t I

KISMET.

tr Ifi TRICE STUKBtS.

Half a minute before the Rlrerdale expreas was to pull out of the Grand Central station, a cab dashed up to the entrance, a tall, atheltlc young fellow leaped out. handed the driver a bill, grabbed his suit case and rushed to the ticket offlee. He had barely time to run do~ n the long station to his train, for as he swung himself up the steps the engine slowly pulled out with Its heavy loa^.' The four-twenty for Riverdale generally was crowded, and this particular day was no exception. As the young man passed through car after car not a vacant seat was to be seen. Finally he stopped by the only place left In the wgiolc train Next the window sat a remarkably pretty girl of about 20. Chic was written all over hdr. from the folded Persian scarf on her little traveling hat to the perforated Ups of her jaunty Oxfords. For the rest there was a brown skirt—short, of course^a white waist, with scarlet

belt and butterfly tie.

The young man hesitated a moment. She glanced up with a pair of brown eyes In which contended mischief and demureness. The young man gave a little start, but the girl straight-' way looked out of the window again, so said nothing and sat down. She appeared to find the landscape of cobblestoned streets and Harlem flats ex-

glanced at him. but finding his eyes —frank, blue eyes they were—fixed on her. she turned away with a little toss of her curly, brown bead, and he could see* the red blood mount In her tanned cheek. "Hang -It." he said to himself; “1 am sure that It is." Which remark, though not dear to an outsider, was full cf meaning to him. For this same brown-eyed face was fixed in his memory; he had seen those same brown curls under vastly different circumstances, and had thought of them more than is dectood consistent »whon a men Is engaged to some one else. Richard Madison was a yotong man of some wealth, nominally In charge of a fine old estate, but the lifelong friend and law- . ycr of his late father attended to the bnslness so well that the young man was only too glad to leave it entirely In these hands and enjoy himself traveling. The past 10 months he had spent abroad with several friends, and he had bnt that very morning stepped off the fleetest of modern ocean greyhounds. His first thought was to run up to Rose Hill and see Helene Cary, his fiancee. Qht did not know he <was coming, i for their correspondence of late hid not been very spirited. Helene had been at Newport, and yachting a good deal. She *-as a favorite socially, as she was rich, and . more amiable than clever. Their engagement had never been announced bnt ft had been an understood thing between their families fer several years. From a social standpoint It was an excellent match, but Madison had often found himself wishing that Helene tra*—well, ••different." He could not exactly define what he meant. "Since that Idiot Morris told her she looked like Games she has been colder than ever." he had said to himself savagely. He thought now of Helene's placid ayes and smooth hair. “Now. If it only curled, like— like— His eyes wandered again to the brown curls ^so. close to his shoulder, and he thought' of the time he had seen this same pretty head dripping wet and the small face very white, it was just six months gfo. With two chums he was steaming along- the Thames In a launch, between the beautiful green banks and picturesque homes of which the English are so justly proud. Suddenly they heard a shriek and a splash and turned to see . a white dress disappear Into the water. Madison sprang'out and swam toward her; missed her ^be first time, but when she next came up grabbed her. and In a moment's time was rolling her most unromantlcally on the grass, while the people of the house came rushing down with restoratives and thanksgivings jn the usual incoherent jumble. He remembered how fca broke away from them as sbon as she opened those brown eyes, and many times since he had groaned Inwardly at bis idiotic remark when she looked Into bis eyes and murmured some words of thanks. And now. after all these months, here he was sitting )n the same seat with her—on the way to see Helene. They were just entering the tunnel now. and the girl struggled to close fte window. Before she could make It work, however. In they dashed, and a whiff of the 111 smelling smoke swept in. Madison reaching over to the obstinate window, which, recognising the masculine touch, obediently closed. Somehow In the process his band met f hers. *m»*nk you ever so much. -, ~iald a small, sweet voice, when he had resumed his sent. He raised his bat. "Don't mention It." She ruined now and looked straight into Us ejrea. while an amused expres-

"Why did you run awayf she demanded. “Why—or—you know I had to go after my hat—It wax floating down the river, you know." The last part of his sentence wan lost In her burst of laughter. "How perfectly absurd!" she exclaimed. and laughed again. "But U that Isn’t Just like a man—to save a girl's life, and not stay for thanks and introductions because his precious hat Is gone! We tried and tried to find you. but we only had that place for the season and left In about a month afterwards."

"We?"

'The aunts 1 always travel around with. They hare been ready ever since to fall on your neck with gratitude and tears."

did not rest easily; "It didn't amount to anything." "Oh. of course not." she answered quickly, with exaggerated politeness; "but you needn't lay such stress on If* "But. I '■ he began. Then their eyes met end both laughed. "Your eyes are brighter than ever,** he said. "And you’ve shaved your mustache." "Why. 1 haven't worn a mustache for a year. That's another rescuer you are thinking about. Is it a habit of yours to fall Into the river when a young man happens to go by In a boat?" She flashed a scornful glance In his direction. "I never forget anybody or anything, though that Is more than some people might say. You wore n mustache In the fall 'ftf going up the Nile. It shows In the picture." •'So It was you who took that snapshot of me from the stern of the Silver Sal!?*' "1 --as photographing all the funny things I ss"-." Another smile danced In the brown eyes. "To think." said he. addressing the plush-backed rfeat in front of them, “that I have known you more than a year, end this is our third meeting— and I don't know yqur name yef*

“Do you. always say that?” aha

"fc You have o

Si it.ir.Mtw

» a few other phrases at say tf^tmly have a'chaace to

"Mine is Dolly." , "Then my other name-ought to belong to you. too. for It is Madison, and that combination would just suit you." They were out of the tunnel long

**«»•

"Open the window please, now." said Dolly. "It is getting a little close don't you think?” He obeyed silently. “Where l-e you going now. Dolly?" She looked out of the window, absorbed In the spectacle of a black dog chasing a yellow one across the field. “I am going to Riverdale—Mr. Madi-

son."

“Do you live there—Miss Dolly?” "Miss Seymour." she put In. "Not Dorothy Seymour—Harvey’s sister?" be cried. "Yes." she cried. "Why not?" "Why. he used to blow about you until we were all craxy to see you. and then you never did show up at commencement or anything and we decided you were a myth.” •'There!" she exclaimed. "That explains It." “What?" “Why. your face being so familiar. You are the one with the banjo sitting In the window-seat of Harvey's room at college. He has a picture at home of bis den. with half a dozen of the boys In If’ "Oh. 1 remember that picture. Well, isn't It all strange? Miss Seymour, do yon believe Is fate?" "What do you call fate?” “Well, sometimes 1 think that you are destined to do r. certain thing or meet a certain person, and fate acts as a sort of a conductor, you know." Here he stopped rather confusedly. He had just thought of Helene for the first time. "Possibly," said Mias Seymour. "Where do you think fate is taking yon now?” He gave hlmscU an inward shake. "1 am going to Rose Hill,” he said. "Oh. do you know people there?, t spent a few days last week at Rose Hill. I didn't know many people there, and they say that nothing happens there In an age; but we had at least

one exciting event during-my stay." “What was that?" “Why the beauty of the place—let jine see, Vwhat was her naA?— '&qpod. Her family was terribly shacked. My friend says they are very proud, and that the girl was tired of society. Cary—(hat was her name— Helene Cary. Why. do you know

her?"

T hare met her." replied Madison, whoee heart was thumping riotimtly. "Perhaps .that was An illustration of the fate you were talking about," she went on. "Love Is a curious thing.

Uni Mr

"Rose Hill!' called the from the end of the car. "Why, this U your station 1" claimed Miss Seymour, have to hurry." But Madison sat still, though he kept the little hand the bad held out

” ex-

will

mind. I will go on with you to Rivets

The Mikado erf Japan la a man of much energy aad endurance. Jn spits of the fact that he Is a great cigarette smoker. He Is foad of outdoor sports, aad has •warmly encouraged the Introduction of football late Japan. He ia a hater had ftshermaa of ao meaa H aad la a good shot with

VILLAGE INDUSTRIES.

REVIVAL OF WOMANLY CRAFTS A NOTABLE MOVEMENT.

ised ky iverUtt

l poll* _ Soaiat Ion

Sam* Now Boupohlro Kayo

Kentucky Moustolns.

The arte and crafts exhibit recently held In Minneapolis brought together from various parts of the country

specimens of handiwork which are of interest and value from a sociological and ethical standpoint, as well as from

the standpoint of the artist and

craftsman.

The establishment of village Industries In various parts of the country la a notable movement of the time. By means of these Industries, most -pf which have been established and carried on by women, the people of the ■mall villages are given profitable employment at home, and thus kept from enter!ug into the competition of the already overcrowded centres of trade. While the exhibition brought together many beautiful examples of craftsmanship from all over the country. Including leather and metal work, needlework and ceramics, the feature of btoadeat Interest was that of the textiles of various sorts which arc the product of the village Industries. Probably the greatest interest centred In the rugs sent by Mrs. Albee of Pequakee, N. H. These rugs are made by the village women under Mrs. Albee's direction and according to her designs. The patterns arc adaptations of Oriental rugs and the effect produced is remarkably good. The finished rugs Are soft and velvety in appearance and look much like Axminsteis. One would never suspect their manner of making except upon the closest Inspection. Rags of uniform quality are cut In narrow-strips and hooked through a heavy foundation uf burlap. Iwring the upper ald< with vegetable dyes of home manufacture. All are soft and rich In tone, giving a subdued color scheme which Is artistic and pleasing In effect. The rugs sell for very moderate prices considering their beauty and Inder structlblUty. an ' a thriving industry has been established among those vil-

lage women.

Another Industry carried on along as homely lines as the one Just described Is the coverlet making of the women among the mountains of Kentucky. The coverlets arrf of the same patterns as those "our grandmothers used to nlake." and the work la supervised and marketed hr the managers of Berea college. This college Is a missionary enterprise, established for Industrial and educational work among the mountain people of Kentucky. Home Industries, nursing and various trades are taught the yonnger generation. besides the .educational training. and among the older women the art of coverlet making has been revived and encouraged. Some of the women had made coverlets “off and on" since their early girlhood, "and still preserved their spinning wheels and looms. These were brought out, and put to regular use. and the “pine bloom" and the “roselear patterns were reproduced over and over again, not for family use only now. bnt for the general market, which welcomed them eagerly and fo«nd more buyers than could be supplied. Most of the coverlets were in blue and white, with a few In red, white and yellow, but all have thp familiar look of our treasured hclrihbms. and are a^ strictly bandmade as they. The white used is cotton. the colors are In wool. This Is ■pun and carded by hand and woven on band looms. In the various patterns. They sell for 18 a piece, while an "antique" Jn good condition brings from ISO to |7E. . An Industry of the same sort has also been established among the mountains of Tennessee, where a favorable pauern Lv the “Missouri trouble." The work here Is practically the same as In Kentucky. As has already (Men told In the Star, Mrs. Douglas Volk, wife of the wellknown artist, has Introduced and Is carrying on rug-making among the women of another New England town, but none of her work was shown In Minneapolis owing to. other exhibitions to which they had been sent. The work is similar to that cf Mrs. Albee, and Is carried on with the same object—that of helping the village women to help themselves. Along a still differed line of handiwork Is the Deerfield industry In Massachusetts. The work is carried on under the name of the Deerfield Blue and White society, and consists of embroidery upon linen, embodying the designs of early colonial time* Nearly ajl the work is done In shadcijjf blue upon white linen, hence the name of the society. Recently red gnd green * been added to the colors aged' —ler to produce some of the early deigns as originally carried out. The linen used to embroider upon Is handwoven and the threads used for embroidering are dyed with vegetable dyes of their own manufacture, madeaccording to early day roles, and are proof against fading. The patterns are not original, bnt are reproductions of early embroideries and of the defound upon old plates of the U period. Some of these bear rualnt titles of “the gourd," “the bride,- "Chinese rose. - "peacock reae." “the Turk." "Lacy's orchid" aad “tbs swan." Titer are s'l highly <»»»». ttaitallsed. and the woA of tl

hlblt showed a most encouraging de- PROBLEMS OF THE HIGH.

velopment of artistic handicrafts In this country.—Kansas City Star.

ANTOINETTE'S PREDICAMENT, Hew III. natural Men aad Fete Cos*

apt red Agaloat Her.

Me was one of Antoinette's beaux. a7d Antoinette said he was an awful bi>re. In which belief the family concurred. He used to come around Sunday nights and sit on a low chair In one corner of the room without saying a word and Just follow Antoinette with his eyes. He seemed to be content to bo'merely where he could see or hear her.for she often had had the bad grace to leave him alone In his meditation/ while she went out and made sport ol him to her big sister Nell. Antoinette grew tired of trying to interest him In anything, although she said she realised that he had momenta of intelligence. at which times he sputtered like an animated dictionary And quoted Huxley and Bacon and the stock reports Impartially. In these moods Antoinette said he resembled an Intellectual skyrocket, but the demise ofthesc moods was even more pitiful than the rocket's guttering end. and the strAln become so great someUmes that Antoinette fled precipitately before the ghastly climax arrived. One night he sat quite mute after some such peroration and twirled a big solitaire on his finger for 17 minutes by the dock. When .Antoinette felt herself getting wabbly'*watching him and was about to maxc her usual escape. he stiffened suddenly like a man in an electric chair and fixed his eye* upon her. with his hand outstretched "Dp you sec it?’ he gasped. "See whatr' said Antoinette, wondering if it was time to call the patrol. "This " he said, in the same way. as though he were choking with emotion or-« shad bone, and ptntlng to the ring. "Will you wear It to please me —oh. to please me?" he pleaded, as he ■aw refusal and distrust In her eyes. "Why should I wear It?" asked Antoinette. Indignantly. "Well—well—I thought maybe you'd like to wear something I'd give you.' he answered. In a tone that might have meant shoes, cravat or even the exaggerated muffler he wore around his

throat ,

reamed, n a fix!

SrpHSir:

Md. aad W Is clever ad *' ***** 0**% erf iadtridsal «rf the roehet j werk sere .kowp. aad tke wko^a

"Oh. that's nothing." he said, still speaking like an automaton. Then be made a quick rush for-the gir). seised her hand and thrust the ring upon her third finger.^ It was almost half an Inch too large, and he pulled It off and replaced It again on hls own hand, while Antoinette heaved a sigh of relief at what she hoped had terminated an embarrassing prcdlcamr-M. But she reckoned unwisely. Next day he returned with a handsome box and placed it hastily uni before she had time to a you do?" It was the ring, made aunaller. and he grabbed ber hand again without removing hls own gloves In hls impatience, rammed the gem on her finger, gasped. “We're engaged, aren't we?" and backed rapidly oat of the bouse, with hls gaze still fixed

on Antoinette.

Anllonette heard the street door close before she recovered her wits. Then she rushed frantically after him. but he*Vas gone. With a stamp of her foot she flung the ring from her. it rolled perilous!? near the open reg-

ister of the furnace. "Good gracious!"

darting after it "If I'm not In _ If I lose that hateful thing he’ll sue me for larceny as bailee, and If I wear it he'll marry me In spite of myself. Whatever shall I do?" And she sank In a heap and wept. hile her brother In t>e next room whistled tan tall singly: "Just because she made them goo-goo eyes."—Ch'

cago News.

IncoaveaiMt ChlnoM Ferris*. The Chinese village ferry illustrates the curious inconvenience of Chinese methods. The loaded cart to be brought across the river is very heavy, and may be drawn by several different animals. horses, mules, cows or donkeys, hitched by ropes to the axle. Access to the ferry is obtained by going.down a steep, narrow track to the water's edge, and then going on board over narrow crooked gangplanks. Theanlmals have to be unhitched, and each one gotten on board separately. Some will give a mighty bound and land somewhere on tbe boat, to tbk great danger of those already on bbard. Others refuse to budge, and It will take 12 men. pushing It with a pole behind, and six more pulling it with a rope in front, to get the poor beast on board. The ferry has no guards, and someUmes in crossing animals plunge over the edge and are carried away by tho current. At the oppotlte bank the tumultuous scene is repeated In reverse order.—The Church. Eclectic.

THE DIFFICULTIES WHICH BESET THE

AMERICAN MILLIONAIRE.

Kevpla* Op ■ Big HanarhoM—A Modarn

tbrapl

a Harden on Ilia Waal

I Big Hand

rhllaalbraple Merrm.nl Wbtcb Ha.

illbr Man the Beat.

A Chair of Great Age.

In Philadelphia there is a chair beside whose sge and history "Mayflower" chairs hide their diminished heads It came from on ancient cathedral In Wales, and is claimed to be

fully 800 years old.

The chair Is fire feet three Inches In height, and about two feet wide. Carving covers almost every InctKof the lace, polished by the wear of ages i the blackneas and brilliance sf ey. On the arched top. below a >11. Is the figure of a woman, and er this a panel bearing a full

the Virgin Mary. Above this are carved In quaint characters: A. B. XL D A. Ifit" thTy^Jsrirts Mly adjusted thaTno stem M weak

of Today—Taskee Million*)ra

There Is nothing—not even books and conaUtutlcns—that gives us a clearer and quicker Insight into the pollUcal and social conditions of a time or country than do the manners and habits of rich men. Throughout Europe some hundreds of years ago. when a man had accumulated great wealth be at once built himself a strong castle, with a most around It. In order to protect himself from the attacks of hls neighbors. Tbe develop-nx-nt of lawful government has no more striking illustration than that to bo found in the gradual change from this style of architecture to that which marks the palatial abodes of

wealth today.

It still occurs that a man's house Is tho surest Indication of the extent of hls wealth. From the earliest times men of great riches have had to exorcise considerable ingenuity In expending their Incomes. Few men are content to be secretly and unobstruslvely rich. The pleasure of possession breeds the desire for display, so The wealthy mon of today puts hls money Into tangible risible property, that people may see and envy. And buildings, open to the world In all their beauty and magnificence, form, probably, the best illustrations of the good of civilisation and the omnipotency of law and government. But. relieved from the bane power that formerly went with wealth, and with hi* greater freedom liberties, it can hardly be said that tbe rich man of today has reasons to be happier than he was In the Middle Ages. He owes vast duties to the public. The modcro philanthropic movement has laid “heavy burdens upon him. The ethical writers and tho clergy watch bis expenditures closely, and for hls errors ho Is censured publicly bud without mercy. American fortunes arc now greatest Jn the world, and the American millionaire is far more interesting than any other millionaire, tor* he faces so manv new problems. Our rich men may be divided Into many classes. The men who have by their own efforts mastered millions, and who go on working with unconquerable energy, are apt to be looked upon first as great men of business. Those who retire after a- life of hard work to do deeds of philanthropy form an-

other class.

The most Interesting from an ethical standpoint are those who find leisure and luxury In their wealth, if iji thq member of this latter body—wo know It ordinarily as society—who faces the unique problem of how. when and where to spend hls money. In Europe when a man comes of age and to an inheritance of wealth he finds settled for him the kind of house he shall live la. the number of "servants and carriages-he shall aeyp.and tbe extent to which be shall entertain. He inherits his duties. His caste is settled for him and he knows -exactly what Is expected of him. The American has few established preccdenu. He, must be bis own model. He may have one servant or 60. He may build mansions s'. Newport or on the Hudson or live quietly at a hotel. He Is at the task of modeling hls owa sphere. When the desire for display seizes him he builds houses. The direct personal expenses of the working American millionaire are often astonishingly small. His greatest expense Is the maintenance of hls great household. This he meets by handing a blank check book to the housekeeper. The wives of millionaires are usually free from the worries | of the great establishment, which arc shouldered by a capable and experienced woman who receives a big salary. She has charge of the house and the army of sorvanu and Is responsible for every detail In the management of the establishment. The expenses entailed In running the home of a modern millionaire are vast. In many private American mansions the kitchen, storage rooms and systems of service arc as complete and extensive as similar departments of a great hotel. Fortunes arc expended in fnrnlabings. and the annual cost of table Unen alone aggregates thousands or dollars. The feminine portion of a millionaire's family are almost “In society.” and, the exentertaining form a vast nt annually. Money Is spent

ily_

paid for everything. The modern Social trust is one of the most beneficial to mankind and to trade generally. The love of Inxnry

FACTS ABOUT ASPHALT.

of today outdo In point of pure enjoyment the great equipages of the time of the Roman Empire. Notwithstanding all that has been aald against him the American millionaire Is the best type to be fouhd-Jn the history of wealth. Almost always he sea of hard work, mportant. hli i niflcencc and public spirit Is sol thing new In tl

and libraries owe him much. The Katement that he docs only a duty might be answered by a refrrenre to bis prototypes abroad. Among them

-Whars U U ObtsIssA - IU Origin sad Cmamorclal I'm. » The dapute between two rival American corporations over tbe possession of La Fellcldad, an asphalt lake In Venezuela, baa caused especial Interest In what an asphalt lake Is like and bow asphalt Is mined and shipped to market. Asphalt, or asphaltum.* Is the solid form of bitumen. Bitumen Is a generic term which is applied to a variety of substances, ranging from natural gas. naphtha, petroleum and mineral tar to asphalt. The asphalts of different localities vary greatly In composition, shown by their chemical reactions. Nearly all are amorpborus and have tbe general appearance of pitch, melting at about the temperature of boiling water. Asphalt. it is thought by scientists, has resulted from the hardening of the naphtha and petroleum elemcntathrough oxygenation and evaporation. One of the most Interesting asphalt beds In the world is the pitch lake In the state of Bermudez, Venezuela. This valuable deposit was unknown to American capitalists until 1888. when an American engineer. Ambrose Howard Carner. received a title to the property from the Venezuelan government. This he sold to the New York and Bermudez company, which Is closely allied to the so-called asphalt trust, of which General F. V. Greene Is president. The several square miles which are Included In the. concession obtained has in the last 13 years been steadily Improved. Tbe company has cleared the Maturln river to navigation. so that deep sea craft from all quarters of the globe can run In from the Caribbean sea past tbe British possession of Trinidad Island and Inland to the docks of the company at

Guanoco.

The town of Guanoco is the river terminus of the Bermudez company's railroad. Here arc hundreds of native Venezuelans, working under the eye of an American superintendent. The raw asphalt Is brought from the lake, five miles distant on flat cars, and shoveled Into the holds of the vessels. At Guanoco this operation Is much simpler than at Trinidad, where lighters are necessary because of the long shelving beach of the harbor. The railroad follows an old Indian trail; which led from the river to the shores’ of the pitch lake. The surface of the lake is so hard that for some distance irom the shore It supports the welghf of a loaded train. As one looks over the surface of this great deposit he at first sees nothing of g striking or unusual nature. He views only a black plain, resembling anthracite coal or flint, upon which are groups of na lives working with picks and shovela. Closer examination, however, shows that portions of the surface are soft like tar. where the asphalt Is sticky aad bubbling. Asphalt Is distinguish■ole from anthracite not only by Its form, but because it Is soluble In bisulphide of carbon and benzole. These pitch pools resemble somewhat the hot springs of the Yellowstone region. They slowly cool, and become hardened after many years. As at Trinidad. they vary in depth. Some ol them have never been fully sounded, and are thought by the natives to extend into the bowels of the earth. Asphalt is used largely In the man ufacture of cements. It Is mixed with a petroleum residue to render it plastic, and Is then tempered with oneseventh Its weight of sand. It also forms one of the most durable waterproof materials known. For roofing purposes It Is mixed, while hot. with fine gravel, or Is absorbed by thick rolls of felt paper. Asphalt Is found In many countries, in Vera Cruz. Mexico, near the village of Moloasan. Is a mountain largely composed of asphalt. The deposits at Seyssel. France, and at Val de Travers. Switzerland, consist of limestone Impregnated <rith bituminous blatter, which, when heated, crumbles to a powder. After It has been pound* ed Into molds and is cooled It resembles the original rock. Over 1000 miles of the streets of Paris hare been supplied from these t~o localities.

Stayed Mom* for Thirty Taara. Erastus Hall is 65 rears of age. and lives In rn old-fashioned dwelling 15 miles west of here, on the Danville .and Springfield turnpike. In Washington connty, Kr.. and. remarkable as the statement may seem, he has not crossed the threshold dfr hls own residence* for 85 years, notwithstanding he had, always enjoyed tho best of health. He war born of wealthy parentage and received n substantial academic education. Hls father war- the owner of a great maq,v slaves before the war. the moit notable of whom was "Unde Henry." who still lives at the old hcrftstcad with the seclnd- _ ed son of hls former master. Erastus ' Hall was a sober, industrious young man. and taught two or three term# In the public schools, of Washington

county.

During the closing days of the civil war hls father and mother both died, end considerable property was left as bis share of the estate. Among other property Inherited by him was the old homestead of hls mother.—Cincinnati Enquirer.

A Washington traction company reports that ita system of »Rowing the conductors to retain from their dally receipts the amount of their dally salaries, as well as that of their motor-

and the company Wilke. : so ik*l the^compMy ia-tkB^tehered