THE HUSHED HOUSE. I went nt r.h'.f.ill, Came rutin nt dairn; On l.ove' ilnr sg.im I knoclce- Tiove wa gone. lie who oft h.i 1 hide me in Now would In. I no more; Silence sit ivitiun (ml nouae, Haired in door. When the slow door opened wiilt Through it I could nee How the emptiness within Stared at me. Through the dreary clinmhem Long I nought .ititl sighed, But no anmerinij f otu-p came; Naught replied. AH AEElDEBUmTS SEQUEL By KATE RATHMORE. 4 TO ! It EM KM P.EU It as well ns if If i TP vesterdnv. Tin' carriage stood nt the door, and 1 was to ko hack to school for the spring term. My mother nave Innu- meTnnli- instructions, smoothed my fol iar, nnd adjusted my cap on my head properly, then save me a kiss nnd stood looking wistfully nt me as I went Joivn the walk and not Into the car riage. A month or two later It was in June, 1 think after a hard struggle one nf ternooti with some figures, all about a slill) and a cargo and the profit nnd all that, I went out to Join the other iioys. When 1 reached the playground they were gone, and there was nothing for me to do hut minis myself as best I could. I strolled admit the house with my hands in my pockets which my moth er had told me distinctly not to do and. suddenly remembering her In struction., took them out again; then, for want of better amusement, I bo Ban to whistl". Next to the school there was a pret y cottage separated froni the school house by a board fence. The two houses were not a liundrer feet tpart. and I could look right through under the trees, and there on the tennis ground stood a girl a trifloyoungor than myself, looking straight nt me. Now, when a boy suddenly finds himself observed by a girl, he feels somewhat iieer. I remember that very well. My hands went right into my pockets, but remembering that that was not the correct thine to do In the presence of a girl, I took them direct ly out again. Then I concluded that it would be a good way to show how little I was embarrassed by turning around up my heel, a movement on which I greatly prhleil myself. After that, I don't remember It was so long ago what new capers 1 cut. Dut one thing Is very certain. I was soon hunting for something I pretended to have lost in the grass beside the fence. "If it's your knife you've lost." I lien ril a music;, I voi-e say, "it Isn't there. I picked up a knife there a week ago. but it was nil rusty and no good." "Oh, never mind." I said, looking no Into two eyes peeping out from a sun lMnnt; "It wasn't much of a knife, and I've got another." "Are you line of the boys at the school?" "Yes." "What class nr.' yo-i In 7" "The fourt'.,." ' "Ho you .study geography?" "Yes." "What's the capital of Austria?" I scratched my head. "I don't remember that." I admitted, reluctantly. "I'm tirst rate on capitals, but 1 can't recollect that one." "Why didn't you go oil' with the boys?" "I was bi hind with my sum. I sup pose they've gum- to the river. I like the woods pretty well; they're full of squirrels." "And lizards." !, Afraid of lizards. added. "I'm not I suppose you're afraid to go tin-re. " "No, I'm not." "If you want lo go there now. and are afraid. I don't mind going wish you, just to k ) oir the lizards and things." She loo!;e,i u T can see I:., wicket, lie!, In. "cs can be . ; fully out nt the wood, n ".v leaning on her in a -if such a pro d deliberation where the couclu-doii w a ftr light, lith.. tlgin teriniiieil the ilscd .between the racket and one loot, one little leg crossed or. the other -peering out at the forest. Suddenly, with-uit any warning, she .dropped till.' lYc l;, t and -tartcd for the wood. We Were not long in crossing the held, rind were walking in the dense shade when di . stopped, and looking ut me Willi her expressive eyes, said: "How mill ir is in here! It seems to me I fan almost bear the silence." "Yes, ir Is pretty solemn." I replied. "Let's go o:r. the river winds about down there, and we can sc.. the water go over the dam." I beard a distant voice calling "Julia." It w.n very faint; she did not hear it. I stood a moment hesitat ing. '(.Ymie. I t go," I said. starting forward. "Julia," t heard again, more faintly tun 11 before. I hurried on, fearing she would hear the voice mid turn back. Presently we emerged from the wood and stood by the river. I whs familiar with, the ground, and led my little fifi-nd directly to the dam. "Most of the boys are afraid to walk out on thnr dam," I said. "I'd be afraid." "Hut you're only n girl: a boy oughtn't to be afraid." With that 1 sturted boldly out, occasionally stand jng on one