The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 5, 1894 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, December 5, 1894
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. .,. t '*•• ''.fa 1 - } --n<fj^^;?w,< ^ tfPPEfi DES M01NES! AMONAIIOWA WEDNESDAY if, .f-Jf A « -•*»'' • ,"*" ' - y~ .•;*=»•"l'* ' • ''''. '• - Ml , ^ ^ ..^.jfa.J'AyS ...MaM...*^*^....' . lfdatl *6 flu,and t. -ath«f blfbyblt. a«d dty |%nd WftW isich thoif hand* fof it, i Wild ttlfid htf eS, the tide fun5 high, 1*9 ft*a dbfrtr ihe beach tf e fill— I llitle sandpiper and t oirf Mad? the sullen clond* ild black And SWltt her osi the sky. 5 81M*t hosts tn misty shroud* dout ths white H.-hthouses ht$a. t is far M eve catt roach the close-reefed vessels fljr ( i fffcsi we flit tvlott? the beach— 1 "ae lltlb sandpiper and I. IhWitrhhtm as ho slttnw alon*. " tJtterin « its sweat and mournful or#; W starts tint at my fitful son«r, tl.ish of fltitterlmf drapery. > htls ho Ihoit 'ht of any won*, i'fic «o;itn me with a fearttm eye, Staunch friend* ftra wo, Well tried and Strong, **Pho llttlo sandpipor and t 6Snhu1e. where wilt thou be to-nl*ht— the loo-sod storm break? furiously} Iv uVlH-wrodl tiro will burn so brtuhtl what warm shelter curtst thoii.fly? frtlo not fear for thse. though wroth ; Tho lemon -t rushes thfpugn tho sky: t>'bf ttro we not Oil's children both, !,,!ruou, little sandpiper, and 1? — Cella Thaxtef Jtatly Latimer's Escape, M. 'CHAPTER III—CONTINUED. ' '•'You might be tempted some day," i'eho said. "You are beautiful enough, And you have a charm all your own. iilemember my words: rather die a ^hundred deaths than make a misor- ;-able marriage. Now come and lot us 'ft. See tho house." We went over that vast mansion lifcbgether, and the more I saw of Lady tLatitner, the more I loved her. When Irw.e had gono together some time, I .ifprgot that she was anything but a 4Jirl like myself. ' s We Levels had always been famous ^for two things; ono was a lighthearted love of laughter, tho other -was tho keenness with which we saw 'the humorous side of everything. We "inay have besn deficient. in some finer /•qualities, but we certainly made up Jor it in these. We saw subjects for iun and laughter where other people .•were solemn as judges. It was this particular quality which made tho "•vicarage the very home of merri- iinent, and which made us popular •wherever we went. When Lady Latimor and I had been ..together a few hours, she laughed heartily and naturally as I did. We •went over the whole house, and its extent, its magnificence, completely astonished me. It was like unravel• ing a fairy tale; but I saw that this alone would not make any one happy. I remember that in the library there was a very beautiful picture; it was of ;» young man, quite young, not more than twenty years of age, wearing the ^picturesque uniform of the Life Guards. A face that attracted and charmed .ine, for it had the dark, chivalrous teauty Of the knights of old—dark, luminous eyes full of fire and courage, dark, level brows that nearly met, a proud, firm mouth, half covered with •a dark mustache, such a face as one sees in tho pictures of Spanish knights and princes, yet with a gleam of human tenderness in the eyes that arrested you, and made you stand still , "Who is that, Lady LatimerP" I iisked. "Is it the portrait of a person living, or—" But I could not utter the word "dead" in conjunction with that beautiful, noble face. "Living," she replied. "Now, Au- •drey, who is that? Try to guess." I could not for I knew nothing of •the Latimers, except that they •existed, and I told hor so. She was looking at the picture with smiling •eyes. ."That is Lionel Fleming," she said, •«heir at law and next of kin to Lord Latimer," I knew as little of the laws of entail .as I did of Greek. I looked up at her quite puzzled. '••He is not Lord Latimer's son," I -said. She laughed. "No; he is but very distantly related •to him," she answered; but, for all rthat, when the present Lord Latimer -dies, Lionel Fleming will succeed him, .and become Baron Latimer, of Lor-ton's Cray." "Do you know him well P" I asked. ?'No, I have only seen him once or -twice, He is quartered at Windsor. 3Je will be here in September for the •shooting. You seem to admire his lace, Audrey." "I do," was my almost breathless •reply. "I have seen nothing so beautiful in my Iffe," "He is the most popular man in ' she said, "and certainly one the best matches in England, You form no idea bow he is courted and flattered." "And spoiled?" I interrupted, "No; not spoiled, 1 ' she answered. ««HeJs as noble in character as he is teautiful in face," "A wonder among men," I com'' jnented. "He is a wonder," she answered, dreamilV) "as men" go." '" Wherever I went during the re- jnainder of that day I saw that face, the name sounded ever in my ears'}- "Lionel Fleming." I wondered I should ever see the orig* He was oomipg in Sep.- tmber, and doubtless we should be r jn,vi$ect to Lorton's ,Qray. Then I took to task for wastipg time i» g of a piotujre, a,nd Pinner that evening 1 wa.s $, stately, tee.remQnious' Affair, unutterably sol^, and, dull. Th,e QftrJ preside^ in, state, E.Yerytfein£ w§,? oi the §,nd best, but dull and L&dy kajkinier's. eyes ttt6Se dinners wet8 like wheft sfce was quite albfte with the old lord. She was quit€ a different Lady Latimer' then. It seemed as though all the brightness and the spafkle died but of her. She looked feored by everything. She eat little and drank less. She looked unutterably wearied. Very tew words 'Were spoken, and it was a great relief whefa we withdrew. t We went to the d fa wing-room, where the lamps were lighted, but not turned on full. •Come, Audrey, to the terraco," she said, "ahd let us see the May moon shining over the trees and the fountains." As we stood watching It she suddenly caught my hand, and with a passionate gesture I shall never forget, she cried: "Oh, Audrey, Audrey! is life, worth living after all?" I was very, much puzzled by Lady Latimer. It seemed to me that having so much money, living in BUch a magnificent house, the fact of being surrounded by every possible luxury under the sun, ought to have made her at least content. If she had passed through those magnificent rooms with a smile or a snatch of song on her lips, or the light of a glad content in her eyes, I could haye Understood. She seemed to have two moods. When she was with tho old lord, silence, weariness, with a certain fine scorn of all and everything; when she was with mo, of simple, almost child-like merriment. When it was possible for her to escape the stately, gloomy presence of her husband, sho did so, and then it was to hurry to me and beg that I would go out with her; and when wo were in the woods together sho forgot that sho was Lady Latimor, and ran after butterflies, gathered wild flowers like any simple country girl. Wo spent hours in those bonny Lorton woods. They were like fairy-land. The boughs of the trees mot overhead, so that the sunlight which fell on tho green grass below became filtered, as it were, throdgh the leaves; a beautiful brook ran through tho wood, singing, rippling, clear as crystal, so that ono could see the pebbles plainly in its bed; blue forget-me-nots grew on its banks, and the green grass was wot with tho shining water. The trees in Lorton woods were strong and tall, with great spreading boughs, and the birds had built nests in them. Surely no other wood or forest ever hold so many birds, and surely no other birds ever sung so sweetly as these. Every kind of fern and of wild flower grew there; great sheaves of bluebells, of wild strawberry blossoms, and of the lovely, delicate meadow-sweet. It was a wood full of hidden beauties; we were always finding fresh nooks and corners, each one more beautiful than the other. Lady Latimer loved it. We sat for hours together by the side of the brook, talking on every possible subject except one. We never spoke of herself. I had to go over and over again all the details and routine of our home life. Lady Latimer loved to hear of my father's study and his sermons, and how ho visited tho sick, and how nervous he was if a baby cried while he was baptizing it; ho who cheered the old people, and how kind he was to the young men and maidens of his parish; how he loved the boys, and secretly enjoyed the fun of them. She liked to hear about my mother. "I should think, Audrey,'' she said to me one day, "from your description, that your mother must be that wonder of wonders—a perfect woman. She is a saint in church, a help in the study, a manager in the kitchen, a mother in the nursery and a lady in the drawing-room." "Sho is all that," I answered laughing, although my eyes were full of tears; that was my mother's portrait to perfection. Lady Latimer likad best of all, to hear about the boys; their adventures, their escapades, their desperate encounters, their daily deadly peril of life and limb, amused her more than anything else, She would talk to me of myself, and what would be my probable fate. I could seo nothing before me but a few more quiet years at home, then probably a marriage with a high church curate; but Lady Latimer would laugh and assure me there was something more than that in store for me, "We shall see what those dark eyes and that dark hair of yours will do for you, Audrey," she would say, For my own part, I could not imagine why nature made, the oldest of nine children and the daughter of a country vicar, beautiful. During all of those long hours, when life at that vicarage was dissected and laid bare, no word was ever spoken of herself or of Lord Latimer. The longer I remained with them, the greater grew my wonder that she had married him, He was so old, so dull, so gloomy; she so young, so fair, so gay, But no allusion to her marriage ever crossed her lips or mine. I enjoyed my visit, I loved Lady Latimer; everything and every one was pleasant and agreeable to me, and when the time of my visit ended, I returned to the vicarage, J should like to de» scribe that first night of mine at home —how the boys surrounded me, and would insist upon every detail, the most absprbing of which were what I had to eat and to drink. Their eyes opened widely at the history of one of the dinners at Porton's Cray. Charley, who was always 9uspected of being a gourmand, cried ecstatically, *'I wish I had been there!" The result of our conversation was an anxipus inquiry as to whether Lady Latimer meant to invite them, and when I told tfrem that sh.e Jj&d, even fixed on ft day, their delight knew O.Q bounds. J Wfts np,| much, turprjsed a. fejy ftaye to tad L.pt'4 tttJpyJis roy •, ap4 }\e fead gpnjft :,^jkmymm JiTOtbMlitek Avi4>4«AtTv 'T^ST self idttely, and when slid wa9 she was not well.- Thefe • was a • grate consultation between my patents. My mother said how useful I was to her, and how much she should miss my help among the children and in the house. My father said that he had never anticipated any of his daughters leaving home, but the stipend offered, a hundred and fifty pounds per annum, was a large one, and would be a great help with the number of children and the small income. My dear mother argued that I should be able to spare at least ono hundred for the use of those at home. At last it was decided. My father held out the longest; his pride was touched at the thought that one of his daughters should have to leave home. But even that yielded before the thought of tho comfort that that additional hundred per annum would give him; There was dismay and dread among the boys; there was, ill fact, a revolution. Why should Audrey; their own sister and special friend, go away from them to live with Lady Latimer? It was hot fair, and they decided in their own especial parlance "not to stand it." Their sister belonged to them, and not to Lady Latimer. They wished now that she had never come to Lorton's Cray. They wanted Audrey for themselves. The dear, gentle mother listened in patience. Then sho explained to them the groat advantages that must be derived from another hundred per annum, and what a nice thing it would be for me to bo always well dressed, and mooting people who moved in high society. "Wo are high society, mother," said Bob, reproachfully. "There is no ono better than you and my father." My mother kissed him in hor quiot, gentle fashion. "It will be best, my dear," sho said. And then tho boys knew that their plan of action had failed. There was only ono comfort for them: living at Lor ton's Cray, forming ono of that most august household, I should be able to obtain some indulgences for them, such as an occasional ride or drive; and afterward both Lord and Lady Latimor proved very kind in this respect. They wore kind altogether; great hampers of game and fruit wont from the hall to the vicarage; groat parcels of toys came for the boys, but the privilege of riding was the one they valued most. So it camo about that I was installed at Lorton's Cray as a companion to its mistress, with a salary of one hundred and fifty per annum, and a nice room of my own. I thought myself the most fortunate of girls. And now I come to the heart of my story. I had left tho simple, happy home of my youth. I was in a new world and a now sphere of life. I, must add this one z-emark while speaking of myself: I was just eighteen, but like many eldest daughters of large families, I was much older than my years. I had, it seemed to me, passed through the experience of a lifetime, and I believe most eldest daughters have the same feeling. From the moment I entered the house until the strange events happened which close my story, Lady Latimer clung to mo with wonderful love. She seemed to rely on me, to trust me. She nover liked to have me out of her sight. No sister ever cared for another as she did for me. I remember one bright June morning she was standing on the lawn feeding some tamo doves. The sunlight lay on her golden hair,her white dress, and the cluster of roses at her throat; a picture fair as tho day itself. There was a dreamy sadness in her exquisite face. She .left the pretty birds, and stood looking over the square of fountains. Tho beautiful silvery spray rose high in the air. I went up to hor. Her eyes wore, a dreamy, far-off look that I have never seen in any other face. [TO BE CONTINUED.] MalfaftnottforeofeetofesefWfif JMM fcews f Hfe LADlfeS. Bomfettilftff About the Articles ot fonfhC Fashion—the frettfest Styles In JJn- fteffe—Uottioholct Mints—Sotes of the Mod 68. HIS B ASQtTE, with rounded lower outlilie,is a favorite style for tailor- made suits. A linen shirt frontj collar and necktie can be worn with this basque iti true masculine fashion. Large fancy buttons decorate the fronts itt latest mode, the closing being effected on the loft side in double breasted style. Havana brown cloth made the stylish and perfectly fitting basque to match the skirt. The edges of rovers,,sleeves and collar are finished with machine stitching in tailor style. Tho sleoves are fashionably full according to the prevailing mode. Basques in this stylo are made from any of tho new flecked and mixed woolens,' choviots, twccd, camel's hair, homespun or other, fashionable fabrics. No trimming is required; but braid, gimp, gallon, bands or folds of satin or velvet can bo used to relieve the plainness if so desired.—N. Y. Ledger. lightljf. Bakg ift pudding dish in a moderate oten thirty* si* minutes. Serve at Chips. Cut very thiti slices from a loal of bread, spread them on a baking pan and color them a golden brown in a very moderate oven. If they are not immediately used and grow soft, they may again be crisped by heating them. About half an hour is required to dry them properly, and at the end of that length of time their moisture is evaporated and they consist of pure wheat farnia and are exceedingly nutritious and digestible even for invalids. Baked Ulscult And Cheese. Soak five large broken biscuits in one cup of milk a few minutes, then add one cup of grated cheese, one tablespoonful of melted butter; salt and pepper to taste. Mix well, put ifa buttered bake dish and bake slowly half an hour, The Newest litngerlo. Dressy paiitelettes are being shown by importers of lingerie, made of longitudinal stripes of fine linen cambric ami insertion, and drawn together at AK.fflMAR WHO MA§ SEffLt& tySWN " ' * «'f s tffe Telli &{0*i«t While With Clitifnttfef tnfltad la frond Okllihomft. tern to fees Oklahoma Is tfft!ifi8l| boraii, ft l&wyfttfS fobd Greek*- 1 "Hi friends Call An Unreasonable Man. Perplexity is in great distress of mind. Her husband refuses to provide for her and her child, and threatens to sell everything they have find turn her and her little daughter out of doors. She asks what can be done and bow can sho secure some decent provision for herself and her family. Answer: You do not give tho state iu which you live and, therefore, tho answer must bo somewhat incomplete." In any case, you will probably bo forced to tulce some legal measures to obtain tho justice that your husband denies you. In taking upon himself tho relations of husband and father, a man voluntarily assumes responsibilities that tho laws of his country will not allow him to shirk. Your first mistake was ia allowing him to use your money without giving you something' to show for it. Having used it for your mutual benefit, you« may not be able to recover anything. But if he has property he prust support you and his child in tho style that befits his means.—New York Ledger. Ladles' Basque. Black Henrietta and moire are here stylishly trimmed with jet braid. This basque is specially adapted to ladies of full figure, as the added under arm gore gives seeming length to the waist, while the smooth adjustment and shapely outline renders it most appropriate and comely. Stylish pointed rovers, tapering to the lower edge of the basque front, and made from black moire, decorated on their free edges with jet braid. These add to the tapering appearance of the front, the closing being effected in the center with jet buttons and buttonholes. If preferred, the revers can bo omitted, lengthwise trimming of braid or passementerie taking their place. Although designed for stout ladies, the basque is quite as desirable for women of slender proportions, and can !>c made up in any of the fashionable probably „ _—___ he never was tto'MUa bench. He '>Uttf typical, son s « Emerald isle, and kissed the stone many, many years ago. +*«>»* is long and bushy and curls around;! head ia long, wavy cUrls. 'f*' 1 ""' Doran drifted west when he ,._^ young man* He was with CusterthrWf, years, having-joined that latrietftSa'f Indian fighter after the Salt '. eacre of 1852. Like all mim on the border in those days, Doran. CftltF*| "* _—.^ / " ', >« !^t VERY DKltSSr. the knco, whore they are tied with ribbons. Their Vandyked edges are trimmed with wide lace.—New York Morning Journal. re- fit Lamp Shades. An English electrical firm is introducing some striking novelties in electric lamp shades. These shades are made of a specially selected description of natural feathers, dyed in choice tints, and arranged in artistic shapes and. combinations of color. Among other beautiful designs of shades for floor and table lamps are the representations of various kinds of flowers, made separately and grouped together on skeleton frames, >• The , result is an entire departure from the hackneyed style of silk and lace shades now in vogue, The general construction of the shades is protected by a patent, and every design is registered. It is a noteworthy fact that the designer of nearly all tho patterns is a young woman, who derives an excellent inqome from her work. _ Out ot J'rt*otioe. A colored woman presented herself as a candidate for confirmation in the diocese of Florida, and was required to say the creed, the Lord's prayer and the commandments, She got through with the first two very well, as somebody had evidently been coaching her, but when she came to the last she bungled and hesitated, and then remarked in a confidential tone to the clergyman; "De fac' is, Mr. Turpin, I hasn't been praoticiu' de Ten comman'ments lately, "—Life. «otU >Vaya« Truckman— Kpss, I'll have to charge you $2 fqr fcaulin.' these asbes away, It's more'n jvvo miles to, tye dujnp, and, the 'thorities won't let u,s empty this side of it« They watQh close. T^uctem$n, Plj kaye. |« LADIES' fabrics, silk, wool, mixed textures pi- cotton. Any preferred style of decoration may bo adopted, — New York Ledger, _ Destroying lloucjies. (J. W, S. wants to know how to clear a house of roaches. Answer; It is a very hard task to clear a house of these pests. One of the best ways is to be careful to leave no food exposed, gather up every crumb, and in some convenient place put a few crumbs of bread or cake. When the insects have/ gathered about it sprinkle pure Persian powder over them or blow it from a bellows, and they will soon smother find become confused and stupid. They may then be swept up on a dust pan and burned. Blowing Persian powder vhrow the cracks of tho walls will sometimes bring them out in great numbers, when they will become almost lifeless and may be destroyed, Do not thi'vow them in the garbage box pr coal scuttle, as they will recover within & few hours. n's Fancies. Blouses arc made \ip in a variety of styles, so as to suit all tastes and figues. Rough goods and fairly smooth ones are used for outdoor wear. Big checks; showy 'plaids, and startling effects in tartans are shown. Corsages of some of the new costumes are cut in jacket shape, and are tight fitting. Marabou feather boas and capes ;in light evening colors are in white, are attractive and becoming accessories to handsome toilets. Silk blouses, surahs taffeta, moire, shot fabrics, plain, figured, striped, made iiswilly iipon linings, will be worn iintil very late in tho fall. Long upper shoulder seams, to give a drooping effect, high crush or stock collars; jot corsage trimmings; Vandyke points downward from collar,and upward from belt are all shown. Jackets continue to show themselves; some with big velvet revers, others with loose fronts, and still others with loose backs. The basque waist may bo developed in shaded or figured silk to form part of the dressy toilet, or may be made up in'any inexpensive variety of woolen goods for every day. Yoke effects that have either square or pointed outlines are very popular, jackqt fronts complete short or long basques, and fullness in basques or sleeves imparts a quaint charm to every figure, A very elegant costume for an elderly lady is of heliotrope velvet. It has a full skirt with train, fitted bodice and enormously . leg-o' - mutton sleeves. »Moire ribbon forms a collar and ib set from the shoulder seam to the waist line down, either side of the front, The bodice is filled in between these ribbons with very rich iridescent pafesementerie, On the outer edge of the moire are set lace rulfles that fall over the tops of the sleeves and become narrower until they run into the point of the bodice at the waist line. The front of the skirt is elaborately draped with lape and finished at the sides'with loops and ends of mojre ribbon. A miss' draas is of cashmere in graduated box plaits. The edges of the plaits are joined about half way down the skirt by velvet ribbon, which ends in rosettes with long loops, The waist, which is plain and closefitting, is trimmed from the shoulder seams down the front in deep yoke shape , with velvet and rosettes, Full-top sleeves have double capes in epaulet style. There is a folded collar and belt of velvet, with Jong ends of velvet and satin ribbon. An exquisite hat is of coarse straw, the brim faced with maroon chiffon, and around the outer edge of the brim are puffs o^iiffon in maroon, brpvvn and dark ^s«n. Ostrich -tips in the same colors ipe clustered at the erqwn, and a. bunph of a^'ets, in gray and white, stand up frprn the baejs pf the h#t, This design combines ,the aoloja, an.4 }w wany useful DANIKIj DOHAN. tell stirring tales of adventure so disposed, which is not very One of these relates to "Wild who is described by Doran as & markable shot. Bill was in Junction J City, Kan., one day, drunk, and ligfly;* „ John A. Anderson, a Presbyterian;^ preacher, was holding services in; church, when Bill rode into ' the .< sacred edifice. The preacher <• pr-;},, ( dered him to leave and for'-'reA^J ply Bill drew a revolver and ordered 1 ^ Mr, Anderson to dance. The preaoherfl^J vainly remonstrated. It was dance die, and he danced. A Mexican who could throw a lasso with wonderf!^ ful precision was brought from : near by. * "Bill was still seated on his laxighing in a drunken glee at preacher, who was dancing for deat 'j* life," says Doran in telling the > story.*;,/; "The Mexican crept up to tho door, He/.,( paiised, twirled tho lasso above his' 1 ', head, there was a swish through" the ^ air and tho loop fell over Bill's, head;* it dropped below his shoulders and • ~ *" ' Mexican gave it a quick jerk..-" rope drew tight about Bill's bpdy; j, pinned his arms to his side. A, pull unseated Bill and we hauled 1 out of the church. You can imagine^ that tho preacher felt relieved. Sei'v?'', lees were immediately dismissed!'['\tt ( was a narrow escape for Rev. Ander^' son, for Bill surely would have kjlletT' him had he not complied with '. mands. We took Bill to the train . , kept him until he sobered up. Thett''>*jf he went to Rev. gized." •Anderson and applo~ v l AMEER OF AFGHANISTAN. The Mean Ruler Whose Death May Much to Enropn.. About three months ago a,which the ameer of Afghanistan i ,-,^ r .^ to make to Queen Victoria early in th'e^ spring was arranged by Sir Mortime 1 ''''' Durand. This would no doubt Have, i political significance, and would to make it still more difficult for friii'to pty'sh' forward her bounda4fs', j his direction. So long as A remains independent, it ,is practica|l;£p impossible for England and Russia J ' i -""^ make any additions in that yegic The ameer's death ^youlc^tend • aboiit complications/tfrajhijigh in war between" "^th'e *^-fwo" Afghanistan, too, would be suffer, for Abdurraham Khan jno&t liberal in his policy earnest in his reforms for the He has opened large factories v jn,-i bul,' where the people are taugh|i, A J ropean trades,;,»nd it is due to hi's j' sonal influeX° e that the hate -*•'' p|

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