In the little hamlet of Central Val-
.ley, among the rolling hills'of Orange
~ounty, N. Y., lives Gem Thomas Es-
,trada Palms, patriot, scholar and dip-
Ilomat, and who it is not improbable
;will be the first president of Cuba. He
~s a man of unusual intellectual at-
tainments and looms up conspicuously
,among the great men whom Cuba has
produced.
Gen. Palma was born in Bayamo,
Cuba, and was educated at the Uni-
versity of Seville, In Spain. On the
outbreak of the war of 1868 he re-
turned to Cuba to take part 'in it and
was elected president of the republic
'Which the patriots proclaimed. Unfor-
~tunately he was captured and was con-
fined at first in gloomy Morro Castle,
but later was taken to Spain and in-
carcerated in a-castle in Catalonia,
near Barcelona. When peace was pro-
claimed Gem Palms was released, but
as he refused to take an oath not to
bear arms against Spain he wes denied
the privilege of returning to Cuba. His
property was also confiscated and he
was reduced to penury. Later Gen.
Palma came to the United States and
opened an institute for boys in Central
Valley, where he continued teaching
until the last rebellion, when he be-
came the head of thq~ Cuban Junta and
removed to New York. As the head
of the Junta it was his duty to raise
the sinews of war. Vast sums of
money passed through his hands and
though there was no one to whom he
should render an account not one cent
clung to his hands. He is as poor now
as before the war, and perhaps poorer.
With his business acumen and lin-
guistic ability--Gen. Palma speaks five
languages--he could easily have ac-
cumulated wealth, but he has sacrificed
everything to his dear pearl of the
Antilles.
Recently Gen. Gomez visited him at
Central Valley, when the future of
Cuba was discussed. Gen. Palma mod-
estly prefers that Gomez be selected as
the first president of free Cuba, and
with equal modesty the grizzled Gome~.
insists that Palma be selected. The
feeling in Cuba in favor of Palma is
strong.
Gen. Palms at one time lived in Hon-
duras and was postmaster general of
the republic. He married a daughter
of President Guardiola, and now with
charming wife and six children he is
living happily at Central Valley, the
dream of his life---Cuba freed--having
been fulfilled.
GEN, PALMA.
EASY TO HUMBUG THEM.
New York Is the Country's Great Center
for All Kinds of Fakir~
New York, says a writer, furnishes
the easiest kind of picking for the
grafters who profess to manipulate the
supernatural and the preternatural as
a house paintsr kneads putty. The
town is perennially packed and
Jammed with them, and not only do
.they all make good livings, but many
of them become lollingly rich within a
few years. The establishments main-
tained by numerous of these cheerful
Workers are almost unbelievably splen-
did-Fifth avenue itself is not free
from them. Simple or involved, trans-
Parent or mysterious, their trickery
catches on and.brings in the money.
They have devised Innumerable varia-
tions of the old-time schemes to be-
fool the superstitiously inclined out
of their change, but the wise New-
Yorkers "go to" their humbugging
~raetlces, money in hand, as the Vicar
of Wakefleld's boy Moses went to the
purveyors of the green spectacles.
In a burst of emotional confidence
the champion of them all, the unbeat-
able Madame Blavatsky, once re-
marked to the writer, that the deni-
zens of New" York were world-beaters
when it came to gullibility, and the
ever-delightful Blavatsky was right.
The puffy, grimy hag, with unclean
finger nails, who yesterday professed
to tell you whether your future hus-
band or wife was going to be of light
or dark complexion, and who delivered
these pronunciamentos at a dollar a
throw, in a room reeking with the evil
aroma of cabbage, or onions, is to-
morrow the sumptuous fat person de-
livering the same inscrutabillties at
the rate of $20 for a 10-minute seance
in a West Side mansion, the hall of
which is sprayed by rose water from a
fountain.
No matter where or how these un-
scrubbed delvers in the "occult" hdld
forth, the New-Yorkers seek .them out
and hand them money. Only a few
weeks ago a fellow a~lvertised, with an
amount of gall that would have en-
abled him to take cities in other ages,
that he had the power of transmuting
the baser metals into gold, His ads.
appeared in all of the yellow Journals.