foot, and performing sun dry antics to bhow what a brave boy I wan. Then I retraced a few step and called to Iter to come. "Oh, no." she said; "I'm afruld." "Afraid! You little goose! With me to hold on to?" Between her fear and a disposition 11 ia bio to a hoy older and stronger than herself. It was not long before I wn leading her out on the dam. "I'on't you nee It's quite safe?" I said. She shraiik back as I led along. I Then at lnt I entered Dim a darkened room; There a taper glimmered gray la the gloom. And 1 saw one lyin Crowned with helntehrys; Never nw I face a fair As wut his. Like a wintry lily Wan hi brow in hue; And hi cheek were each a roie, Wintry, too. Then my soul remembered All that made n part, And what 1 had 1. umbod at one Itroke my heart. -Madison Ca wein, in Harper' Magazine. determined that she should go to n point where the water poured over a portion of tile dam lower than the rest. I turned my back to step up on the post. It was but a moment. I heard a cry, and saw Julia In the Hood. The expression that was in her eyes is to tills day stamped clearly on my memory an expression of mingled re proach nnd forgiveness. I could scarcely swin a dozen strokes, but .ml a second had elapsed before I ivus In the water. I swam and struggled and buffeted to reach her; ail in vain. An eddy whirled me in a different direction. My strength was soon exhausted. 1 was borne down the river, sinking anil rising, till 1 came to a place where 1 caught a glimpse, us I rose lo the surface, of u man running along some planks extending Into the river, and raised above the water on posts. M.v feet became entangled in weeds. I sank. I heard a great roaring in my ears, then oblivion. When I came to 1 was lying on my back. I remember the llrst thing I saw was a light cloud sailing over the lear blue. There was an tilr ot quiet and peace Mint contrasted with my own sensatior.s. Then I saw a man on his knees beside something he was rubbing. I tin ned my head aside and say it was a little ligure a girl, Julia. She was cold and stark. My agony was far greater than when I bad plunged after her Into the strec.ni. Then I hoped and believed that if she were drowned I would he also. Now I saw her beside me life less, and I lived. Then SoIm. mi. came, and the man who was rubbing Julia said to them: '"1'ake care of the boy; the girl is too far gone." They took me up and car ried me away, and laid me for a while on a bed in a -strange liou.se. Then I was driven to the school. The next day my father came and took me home. I was ill nrter that, too ill to ask about Julia, but When I recovered what a load was taken from my mind to know that by dint of rubbing and rolling. Und a stimu lant, she had been brought to nnd had recovered. I nlso learned that the man who cared for us had seen Julia fall and had rescued her. When I saw him running along the planks it was to his bout clialm-d to the end. That summer m.v father removed with his family to "Western Pennsyl vania, lie was obliged to wait some time for my recovery, but nt last I was able to travel, and left without again seeing the little girl whom I had led Into danger. I only heard that I had been blamed by everyone. Ten years passed, during which I was constantly haunted by one idea; that was to go back and llnd Julia and implore her forgiveness. The years that I must be a boy and depen dent seemed interminable. At last I came of age, and received a small for tune that had fallen to me, and, as soon as the papers In the case were duly siginsl and sealed, I started. It was just about the same time of the year, and the same hour of the af ternoon as when I iirst saw Julia, that I walked into the old school grounds. I had fully intended to go in next door and call for her, but n.y coinage failed me. I bad heard noth ing of h,-r for years. Was she dead? Was she living? Was she in her old home, or far away? These thoughts eha-cd ea.n other through my mind, and I dread, d to know. I was standing at the school en trance, with ,,,y hand on tin- bell, when I loard a door in the next house open and the,, ,,u. I'roin that moment 1 could fed that Julia was near me. She cume out of the house, a slen der, graceful girl of nineteen, and, pi king up a tennis racket, commenced to knock the balls about. I wanted to make myself known, but dreaded the horror with which she would re gard me when Kb.s should learn who I was. "I beg your pardon."' I said, raising my hat. "can you tell me if the school is still there?" p dntiiig to the house. "It was moved some years ago," she