Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 20, 1896, Page 3

| | \ vt > NELLIES CAREER. I shall never forget that June morn- ing when Nell told us. I was beating batter puddings—the cooking always fell to my share—and Nell and Deb were finishing the week’s ironing. The big lilac bush was in full Ddloom outside the kitchen window, and some cf the purple petals drifted in upon the old dimity skirt Nell was Ironing. She had to brush them off, I remember, with her pretty, slender fingers. Deb and I always tried to save Nell’s hands and do the rougher work ourselves. Why not? She was the youngest and our pet always. Suddenly Nell set down her iron with a clatter and electrified us. “Girls,” she said, “the editor of the Orb has accepted another of my stories and I’m going to New York.” “What, to stay?’ eried Deb, and I dropped a chair, speechless. “Yes, id Nell firmly. “I have it ch father’s leave and made him promise not to tell you till everything was settled, because I knew you girls wouldn’t like it and would try to persuade me to give it up. But the editor of the Orb has been very encouraging and you know I have had some work accepted by other papers, and I feel sure I can keep myself, at least, and I hope, of course,” her eyes shining, “it will lead to better things. I wrote to Cousin Libby, and she has explained to me she li she illustrates, you papers, I think—and she has rented a room for me in the ent building where she lives Fancy! She does all her own little gas stove in her g’ she calls it—and I am ne for myself. You can live for very little that way,” learned- ly, “even in New York.” “But, Nell, you can’t cook,” I said. Somehow my dazed mind fastened on the least of the difficulties in my dar- ling's path. “Well, I can learn,” she cried gayly, “or you can teach me, Em, in the next fortnight. I am not going till the 19th.” I saw her glance at me anxiously as she mentioned the date and then—I broke down and so did Deb, and pres- ently we were all three clinging to- ether and crying—into my bowl of atter. What had father been thinking of, I wondered. But then he never could bear to cross Nell, any more than Deb er I could. And so from the first I felt that it was settled and that noth- ing I could say or do would alter it. But, oh, my heart was heavy. By and by Deb said: “Nell, what will Morris say?’ The same thought had been in my mind, but I could not put it into words and I was rather vexed with Deb. But we all knew that Morris loved Nell, though she would have nothing to say to him. It hurt me strangely even then that Mor- ris should be slighted—Morris, so good and brave and strong and tender and steady and clever, too—that any girl might have been proud of his love. Nell only tossed her pretty head and said emphatically: “Oh, Morris!’ And after awhile she and Deb began iron- ing again and I went to the cellar for And and made fresh batter. how Nell told us. The next fortnight was a busy one, though it passed, as people say, like a dream. Miss Partridge came up from the village to help us put Nell’s ward- robe in order, father crated the set of mahogany furniture which had been mother’s when she married and which Nell was to take with her, and I got together the best and smallest of my itchen tins and saucepans and packed m in a wooden box, which was to e afterward, with shelves fitted in- side it, Nell declared, as her “kitchen.” How anxious I felt about the “pigging” arrangements and what careful in- structions I gave, or tried to give, in eoffee and omelet making! Morris pame and went, looking, oh, so grave, and Nell’s resentment of his attitude was hot and showed itself in the prusquerie with which she treated nim. What passed between them the last evening I never knew. They were together for a long time in the garden tnd after they had parted Nell brushed past me crying and Morris, coming to bay “good-night,” looked white and stern. My heart ached for him. But he came with us to the station the next morning and tried to talk cheer- tuly to Deb and me after we had said good-by to our dear girl and watched the train steam off. * * * * * * That was a weary summer. It was very dry and hot and nothing did well In the garden. Father was ailing, and Deb and I dropped into a dull round of daily duties. Morris came seldom. He was very busy, he told us, with his increasing law practice, which was extending itself through all the neigh- boring villages. Nell’s letters were our only excitement, and though they were cheerful and amusing, with many bright descriptions of New York life “from the pigging side,” as she called it, it seemed to me that an undertoae of discouragement ran through them. However, with the autumn, things be- an to look brighter. Father's health Feproved and Nell wrote she nad keen offered a position on the staff of one of the papers she had been writing for. Morris began to be about the house again as he used to be, and with him eame Jack Herrick, a young fcllow whom he had taken into partnership and who evidently admired Deb. Mor- ris rarely asked after Nell, but I ro- ticed that when her name was men- tioned he never missed a word that was said, and at Christmas, in the box we expressed to her, he sent a smail parcel. Neli wrote back, “Thank Mor- ris for his pretty gift.” After Christ- mas Morris and Jack came still often- er. We went sleighriding together— we four—and bobbing on the hill. Sometimes I used to wonder how Deb and I and Merris could be so gay and light-hearted with Nell away. By Easter Deb and Jack were en- gaged. ‘After that—well, the five months that followed were—what were they? Ah, how happy I was! And yet how wretched! How I refused to look into the future and lived in feverish excite- ment from day to day, hoping, fearing, dreading, longing for what I would not, could not plainly face. Morris was growing to love me—a little, not as he could love, but a little—Morris, whom I idolized. And Nell? The end came one day in September, when we went to the woods for golden rod. Deb and jack had wandered off ad I had torn my hand—my bby. work-worn hand, 80 unlike Nell’s—on a straggling blackberry vine. Morrig had bandaged it for me and as I look- ed up our eyes met. He slipped his arm around me so tenderly, and “Em, little woman,” he began. I think the terrible aching sense of loneliness which has been with me ever since and always will be came upon me at that moment. For with the sound of his voice the blindness I had willfully encouraged fell from me and I saw quite plainly that this was not to be. But I rested my head for a mo- ment on his shoulder—I could not help it—and let-him speak. When he had finished I said quietly: ‘Morris, dear, I think you are mistaken. I always believed that you and Nell—” “Em, Em,” he cried, “do you think me so base. Can you fancy—’ “Hush!” I said. And just then Deb and Jack came up and we strolled home. All through the night I lay awake. In the morning came Nell’s letter. “Oh, darling Em,” she wrote, “I am so terribly unhappy! I cannot keep it | to myself any longer! I am a failure, Em!—a failure. And I did so hope for success! Oh, I do not mean that I can- not earn my living. I still nope to do ‘that, but—I see it at last, quite plainly —I shall never, never rise above medi- ocrity, never make a name, never be more than a ha-k writer, scrambling for my bread and butter and thankful if I can make it. And I had such dreams, Em, such plans, such ambi- tions! I thought myself clever! Clever! I am a fool! I gave up—well! Never mind! It is a relief to tell you, dear.” There was more, but when I had read so far my mind was made up. I had money in the bank—enough—that mother had left me, and I went to Morris and told him that I wanted him to take me to New York. I said I gathered from Nell’s letter that she was not feeling well, and I wanted to bring her home for awhile to rest. I spoke with quiet frankness, as a sister might. He looked at me strangely. We started the next night. It was early on a sultry September morning that we reached New York. I can still see the unswept, half-de- serted streets and smell the odor of stale vegetables which greeted us. Mor- ris took me to breakfast somewhere—I forget where—and thon we rode in a cable car for what seemed to me an interminable distance. At last we reached the “Windermere,” a tall, dingy apartment house, near the river, I remember I walked through a dingy hall to a more dingy elevator and were guided on the fifth floor through pas- sages dingier still, to Nell’s door! I trembled and pushed Morris in front of me. “Come in!” cried her dear voice, and—there she stood! Thinner, paler, a little careworn, but, it seemed to me, more beautiful than ever! She did not see me, and Morris—forgot me! “Nell!” he cried, aud opened wide his arms. “Mo 1” she answered, and, like a tired child, crept close to nim. ‘And so it ended as I—yes, as I hoped it would end. May See Without Being Seen. The transparent mirror, which has recently been invented by a German chemists, will doubtless find many pa- trons among women. It is made by coating glass with a chemical prepara- tion of silyer nitrate and other materi- als, mixed up in a manner that has been patented by the inventor. That part of it isn’t interesting. What does appeal to the feminine fancy and to that of the magician is the number of uses to which it can be put. The new mirrors are now being made by a large firm in France, in various sizes and shapes—big mirrors, to set in frames on the floor. panel-shaped glasses for doors to dark closets, and tiny hand- glasses for the dresser, beside those of intricate and complicated design, for use by such artists as the great Her- mann, who sees in the new invention a world of mystery-fraught ledgerde- main. One of these “magic mirrors” placed in the panel of the door opening into a prilliaptly-lighted reception room, would furnish endless aspusement to a hostess who is inclined to be curious about the impreseion her home makes upon her visitors. To quietty observe the actions of a devoted admirer, as he impatiently awaits the approcck of his sweetheart, pacing about the 1com and perhaps consulting the very mirror behind which the object of his affections is concealed as he arranges his necktie for the seventh time, would be fun for the sweetheart, anyway. If the mirror grows common, as they are likely to do, they will furnish par- lor entertainments of many descrip- tions. For instance, suppose a cabinet to be fitted up with what appears to be an ordinary looking glass in its door. Conceal somebody within the cabinet and ask a lady to look at herself in the mirror, a request which, being a wo- man, she cannot refuse, then have the person within suddenly strike a match or turn on an electric light that has been previously arranged, ard watch the effect upon your victim. Sugh a mirror would be a great addi- tion a Halloween party, to be used when the anxious maiden, wishing to know her fate, gazes into the glass to see who looks over her shoulder, and peholds her sweetheart smiling upon her from behind tke glass. Ingenious minds, however, will sure- ly devise many changes which can be rung upon this new magic mirror, and it is not necessary to specify further. Drilling Holes in Iron Plates With Rifle*Balls. A novel method of perforating iron plates is reported from Salt Lake City. The city is being supplied with electric- ity for lighting and power generated fourteen miles away in the Big Cotton- wood Canyon. It was found necessary for the purpose of pipe connections, to cut four forty-eight-inch openings in the seven-foot penstock, the plates of which were half an inch thick. The workmen began to cut with cape chis- els, but the progress made was too ex- asperatingly slow for the engineer of the works, R. M. Jones, who is known throughout the West as the “cowboy engineer.” Mr. Jones took up his rifle, and using steel bullets cased with cop- per, shot a line of holes through the plates from a distance of about thirty feet. The {intervening edges were afterwards easily cut out, and in a very short time the job was finished. THE QUEEN’S DINNER. HOW ENGLAND’S SOVEREIGN “FEEDS ON SUNDAYS. ‘Such a Dinner Would Hardly Answer in Plutocratic Circles of This Country —Written in- French for Her Maj- esty. OR the sake of din- ing with Mrs. “Guelph at Windsor Castle any number of Americans would gladly give part of their for- tunes. As many more would follow their example if they possessed the fortunes to give. \A few of the first may some time reach ithe dimmer table of the queen. The great crowd, however, will go hungry if they wait for an invitation to dine with her majesty. As a substitute, all who ‘would like to learn what kind of din- ‘ners the queen of Great Britain eats may duplicate for their Sunday dinner ithe menu of the queen’s own Sunday dinner, published herewith. Of course, the queen’s cook doesn’t give her majesty the same dishes ev- ery Sunday, as the Bostonians cling to beans for breakfast. But this is con- sidered an example of the Sunday dinner prepared for her royal highness. \ After studying the menu at this roy- al dinner some of those aspiring Amer- icans may be satisfied to remain at home. The dinner isn’t a bit more elaborate or better composed than the chefs of any number of wealthy Amer- icans serve without ostentation. , The menu card for this dinner here reproduced is about six inches wide and eight inches deep. It is gilt edged,with a glossy finish. The scroll border has a gilt ground with pink roses, blue thistles, oak leaves and acorns in the designs. Ireland is represented by de- signs of shamrocks. 3 Anybody might know it was a queen’s menu, for there are only six crowns and lished. If not, then to follow the queen’s menu it will have to be inau- gurated for this occasion in order t¢ hold hot and cold fowl of various sorts, tongue and cold beef. When all is said it isn’t the style of dinner that an American unafflicted with anglophobia would choose of his own free will. M. Charles Ranhoffer, Delmonico’s chef, who looked at the menu for her majesty’s dinner, was asked by a New York reporter: “What do you think of it?” “T’d rather not say what I think of it,” he replied, “because I know the chef.” “Is it the kind of a dinner you would make up for an American, especially a New York table?” M. Ranhoffer smiled and said: “Not at all. I don’t want to criticise it, bul you see there are three fries together and the releves follow the entrees. Il should be in the opposite order.” There is the fun of being a queen. She may turn the usual order of pro- gression of courses topsy-turvy. Does any one suppose any plain American woman with a good cook would dare to mix things up like that? Nota bit. But if the queen so desires she may even begin at the last course and re- verse the entire order. “That is a good, plain substantial dinner,” went on M. Ranhoffer, “just the kind the queen of England might be expected to prefer. It’s old style. See, they use ‘le’ and ‘les’ and ‘la.”, We leave them out. Roast beef—plum pud- ding—huh!”" When M. Ranhoffer said “huh” it meant a lot, but he didn’t transiate it. “Plum pudding,” he repeated, stil! with the same emphasis. “That’s Eng- lish.” It sounded as if M. Ranhoffer was not a great admirer of English cookery of the plum pudding order. “There’s nothing there except very ordinary dishes,” he wenton. “It’s the kind of a dinner never seen in New York. It’s solid, true English form, not at all French nor Italian either.’. The queen doesn’t always confine herself to six courses and the side ta- ble. M. Ranhoffer would suggest that THE QUEEN’S SUNDAY MENU. (Photograph from the original.) two of Victoria’s monograms on it, while the English lion and unicorn turmount the whole. It ought to con- vey some suggestions for menu designs :o some American plutocrats. ~The menus for the queen’s table are ilways written by hand, and in French. Dnglish it appears is not proper. Adraft ‘s made for her, and with her own ands, like the good housewife she is, he royal pen crosses out such dishes as ire not to her fancy, and writes those the prefers in their places. In plain English, the queen is served with two soups, one of calf’s head, the ther a clear rice soup. The first fish sacod,with the dressing, the foundation »f which is anchovy sauce. The sec- od fish dish is fried fillets of merlan. Merlan is like whiting. For entrees there are chicken cutlets ned in egg, rolled in crumbs and sd. The second entree is made from 1 piece of lamb. Then a braised ham with spinach. Not at all complicated. Then comes the English national dish, roast beef, which the queen dignifies oy preserving in its English form of expression. It is never “ros-boeuf.” To make it more typically Anglo-Sax- om it is flanked by plum pudding. Roast partridges are next served. For the entrements are celery with a orown sauce; tartlets with apricot souf- fle, orange jelly and a dish with milk for its foundation. If you live in a big country house the with seven courses, the order of entrees and releves being changed, and eight instead of four entrements, her majes- ty’s dinner might be improved. Live Fish of Great Age. “The age of fish is almost unlimited,” observed an official of the fish commis- sion in reply to a question. “Prof. Baird devoted a great deal @ time to the question as to the length of life of fish, and he found that the ordinary carp, if not interfered with, would live 500 years. In his writings on the sub- ject he stated that there are now living in the Royal Aquarium in Russia sey- eral carp that are known to be over 300 years old; that he had ascertained in a number of cases that whales live to be over 200 years old. A gentleman in Baltimore had had an ordinary gold- fish for sixty-three years, and his father informed-him that he had pur- chased it over forty years before it came into his possession.”——Washington Star. . By Telephone. She—Of course you will have to esk papa’s consent now? He (who has just proposed and been accepted)—O—er— yes, of course! Er—has your papa a telephone?—Boston Globe. Blue Envelopes on Railroads. A blue envelope, when received by a railway employe, usually contains a side table is doubtless already eztab- | check and a discharge card. crane an CN ed a a re Te dc A enc ac Ae Real aenk a ra EE a STORY OF AN ACTOR. -- Once He Played Master Walter, but Times Have Changed With Him. ° A most pitiable case of decayed genius came recently to the knowledge of the public. A man is well known in a suburban neighborhood as being handy at odd jobs, such as cleaning herses and gtables, shoveling snow, at- tending to furnaces, scrubbing kitchen »»d cellar floors and polishing win- dows. He is grateful for such poor perquisites as cast-off clothes, and sometimes will even ask for food. As no one can ever induce him to tell his real name, he is always called the pro- fessor, probably because there is some- thing about him which is indicative of his having seen better days. He is tall, slight, graceful in his movements, and must have been good looking in his youth. Poor tatterdemalion that he is, his face is always clean and smooth-shayen, and the moment his work is over he makes haste to attend to his hands, which, in spite of his labor, are white and well shaped. A few days ago a lady set him to do some garden work preparatory for the spring. While he was busy in that toil, which some one has wittily said requires “a cast iron back with a hinge,” the lady’s husband passed him by with a visitor, going toward the gate, disputing as they went about a quotation from Shakespeare. The pro- fessor, overhearing, suddenly raised his tall form and said: “Excuse me, gentlemen, but neither of you is right. The quotation is”’—so and so. This so surprised the hearers that reference was made to the immortal William himself, and the professor, was demonstrated exact to a_ word. This circumstance confirmed a fleeting suspicion more than once aroused by, his manner, artificially refined for one in his station, his trim finger nails, his smooth-shaven face, and lastly his un; expected knowledge, so the lady taxed, him with having been an actor! He admitted it, and showed several old letters of engagements, numbers of laudatory press notices, and tattered play bills galore in which his once we’! known name appeared in prominc characters. Then she remembered him well, for many a time in crowded audiences in first-class theaters she had heard that rich, sonorous voice rolling forth the commanding words of the “king” in Hamlet, Master Walter in the “Hunch- back,” and similar roles, holding his own well with distinguished stars of a not remote date. Two reasons, he said, had breught him to his present degradation. The first was the falling into desuetude of the legitimate drama; the: second, the almost com- plete usurpation of the American stage by the alien element. Down, down, still further down slipped the old- school actor, until at last his feeble clutch upon even the outer edge of the boards gave way altogether, plunging him into that deep dramatic pit of has- beens from which none crawls out and resumes his old standing. “Youth,” he said, “is every actor’s stock in trade. It is of shorter dura- tion in our calling than in any other, but in the days of stock companies the loss of youth did not also mean the loss of livelihood. When the juvenile man began to flesh up or to age he merely changed his line of business. From the lovers he glided into the heavies, from them into the old men, which he usually played until his time came to leave the stage of life. Now —how different! There are none but young people wanted by managers, even to play old parts. While employ- ment was more continuous ag well as more lasting in the legitimate days, it yielded such poor returns that we could at most live and dress, but not save, so that an actor with a run of hard luck was doomed to suffer dis- tress. Thus you can understand how I, through no fault of my own, but natural decline—although I am not 50 yet—with no ability to earn a decent livelihood in any other than my own profession, have sunk lower and lower, until I have come to starve along in the most abject penury, earning a pit- tance for food by the lowest menial work, in summer sleeping under the stars to save the few pence I shall re- quire in winter to pay for nightly shel- ter in some tramps’ lodging house,”~ New York Times. ate, MONKEY MINERS, Monkeys Working as Laborers in the Gold Mines. Competition is very keen in the gold mines of the Transvaal. Some twenty- four monkeys were recently put to work as day laborers in the mine op- erated by Capt. E. Moss of Boston. Their work is so satisfactory that their services are accepted in place of or- dinary workmen. Capt. Moss recently published an account of his remarka- ble monkey miners in the Boston Even- ing Transcript. He says the twenty-four monkeys do the work of seven able-bodied men and they do some of the work more satisfactorily. here are, besides, no strikes or other labor troubles among these new workmen. The monkeys’ work is the gathering of small pieces of quartz, which they carefully pile into little heaps. Their sharp eyes de- tect the small gold-bearing pieces of quartz, which an ordinary workman would pass. over, and they are exceed- ingly skilful and quick in picking them up. Capt. Moss says that when he com- menced eigging gold he had two pet monkeys which constantly followed him about the mine. One day he no- ticed that they were busily engaged in gathering up little bits of quartz and carefully placing them in piles. They seemed to enjoy this work very much. It did not take the captain long to learn their value as laborers, and so the monkey gang was at once in- creased. The monkeys that have had experi- ence in the mines teach the new mon- keys how to do the work. ‘ A Soft Answer. Lady (after about twenty-five min- utes’ cross-examination)—Now, tell me, constable, what is that strap under your chin for? P. C. 33 L.—Well, mum, that’s to rest my jaw on when it gets tired an- swering silly questions.—Sketch. A Good Prophet. Bloozin—I see that the election eta not resuit as you predicted. Jazrig—Yes, it did. You're not the only one I predicted it to—Roxbury Gazette. v Only Think what a long train of diseases arise from impure blood. Then keep the blood pure with ~ Hoods * Sarsaparilla The One True Blood Purifier. All druggists. $1. Hood’s Pills are always reliable. 25 cents. Not Worth Mentioning, “A capital invention—these horseless carriages!” “Don’t talk rubbish! We have had for a long time things quite as remark- able in their way as horseless car- riages, and nobody takes the slightest notice of them.” “Indeed! What, for instance?” “Cowless milk.”—Dorfbarbler. If the Baby ts Cutting Teeth. Be sure end use that old and well-tried remedy, Mus. WIxsLow’'s SOOTHING SYRUP for Children Teething. At An Official Ball. “Sir, allow me to shake hands with you, just by way of showing that I know somebody here.” “With pleasure, sir; as I am pre- cisely in the same boat as yourself.”— Le Gaulois. Steamer Traffic on the Kootenai. Jennings, Mont., Special.— The steamer Rustler Jeft to-day on her first trip of 125 miles north to the Fort Stecle Mining District. She is 140 tons burden, with ample accomadation for passengers and is the third steamer now operated on the upper Kootenai River between this point and the mines. The North Star Mine has a con- tract to deliver 7,000 tons of ore this sea- son to the Great Falls smelter. Four Great Northern cars were loaded yesterday and seven to-day. The east Kootenai min- ing country is exceedingly rich in placer and quartz, and the indications point to a large developement this year. The river and harbor bil just passed by congress over the president's veto gives us $5,000. for the improvement of the river. This will remove several obstruections and material- ly improve the channel. Two Ways to Start Conversation. ‘The hostess hunted up the host and Whispered to him anxiously: ; “The reception’s a dead failure. (Everybody is sitting as mute as a Bs Nobody is talking to anybody else.” . “What do you suggest?” he asked in reply. “Shall we get some one to play ‘the piano or shall we start a few ‘games of whist?’—Detroit Free Press, Poor Old Quakertown. Teacher—Now, Freddie, since you have correctly spelled Philadelphia, can you tell me what state it is in? Freddie—Yes, sir. I heard pa say. the other day, that it was in a state of coma.—Yonkers Gazette. Hall's Catarrh Cure. Is a constitutional cure. Price, T5c. And Then He Was Hanged. “Step on the trap, please.” said the sheriff to the cordemned murderer. “No; I'll be hanged if I do,” he re- plied, stoically. Then the sheriff explained the mat- ter to him, and both he and the subject were dropped.—West Union Gazette. In the last nine months 17,000,000 bushels of corn were shipped from New York,while 15,000,000 bushels were exported through New Orleans. |Gladness Comes wit a better understanding of the transient nature of the many phys- ical ills, which vanish before proper ef- forts—gentle efforts—pleasant efforts— rightly directed. There is comfort in the knowledge, that so many forms of sickness are not due to any actual dis- ease, but simply to a constipated condi- tion of the system, which the pleasant family laxative, Syrup of Figs, prone. ly removes. That is why it is the only remedy with millions of families, andis everywhere esteemed so highly by all who value health. Its beneficial effects are due to the fact, that itis the one remedy which promotes internal cleanliness without debilitating the organs on which it acts. It is therefore all important, in order to get its bene- ficial effects, to note when you pur- chase, that you have the genuine arti- cle, which is manufactured by the Cali- fornia Fig Syrup Co. only and sold by all reputable druggists. If in the enjoyment of good health, and the system is regular, laxatives or other remedies are then not needed. If afflicted with any actual disease, one may be commended to the most skillful physicians, but if in need of a laxative, on2 “hould have the best, and with the wel-informed everywhere, Syrup of Figs stands highest and is most largely ~sed and gives most general satisfaction. The coolness ts refreshing ; the roots and herbs tnvigor- ating ; the two together ant- mating. You get the right combination in HIRES Rootbeer. MiSeSpulibe makes gular God enya Habit Cured. Est. in1871. Thousands State case. Dr. MaRsu, Quincy, Mich. Ce