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A Happy Outcome. § Day by day I had seen the lines of can doopen round my father’s mouth and forehead, and watched my moth- Ir‘a pale and anxious 39120 rest upon Night liter night did Maude and I lay aidn by side, and spend the hours when sleep, they tell us, lends us beau- ty in wondaring what trouble was hov- ering over us. But the knowledge came all too soon. My father had lent money which be supposed he could call in at any time. The time arrived, but the money was not forthcoming. His health was rapid- ly failing him, a fact his business anx- ieties in no way helped, and we soon knew he must mortgage heavily the farm. and that if his health continued 'to fail he might soon be unable even to pay the interest. Then Maude and I began to hold our whispered conversations to better pur- poseâ€"to decide that; we were strong, and young, and healthy, and that such gifts were given to us to be made use of. And so it ended in our sendâ€" ing off a mysterious letter to the old school-teacher, and waiting and watch- ing days for a reply, which came at last to tell us she had succeeded in finding a situation as governess, at a competency which to us seemed wealth. The lady was willing to take any one on her recommendation, and either of us, she felt assured, wold fill the role. So she left it for us to decideâ€"one must go and one must stay. At laat Maud» said it must be she who would go. She was older than I, and she thought she would be hapu pier away working than at home eit- ting with folded hands. She was so pretty, so loving and so lovable, that it seemed as though we could not let her go among strangers. At first father and mother would not listen to it, but we overruled all objection, and Maude wrote and apâ€" pointed a day for her coming. V The intervening time passed rapid- ly away in busy preparation, and at last the one Sunday left us rose bright and clear. Maude looked so lovely that morning in her pretty hat, with its long, drooping feather, that I! did not wonder the eyes of a strang- er in the church wandered persistent- ly to our pew. He was a tall, handsome man, sitting with the Leonardsaâ€"«a name which in our village represented its aristocracy and wealth. However, I soon found plenty for heart and hands. My father grew rapidly worse instead of better, and it was hard work so to word my letters to Maude that she should not know of the skeleton in our homeâ€"the shadow of rimming death. There were gentlemen from London visiting there constantly, but their gaze did not often wander from the Itylish, elegant, Misses Leonard to seek any other attractions. I saw thlem glance round once or twice, as if to discover what else in the church could possibly distract at- tention from themselves, and I fear I felt more pride in Maude’s beauty than was quite consistent with the sacred place inAwhich we were. But after she had gone, and at night I went, for the fimt time, to my room alone, I felt that she had chosen the better partâ€"that it was easier even to go forth among strangers, with her hand at the plow, than to sit down quietly on the vacant hearthstone'. Her letters were bright and cheery, and when at la‘st I told her that our father grew no better, she answered she had met Dr. Melrose, who was a relative of the lady whose children she taught, and asked him to go down and see father, and that she would deâ€" fray the necessary expenses; I almost gasped when I read the nameâ€"Dr. Melroae. 'His fame had reached even our eats. I wondered how she could have approached him with such a request; but I said noth- ing to father of her desire, and one morning, about a week later, his card was put intp my hands. With quick, trembling limbs, Ihesâ€" tened down to meet him, and opened the parlor door to find myself face to face with the stranger, who, weeks be- fore. had sat in the Leonards’ pew. My face grew red and pale as I recâ€" ognized him ; but he came forward very quietly, and, taking my hands, said: "Come, we will have a little talk first, and then you shall take me to see your tatherlk I quickly obeyed him. and sat down beside him, as he directed, while he not seeming to observe my agitation, told me of my sisterâ€"of her happiness in her new home, how already she had won her way into their hearts, and how glad he was that business at this time