replied, regarding me with the old, steady gaze. "I was one of the scholars." "Indeed!" She spoke without any further encouragement for ine to go on. "I see the wood has been cut away," I added, glancing toward It. "No; It does not seem to be." "Were you ever there?" "Oh. yes, often." "And u that old dam still across the river?" "I believe It Is.'' She looked, at nie curiously. I went on without waiting for a reply: "Would you mind showing me the way to It?" It U a long while since I was there." She drew herself up with slight hauteur. Then, thinking that perhaps was unaccustomed to the conven tional ways of civilized life, she said, pleasuntty : "You have only to walk through the wood straight, at the back of the houso and you will come to it." "Thank you," I replied; "but 1 hoped you would show me the way." Bhe looked puzzled. "Miss Julia." I said, altering zny tone, "I on;e met you when I was a boy here ut school." "1 knew a number of scholars," she said, more Interested; "who are jou?" I dreaded to tell Iter. "If you will J pilot me to the dam." I said. "1 inform you." She thought fl moment, then turned and looked out at the wood. With the quick motion with which she had made the same move ns a child, she started forward. We walked side by side to the wood, through It out on the river bank. There was the water nnd the dam; everything ni It had been ten years before. "Ild yon ever try to walk out there?" I asked. "Once, when I was a rhlld, I enme here with a boy, and we walked to where the water pours over. I met with an accident. I fell In." "The boy overpersuaded you, I suppose-?" It was dlllicult for me to coneenl n certain trepidation at the mention of my fault. "No, I went of my own accord." "lie certainly must have been to blame. He was older and stronger than you." "On he contrary." she said, with .1 slight, rising Irritation, "he jumped after me like the noble little fellow that he was." I turned away on pretense of exam ining a boat down tht river. "At any rate, he must have begged your forgiveness on bis knees for per- mining ( j,,, j,,t0 such a danger'" "I never saw him ngain. lie went away. I fancied at least, I hoped I could detect a tinge of sadiu'ss in lier voice. "I have oflen wished." she went on, that he would co ne back, as the other scnolars sometimes do, as you are now, and let me tell him how much I thank blui for uls noble effort." 'Julia," I said, suddenly turning and facing her. "This is too much. I am that boy. I led you into the wood. I forced you to go out In the dam with me. I permitted you to fall In." 'And more than atoned, for all by risking your life to save me!" All, that look of curprlsed delight which accompanied her words! It was worth all my past years of suffering, of fancied blame; for in it I read how dearly she held the memory of the boy who had at least shared the danger for which he was responsible. I do not remember If she grasped my hand or I grasped hers. At any rate, we stood hand in hand, looking each other's faces. T blessed the Providence that ended my punishment; I blessisl the good for tune that had led me to a knowledge of the kindly heart beside rue. Of nil the moments of my life, 1 still count It far the happiest. Then we walked back through the woods, over the Intervening field, and stood 'ogether leaning against the fence between the old school and her hou.e. We did not part after that for nti- otber ten years, which she spent as my beloved wife. Then she left nie to go whence I can never recall her. Yet there is a trysting place In th? woods, through which we onc e passed as children, and often afterward as lovers. There I watch the flitked sunlight, nnd mark the quietness, and it seems to me that I can "hear the silence." More than that, I know the pure soul looks nt me through her honest eyes. New York Weekly. TrlmlnMl Itronro Hufltlnjr There are several ways of breaking a bronco to the saddle, of which the most rational and least used Is to begin with the young colt and accustom him by slow degrees to halter, blanket, bridle nnd saddle. The usual practice of the Indian Is to choke the pony Into temporary submission and then ride nnd beat him until Ills spirit Is broken. Starving the pony Into good behavior Is an even more brutal method of sub jugation, which, although occasionally employed with especially "mean" sub jects, is deservedly unpopular, and n cowboy could adopt It at the cost of his reputation among bis fellows. In tills proc ss the pony is tied to a stake and starved, until frjin sheer weak ness he nccepts food without lashing out with his heels. While yet feeble from starvation he Is gradually trained Willi a sack to bear burdens, and fami liarized with saddle and bridle until, win n his strength returns, he forgets that he has never been regularly broken. Country Life in America. KfitiarhalilB l'-ntiBylvrila Fond, Lying between two hills not far from Ilughesvllle is a small body of wuter known as "Converse's ice dam," or "fish dam." that Is so full of the llnny tribe that apparently It is Impossible for a fish live inches long to swim straight. The small fish are on top nnd the large ones below, nnd 111 order for a llsherman or flshcm-oman to get (he bait down to the big fellows it Is necessary to make a hole In the water nnd carefully drop the hook down through the wriggling mass. On June 1 Mrs. Irvln Converse nnd Miss (iladys Koch were at the dam mnkiug determined efforts to hook some of the under ones. The little fel lows on top, however, ninde such fierce attacks on the bait that their hooks, time after time, were instantly cleared as soon as they touched the water. Many of the little fellows were pulled out In order to make room for the books, but the task had not been ac complished when the reporter left the scene. Wllllamsport Sun. Origin of th Kchnotiar. "Schooner" is a word of American manufacture. At Gloucester, Mass., alKiiit 1713, Capt. Andrew Kobiuson built the first vessel called by that inline. As It slid off the stocks Into the water a bystander shouted: "Oh, how she scoons!" (skims). Kobiuson instantly said: "A seooner let her be." The name has been universally adopt ed, but, singularly enough, is spelled In the Dutch manner, though It la provincial English. A l'oor Clneken, A well-known professor has a bright little boy, who one duy appeared In bis father's study, clasping a forlorn little chicken. "Willie," said the father, "take that chicken buck to Its mother." "Ain't dot any modder," answered Willie. "Well, then, take It back o luf father," said the professor, deter mined to maintain parental authority. "Ain't dot any fader," said the child, "Alu't dot anything but an old lump." New York Times. i Open at the Itark. Just as the most desirable blouses are opened nt the back, .so nre the daintiest collars nnd other neck elabor ations. Unless the appliques or other trimmings offer secret opportunities for closing at the front, the back must be chosen. A little row of buttons and buttonholes, or loops, serves. These shoulder finishes make many a dress. Furthermore, being separate, they do not complicate the laundi ring. CnltlvitMi Your Talents. fwlce n year every merchant takes account of stock. When the work is compleled the shopkeeper knows Just where he stands. If a certain depart ment in 1:U store is losing money lie plans on strengthening It or cutting it out entirely. If another department Is making an unexpected success lie spe cializes upon it and features It. He has what might be termed a commer cial hoiise-cleaiiing. Now, 1 have often wondered whether It would not pay for those of us who work for our living to take account of stock at regular Intervals, not making on Inventory of ribbons, laces, shirt waists and lints in our possession, but of talents. The Influences of business life should tend to broaden and develop the feminine mind, so whenever I hear a business woman mourn because she finds herself In a groove, or. ns most of us put It, in n rut. I wonder why she does not stop long enough to tnke account of slock. Perhaps she will dis cover some talent which will lend her Into a more remunerative and congen ial occupation. Woman's Homo Coin pan jun. Fnnrlns; llpmuilng Popular. The art of fencing is a sinirt whlen has made many advances In popular ity, and occupies an established place in physical culture and In the list of di versions. From a casual glance one might scarcely suppose that fencing requires the amount of exercise and endurance that It really does. After n bout of only a few minutes' the body is in n glow, and every muscle testiiles by its feelings that It has had a share in the work. The left arm, though not showing as much gain as its mate, is nevertheless .improved if it has been lield in the right position in opposition to the right. Lastly, the muscles of tne legs have been pretty well hardened, while the control gained over them is a striking point to l observed. Persistent lunging nnd recovering have accomplished this, and the fencer now realizes the value of these move ments. Keenness of eye, stendines of nerve, cool judgment nnd thoughtlike quickness In executing the maneuver resolved upon nre indispensable quali ties of un expert fencer. Luck of Betr-Control. ft Is lack of control that sends most of us Into conditions of nervous whoops and hysterical fussbmlgcts. It Is lack of control that causes us to speak harshly to the cook when calmer words would do twice as well. It is lack of control that makes us unjust, quick tempered, uncharitable and vindictive. It is lack of control that produces about nlne-tenlhs of the headaches from which nervous women sillier. You hear every day, "I worry so, it makes me 111," or "I am so 111 most of the time, und I Just can't help worry-in-." There you are. The sick mind brings the sick body. The sick body creates the sick mind, ltemember that the hu man body has a telephone system. Whenever your mind gets Into a tur moil the whole neighborhood of nerves knows all about it. The stomach milks. Every part of the digestive apparatus takes a vacation, says the Indianapolis News. There's one great standstill, during which the body gives oil forces, but builds no new ones. The llrst thing In this matter of eon tral Is lo learn to breathe properly and to carry yourself properly. The next is how to dress properly, how to eat and how to sleep. These are all in line with physical beautifying. The other course embraces men nl beautifying. Ww ull thould realize that every thing Is a matter of the miml. Observe the woman who Is madly in love with her husband. Several years later she isn't. The man, no doubt, is the same as lie was when she loved Iiim. And the change? It Is simple. At llrst her mind saw only his splendidness, his virtues and goodness. After a time it discovered a few faults. She magni fied them. In doing this she lost sight of Ills virtues. Ills goodness and his faults were as she thought them. Everything was the product of her own brain-so far as she wus concerned. She might Just as well have continued to have thought him adorable. Then Cupid wouldn't have been told to get unother lodging place poor dear. Bultabllltr In l)r.i. Much care nnd thought are needed to dress suitably on ull occasions, and no one can doubt for a minute that this Is most desirable, for to a greut extent people's manners mid customs are lu, Uueiiced by the clothes they wear. A person who Is conscious of being well and Uttlugly dressed Is much more likely to be perfectly at euse than one who Is only too well uware of the un approprluteuess of the costume worn. For that reason, in issuing Invitations, tho style of dress must be Indicated by the form of the Invitation. An Invitation In the third person in dicates that full dress Is to be worn. A dress for a dunning parly should be of light color nnd light material, and gloves should be worn by both men and women. A dinner dress may be of any durk or light handsome material, and gloves must bo worn by the women, but should be removed before the dinner com mences. An evening at borne requires full dress, but ut au afternoon at home the ladies do not remove their bats. At picnics light summer dresses with short skirts are worn. At tennis or boating parties flannel or serge dresses are best. At a garden party the dress must be light and bright, and the hat equally so. Nothing makes a more suitable costume for this occasion than a dainty muslin and a large picture hat with flowers. Whatever the occnslon the dress must be neat and suitable, r.right. showy dresses should never be worn on the street, and no woman should be so dressed that she attracts public notice nnd attention. A young woman should never wear much Jewelry. Valuable rings are out of place for everyday wear. On oeen slons of ceremony. Jewelry l becoming, but a display of precious stones on or dinary occasions is only vulgar. New York Journal. Dinner Clout Tntk, Ont? of the most charming conceits and one of the most economical ns well that Dame Fashion lias vouchsafed us for some time Is the dinner coat. One can fashion It of almost any ma terial and, the crux of the situation is that it must, It simply must be worn with a skirt 1 hat contrasts strongly. There need not be a single note of con nection between that coat and the skirt; they are us utterly Independent each of the other as though they did not belong to the same wardrobe at nil, tays the Newark Advertiser. Tile modes of the late Louis periods nre what the up-to-date girl Is copying in these. Whether the coat be of silk, of lace, of velvet or of brocade, It must, not display any of the negligee lines or etl'i'ets that have recently characterized so many of even our most formal fash ions. It must display that perfection of cut and of fit which is the very latest demand of fashion, a::.l it must cling as closely to the lines of the fig ure ns the class of material and indi vidual comfort will permit. Soft and supple satins in dull mid faded tones are simply delightful for these dinner coats. There nre some old blues, soft, dull sage greens, faded rose tints and harmonious browns that ac cord beautifully with white silk or lace or chiffon skirts. Those that are to be worn with dark or black skirts, how ever, must show some more dominant note of color, and for these tho warp printed taffetas, and moire silks, and the more brilliant tones in plain taffeta and mcssnliue are commended. The touch of trimming is very ob vious in all of those charming summer gowns. The silken gowns make lavish use of velvet ribbons, and even of braid. A recent novelty is n gauze rib bon with either a floral pattern or else a Persian design printed upon it. When the ground is changeable, ns It so often Is, there Is n charming effect In the tiny Sevres designs seen in the chang ing lights. In all colorings these gaim ribbons nre finding a thousand and oiif applications, but tiie ehicfest is for nulling the now skirts and for making sheer bandings, either tint or boull lonne, between the rows of lace, en crustations that go to deck the lino"' ' ed summer designs. In choosing gloves there are more Im portant considerations than- their co'.ol and the number of the buttons. Black gloves nro generally less elas tic than white or colored ones, and cheap grades are dear at any price. It is fortunate that we have our choice In shirt waists, running from tbo plainest to the most ornate models. Tho skirts gathered at the hips and employing three, tucks wide apart, so much seen last winter, are reproduced In present models. Pressed kid usually retains Its fresh ness longer and is more durable than suede. The best and most serviceable kid is soft, yielding and elastic. A rather wide button band nnd a Re vere folded stock finish the waist. Some models show a patch pocket on the left side, rather high up on the waist. The shirt waist Is best developed In Ijeavy linen or cheviot. It Is pliflnly tailored, without so much as a pleat or a tuck In the shoulders, und has only a suggestion of fulness nt the wnlst. The three-tier Idea lias caught the public, and this manner of arranging tiie tucks Is an example of It. The three tiers In evening frocks made of chiffon, mmisseliue nnd point d'esprit ive a very girlish and graceful effect. It Is true that the ornate models out number the plain. Still, one may, with due searching, wear simple blouses. The very plainest seen could be worn only by a woman with n good figure, which, in these days, means principally a good chest and shoulders. It used to meuu a small waist. Novel Ailvartlalng. A smart ndvertlrlng Idea was that which was recently Introduced In Par is. Four gentlemen dressed in the height of fashion were seen leisurely strolling on one of tho boulevards. All were nttlrid exactly alike, nnd each carried a cane. Suddenly they stopped opposite ono of the enfe-s. Faing tho people who 'sat eating, drinking and tnlklng at the little ta bles dotted about, all f.luinllaneously bowed. The movement set in action somo mechanical apparatus concealed beneath their coats. Immediately their bals were illuminated, and there appeared in view an advertisement recommending the public to try some one's medicine. Then, taking off their hats with a sweeping gesture, the gen tlemen bowed again, reveuilng four bald beads, on each of which was painted tho same announcement, la black. New York City. The short root is tin (Soubtedly the smart wrap of the sea son, for the more eloborote costumes at least, and among them nothing; Is betti liked thnn Just such a blouse Eton ns this one. It has the vest ef fect, which Is always smnrt, and It al lows a choice of elbow or full length sleeves. In the case of the model the material Is taffeta, the vest being of the material, trimmed with applique or embroidery, while the trimming is bands of the silk, stitched und edged with braid. There nre, however, many other materials which nre appropriate. Voile Is exceedingly fashionable, nnd all the softer silks and wools are cor rect, while In addition to plain mate rials, checks and stripes are greatly A Late Design liked. Again, the vest can be of con trasting material, of embroidery, or of the muU-rial simply banded with fancy braid, as may be liked. The full length sleeves are in