Dorothy's Present

So she tvis to be "married on the j 14th" and I was "invited to be present." I knew it, for I was to be her bridesmaid, and we had spent weeks and j month8 in planning it all, f rom the most í insignificant ruffle to the very veil itself. ! But here was documentary evidence of j it - a formal invitation. Then it occurred to me that my wedding olïering was still nnselected. I must have been waiting for a special dispensation, I think, for 1 longed to give her something real - really real. Something bright and pure and sparkling and dainty and useful, like herself. And my income, compared with my aspirations, was ridiculously small, as it so often happens. But no one would think of Dorothy and "imitation" in the same breath. My gift must be "dainty." Small then. It must be "sparkling." Glass or china then. "Pure." White of course. "Useful." Cups and saucers. Exactly! And they ought to be Belleek, but that costs so much. Dorothy and I had asked the price of a beautif ui imported cup at a pretentious shop on Fifth avenue, near Thirtieth street, and we feit like thieves for even touching it when the attendant said the price was $6.25 for one. No, the outlook was not encouraging, but there's "nothing like trying again," as my grandmother used to say, and I started tor town at once. "I would like to see some white Belleek cnps," 1 said to an attendant in a fashionable store not far from Broadway. "Certainly," and he took from a glass case the dearest little, pure white, scintillating bit of a cup with a gold brim and aa light as a f eather. It was my dream materialized, and I almost screamed with delight when he let me hold it. "This," he explained, "is American china." "Oh, dear, how provoking," said 1, almost letting the bijou tumble; "I want it real - not any American stuff." I think his eyes twinkled, but he replied very gravely and politely: "This is real. You doubtless know (clever man!) that 'Belleek' is the name of a town in Ireland where this ware was first produced. T"!e proper clays are found in this country in abundance, and ten years ago ex-Congressman J. H. Brewer, of New Jersey, paid a man three times as much as he was receiving in Ireland to come here and work for him. Other potters, who pay their workmen as good wages, have found out the secret since, and there is no more delicate china made in the world than some we get from Trenton, and none so cheaply sold in the Unifced States as tli9 American." " Well, I should think that Amencar. potters must be very good men to pay their workers three times as much as they could get in Europe, bat how can they afford it?" "The protective tariff" "You are going to teil me about that McKinley WIL" "Do you object to it?" "Oh, I don't know anything about it, really; but it must be a very good or a very bad thing, people talk about it so much." "Here are the facts; you shall judge of its 'goodness' or 'badness' yourself: The McKinley bill forces the foreign potter to pay sixty cents f or the privilege of selling 100 cents' worth of decorated china in this country - that is, there is a tariff of 60 per cent. on that class of goods. This is bo that the workman here may be paid sixty cents more for a dollar's worth of work than are the same class of people in Europe. That enables our working potters to live better and happier lives than do those in Europe, and brings a class of men aniong us who are encouraged to produce the most artistic reaults. There is so much competition among the native potters that the price to customers is low. The price is eighty cents each." "Eighty cents and real, and I saw an imported one for $6.251 Well, I think the McKinley bill is a very good thing indeed. Give me half a dozen of them right away, please." It seemed so wonderful that by buying this cup, which was the very thing I wanted, for eitrhty cents, instead of pa ving $6.25 for an imported one, I was helping one of my own countrymen and his f amily to live three times as well as they could do in Europe. It had never before occurred to me that that tariiï had anything to do with us girls. I thought it was all about tin pans - píate, I mean - and it seemed to me then and now that if we begun our ' enoouragement at home "charity beginnings" would take care of themselves. Why, it is so simple I feel as if I must take a hand at voting happiness and comfort to working people. I went home with a light heart. I liad found what I was looking for and much more. With a yard of white satin and another of rose colored , I covered a case for the precious cups. My present cost $6.50, cups and all. This note carne f rom Dorothy: Hester, You Dkar Giitiy- It's the prettiest and daiuttost thing I have had. But you ehouldn't have epent so mach nioney on me. Ned says it makes him think of me, being pink and white and bright, and - but he saya a good many periectly absurd things anyway. I am so happy about everything, and so pleased with your giit. It's just what I wanted most. You must show me how you make that delicious tea, and we will christen my beautiful china together. Always your Dorothy. There! 1 say, and so will Dorothy, when I teil her my experience, ''Long may the protective tariiï wave." We girls are not ungrateful to our Uncle Samuel if we but understand what he is doing for our happiness. Dorothy and I heard too much about abstract "patriotism" and too little about "American china" and other homemade things, I presume, during that "finishinsr" nrocess. Grace Esther Drew. Oan't le blo-wed- Shoo horns., Never without interest- 5Iortgages.