They set forth that he could switch
any old thing in the .metal line into
gold that would be 'accepted at the
mint. Now, di~cult as it is to believe,
this man of the monolithic nerve
promptly had more business than lee
could begin to take care of. He
charged his customers very high fees,
and told them that the process re-
quired several weeks in its operation.
lie got their money in advance, and
then when he had accompllslled a goc~d
~flean|nE-up, he dissOlved into the mad-
ding crowd, after having tacked on his
office door a most sardonic sign in
ridicule of his dupes.
It might naturally be supposed that
if the shrewd New-Yorkers who hand-
ed their money to him in lumps had
the sense they were born with, they
would have wondered why this mar-
velous metal-transmuting fellow didn't
buy up the first Junk pile he ran
acrom~ and turn the metals of that into
the Yellow pay-dirt for his own benefit.
How Fast Caa We Travel7
The announcement that a company
has been formed in Germany to build
a system of electric railways on which
it is expected that passenger trains will
be run at a speed of from 120 to 150
miles an hour suggests the marvelous
possibilities of the immediate future in
the way of rapid transit. Even at the
rate of transit to be achieved under
the German system a remarkable
transformation will be effected in the
methods and customs of civilized life.
With trains moving at the rate of 150
miles an hour, all the region about
New York within a radius extending
to Albany would be brought within
range of suburban residence. Boston
would be brought within less than an
hour and a half of New York, Wash-
ington with a little more than that
time, Buffalo less than three hours,
Chicago six hours, and San Francisco
less than a day. What such marvelous
achievements in passenger transporta-
tion mean for the industrial and com-
mercial interests of the country can be
faintly imagined. When it becomes
possible, for example, for a New York
man to make the round trip to Chicago
within twenty-four hours, and have a
considerable period of time for busi-
ness Included, it may be readily conjec-
tured that the commercial interests of
the country will be affected by the
change to a very large and serious de-
gree.~Leslie's Weekly.-
B~lnc~ to the I~mt"
A Yorkshire miller, noted for his
keenness in financial matters, was
once in a~boat trying his best to get
across the stream which drove his mill.
The stream was flooded and he was
taken past the point at which he want-
ed to land, while further on misfortune
again overtook him to the extent that
the boat was upset. His wife, realiz-
ing the danger he was in, ran frantic-
ally along the side of the stream, cry-
ing for help in a pitiful voice, when,
to her sheer amazement, she was sud-
denly brought to a standstill by her
husband yelling out: "If I'm d'~wned.
Molly, dunnot forget that flour's gone
up two shillings a sack!"
A popular style of trimming for the
street and everyday hat is the draped
silk scarf.
FOR BOYS GIRLS.
SOME GOOD STORIES FOR OUR
JUNIOR B EADERS.
A ~./oman in Kansas ~kes Her Llvln¢
by Fashionlns Dollies free Little Girls
from Corn Hasks--SomsthinM About
4apancse Schoolboys.
A Small 1Roy's Complaint.
Why can't boys get to be men
'Thout taking time to grow?
And what's the good of baby shoes
And skirts, I'd like to know?
W'ny can't I have some reg'lar pants,
The kind with pockets in?
And what's the good of horses, when
They are all made of tin?
o
As~d why do folks' most always say,
"~Look out! .... Be careful, dear:"
iv~, not much fun to be a boy,
~Vhen people are so queer!
Japan.s Schoolboys,
The American schoolboy, pursuing
~(s studies in well-built, well-ventilat-
ed and well-warmed schoolhouses, may
congratulate himself on his freedom
from the disadvaatages and perplex-
i~les attending schoolboy life in Ja-
p,~n. Japanese schoolhouses of the
eiementary and intermediate grade~
are flimsy structures, provided with
windows in which paper takes the
place of glass. They are usually two
stories high. The upper story is
reached by a steep flight of stairs,
wl~ch, by the removal of wooden pan-
els, is open to the air on one side
during school time. On shelves in the
lover hall the pupils deposit their
wooden clogs or geta--the Ja~anese
street shoes. In his home. like his
elders, as in school, like his fellows,
the Japanese schoolboy wears his
tab~--double-soled stockings which
have a separate place for the great toe.
So~e of the boys, however, go about
bare-footed, although the temperature
of a Japanese schoolroom in cold
weather would cause decided discom-
fort to an American schoolboy. The
classics, as we understand the term.
are not studied. The ancient literary
woi~ks of China take their place, and
occupy the same prominence in the
Jal:snese curriculum that Homer and
VlPgil occupy in ours.
The American schoolboy who finds
it hard to conquer Greek and Latin
still has less cause for lamentation
than his Japanese brother. In the
study of the Chinese elassics, the Jap-
anese boy has to memorize several
thousand Chinese "ideographs" or
word-characters, since they are con-
stonily in use in Japanese literature
and in the daily newspapers. After
having mastered their significance, he
must learn their correct Chinese pro-
munciation, for which separate study
is required. To make matters worse,
these ideographs, when printed, differ
from those of the same signlflcgnce
when in script, and to learn to write
them properly Is deemed essential for
every well-educated Japanese. The
llfe of the Japanese schoolboy has its
compensations, however. At certain
seasons of the year he takes long
country tramps with his schoolmates
and teachers, and it is no unusual
thing to see a school returning in pic-
turesque procession through the
streets of a city, covered with mud and
due*,, trudging sturdily along with
knapsack on shoulder, after an ab-
sence of several days, and a Journey
the length of which would cause an
Am4~rican schoolboy to whistle in as-
tonishment.~Youth's Companion.
~[ystery of l~ony's Taft.
N~body knew what was happening
to Dot's tail. Every morning it was
shorter than it had been the morning
before. Dot was a beautiful little sor-
rel pony. She belonged to Alice, who
loved her better than anything in ~he
wor':d, except Prince. Prince was a
gre~t St. Bernard dog, and the family
called Alice, Dot, and Prince, "The
Three Friends." Dot came to Alice
In ~his fashion: One morning her
ma~ma told her that she was to spend
the day with her little friend Caroline.
After she left, a man from Mr. Dor-
lan~'s big stock-farm appeared with a
rough-looking little colt. Jim, who
took care of the horses, filled a great
tub with warm soap-suds. Into this
he lltut the colt, and scrubbed her, and
rubbed her, and then combed and
brushed her coat until it shone like
satin. At supper-time that night there
came a ring at the door-bell.
"You may go, Alice." said her mam-
ma, and Alice, Jumping down from her
chair, scampered through the hall. The
fatally followed in time to see her open
the door, and find there a pony all sad-
dled. for riding. Alice's Joy bubbled
over in hugs for the family and hugs
for Dot, as her new pet was lmmedi-
ate|y named. Dot and Alice had many
adventures. Once they were following
the Jersey wagon in which sat Alice's
mofher, and in which were stored all
the Saturday purchases. Presently the
wagon stopped.
"Come, Alice," said her mamma,
"get. down from Dot. We are going
in to call on Mrs. Brown and Caro-
line."
It was getting late when they started
do~fn Mrs. Brown's walk to Dot and
the wagon.
~. "Dot will be hungry, mamma," said
~Alice. "It's her supper~time."
When they reached the gate Alice
began clapping her hands.
"0b, mamma, look! look!" she cried.
Her mamma did look, and there,
with her pretty head well in the back
of the Jersey wagon, was Dot, eating
her fill from a big bag of granulated
sugar! When Christmas came, Santa
Claus brought Alice a beautiful tre~,
with all sorts of nice thi~gs on it f~
her, and three ears of corn. a yellow
one, a red one, and a white one, tied
together with a red ribbon, for Dot.
Alice clapped her hmids in delight, and
ran from the room as quick as a flash.
Before any one realized where she had
gone, the door flew open. and in she
came, leading Dot right up to the
Christmas tree to receive her gifts.
Now, is it any wonder that the whole
family were troubled when Dot's tail
began to grow shorter and shorter?
And the strange thing about it was
that nobody could find out how it hap-
pened. Finally her father told Alice
that she would have to watch DOt
every day and see where she went and
what she did. So, for a day or ~wo
Alice and Prince followed DOt every-
where, but all the pony did was to nib-
ble at the grass. One afternoon Alice
went to a party. When she came
home. she ran out tO Dot.
"Oh, mamma, mamma:'" she cried,
"it's shorter!"
Whenever Alice watched, nothing
happened; when she went away, the
tail was shortened. What in the
world could it mean? All Alice's lit-
tle friends came over to help her
watch. They made Dot's life misera-
bit, following at her heels and meas-
uring her tail, but nobody solved the
mystery. As for Alice, she was very
unhappy.
. "Dot tries to tell me, mamma," she
said, "but she can't. And her tail's
getting shorter and shorter. I'd love
Dot Just the same if she hadn't a
tail, but as long as she has one, I'd
like her to keep it."
"I tell you. Alice," said her brother
Tom, "suppose you hide and watch
Dot."
Sb Alice ran to the lot and hid be-
hind a great oak tree. There was Dot
nibbling the grass, her shortened tail
hanging down untroubled. Alice
watched on. By and by she gave a
great jump and rushed from behind
the tree, waving her arms and crying:
"Shoo! Shoo!" .~
For there, nibbling at Dot's tail, was
"Orphan Annie" a little calf, which,
every once in a while, Jim allowed to
go into the lot to feed with the pony.
Salt water and plenty of rubbing mad~
Dot's tail grow out again. As for "Or-
phan Annie," Jim punished her by put-
ting her to graze in a pasture all by
herself.
"Where she can nibble her own tall
if she wants to," said Alice, "but not
my Dot's."--Philadelphia Times.
Corn Husk Doll-.
Adollofeornhusks; did you ever hear
of such a thing? And yet there is a
woman in Kansas, where the corn
grows, who makes a living by fashion-
ing these dolltes. When she was a
very little girl Miss Nellie Morrlson
could make the dearest dolls that you
ever saw. She tied the pretty brown
husks together, with a round ball at
the top for a head, and such a fluff of
dainty petticoats. With some corn silk
for hair and eyes of tiny black seeds
the dollie was done and there was not
a little girl in the neighborhood but
wanted a whole family like her, says
the Chicago Chronicle. Now that Miss
Morrlson is a young lady she makes
corn husk dolls for money instead of
for fun and thousands of little girls all
over the country have been made
happy by them. Her fame and the
fame of her dolls has gone far and
wide and the demand for them is al-
ways greater than the supply. She is
kept busy day and night supplying the
demand. She has sent the queer dolls
to Germany and France and recently
shipped a large lot to England. She
says she does not know exactly how
many dolls she ha.s made, but the num-
ber would run into the thousands.
Miss Morrison uses about as many
husks as are found on an ordinary ear
of corn to make each doll. The cob
serves for the body. The face Is cov-
ered with a husk and the ~features
painted on. The corn silk is used for
the hair. The dress is a full skirt of
husks, with a shirtwaist and Eton
Jacket. A corn husk sash encircles the
waist. The hat is a big scoop bonnet
trimmed with tassels. In her right
hand the doll holds a dainty parasol
made of firm straw with a particularly
silky husk for a cover.
Brave Little Jack,
Their names were Jack and Jill.
They were not Mother Goose's Jack
and Jill. Still, there is a goose in the
story--several geese, in fact. They
were ,going down the road to school.
Jack wore a long play-frock, almost
as long as Jim's dress. It made him
look a little like a girl. Of course, he
didn't like it. but he had to wear it
because he would play in the dirt.
"What if we should meet the wolf?"
suddenly cried Jill
"What wolf?" said Jack.
"Why, Little Red Ridinghood's
wolf!" said Jill.
"Pooh!" laughed Jack, "I'm not
afraid! I'd Just like to meet hlm~
You'd see what I'd do to him for the
way he treated Red Ridinghood!"
Just then they saw a goose .coming
up the hill; then another goose; then
a whole flock of geese.
"Maybe we'd better go round the
other way, Jill," s~id Jack, "through
that field over there."
~Vhy, Jack, I thought you were
brave--bray6 enough ~o fight a wolf,"
said Jill.
"So I am," said Jack, though he stam-
mered a little; "but this is different.
A wolf, hasn't any wings to flap you
with; if he had, I'd think I'd be afraid
of him."
And that is how the geese had the
road all to themselves.
Very often the people who say they
hate conventionalities are those who
observe them most.
] ildred
re an[on
BY THE DUCHESS.
CHAPTER XIX.---(Continued.)
"You should not hit a man when he
is down," he said, reproachfully.