every way desirable for the simpler costume, but nothing is quite so fashionable this year for the dressier toilettes ns those of half length finished with frills of lace. The Eton Is made with the fronts, back and the vest, the vest being ar ranged under the fronts and the Jacket being slightly full at Its lower edge, fin ished with a pointed belt. The sleeves are made to form voluminous puffs above the elbows and lire In full Minus quetalre style below and are arranged over the fitted linings. The flare cuff Is exceedingly becoming, and it can either be arranged over the sleeves of full length or made to finish tho one cut off at the elbow. The quantity of material required for the medium size is four and one-half yards twenty-one, four yards twenty seven or two and three-fourth yards forty-four Inches wide, with two yards of lace for frills and one and seven eighth yards of applique to trim as Il lustrated. Tain O'Mhanlar Crown, j A picture hut In black transparent . braid bad a Turn 6'Hbanter crown and a wide, flexible brim, for a wonder, not turned up anywhere, but allowed to droop around the face like a child's bat. The trimming was rose wreath, blush pink und white, part of tho wreath Appearing In the underbrtm, ! against the hair, and the rest encir- i cling tho crown. A very large black aigrette trimmed the front of the hat. i Two Laval? Gnu, A lovely gown Is of rose pink satin and pink chUTon, adorned with silver gauze roses and pale mauve satin rib bon 1n lattice design, intersected with little roses. On tho draped bodice Is a bertha of pink chiffon, edged with a fringed galon, with a luttlcework of the narrow mauve ribbon, with small roses In each interstice, as assertive in front, a border of roses edging the sleeve, which are gathered ns far as the elbow and buttoned back over the iinferlal and completed with ruffle of lace. Another attractive gown has ft white pllsse skirt bordered with bands of gold sequin trimming, o'ltllned with pale llue chiffon ruches and a petti coat of pale blue satin velours yelled with -old spotted net. Tho pointed bodice Is trlmmedswith rich gold bro derle, nnd shaded pale blue ribbon. New York Evening Mall. ' Two Bhadat of lllnd. "Two little girls In blue" are seen here different shades of blue, however. A pale blue piquancy In chip revives tho old drapery style nt the back. In this case the drapery is of ribbon, very soft and wide, nnd in the same deli cate shade ns the straw. It is knotted into many loops, once at the brim and again below the hair. A wreath of for-get-me-nols and pink roses Is nround the crown, nnd nosegays of the same blossoms catch up the brim Into trl corne suggestions. The brim Is bound with pnlo blue velvet. It Is all very sweet. Two shades of bluet straw nre wrought Into charming daintiness in this charming and dashing affair, which Is trimmed with quantities of bluets. The two outer braids of the brim are dorker than the rent, which Is of the loveliest new pale bluet shade. Or Chlflon Taffeta. A chiffon taffeta In a rather bright blue was made with a skirt pleated la gronrj of three and a surplice waist pleated on the shoulders nnd in the back. The full sleeves were gathered in a gauntlet cuff at the elbow, with full double ruffles cif lawn nnd lace beneath. The gulnipe nnd collar were of lnce trimmed lawn. New York Evening Post. by May Manton. Run l'lmilod Walking Skirt. No method of obtaining fulness' Is more fashionable or more graceful than sun pleating. Illustrated Is a novel skirt which shows that treatment, while It is so arrnnged as to be smooth over the hips. In tho case of the model It Is mudo of champagne colored chiffon voile with banding of silks, but there are almost Innumerable soft materials tills season and any one of them would bo effective. Not nloue are silks and wools appropriate, but the thinner, softer cotton voiles and the like are ulso desirable. The skirt Is made in a succession of gores which provide abundant fulness for the pleats nt the low? edge, while fhey allow of less bulk at the upper portion. It is first sun pleated, then shirred ou Indicated Hues nnd arranged over a foundation yoke.' The quantity of material required for (he medium size is sixteen und three fourth, yards twenty-one, eleven yards twenty-seven or nine yards forty-four Inches wide, when material has figure or nap; tfu and one-half yards twenty- one, eight and ouo-hnlf yards twouty seven or seven yards forty-four inches wide, wbeu material has neither figure nor nup. I.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers