Demon atc Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 23, 189I. A GREYPORT LEGEND. They ran through the streets of the seaport town ; ! They peered from the decks of the ships that lay; 3 The cold sea-fog that came whitening dewn Was never as cold or white as they. “Ho, Starbuck and Pinckney and Tenterden ! Run for yeur shallops, gather your men, Scatter your boats on the lower bay.” Good cause for fear! In the thick mid-day The hulk that lay by the rotten pier, Filled with the children in happy play, Parted its moorings and drifted clear— Drifted clear beyond reach or call, Thirteen children they were in all— All drifted inte the lower bay.! Said a hard-faced skipper, “God help us all ! She will not float till the turning tide 1” Said his wife, “My darling will hear my call, Whether in sea or Heaven she bide.” And she lifted a quavering voice and high, Wild and strange as a seabird’s cy, Till they shuddered and wondered at her side. The tog drove down on each laboring crew, Veiled each from each, and the sky and shore; There was nota sound but the breath she SW. And the fap of the water and ereak of oar, And they felt the breath of the downs, fresh blown O’er leagues of clover and cold, grey stone, But not from the lips that had gone before. They come no more. But they tell the tale, That, when.fogs are on the harbor reef, ‘I'he mackerel fishers shorten sail ; For the signal they know will bring relief ; For the the voices of children, siill.at play In a phantom hulk that drifts away Through channels whose waters never fall. It is but a foolish shipman’s tale, A theme for.a poet's idle page.; 3 But still, when the mists of doubt prevail And we lie becalmed by the sheres of Age, We hear from the misty troubled shore The voice of the children gone before, Drawing the seul to its anchorage. TE THAT PREITY LITTLE SIMPLETON. BY VIRGIE F. HARRIS. a young lady. and as she owed me $20, I trusted to that totide me over, until I could resume work. But I have been unable to collect the money, and we are penniless.” Bravely said, my beautiful Spartan ! I thought, as I looked at the fine, pale tace with its troubled eyes. The Spar- tan youth, with the wolt gnawing at making this contession. Behind that marble calmness, my beautiful Galatea what a Vesuvius must be throbbing and seething in your heart and brain! Injuries and i.justice that you can’t forget—neglect and coldness from those who should have befriended! “Yes, doctor,” said Mrs. Trevor, “Helen kept her troubles from me as long as she could, and has allowed me to want for nothing, but failing to col- lect the money due her has been a great hardship. The poor child has not tasted food since yesterday. She covered her face with her hands and the tears tricklek down through the thin fingers. I turned like one shot, and stared at that beautiful girl, standing so quiet. and composed. Starving! starving! She, fit to be a queen, and suffering for bread! I stalked like a caged licn up and down the narrow room. “Oh, the heartless rich! The cold, heartless rich !” “More thoughtless than heartless, I think, Dr. Heathcote.” I stopped short as the cool, even tone fell on my ear, and marching up to her took both her hands in mine. I was old enough to be her father. ‘Helen, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you come to me?” The tears came to her eyes—the first I had seen there. “We are such strangers to you. I would not have presumed—— “Strangers be hanged! Excuse me, Helen. But, my child, you are too proud ! There comes a time in the life of most, when we must accept help his vitals, suffered less than you did in | everywhere for you, Helen!” What a silly little thing she was, but how pretty.! All smiles and dimples, rosy cheeks and fluffy brown hair, shading, laughing blue eyes! 1 thought, as Isat opposite her that day in the sireet car, and heard her girlish prattle, that:I had never seensuch a combination of:silliness and prettiness. —when pride must be laid aside and we must stoop! very fine thing, my dear, but the proudly independent man is not the happy man. ure in receiving as well as giving is the one who gets the most good out of life, because closer drawn to his fellow man. Independence is a He who can find pleas- Her silly chatter provoked me desper- | Now, my dear, I'm going to get wine ately, for I was intensely interested in an article