion. if you have a young good-looking, capable servant, she probably wants a husband some day. Do not drive her into the street to get courLed. Avoid interference with her religious any private life. A | Do not permit familarity from the baker’s, grocer‘s and butcher’s boys. Insist on respectful treatment to your servant, and set them the ex- ample. Xvoid personal supervision while of! du_ty. Denot let slipshod, careless work go unnoticed. A good mistress is always critical. firm and exacting, but she always appreciates conscientious efâ€" fort. In Provence, one of the districts or provinces of the south of France, are nearly a hundred distilleries of per- fumes, for the making of which hun- dreds of acres of roses, violets and other sweet-scented flowers are cul- tivated. Fifty of these are located in the town of Grasse. ‘The distil- leries give employment to large num- bers of boys and girls, the adults he- iug engaged in growing the flowers. All the blossoms must be gathered while the dew is on them, as they are then most fragrant. There are three processes, the “cuoillage,” or gather- izng; “triage,” or stripping the petals from calyx and stem; and “enfleur- age,” the distilling the petals to pro- duce the essential oil or perfume. The girls who strip the petals get four cents for two pounds; some of them, are so expert they can earn from] fifty to seventy-five cents, occasion? ally a dollar. The green of stem and .calyx injures the scent. In the distilleries the petals are put on a glass slab coated with pare fat, . being laid on half an inch deep. An- iother glass slab coated in the same manner is laid over them. The fat I absorbs the perfume in from twelve to twentyâ€"four hours. When saturated it is packed in tins for shipment to the manufacturers, where the odor is washed out with alcohol. Some delicate perfumes require fifty to eighty layers of petals upon the same fat. Those flowers very strong in perfume do not require so many replenishments. It requires about sixteen thousand pounds of rose petals to produce one pound of attar of roses, \T- UV r- Vu“ ...... r‘â€"-â€"â€" v or the essential oil of the flower. No wonder the precious oil is more val- uable than gold. In some factories the petals after the stripping are simply shot down a trap i-nto cauldrons of boiling fat. This is a wasteful process, as much, of the fragrance escapes into the air and is lost. it has been said that "Provence is the garden of France and Grease the garden of Provence.” It seems quite and peaceful now, but; through: many centuries it was the battleground as well as the garden. It has been sack- ed by Spaniards; it was laid waste by Francis 1. on the approach of Charles V., and plundered by the invader when he reached it. It was again devastat- ed in Maria Theresa’s strife with Frederick the Great. Almost every war in Europe has been felt in Pro- vence. Sometimes the invaders could be appeased by a ransom; once ten thousand bottles of perfume were de- manded in addition to a heavy money indemnity. Nevertheless, Grasse has thriven and the maple grew rich through the pretty industry which ministers to the luxurious habits of the wealthy._ It i_s not often, though, '“V thatVVéEa-légé has had such a customer as Madame Pompadonr. who spent five million francs on perfumes in a single year. # CHILDREN ARE NOT PLAYTHINGS. "Mothers must rerhember that that: babies are not given them for their own pleasure or amusement, nor to display as marvels to their friends," mu Barnetta Brown, writing 01 ‘-' Moghm' Ilium and Fathera’ Fail- was.” in the January Ladies’ Hom‘e --V vâ€"â€"â€"â€" WW, g... _ V- Journal. “ But mothers must consid- cr that Iran the first moment of life tho child h destined toward growth, dovolopmont, progression. A dallying with this bit of wisdom in the begin- ning mkos rare occasions for much mother make the error of icing baffled py thg .qry_o! ' heredity! Much of what __ A. 32;... C- -An‘l' imifn‘inn MISTRESS AN D SERVANT. THE WINTER ROBIN. FLOWERS AS PERFUMR roooooooobooo of what is to be seen and felt in the environment; andrthe most ohjectxou- able human heredity can be overcome. The inheritance of the divine spark which is ever ready to fly upward must never be forgotten.“ PAY FOR. A SPOT. Two mothers of large {amines were discussing domestic: ma t‘rs one day. and the younger of the two spoke wit: a sigh of the way in whit-b h‘r tab c- eloths were spmted thrnpgh the dailv 1y mishd‘ps of her two boys: "Perhaps you'd iike to know how 1 have helped my buys to be careful at the lane," sum the oHer woman; “11 is the plan on which my mozhor bmugbt Luv up, and Ive never muud a boner, “The ruie in our family,” she prove- eded. when urged by her friend to ex- plain her method, “14 this: Anyone :who makes a spot on the tabiemnth must cover it with a piece or money. and the piece mu at, be large enough to hide the stain entirey no rims are allowed! The children have to pro- vide the coins ou: of their own pO‘kEt money. This “Le applies to their father and me as well as to them. The sun: goes to buy new table linen. ”Tim first yxear I tried the plan we had money enough for ihree hundrome ianecloths, but since than ‘here has b‘en- less and less. This is ahe [our 11 year, and although non- of my de5 has yet beached his 15m b'rth(lay,and they are by no maans unusuaHy deft in their managnmont bf knives, forks and FDOOUS, tbvy have. teamed to serve th9m2elves and oxhers so well tbm I am Inclined to think (hair contribu- tions to the ’tablecloth [und' will be very slight.” DESTROY ING THE CHILDREN. “ Do American men and women rea- lize that in five cities of our country alone there were during the last school term over sixteen thousand chil- viren between the ages of eight and fourteen taken out of public schools because their nervous systems were wrecked, and their minds were incapâ€" able of going on any further in the internal cramming system which ex« ists to-day in our schools?” inquires Edward Bok in the January Ladies‘ Heme Journa‘l. “And these sixteen thousand helpless little wrecks,” he continues, "are simply the children we, know about. Conservative medical men who have given their lives to the study of children place the number whose health is shattered by overstudy at more than fifty thousand each year. ‘It is putting the truth mildly to state that, of all American institutionsthat which deals with the public education of our children is at once the most faulty, the most unintelligent and the most' éruel.” There has always been a demand for lilacs at unseasouable times, and the florists have made this an important branch of their business, and reaped the dollars accordingly. A corres- pondent has found the indoor culture a very simple proceeding which will repay any one who wants winter blooming lilacs to adorn the house and make it a bower of beauty. She says: "The Persian varieties are beautiful and have been grown in EurOpe in pots with a single stem like astandard rose with a crown of any desired size, drooping with its wealth of floral beauty. It is a charming decora- tion for the window. corner of a room or conservatory. Take up a plant Iwith a ball of earth around it and’ l with as little loss of roots as possible; plant in a tub of suitable size in rich earth. Keep the earth covered by leaves, which should be moistened and lUndcr such conditions a fine harvest of lilacs may be gathered at any time during the winter months. 'A lot of stocky shrubs must be taken up before ‘the ground freezes solid and heeled in to some shed or cool, cellar, so that 1 they may keep dormant until wanted.” now To RIP A DRESS. 1 Most people have an idea that it is easy enough to rip a garment to pieces. Any child can do this. It is a matter that requires scarcely any cars or attention. Dresses are usual- ly pulled to pieces, snipped at with ' scissors, or cut with knives. ~ i To rip up a garment properly there should be no pulling, tearing, or drug- ging apart. If one cannot take the‘ end of the thread and pull it out, the stitches should be cut with a sharp knife. Very few persons can rip a! garment with scissors without doing: it great harm; indeed, many find it I Iimpossible to cut stitches with any- i thing without making holes that rcn' l der the goods absolutely worthless for l the one who originally wore it. When 4 it is done the edges are so ragged that 1 a much smaller pattern must be used. i ‘ hooks and, eyes must be removed, but this is imperative, in view of the con- dition in which garmnts come to the dressmaker and the dyer. Many dresses, capes and jackets are perfect- ly wearable after being carefully rip- ped, brushed. sponged and pressed. It is awonder that some one does not -'set up an establishment for ripping clothes and putting them in order for the drwsmiker. The owner of them frequentlyhas not time to rip prop- erly, or is too careless and unde- stands too little the way to do it, had she all the time in' the world. Some women in worry community might get , a tolerable living, or at least add to a limited income, by preparing gar- oan horses. ‘ 5 Yea, said the harneamaker, sadly, there isn‘t a. bitch in it. :m‘gtâ€"aâ€" V1.07? remodéllihg. INDOOR LILAC C U LTURE. A DISADVANTAGE. IS IT FINAL ?. Many a man is so faint-hearted, 0' so intensely matter-of-fact, that he will take a girl's “No" as final. and go away {ownerâ€"discouraged and a“. and propose to some other girl_ for whom he does not care, just becansu he has to do sofnething to relieve his lacerated feelings. A Now, the man who has had expt ence with women will not do that. will try again, after the first sh! of that dreadful little two-letter W1 has subsided, and she has had tiq to think of it. And not infrequentl} his perseverance is rewarded by “You.I Not one woman in forty, or am either, knows her own mind at the ginning of a love affair. There so many factors operating for ag-iinst a certain course, whiih. at it is once taken, must be irrevoca If you can make the girl you love h Late, you have won a long score your Lavor. .. And if you are a young man. end: are in love with a girl, and you 311' sure that there is no other man ill. the way, don't take that first “No" a final. A girl likes to think you art; persevering, especiilly if that perso-' veranoe is exercised in winning he! Lavor. ' A man who has common sense will! not make himself obnoxious to a wo- men by asking her to reconsider her previous “No," particularly if she bl entirely heart-free. We know of a very happy con f- now married ten years, but not “ ried until the masculine party to t i transaction had "asked" her five tin“ and been told "No” four times before the final “Yes." 1 Girls are curious creatures. “7th they are quite young, they set a we _ high valuation upon themselves. a sixteen, a girl would hardly consid q a prince. At twenty, she might (avg: a duke. At twenty-rive, :1 lord, cl cou'nt, would fill the bill. At thirty,~ : she would not scruple to give hersell lto a millionaire. At forty she would % marry a missionary “from love of thl lCJllISC" and at fifty, she would jum] l at the chance of comforting a widow! er with five childien and a maidei aunt in his family. mi A girl's ideal is high. If the upon whom she looks with favor dad not come up to her ideal, she endow: him with imaginary virtues- an graces. She places a good deal a stxess on fine eyes, and handsome no! "‘ I. _,__1 I... m I(J\Mo Ina-av I- stress on fine eyes, and handsome and a mustache. By and by, w she is older, she will realize that, a life solace and support, eyes and mustache are not quite sufficient. La er, she looks to a man’s strength stability of character; and still she considers his bank account as much as she does the shape of his}; nose. ‘-' Young men are too autocratic. The! fling themselves at the heads of tho girls they fancy and practically 33"”: "Take me, or leave me, just as y ' please. There are others." i Wait a little, dear young frien " The world was not made in a day, ' u ”â€"v ‘ Have a little patience. If you 1 fishing for pickerel, you do not cm the fish you covet to jump out of t'. pond at your book when he sees 11 _:- .1-.. 1.:a «Joanna PUD“ “I! J vâ€"â€" __ _ coming. You wait for his plea: You gently wiggle your bait, and your breath, and if he does not you come again to-morrow. And keep on coming until you know other fellow has caught him. Ca 'â€"‘-‘ â€"-â€":“ JV“ -v"v 5.. There are girEs, we regret to sai who am ke it a point not to say “Ye the first time they are asked. looks too much like jumping at first chance, they will tell you; an: there is anything a woman gener: wants to avoid it is anything like “ â€" L__-___.. A And there is some sense in it; f , men generally like to do the courting before marriage} and leave it to wo- ment to do it afterward. 'Well, “tar! about is fair play," says the old adage. .rDL LL“‘â€" “UVUU AU gun-- r-vâ€"d, _, If you are a young man, don't thrc yourself down at a girl's feet for h: to walk over. Don't spend all ya! income “treating" her to ice cm and confectionery. A girl of th kind is not worth asking twice. BI ter take the first “No" as final. A girl trespecwts 5 man who has mind of his own. She may get vex when she fails to carry; her point, p; 3““: wwvwv u 5 a â€" ‘ - her unless she doesâ€"she will soon I convinced that, even though a man in love, he has “a right to say' I! soul’s his own." And all you expel enoed people, who have had love a fairs, know what a jolly thing t1 making up of a lovers' quarrel is. _ And so, young man, in closing, mit us to sayâ€"if you love a girl has no inter-es}; in‘ anylother man,“ 'uvu wâ€"v uâ€"wâ€" have a {it 6f the suiks, {did go V with the other (snow; but If she om a grain about youâ€"and you don't w: 3~‘- -L.‘ cfi'l M uuu “v â€"â€" vyâ€" her twice, at least, before you 01 er her decision final; and if 8' last says “Yes," hurry up the ding day, and be happy. 174m” mun Charley, dear, said young Mrs; '14 kins, pdease don’t try to deceive n I haven’t ”tried to deceive you. told you that I had four cocktails h “gut. , _ Charley, dear, Iknolw that; a chicken leathers wound not make act like that. ' ' It in a somewhat curious fact ti in the Church of England there 4. two brothers who, as extempm preachers, enjoy the reputation 01b: in: no superiors. These are the Bi hop of Bipon end the Rev. Archibai Boyd Carpenter, the rector of ; Georgy“ Bloomsbury j COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. 41':sz mo: