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About The Clancy Miner (Clancy, Mont.) 1896-1899 | View This Issue
The Clancy Miner (Clancy, Mont.), 13 June 1896, located at <http://montananewspapers.org/lccn/2014252005/1896-06-13/ed-1/seq-7/>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.
ee ee ee er Sewer vn nd ys Ld, ys me re- ry, er. the 2 a ar- igh yet her has for she not ‘al’ hat for ght oor na rom _in- is re THE SPELLING MATCH. EN little children, standing in a line, “'F-u-l-y, fully,”’ then there were nine, Nine puzzled faces, fearful of their fate, “C-i-l-l-y, silly,” then there were eight. Bight pairs of blue eyes, bright as stars “of heaven, “B-u-s-s-y, busy,” then there were seven. Seven grave heads, shaking in an awful fix, “[,-a-i-d-y, lady,” then thero were six. Six eager darlings, determined each. to strive, “D-u-t-l-e, duty,” then there were five. Five hearts so anxious, beating more and more, “§-c-o-l-l-a-r, scholar,’’ then there w2re four. x Four mouths like rosebuds on a red rose tree,’ “M-e-r-y, three. merry,”’ then there were but Three pairs of pink ears, listening keen and true, ‘ “O-n-l-e-y, only,’’ then there were two. Two sturdy laddies, ready both to run, “T-u-r-k-y, turkey,’’ then there was one. One head of yellow hair, bright in the sun, N “H-e-r-o, hero,’’ t@& spelling match was won. —New Orleans Picayune. A GROUP OF SINNERS. 46 OUR letters, miss.’’ __ “Thanks, Payn.”’ Beatrice was in bed. She often was in bed, even when the third and fourth deliveries came. With the letters the maid brought a cup of tea. She drew the rose pink curtains to give her mistress an opportunity to enjoy her letters and the tea. Also, she was curious about the effect of that envelope with the postmark “Portland.”’ She was not supposed to know; but she knew. She had had great experience as a lady’s maid, and relished mysteries. And, sure enough, she had her reward this time also. The moment Beatrice caught sight of the “Portland” letter she flushed so that her complexion had no need of rose pink curtains to enhance it, and with a petulant movement of the hand she overturned the dainty little sil- ver stand with the tea. Payn uttered a sympathetic cry. “Take it away!\ exclaimed Beatric:; “I don't want any after all.” Payn was quite loth to go. There was another letter with the postmark ‘‘Mal- denhead,”’ and Payn was curious about that also. But she was not allowed fur- ther indulgence in drama at her mis- tress’ expense. “Leave me, I said; I wish to be alone,” Beatrice ejaculated, with, for her, an un- usual show of temper. “Certainly, miss,” murmured the maid, an the most humble and deferential of tones. Then Beatrice fell back in bed, with the ‘‘Portland” letter crushing tighter and tighter in her small right hand. Shame flooded her as. the tea the carpet; and many memories incident to the sense of shame. And consequent upon this feeling, Bea- trice’s heart grew angry with fate, and she asked herse!f why she, of all. women, should have been subjected to such fearful humiliation. For an hour she lay thus. Then, though still with preoccupied thoughts, she rang the bell and bade Payn help her dress. “If you please, miss,\’ sald the well- conducted maid, as she entered, “I was just coming to say that the viscount 1s here.\’ “Oh, yes,’\ murmured Beatrice; ‘“‘you can go and tell him to amuse himself with breakfast, or cigarettes, or anything. And then come back. We must hurry.” They did hurry, though not unreason- ably. The viscount was not a young man who liked to be kept waiting, especially by the Jady of his brief but warm affec- tions. Yet all the while, for the life of her, Beatrice could not help thinking of other things. She had burned the Portiand letter with- out opening it; and, as if in retribution, the writer now came but more forcibiy before her. While Payn did her work with that smooth celerity that made her so great a treasure, Beatrice lived in the past. And these were some of the pictures that pass- ed like dissolving views béfore her lively mind. The home vicarage, with’ her white- haired, worried parént and his imbecile money troubles. Why had he, a clergy- man, mixed so unwisely with the world’s affairs? ‘‘We are ruined, my dear,’ he walled, with his old head bowed In hfs” hands on the breakfast table. ““‘There is only one way out of it.” “And what is that, papa?” asks a girl of 20, a springtime edition of the beauti- ful woman upon whose face Beatrice looked impassively in her mirror, while Payn brushes her hair. “Tf,” moaned the old man, “you woutd but marry Panl Williams!” * A wedding. She (Beatrice) and a little middle-aged man, upon whose clean- shaven face lhere rests an expression of irritating pride and reverence! The usu- al nonsense afterward. Then they are to- gethér in a curriage, though her dress leaves little room for him. He is whisper- ing in her ear. This is what he says: “My darling, there is nothing on earth I will not do to make you happy, noth- ing!\ A great house in town, liveried serv- ants, gilding and lights, flowers, the ad- miring homage of the world and of the many smart young men in particular. A little harrassed bald-headed man some- where in the background. “Whois that little ape?’’ she hears a young diplomatist whisper to a youth like himself, with a nod the littlé man. “Don’t you.know™ Why, it’s Monsieur le Mari, to be sure!” Then a laugh—stch a laugh! Anon, the first-of the young gentlemen, having an - 6pportunity, kisses her hand and becomes impassioned. ~* A curious conversation: ‘‘My dear Bea- trice,”” says the little bald gentleman— how bothered he looks, yet how kind!— “if you are sure it will make you happy, it shall be done. But I must not disguise from you that I am playing a,dangerous game. For myself, I care not, t may lead me into trouble of the worst kind, but you, please God, will even then be spared the miseries of want. That I have con- trived.” ‘‘Yes,’’ says the woman, brutally imperious and cold, ‘“‘we must certainly do it: I don’t believe your talk about wanting money, either. I made a mis- take when I‘married you, and mean to get the only compensation possible.” Where- upon the elderly gentleman sighs, kisses her hand(she less willing to have it kissed than in thé previous scene) and departs. Ruin, réd and miserable. The visits of all hurl hack words at poor little Mon- sieur le Mari; Beatrice with ker lace hand- kerchief to her eye and cruel rage in her heart, acquiesces, The visits of interested and interesting young men, who are quite cheerful, and persuade her at length that she, too, under the circumstances, may, if she will, also be ereertul, “It might be a deal worse, a deueed deal worse,” says one of them; and he presses her hand tenderly and kisses it later, perhaps. less ‘rever- ently. The parting. Good heavens—what igno- miny! The wife of a convict. The little bald-headed man, however, does not look very wicked. ,There are tears in his eyes. “Dearest,” he whispers, “I will not ask you to forgive me. I did it, as I thought, for the best—but my brain must have been turned. I wronged you when I married you, and now. you must forget. me, If 1 write to you you need not answer. I can worship you at a distance, and pray for you as’ wellin my prison cell as by your own dear side!’ That was all, They did not embrace. She gave him her hand to kiss, as he seemed very much to want it, People appeared to have a mania for kiss- ing her hand, it was so very small and shapely. . co “There, that will do,’’ exclaimed Beat- rice, suddenly. ‘“‘Never mind that flower.” “But Lord Daddenham specially asked me, miss, to bring it up for the purpose.”’ protested the astonished Payn. “Oh, well, I don’t care.\ “You never looked more lovely in all your life, miss, I’m positive,” murmured Payn, as her mistress mpyed to the door. “Really!”’ The perfume of Turkish tobacco floats to her nostrils the moment she is outside. She quivers with strange discontent. “I do wish peaple wouldn't smoke here before I have breakfasted,” she remarks. “But, miss——”’ “Oh, hold your tongue, Payn! It doesn’t matter much what they do, after all.” Viscount Daddenham is the diplomatist of old times. He pitches his cigarettes into the sre, but does not rise. He pre- fers to contemplate Beatrice as if she were an “old master’ or a modern land- scape, merely remarking: y “Well, how are we this morning?” “We are,’ says Beatrice, . ‘perfectly well,, we thank you.” Viscount Daddenham laughs. There are times when he rather likes Miss Miy~- leigh’s humors. Beatrice Williams ts Miss Mayleigh. She has been that ever sincé her husband’s sentence as an embezzler. Viscount Daddenham persuaded her. He said she had to choose between happiness of a kind in that way, or the most posl- tive misery conceivable, as an unprotected woman of the world, at the hard mercy of her old acquaintances. She had, there- fore, chosen. These two breakfast together. Ihe vis- count ia exceedingly cool. To teil the truth, he knows Beatrice rather too well now. And yet she still exercises a great fascination over him. He used to tell her that there was no woman in London to compare with her, not only for her beauty, but also fur her compcsure of manner. ‘‘My sweet sedative!’ was oie of the silly pet phrases with which he once christened her. Today, however, something troubl21 Beatrice continucusly. She did not give the viscuunt anything Hke half her atten- tion. More than once he actually frownel —only to smile indifferently the next mo- ment. Do what she could, she could not get little Paul out of her head. While she triflea with the toast she saw him picking oakum, or some equally nasty stuff. She supposed they did that sort of thing at FPorciand. She had never-taken the trouble to acquire any exact information about the toutine occupativga of a man like ‘er husband in a plac® like Portland. “Bee,”’ said the visccunt, what the devil's the matter with you?” With me! what should there be?” “That smile is put on, my friend. It don’t deceive me.”’ “Did I smile? I'm so sorry, for if so I must have been deceiving myself. I dun't fec! exceptionally jocose.”’ The viscornt uncotis his long, slender legs and, standing erect, shrugs his shoul- ders. “Well,” he says, ‘I won't pretend to understand you. T should be glad if you'd drive me to Paddington to meet the 2:53.\ “Very well. Toucan the bell, will you? The brougham is yours.” “Was. you mean.” “Ah, thank you, to be sure; you gave it to me. But you'll have some lunch first?\’ The viscount goes toward Beatrice, puts bis hands on her shoulders, and looks her steadily in the eyes. She meets his gaze as steadily. “Bee,”’ he says at length, “you're up to some deviltry.” “I'm sure I don’t know,” she replies. “If so, it would be sickeningly monotonous, but hardly surprising:''~ --’Phanks,I will Junch,’’ sas the vis- count. He rings the bell. During lunch and afterward he puts aside his easy manner and becomes grave. It: has occurred to him that he never loved this beautif:11 woman more than now. He haif hints as much—she makes him a grand curtsey. And so in due time the carriage is ready, and Beatrice, looking magnificent in her furs, leads the way. Yet all the time—shé cannot think way —little bald-headed Paul and his devoted face keeps recurring to her. The vis- count nods to several acquaintances. She takes no notice of anyone. That’has been her pleasant role for four years past. Thus they reach the station. “We're late, by Jove!”’ exclaims the vis- count. . He springs out of the carriage to inter- rogate the guard. People stream by. Some with bundles. some with babies, some with wives and husbands, and some for- lornly alone. Beatrice watches the throng. “Now, then, silly!’’ she hears a porter exclaim, as he élbows an old’ man out of his way. She turns. The old man’s hat has been knocked off. He has picked ‘t up and is replacing it upon his head(a bald one) when he glances her way. “The next moment Beatrice’s heart goes thump, thump, and she ts struggling with the door. ‘Paul! she cries. ° The old.man stumbles toward her with open arms and an expression of childlike happiness on his face. “My darling!’ he sobs, as he clasps her hand with both of his. ‘So you have really come to meet me!\ “Yes,” she whispers back, with her crimsoned face~on his shoulder, \I have come to meet you.” : It is the work. of a minute to help the old man into the carriage, and then she givas the one word, “Home!” to the coachman. Ten minutes afterward the Viscount Daddenham, having lgoked here and there in vain, also utters a single word. It is the conventional monosyllabic. word »y means of which unregenerative man sig- nifies extreme disgust, annoyance or dis- appointment, or all combined.—St. Paul's. eee tee erence aetna A powerful-oil syndicate has been form- ed in London on the.lines of the Standard THE CLANCY M ge} Es THE REV. VAN ANDA’S PRAYER nn” — An Interested Listener in a Miner's Hotel Expresses His ‘4 pproval. im — Wee One of Butte’s old-timers, who is as full of old-time reminiscences as the Butte city water is of bugs, the Anaconda Stan- dard says, gives the following frontier experiences of some Characters who are well known to all old-timers in this sec- tion: “In tlie fall of 1872 Rev. Mr. Van Anda was presiding elder of a part of the M, E. church in Montana, On one of his trios through his district he stopped one aftar- noon at Blackfoot City. Seeing the spir- itual destitution of the place, he determin- ed to remain over night and preach, He asked and received permission to hold services in the hotel, the office and dining room of which could be thrown into one large room by means of folding doors. It was the easiest job in the world to get word to everybody in the camp that there would -be ‘preaching in the hotel after supper.’ He told one or two persons passing by the house of the serviges, anil in an hour everybody within half a mile knew cof it. You see, the amusements of the place consisted of card pluying and dancing, and with the exception of an oc- casional ‘scrap’ now and then, and a dog fight, entertainments were rare. Preaci- ing was something new in the place, and so everybody determined to be present if it were possible. “Supper time came, and the late board- ers were asked to hurry. as the people were beginning to ‘hang around to get to preaching.’ At last the dining room wis cleared and a-cloth thrown over the bottles and glasses behind ‘the bar in che office, and the doors between the two rooms thrown wide open. every chair in the hotel was brought in, as well as many others from neighboring bar rooms. in order to seat as many as possible some boards were brought in and placed across boxes or chairs. But for all that stand- ing room was ata premium. All business in the town was suspenced for the time. The minister came in and a most re- spectful silence was maintained. A famil- iar hymn was given out, in which every one joined with all his heart and voice. When the hymn had been sung the con- gregation was asked to engage in prayer. During the prayer not a sound was heard ‘except the earnest voice of the mjnist2:. Hardly was the ‘Amen’ uttered when a voice, low but audible all over the room, was heard: “That's a d—d sight better prayer than Brother Duncan cou!d make!’ “To which a reply was made in a stage whisper: “‘Hush, you —— fool; you -are in chureh!’ ‘ “Well, it is, anhow,’ came back the first voice. It might have stopped there, but Schwartz, the proprietor of the hotel, feeling that the proprieties ofthe ace rested somewhat on him, tapped the ad- miring worshiper on the shoulder and admonished him that if he did not keep quiet he would be put ont. Forgetting all else and regarding Schwartz as his friend, he raised his head toward Schwartz and said: “ ‘Now, Schwartz, wasn't that a d—d sight better prayer than Brother Duncan could make?’ “Schwartz collared the disturber ani, lifting him over the seats, started toward the door. No resistance was offered! but as they were approaching the door the un- fortunate offender, in a most humble an] supplicating tone, said: ‘Now, Schwartz, honor bright, wasn’t that a better prayer than Brother Dun- can could make?’ “The rest of the service got along all right.” TALES OF STRANGE FRIENDSHIP A Big Lioness Adopts a Bull Terrier Puppy. Among the tales of strange friendships existing between different animals there is none more strange than a recent one told in the Westminster Gazette of Lon- don, and which seems to Indicate that be- fore long the animals which are sup- posed to have no affinity for each other will be on the best of terms. As a case In point, an instance Is cited where the Honess adopted a bull terrier. This is said to have occurred in Somali- land, where the lioness is kept in cap- tivity. There were a number of bull ter- rier puppies kept near where the lioness was confined. The puppies got into the habit of going up to the cage. The lioness watched them narrowly. while they were about. When they’ came close to her cage she snarled in a way tuat fright- ened the little fellows off. It was noticed, however, that to one of the puppies she showed no displeasure whatever, but, on the contrary, seemed rather to fancy having him about. The puppy approached the cage one day, and after blinking at the Honess for a while, as if trying to determine whether it would be safe for him to venture further, walked boldly in. The big lioness. instead of growling, manifested her pleasure at the visit of the youngster. She put out her huge paw ind gently drew the puppy in to her. The puppy was so delighted with the warmth of his reception that he has remained with her ever since. The lioness treats the bull terrier puppy just as if he were a cub of her own, but she will have nothing to do with his brothers or sisters. They wander about the cage occasionally to see how he is getting along. She invariably growls at them in such a suggestive way that thoy keep at a respectful distance from the cage. Another instance of the same gener.il character is told by the Westminster Ga- zette of a Maltese cat that conceived a great fondness for a brood of chicks. The chicks were not over a couple of days old when the mother hen was killed. Jn some ,way the Maltese cat ascertain d that fact and adopted the chickens forth- with. She established herself in the nest and the little chicks snuggled inte her warm fur coat with the utmost confidence. When the chicks ventured out. during the day the Maltese foster mother accom- panied them. It is told of her that if a chick strayed away she would ‘‘mew”’ for it, and then it returned as quickly as for the chuck of a hen. Still another instance js related of strange ‘friendships among animals 438 shown in the case of a terrier and a cat. They were kept in the same stable, and both became the mothers of: families at avout the same time. The terrier evinced a fondness for kittens, and the cat. dis- played .a liking for puppies. Within a few days they had exchanged families, the dog taking care of the kittens and the cat adopting the puppies. oemenanenicienns Caught It Coming and Going. It will be necessary to enroll among the }jronies of jurisprudence the case of the In- diana lawyer who received a big fee for drawing up a will, which he _afterward interested but unsympathetic friends (wo- men), eager to pick up information. They Oil company, with a capital of $5,000,000. ‘SERENADE. IDE, happy damask, from the stars What sleep enfolds behind your veil, But open to the fairy cars : On which the dreams of midnight sail; And let the zephyrs rise and fall . Apout her in the curtained gloom, And then return to tell me all The silken secrets of the room. Ah, dearest! may the elves that sway Thy fancies come from emerald plots, Where they have dozed and dreamed all ' day In hearts of blue forget-me-nots. And one, perhaps, shall whisper thus: Awake! and light the darkness, Sweet! While thou art reveling with us He watches in the lonely street. —Henry Timrod, THE TEST AT SBA. A <IHEY sat idly on the deck of an At- lantic liner. The moon was rising. _ It was an evening in June, and they were nearing “the Banks.” Even there in mid ocean the setting sun had,so warm- ed the air that they could lounge at their ease in lony; wicker deck chairs and dis- cuss a knotty point in the moral philoso- phy of the domestic relations. “For my part,’’ Maimie Whitmore re- marked, drawing her little woolen wrap somewhat closer round her ears, “I say a woman’s first duty is to her husband.” “And for my part,” Arthur answered, leaning across towards his wife, “I say a woman’s first duty is to her children.” “How do you make that out, Whit- more?’ the major inquired, major had a prétty knack of his own In casulstry. “Why, it runs through thur Whitmore replied. the very essence of t feeling engen- dered in us by natur selection. The male fights always for the female and the young; the female fights for the young only, or turns tail to protect them, leav- ing the male to defend himself.” “I remember,” the major mused, “I was out tiger-hunting once in a nullah in In- dia, and I came across a tiger, with the tigress and cubs lying hid in the jungle. I fired at the brute, and he leapt straight up at me, but the tigress and the cubs slunk away through the long, tall reeds of the cane brake. Well, I killed that tiger..and went after the tigress; but, when I got her at bay, she fought like a regular devil for her cubs, I can tell you. So there’s your case, Whitmore.” “Yes, it must always be so,’’ Arthur Whitmore continued. “The male, as the more active and stronger of the two. must fight for the female and the young together; the female, as the weaker, yet the protector of the young, must leave the male to look after himself, and, at all “isk to him, must take care of the little ones. They are the hope of the race, the future of the species. The sire has had his day; if he sacrifices his life for his young, no great harm can come of it. But the little ones have all the world before them; for their sake the mother must run no needless risk; her first duty is to them; she has borne them and suckled them; to sacrifice them to the father would be unnatural and harmful, and in the widest sense unfeminine,” “That's all very well for the beasts,” Maimie answered, petulantly; “but we are not beasts, and I say, with us, a woman's first duty is always to her husband. Fold up way chair before you come below, Ar- thur; I'll run below and see how Charlie and the baby are getting on in the state room.\ nature,” Ar- ‘It -beJongs to tion,” said the chaplain, as Maimie dis- appeared with a nod down the companion- ladder. ‘‘It seems to me you make things rather rough for the husband, don't you?”’ “Well—no,”’ Arthur answered. “I look at it like this: Parents bestow much love on their children, and the love they re- ceive in return very rarely requites them. It Is repaid by the children to the next generation, as the father and mother themselves repay the debt they ineurred to their own parents. It's the same with the father. The love he lavishes on the woman of his choice is repaid by her in part to himself, in part as care on her side for the children, who are, after all, children. I don’t see how well be kept up otherwise. love, first, his wife, then his children woman must love her children best of all, a race could husband.”’ “Let's have a cigar,” with a yawn. timental.” the major said, an hour all was still, save on the bridge, dark, for fog was forming. state rooms; ed out sky and sea and ship and—almost hope. “ . rible thing to the experienced seaman. Aboyt 2 in the morning every soul on crash that jarred ship as she came to a sudden standstill. Her iron plates clanked; her creaked and shivered. stove in. She had run into an iceberg! out and all was darkness. for screams, men, ridors and up the companion ladder. just visible. of ice cumbered the quarter deck; lenee of the collision. Still, all on board was order. tain, wounded by the falling ice, as ever. Sailors were lowering the boats who had surged ing to seize the first boat for themselves and children. stood on the hand tenderly. children tightly against her bosom. “Women and children forward!’ captain called out in his clear, voice. With a wild sob and a flerce: embrace Maimie clung to her husband. “Arthur Arthur!” she cried, trembling, they let you go with us?” wife and little ones; women and children only.” - “Then I must go with the children,’ Maimie sobbed, breaking forward. They broke for $1000. lazily. The | “It opens up an interesting moral ques- his The man must ; the and repay the surplus of her love to her “We're growing quite sen- They smoked and went below. In half where the officer of the watch paced up and down and peered before Jing in the The passengers had all gone to their the silence was oppressive and..ominous,.as if some subtle spirit | presence came with warning. Perhaps it was but the dominance of vague fear, in the face of the thick, dark veil that blot- Fog on “the Banks” at night is a ter- board’was awakened at once by a terrific horribiy through the timbers The bows were In a second the electric light had gone Too terrified women and children groped their way through the long cor- On deck a few dim lights made the gloom The sea was rushing into the forward compartments; leaks had sprung in the after ones; the fires were out; tons the forecastle had disappeared with the vio- The cap- gave the word of command as clear and steady the second officer, revolver in hand, was hdlding at bay the half naked stokers up from their noisome hole at the earliest alarm, and were try- regardless of the claims of the women One: boat was ready. Arthur, Whitmore 4 deck, holding his wife's Maimie pressed the two the calm “won't “No, darling,’ Arthur answered; kissing “this boat is for ook their seats on the thwarts and were pushed off into the dark deep. -. After three days at sea in the open boa they reached Cape Race. ‘But “Art went down on-the sinking steamer. —_ He was = sustiggd. after all, Instinct. ha@ solved t problem aright for Maimie— Grant Allen in Vanity. ret TT STEEL BRIDGES ARE SHORT LIVED. The Cables Require Much Care=— Fighting Corrosion and Rust. The Brooklyn bridge is doomed. Civil engineers are now speculating as to its length of life, says the New York Jour- nal. Their attention has been attracted te it by the discovery that the span of life of steel structures is much more limited than popularly supposed. Its life is largely numbered by its vibra- tions.. It has been found that every bridge can stand so many dnd then the: en@ comes like the sudden stoppage of a hu- man pulse. In his laboratory in Long Island City Professor Alvah H. Sabin, am eminent authority on the deteriorating influences that steel structures are sub- jected to, is testing wire and iron for the new East river bridge, which will cross from Grand street to Williamsburg. He is laboring night and day to discover some protection against the dreaded effect of corrosion and rust. His investigations have led engineers to turn their eyes te steel bridges, and more particularly te the Brooklyn bridge, as its life interests two cities. Professor Sabin said when seen: ‘There are many deteriorating influences which are even now sapping the life of the bridge. The principal trouble is the care of the cables, because the other parts which may be affected can be replaced, little by little. In making the wires for such cables the outer portions are very | strongly stronger than the centers. Consequently, if the outer portion is eaten away by cor rosion, the wire'is really weakened far more than the mere presence of corrosion would indicate. Then again, the saddles upon which. the cables. rest and move are also Hable to corrosion. The con- stant train of tariff on Lrooklyn bridge is undoubtedly a weakening factor, alsa It is just that kind of rapid, mjnute vk brations, produced by trains rolling over such structures, which affect their vital- ity most. Swinging or slow vibrations are of very little importance.” “What is the life of steel or iron struc- tures?”’ “About thirty years, according to recent computations. None of the preventives against corrosion are very satisfactory.” A railroad engineer who was seen in- dorsed everything that had been said by Professor Sabin, and added: “The fact of professional men making intricate and abstruse computations as to the probable life or ‘period of actual durability of the bridge does not imply that it is unsafe or in any immediate danger of falling inte desuetude or collapse. The Brooklyn bridge may see the end of its usefulness ‘} in 50 or 100 years, but it will always be possible to resuscitate and strengthen it by introducing cantilever iron beams be- neath the big spans. “The indigations are, however, that dong before the time for these anticipated changes arrives the bridge, as it stands now, will have become entirely inadequate for its inten.ed purpese. Coming gener- | ations ure likely to see the central portion removed and replaced bya double-deck bridge, with extens'on sidewalks running alongside of the present approaches and outside of the existing towers. The exi- gencies of the times will demand this.” SOME HULL HOUSE FURNISHINGS Sweet, Light and Simple—An Object Lesson. The stranger who visits Hull house, in Chicago, is perhaps chiefly impressed at the first glance by the admirable taste that marks all the fittings and furnishings of that center of sweetness and light, says Harper’s Bazar. The main building—the original Hull house—is an old house for the west, for it was built about 3 years ago, and retains the dignity of that day. The doors and woodwork are hand carved, the halls are wide, the ceilings lofty. Both here and in the wings—the clubrooms, the children’s house, the classrooms, the prac- tice rooms—there is one object lesson givem by which the poorest may profit. The floors are bare and rubbed smooth, as they might be in the homes of the wealthy or of the lowly. The rugs are rot costly, but there is nothing garish about them, The colorings are subdued and harmonious. The pictures that hang in the halls, on the stairs, and about the different rooms are inexpensive, but the best of their kind. There are no chromos or cheap litho- graphs, but photographs and reproduc- tions of fine pictures, all in the simplest and cheapest frames. In the kindergarten Robbia’s babies and children, and the lit- tle ones of the slums love the plaster babies, and are never tired of looking at them and making stories about them. The furniture is, of necessity, simple, but it is all good, and there is a marked absence of everything cheap and showy in all the appointments of the house and of its de- pendencies. Scrupuldus cleanliness an@ perfect order are seen everywhere, an@ with it all there is a pervading atmos- phere of home that: clearly differentiates the place from a mere “institutfon.” In This Only 40 Years Old? We have before us a copy of the Brook- ville Jeffersonian, printed in 1856, in which appears the following joke: Hugh Brady met George Andrews on the street yesterday and sai: “George, did you hear about that little affair at the American house today at noon?” “No,” said Andrews, ‘“‘what was it?’’ “Why, all the ladies got up and left the _ | table.” . : “The deuce, you say! What for?’ “They had finished eating.’ —-Punxsu- tawney Spirit. It Often Seems That Way. They had met near an intelligence of- ce. “Hiring a new girl?” said the first, in- terrogatively. . “T’m not quite sure,” replied the second, doubtfully. “I had some such plan in view before I came here, but now——\\\ “Well?” , “Well, now I’m not quite sure whether I have been engaging a new maid or she has been engaging me.\’—Chicago Tri- bune. Mrs. Thumb’s New Teeth. Dentist Oscar Adelberg of be J., has just completed a set of ' | which is probably the smallest The set is intended for Baroness known to the world as Mrs, Tom: The set can easily be placed within the t ‘etroumference of a half dollar. : : N. eompressed,_and__are much _ rooms ahd In the Creche are casts of Detia- ‘