in thelast Medical Journal, which had direct bearing on a compli- cated ease I was going:that morningito for your mother and nourishing food for you.” * She put out her hand protestingly, and again that blush of humbled pride treat. An accident that morning to | mounted her face. one of my horses and a stupid blunder of my coachman had forced me to take: the car, and I felt as .cross as a bear, | reckoning by and by. again this afternoon. and looked so, I know, for when iI caught her eye she tossed her silly lit- tle head and turned away with a pout. I heard enough about papa, balls, | m the opera etc. to guess that she was an idolized, only «child and something | round of visite. “Your mother’s life depends upon timely aid. You and I can have our I will look in Soon I had sentup wine, fruits and well prepared food to Helen and her other. TI could not dismiss them from my mind for a moment during my 1 could understand of a belle. As I was too old to ignore the vacnum 1n the pretty head, for the sake of the pretty face, I was much ire- lieved when Dora ‘Copperfield—as :I' meatally styled her—and her friend, left the car. It was-strange, but after the first chance meeting, 1 was con- I caught glimpses of her nestling down in the cushions, as her carriage dashed with a flash and a glitter by my office. At! the opera the fates thwew me in her stantly meeting (Dera. the agony of humiliation that poor and sorrow hanging over her from her mother’s illness. been long with them ; it was apparent that their better days had been recent. Then as I thought how that rich girl's thoughtless, heartless indifference and neglect to pay her, had aggravated Helea’s shame and grief, my indigna- tion kuew no bounds, and when I reached Mrs. Trevor's humble room that afternoon, I had worked myself girl was suffering—as well as the fear Poverty had not! neighborhoed. She wes with a fat, pompous-looking, middle-aged waa, 1n whom I took to be ‘papa.’ I men- ta a furor of anger against that un- known transgressor, Helen's late em- tally dubbed him “old ‘money-bags,” | ployer. I was boiling over with rage, and hated him-as heartily as I did his |W daughter—he looked 80 complacent | fo hich increased, if possjble, when I und Mrs. Trevor worse and noted and listened with such evident relish {Helen's troubled, anxious face. After to her ceaseless, silly prattle. One day I was summosed in great haste to the bedside. of a petient.whom I bad attended aifew timesibefore. She and her daughterlived in a quarter of the city which my practiceseldom call- ed me, und among peoplellonly-served two were as poar as many {I attended | free I couldmot dare refuse the fee they promptly tendered after each wisit, Of them I knew nothing further ¢han that they were ladies. [There was a proud, independence, a dignified reticence that commanded eey respect. I was much attracted by them bath; the motl er | 80 was refined and gentle, and bore with | sh doing all T could for my patient, who soon fell into a doze, I called Helen out into the hall. * “Helen, give me the name and ad- dress of the person that owes you.” She looked at me inquiringly as I took out my note book and pencil, but for sweet charity’ssake. Though these | said: “Miss Fley Garrison, 2010 L ave- aue."”’ I wrote it down hurriedly and ‘with out another word was on my way to find this girl. 1 had but one” thought —to0 bring her to see the sorrow she had eaused. It might teach her a les- a and cause her to feel a little of the ame and mortification Helen had to fortitude her sufferings; the daughter | endure. was beautiful, proud, dignified, and bravely independent. 1 was anaious to help them, but the opportunity for doing so delicately and without the risk of offending had never yet present- ed itself, and not far my right head would I have effended their brave, proud, reticent poverty. But on this visit the evidences of poverty wee even greater. The room was very bare; evidently they had been forced to pawn many necessary articles. The daughter was -very pale and thin, and something like .despair shone in the beautiful dark «eyes. I found Mrs. Trevor very weak sand low. After I had prescribed for ‘her 1 sat like *‘Micawher,” hoping “something would turn there would he some conversation where I might safely offer aid. I could not leave them in such destitution. T must help them—this was not their place and sphere. and thay must be lifted out by some means. The mother was too weak to talk, and Mise was too much absorbed in her own sad thoughts for conversation, so [ must take the dilemma by the horns. “Hawe you been taking wine as I prescribed, Mrs. Trevor? You are much weaker than when I saw you last, and I had hoped the wine would have built up your strength,” Miss Trevor seemed to struggle with herself. A burning blush suffused her face and neck. At last she raised her head proudly, and with a defiant air looked me full and steadily in the eye as she said in a low voice withouta quiver : *No, Dr. Heathcote. We were not able to follow your prescription, fully. The wine you sent mother was of great benefit to her, and I was able to supply it, also, until last week, when she was taken much worse, requiring my unre- mitting attention, which forced me to stop sewing, my only means of support. But I had just finished some work for up’—that ‘When I drew up before 2010 L ave- nue a carriage stood betore the door and a perty of four stood ready to en- ter. A slender, middle-aged lady a fine looking young man, “old mone bags” and Dora Copperfield! Ribbons flying, curls blowing, draperies flutter- ing and merry laughter. So Miss empty head was the culprit. I was not surprised atall. [fI had been a kamight of the middle ages I showing her the trouble and sorrow <he had caused, immured her in a dungeon deep and dark, but as it was whe practical nineteenth century, I must observe the conventionalities. Se, while thirating for revenge, I had ing—ia—the to smirk and bow and introduce my- self. Yes ‘old meney-bags” knew Dr. Heathcote quite well by reputation. Glad to meet him. “This” pointing to the middle aged lady, “was his wife; the young lady waa his daughter Floy, and this his nephew, Mr. Philip Ever- ett, from the South,” I then politely requested Miss Grarri- 80n to accompany me to see a patient who was very low, who knew her, and in whom she would be interested. Floy looked inquiringly at papa, who said: “Yes. go.” Not a word was spoken during the drive, but when we stood in Helen's room I pointed to Mrs. Trevor's wasted form and said : “Behold your work.” “Oh, what do yon mean ?" The blue eyes were round and fright- ened and the roses had faded from her cheeks: I turned sternly upon her and said : “I mean that a girl as young and | beautiful as yourself, as well born and | as well-bred, has been reduced to a | dreadful poverty—a poverty such as | you have never seen, but have cried over in novels ; she has been struggling would of enatched her in my arms 4 and rushed :away with her, and after bravely to keep back want and trouble : from an invalid mother, while you are | going to parties and balls; but out of your plenty you couldn't spare the pitiful $20 she had earned by hard work. It would have been a small fortune to her and saved her heartaches and humiliation terrible to her proud nature !”’ “Forgive me, oh forgive me, Miss Trevor, for my cruel, thoughtless, care- lessness !”’ She was crying and clinging to Hel- en, who stood away. “I have been so wickedly thought less! I did not know there was so much want and suffering in the world! Can you ever forgive me ?” But before Helen could speak, there was aloud knock at the door, and when I opened it, Col. Garrison and Mr. Philip Everett stood before me. Col. Garrison explained that after I had left them with Floy he grew uneasy, thinking he had been too precipitate in giving his consent for her to ac- company me, fearing my patient might he suffering from some contagious dis- ease. Here Floy threw wide open the door, and coming into the hall, threw herself into her father's arms and sobbed out the whole sad story. But what was the matter with Hel- en? Was she about to faint? She steadied herself with one hand against a chair, while the other was pressed to her heart ; her face was deadly pale, and her wine stretched eyes were rivet- ed upon Mr. Everett, who, when he caughu sight of her through the open door stepped forward with a glad cry of “Helen!” His manly, handsome face was radiant with happiness, and I heard him say : “Found at last! I have searched “Can you still “Do I still love you? Oh, Helen, how can you ask |” And unmidful of us all she fell into his arms and wept out her sorrows and griefs upon his heart. I closed the door, and Col. Garrisen, