ain and hail to take refuge at the railway station, under
the swaying and uncertain shelter of an escorting man's umbrella. Her
skirts were soaked to the knees, her pink ribbons were limp, the purple
of the flowers on her hat ran in streaks down the white silk. And yet,
though she was a poor girl and her holiday finery must have been
relatively costly, she made the best of it with a smile and cheerful
words. The other was well sheltered; but she took the disappointment of
her hopes and the possibility of a little spattering from a leaky window
with frowns and fault-finding."

"Cries little Miss Fret,
In a very great pet:
'I hate this warm weather; it's horrid to tan!
It scorches my nose,
And it blisters my toes,
And wherever I go I must carry a fan.'

"Chirps little Miss Laugh:
'Why, I couldn't tell half
The fun I am having this bright summer day!
I sing through the hours,
I cull pretty flowers,
And ride like a queen on the sweet-smelling hay.'"

Happily a new era has of late opened for our worried housekeepers, who
spend their time in "the half-frantic dusting of corners, spasmodic
sweeping, impatient snatching or pushing aside obstacles in the room,
hurrying and skurrying upstairs and down cellar." "It is not," says
Prentice Mulford, "the work that exhausts them,--it is the mental
condition they are in that makes so many old and haggard at forty." All
that is needful now to ease up their burdens is to go to

OUR HAWAIIAN PARADISE.

A newspaper correspondent, Annie Laurie, has told us all about the new
kind of American girls just added to our country:--

"They are as straight as an arrow, and walk as queens walk in fairy
stories; they have great braids of sleek, black hair, soft brown eyes,
and gleaming white teeth; they can swim and ride and sing; and they are
brown with a skin that shines like bronze ... There isn't a worried
woman in Hawaii. The women there can't worry. They don't know how. They
eat and sing and laugh, and see the sun and the moon set, and possess
their souls in smiling peace.

"If a Hawaii woman has a good dinner, she laughs and invites her friends
to eat it with her; if she hasn't a good dinner, she laughs and goes to
sleep,--and forgets to be hungry. She doesn't have to worry about what
the people in the downstairs flat will think if they don't see the
butcher's boy arrive on time. If she