called him to this spot, and enâ€" abled him to perhaps be of some as- listance. Then I found words, and when he left me to visit my father, I found myself awaiting his return with a calm assurance that could mortal aid avail him. he would find it in Dr. Melroae‘s healing _ touch. A half hour passed before his return. and when he entered the room? Iknew I might hope. "It is not so bad as I feared," he m8. "Time and careful nursing will soon restore him. The latter I shall intruat jzo you." Then he gave me him directions so clearly that I could not misunderstand them, and. when he bade me good-by, holding both my handn for a momeyt in his own. and said: " You must take care of Journal! as well, and not give me two patients instead of ‘one,” he smiled so kindly that I felt my heart lug as _I thquglit. - n I,,_ :~__ It did not seem strange that she should have won the heart of a man as high in the world’s favor as Ernest Melrose stood. It would not have seemed strange to me had she won royalty; in my eyes she might have grgceg any throne; _ .w, v... _ -._-_= “ It’s for Mauiâ€"9‘3 sake he has done this thing. He loves her." _L- So I wrote her of his visit, and its wonderful results; how lather im- proved day by day, and how with health came hope and courage, so that soon the clouds would scatter and we should have her home again. But she answered, begging me nev- er to think of her except as happyâ€"- that in Mra. Marvin she found {1360- 0nd mother, and in her work only plea- sure “15:13.9 rarely mentioned Dr. Melrose’s name; but I could well understand why ape w_as_ silent. . .â€" , uh”; So the winter passed. Two or three times the doctor came to relieve the monotony. My parents grew to we]- come him as a friend, and I, in my heart of hearts, as a brother, for I felt sure I had guessed the secret of his love for Maude. ' miIthVa’Ikiéti (Efrhiérr so constantly, tellâ€" and how her beauty of character had far exceeded even the charm of face and form. We looked to him almost as our de- liverer, for father‘s health and vigor were at last restored; but when he asked him for his bill, be laughingly replied : Miss Maude. She is to settle that." My father looked amazed; but I could appreciate the payment he would accept and imagined their surprise when he should demand it at their hands. The summer was rapidly approach- ingâ€"the time for Maude‘s h0meâ€"com« ing was at papd. ,,, . .v. .1 With glad, happy heart I decorated our room with the roses she so loved; hung fresh muslin curtains from the windows, looped them back with sprays all the while singing aloud i1} mz'joy‘. 1 had reason to be happy, for Maud was coming to a home over whivh hung no shadow of debt. The mortgage had been paid. What she had saved Shell (1 go toward her troueseau when she needed one, for father had prosper- ed beyond all expectation. ‘At last I heard the sound 01! wheels. Nearer and nearer. "I bring you a surprise," she had written, and by her side sat Dr. Mel- rose. I knew it all. Was it not as I pictured, fancied, hoped? I cn’y know that an impulse which sprang from some corner of my brain caused me to turn hastily up the stairs, and, burying my head in my pillow, sob aloud. “Ellie, darlingi -Where are you?‘ questioned a sweet, girlish voice; and I sprang up, ashamed of my momenâ€" tary weakness, to find myself clasped in my sisters warm loving embrace. She had come back lovelier than ever. Ah, I could guess what had deepened the flush upon her cheek, the radiance torher eye! I smoothed my disordered hair, list- ening the while to her merry talk, though not a word did she say of him. whose deep. manly tones I could hear now and then as he sat talking. _ “7“Lofloâ€"kfi Bésfr," she said, “with a roguish twinkleâ€""your very, very best! Thereâ€"I am satisfied." And, taking me by the hand, she ran rulpidly down into the room where they a1 sat. Dr. Melrose instantly arose, and came forward with his old smile of Welcome, and made a movement as though he would already give me a brother‘s kiss, but remembered in time that his secret was not yet disclosed. The evening passed rapidly away in pleasant laugh and jest. Occasionally I intercepted a glance between Maud and her guest. full of meaning, but no one else seemed to notice it. At last he rose to bid us good night; and as he held my hand a moment in his own, he whispered: _. v__,‘.__, “You have always been the most inâ€" fatigable in pressng my small claim upon you. [Bo-morrow I wiil present it to you for payment. May I see you for a few moments in the morn- ing 3" "Certainly." I answered; but my voice trembled, and I think had he stayed a moment longer I should have burst into tears. ' AU through that long night I watchâ€" ed my sister, sleeping so peacefully by my side. wagmg my little war with myself. _ . . ... ‘,, How natural that he should love her so young, so lovely! But, ah! why had my heart gone forth unasked to meet his? At least the secret was all my pwpâ€"none woulq‘suspect it. .u 7 I had not known it myself until I had seen them side by side. With, perâ€" haps. a shade less col-3r, a little quiver- ing of the lips, but nothing more,\I en- tered the parlor next morning to greet Dr, Melrose, who stood waiting for me. LII, LVLCLLUJU, vvuu Dvuvu u nun-.5 _ v . m v . “I have come{ as you know, to claim my payment. E lie. Can you not guess it 9" was 1; private matter_ with "Yes,er know it all. 'You have my consent. Dr. Melrose, although you take our dearest possqssioq." "A momentary struggle with myself. then I answered bravely; He EEC-pde beWilaéred, but suddenly seemed to understand. as he said, grazply: . .1... . n.,AA ‘-,A "Then you know, Ellie? Since the day-I first saw you in church I have loved you, have cherished as my fond- est dream the hope of making you my wife! Darling, you are sure I have your consent ‘3" 'But Maude W’ I almost gasped. "Maude is only too happy in the hope that I may win you. She is engaged to a cousin whom she met ab Mrs. Marâ€" vin's, and who is soon coming to claim her. He is a splendid fellow, and well worthy of her; but I, ah! my darl- ing. can accept no other payment than yonrspltl" "- . L A - ,L. And, in a wild burst of passionate joy, of marvelous unbelief, I gave it; to him, as be sealed it with the first kiss 0! our betrothal. , HOUSEWIFELY PROGRESS. It is a trifle, apparently, writes Marian Harland, when a woman taboos oil in salad dreseing because she "has never been used to putting it in," when she thinks mint sauce 9. 'traehy" accompaniment to roast lamb, and "won’t hear of hot. sauce with cold1 pudding," or whipped cream as an ac- sompeniment, to ice-cold raw tomatoes, when the vegetable dishes must all be set on the table with the meat, “sa she has always had them," and lettuce be cut up and dressed in the kitchen at the cook’s convenience, instead of beâ€"s ing served, crisp and cool from the deft fingers of some members of the family, who is "up in salads." 4 Each protest is a symptom of deca- dence which is wilfful, not inevitable. She has stopped learning because she has stopped. In time. mental muscles become stiff, but disuse is the cause of the change. t,__.. ..‘7 “I awofifit that day lost in which I have learned no new thing," said an aggad sage. ‘ Our housewife may lay the saying to heart. If. there be a better way than hers of doing anythingâ€"from making picklette to giving a wedding supperâ€"â€" she should be on the alert to possess herself of it. It is not true that it is easier for ydung people to keep themâ€" selves and their houses abreast of the times than it is for their elders. The first step that counts in the downward road is the tendency not to take any step at all. ’50- stand still is to be left. USES FOR PAPER. A double newspaper with the corn- ers folded- down for the bib and tied around the waist with) a strip of mus- lin makes a nice apron for dish-wash- ing and baking. Several thicknesses of paper placed under the coat or wrap over shoulders and chest when going out in the cold will oave many a. severe sickness. If there are not berlc‘othes enough "to go around on a below-zero night, try laying your spare newspa- pers between the covers, especially over the feet. Use soft paper wrap- pings to polish your nickle stove platâ€" mg. SOME GOOD RECIPES. Lemon Ice Cream.â€"Two quarts of milk, one quart of cream, three 011;» fuls of sugar, three eggs, quarter of a box of gelatine, juice of " twd lemons and one orange. grated rind of three lemons. Mix sugar, juice.\ and rind of lemons and orange juice. and set aside; soak gelatine in. half pint of milk and cream and pour over gelatine until dissolved. When cold partly freeze; then add lemon juice and sugar, and eggs beaten separately; turn the crank rapidly and freeze. Pineapple Ice Cream.â€"One half pound pineapple, one half pound sugar, one pint cream, one half pint of milk, juice of one lemon. Grate pineapple and add sugar and lemon juice; put cream and milk in freezer, and when partly frozen add sugar and fruit. Peach Ice Omanâ€"One quart cream. one pint milk, two cups sugar, whites of two eggs. one dozen ripe peaches. Pare and mash the peaches. add sugar. and let it stand; add cream and milk. and just before freezing the beaten whites. Vanilla Ice Cream.â€"Oue quart of cream. one pint of milk, two cups of sugar, whites of two eggs, one tea- spoonqu of vanilla. Mix the sugar with the cream and milk ; add flavoring and strain into freezer. Beat the whites to a stiff froth and add just before freezing. Coffee Ice Cream.â€"-0ne quart cream, one and a half cups. of sugar. one pint strong Coffeq. Whip cream. mix cof- fee and sugar thoroughly, add to cream and freeze. Peach Short Cakeâ€"One quart of flour, one teaspoonful salt, two heapâ€" ing teaspoohtuls of baking powder. two tablespoonfuls of: butter, one pint of milk. Sift the flour, salt and pow- der together, rule in the butter cold; add the milk and mix into a. smooth dough, just soft enough to handle; divide in half and roll out to the size of breakfast plates; lay on a. greased baking tin and bake in a hat ovenQJO minutes. separate the cake without cutting, as cutting makes them heavy. ‘ Have two dozen peaches peeled and; cut in slices; use half of them to cover the bottom halves of Shortcake; sprinkle ~plentifully with sugar and cream; lay on the top halves with the crust downward; use the rest of the‘ fruit over them. and sugar plentiful- ly. Cream Cakeâ€"One half cup of but- ter, one cup of sugar, one half cup of milk. one and one-half cups. of flour, with three quarters of a teaspoonful of baking powder. Stir butter and sugar to a'cream. beat the three whites to a sltiff froth and add them with the sifted flour and powder, with the milk, alternately, to the creamed butter and sugar. Bake in two equal good-sized jelly tins. For filling boil three quartâ€" ers of a cup of milk with apinch of salt. three tablespoonfuls of. sugar and one half ‘tables‘poonful of butâ€" ler, mix one tablespoonful of flour with one quarter cup of milk and stir into the boiling milk. Continue the healing for a few minutes longer, re- move from the tire. and add the juice Delicate Cake.â€"â€"Sift three quarters at a cuppr of flour; one quarter ofa teaspoonful of baking powder and a speck of salt together. Put into a bowl two tablespoonfuls butter and two tablespoonfulsof sugar. beat them to a- cream, then add. the grated rind of half a lemon. Baal: two eggs in separate bowls. add one egg and stir in half the flour. then the other egg and the rest of the flour; beat well. Pour the mixture into a. wellâ€" greased cake tin and bake in a hot oven 30 minutes. 0! half a lama and spread between the layers. I HOUSEHOLD HINTS. All the receptacles for flowers should be clan glass or white china. Some ladies have sets of Belleek, but it is rare and costly, and any clear glaaé will do as well. Cheese sandwiches aie always in or- der to serve with salad. Grate any cheese and. rub it to a paste with but- ter, spread the bread. sprinkle with saw and pepper and cut into strips. my little pipe clay dissolved in the water on washmg days will thorough- ly clean the dirtiest linen, and will help to save labor and soap, besides the clothes being made much whit- er. , A."‘favorite form of table decoration in Paris this summer is to place a tall vase or basket, ot fruit or flowers in the very centre of the table. A reâ€" cent pretty decoration had [what the school mistress sisters in "Vanity Fair" called a "beau-pot," or a nice plant of some kind, in the middle of the dinner table; but it has__been [:8- served for the last two or three de- cades .to heap the table with flowersâ€"â€" the costliew, the better likedâ€"and to make this decoration a prominent feature of the entertainment at a din- meu‘ or supper, and. to a less extent, of a lwuchreon party. y- .. -w..v..vv« ruph,‘ White veils may be nicely cleansed by 'soakiing for half an hour in a. solu- tion of ivory or castile soap, ‘EThen press between the hands until clean. Rinse in clear water. “Make a. cupful of very weak starch or gum arabic wa‘tvar, soak the veil in it a few mo- m-iints, then clap in the hands until nqarly dry. Spread a bowel over a pillow‘ and pin the lace in each point smoothly over it, letting it remain unâ€" til perfectly dry. vi” 0-» (V. -v- --_, Starch is a warm weather necessity, but it takes the u-nerring instinct of an artist to apply it properly, The sin: of omission and commission the avearge laundress perpetrates in its name might; be called one of life’s lit- tle sad-ironies, it pun-s were not so do- testable. If some gifted woman, or many for that matter, would give up trying"; to make a book, a. statue or a picture, and found -a school where the gentle art of tmarching; would be taught, she might attain fame and the eternal gratitude of her fellow mor- tals at a single bound. A department in which people could be instructed how to infuse the desirable amount of starch into their summer manners would. also be valuable. S‘mplicity is what is néeded in the cooliing of mushrooms or their flav- or is destroyed. Lomg cooking tough- ens them, therefore, have everything in readiness to serve before beginning with the mushrooms. To cream them, wash one pound of the mushrooms, re- move the stems, saving them for steak a la' Bordetlaise, peel caps and throw into watenr. Put into the chafing dish two tablespoomtuls of butter. As soon ,as malted add the mushrooms, cover and cook five minutes, add a teaspoon- ful of salt, and cook five minutes long- e-r, pour in two tablespoonfuls of thick cream and a teagipoonful of sherry or Maderia. Sprinkle with paprika and a little nutmeg, if desired, and serve at! once, with or without toast. OUR GOOD QUEEN. Not long ago Her Majesty Queen Victoria was traveling in France, and while out driving one day overtook a. peasant funeral procession, where the road was so narrow there was no room to pass. The mourners stopped and stood aside, but she asked them to pass on, while she ordered her own car- riage moved in line, and it moved slow- ly at the end of the sad little procesâ€" sion for quite a distance, the Queen sitting with bowed head the while till the roads diverged. Again, when she was driving through the city of Nice one lovely afternoon, she saw a. little child crying bitterly. She had her carriage stopped, and, leaning out; asked in the kindest tones the cause of distress, and at the same time pressed some bright, new coins into the little hand.” " Nothing now,” said the small man. closing his fingers tightly over the pre- cious money. And the Queen smiled well pleased when she saw smiles where the tears had been. GIFT FOR A’ BRIDE. At a. recent wedding the bridesmaids gave to the bride a chest of linen as a joint present. The chest was a handsome piece of furniture, made in quartered oak, finely polished and fit- ted with compartment trays. Its con- tents included four sheets and pillow cases of fine linen, hematitched and with the bride's initials in small letâ€" ters at one side just below the hem; a beautiful tablecloth and a. dozen dinner napkins, each piece having the bride’s initials, and a number of fancy doilies and tray cloths. The embroidery was the work of the donors, which en- hanced the value. Sprigs of lavender were laid awayin the folds of the linâ€" en, each piece of which was done up in tissue paper tied with white rib- bons, a spray of orange blossoms be- ing fastened to the bow of white rib- bon which tied together the cards of the donors. YOUTH THE TIME FOR LOVE AND MARRIAGE. No llononble Mun Will Inna a Glrl to II Indefinite Engagementâ€"Lon; Coun- shlps Generally Never Materulllc-Slu- pense is Wearing. Do you believe in long engagements! Well it may be “that patient wait- ers are no losers," but no woman can afford to fritter away the belt yeatl of her life in the dismal state of .un- certainty in which along engagement places her. The story of the girl who is faithful for fifteen or twenty years to the lover of her youth and who waits patiently for his father, and mother, and grand- mother, and bedridden aunt, and lame brother to grow old and die, reads well when the skillful novalist tackles it and writes it up in good style, and it has been hashed and rehashed, like cold roast chicken. until it has become a chestnut in literature. And we have all sighed over the woes of Angelina and Frederick, as their youth waned, and the old aunt still continued, and‘ the marriage had to be deferred,and Frederick grew baldhead- ed and rheumatic, and at fifty was able to bestow the remnant of himself on the faithful Angeline, who had got to wear- ing spectacles, and false teeth. and had turned corners. It sounds delightfully romantic, but to live through such an experience is enough to break down the nervous system of the strongest wo- man in existence and make her wish there had never been any such institu- tion as an “engagement” to anybody. WRONG TO BOTH PARTIES. A self-respecting man has no right to bind a woman to a long and indefin- ate engagement; and a girl is too soft- headed to be of much consequence in the world who will consent .to 68 so bound. It is wrong to both parties. Life is not long enough to be passed in such an uncertain way. Marriages contracted in middle life may be happy -â€"0ftentimes they are; but youth is the time for love and marriage. As a man or woman grows older, principles and. opinions, as well as habits, become more fixed, and it is much more difficult for either party to yield a point, and there has to be a good .deal of yielding by somebody if married life is to be harmonious. , An engaged girl is practically no- body. She cannot go here, or go there; she cannot do this, or that, as a girl who is free can do, because he might; not like it. Young men stand aloof from her because she is Dick's property and they respect Dick's rights. Her liberties are abridged, her en- joyments are curtailed and all she can do is to waitâ€"and hope. uv Lu uv . . w . . She is an odd number everywhere. unless Dick happens to be around to aLtend to her, but he is generally away somewhere, earning the money to get married on and flirting with some oth- er girl to keep his courage up. _. I... “An; w; 5.. .. w. “v- After two or three years go by peo- ple begin to say:. "Oh, he’ll never marry Angeline. He'll find somebody else he likes better. H . . . n__ Olav .uv Ltuvu My“. And they are generally right. Pro- bably he doesn't mean to unconstant, but it is an‘ awful strain 'on, a man to be engaged for a. term of years and be- , 7 ___.L:I,. luv Unnamevu -v- _. we-.. , have and pose as a model meanwhileâ€" especially if he meets many young wo- men who are quite ready to help him forget he is engaged. INSUFFERABLY MONOTONOUS. No, we don't believe in marrying until one’s mind is made up and one knows what one wants; but, when once you have made your decision, it is bet- ter to go right to business. Suspense in any of the affairs of life is wearing and insufferably monontonoue. The girl who waits eight or ten years for the man who is going to marry her some time must have many anxious moments, as she sees her youth and bloom slipping away from her and notes the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and the gray hair on he: temples. . ,,,,____:-.:I If...” tun-A ,-_,--_. Her friends are married long ago, and have homes and babies of their own; and no matter if they do have domestic squalls now and then, it var- ies the monontony and it is nice to make up and be friends again. 7 7AA_‘.‘_L manw ug up...“ uv --.v___ .70 Nine times out of ten an engagement that runs along for a term of years partner in the business generally never amounts to anything. The meals marries somebody else who has “sand” enough to brlng him to terms at once, and the waiting woman is left to vain regretg and hopeless old-maidism. 7 -__. _L A... um“- 1 05A OLo Inuu aura-v-.. No girl should ever constnt to wait an in'lefinite time for a man. Let both be free, and if they choose to wait, that is their business; but a wo- man should never doom herself to drag out years and years of her life 11am- pered by an engagement. A 7â€"-_ ...l.nâ€"n n vaI-Iu "J u... »_.C,v.°, \Ve know of one instance where e. courtship extended over a period of fifty-two years, and then, when the gentlemen was seventy-nine and the lady two years younger, they decided to give the whole V thing up because they were too old. Girl’s don’t marry in haste to repe at leisure, but don't bind yourself to wait for Tom, Jonas or Peter to get ready to marry youâ€"some time way off in the‘ indefinite future. ~Kato Thorn. LBNG EHGAGEMENTS. Mk5. Crimsmbeaxkâ€"I wanéier when will be the prevailing color of girls? waists this seam _ Mr. Crimsombeakâ€"Well, if 5?y keep on lacing as tight as usual I h'mk it would he a. safe gamble .to s y Chat they will be black and blue? A FASHION NOTE. I)!