"I don't think you will be long
down," returned Blount with an en-
couraging nod that somehow made
Denzll's heart beat high, though he did
not dare to take the words in their
under meaning. "And now I must be
off. No, thank you, my dear--I can
not stay to dinner; I have so many
things to attend to before seven. Bu~
tell Sir George I will look him up
again in the morning. And give my
love to the girls; and tell Mildred ~hat
I know, and she knows, there is Imt
one man in the world can ever make
her happy,"
He looked kindly at Denzll as he
spoke, but the latter would not accept
the insinuation conveyed in his words.
Mrs. Younge, however, noticed both
the glance and the significant tone, and
a light broke in upon her.
When Lady Caroline had followed
Dick Blount out of the room she went
over and knelt down by her son.
"Denzll," she said, lovingly, "I know
It all now. But am I never to speak
of it?"
And he answered as he kissed her:
"Do not let us ever mention it again
--there's a darling mother.'"
But all that night Mrs. Younge
gazed at the girl and wondered, pon-
dering many things and blaming, wom-
an-like, yet feeling in her heart the
while that the choice her son had
made was indeed a perfect one.
After this Denzil made rapid strides
toward recovery, growing stronger,
gayer and more like the Denzil they
had known in the first days of their
acquaintance than he had been for
some time before his illness. He could
now walk from room to room and take
long drives, though Stubber still in-
sisted on some hours in the day being
spent on the sofa. Miss Trevanion
Denzil saw daily, though seldom alone
---and who shall say how much this
conducted toward the renewing of his
strength ?
It wanted but a fortnight of Charlle's
wedding day, and Denzil, who was feeI-
lng a little tired, and was anxious to
attain perfect health before the even~
came off--having promised to attend
in the character of "best man"~was
lying on the lounge in the library
when Mildred came in,
"I did not know you were In from
your drive," she said. There was less
constraint between them now than
there had ever been. "Did you enjoy
it?"
"Very much indeed."
"So you ought," she said. "Could
there be a more beautiful day?" She
threw up the low window as she spoke
and leaned out. "The air reminds me
of summer, and the flowers are becom-
ing quite plentiful, instead of being
sought longingly one by one."
"Yes," returned Denzil, vaguely,
thinking all the time what an exquisite
picture she made, framed in by the
window and its wreaths of hanging
ivy.
"By the bye, did you like the bunch
I gathered for you this morning? See
~there they are over there."
"Were they for me?" asked Denzll,
looking pleased. "I did not flatter my-
self that they were."
"Well, yes, 'I think they were chiefly
meant for you," returned Mildred,
carelessly. "Invalids are supposed to
get every choice thing going~are they
not?--though indeed you can scarcely
come under that head now.'"
She threw down the window again,
and came back toward the center of
the room.
"Mildred." said Denzil suddenly~he
had risen on her first entering, and
stood leaning against the chimney-
piece--"there Is something connoted
with my illness, a dream it must have
been, that, whenever I see you, preys
upon my mind, May I tell it to you?
The vivid impression it made might
perhaps leave me if I did."
"Of course you may," answered Mil-
dred, growing a shade paler.
"Come over here then and sit down;
I can not speak to you so far away."
She approached the hearth rug and
stood there.
"I will warm my hands while you
tell me," she said, determined that,
should It Drove to be what she half-
dreaded to hear, he should not see her
face during the recital.
"Well, then," he began, "I thought
that, as ~ lay in bed one evening, the
door opened, and you came into the
room, and, walking softly over to my
bedside, stood there very sorrowfully
looking down upon me. We were
alone, I think"--passing his hand in a
puzzled manner over his forehead, as
though endeavoring vainly to recollect
something--"at least I can remember
no one else but us two, and it seemed
to me that presently you began to cry
and stooped over me. whispering some-
thing, I forget what, and I took your
hands like this"~suitlng the action
to the word~"and the~ some figures
came toward us, but I waved them
back, holding you tightly all the time;
and"_here he paused, his eyes fixed
earnestly upon the opposite wall, as
though there he saw reacting all that
was struggling for clearness in his
brain--"and t asked you to do some-
thing for me then~something that
would aid my recovery more than all
the doctor's stuff~and you~"
"No, no, I did not!" cried Mildred,
vehemently, unable lon~er to restrain
her fear of his next words, and trying
passionately to withdraw her hands.
"Yce. you did!" exclaimed Denzll,
excitedly; "I know it now. It was not
fancy--how could I ever think it was?
~lt was reality. Oh, Mildred, you
kissed me."
"How dare you?" cried Miss Trevan-
ion, bursting into tears. "You know I
did not; it is untrue--a fevered dream
---anything but the truth."
"Do you say that?" he said, releas-
ing her. "Of course, then, it was mere
imagination. Forgive me; I should not
have said It, but the remembrance of
it haunts me night and .day. This
room, too, fosters all memories. Here
for the first time I told you how I loved
you; and here, too.' you refused me,
letting me see how wild and unfounded
had been my hope that you also loved
me in return. Do you remember?"
"Yes, yes, I remember," Mildred
answered, faintly, turning her face
away.
"Over there"--pointing to a distant
couch~"we met again, after weeks of
separation and oblivion--since you say
that past thought of mine was but a
dream--and I felt when you entered
the room how undying a thing is love.
You see this place is fraught with pain
to me, and yet I like it. I like to sit
here and think, and picture to myself
those old scenes again, only giving
them a kindlier ending."
"Do you still care to recall them?"
she asked in a low, broken voice.
"I shall always care to .recall any-
thing connected with you." he answer-
ed, simply; then--"Dld I ever than~
you, Mildred, for coming to my assist-
ance on that last hunting day? I think
not. I have no recollection of all that
occurred, but they told me how good
to me you were."
"It was the very commonest human-
ity," she said.
"Of course that was all. You" would
have done the same for anyone, I
know that. Still I am grateful to you.'"
Then suddenly, "Whydid you break
off with Lyndon?"
"You have 'asked me that question
before." she said.
"I know I h~tve, and I know also how
rude a question it is to ask; and still I
cannot help wishing to learn the an-
swer. Will you tell me?"
She hesitated and then said. slowly:
"He discovered, or fancied, that I
did not care sufficiently for him; and
rte was too honorable to marry a worn-
an who did not accept him willingly
of her own accord."
"When did he make that discovery?"
"We ended our engagement the even-
ing of your accident." she answered,
evasively, and with evident reluctance.
"Mildred, if I thought." he began,
passionately, trying to read her face,
"if I dared to believe what your words
appear to imply I might be mad
enough again to say to you words that
have ever fallen coldly on your ear. I
would again confess how fondly I love
you--how faithfully during all these
wretched months I have clung to the
sweet memories of you that ever linger
in my heart."
She shrunk away a little and covered
her face with her hands.
"Do you still turn from me. Mildred?
Am I distressing you? Darling, I will
say no more. It is Indeed for the last
time in all my life that I have now
spoken, Forgive me, Mildred; I am
less than a man to pain you in this
way; but, oh, my dearest, ~lo not
shrink from me, whatever you do; do
not let me think I have taught you to
hate me by my persistence. See, I am
going, and for the future do not be
afraid that I shall ever again allude to
this subject," He drew near her and
gently kissed her hair. "Good-by," he
said, once more,~and then, slowly al-
most feebly, walked down the room
toward the door.
Miss Trevanio~l stood gazing after
him, her blue eyes .large and bright
with' fear; she had an intense longing
to say she knew not what, Oh. for
words to express all that was in her
heart! ~"
Her hands were closely clasped to-
gether; her lips, pale and still, refused
to move. It was the last time--he had
said so; if she let him go now it was
a parting that must be forever; and
yet she could not speak. Her love, her
life was going, and she could not utter
the word that would recall him, Al-
ready he had turned the handle of the
door; the last moment had indeed come
~would he not turn?
"Denzil!" she cried, desperately,
breaking down by one passionate effort
the barrier that had stood so long be-
tween them, and held out her hands to
him.
"My love!" he said, turning. And
then in another momapt she .was in ~ls
arms and all the world was forgotten.
(The End.)
A Good Cook,
To be a good cook means the know-
ledge of all fruits, herbs, balms and
spides, and of all that is healing and
sweet in the fields and groves, and
savory in meats. It means careful-
ness, inventiveness, watchfulness, wil-
lingness and readiness of appliance. It
means the economy of our great-
grandmothers and the science of mod-
ern chemists. It means much tast-
ing and no wasting. It means English
thoroughness, French art, and Ara-
bian hospitality. It means, in fine,
that you are to be perfectly and al-
ways ladies (losfgivera), and are t~
see that everybody has sOmething
nice to eaL~Ruskin.
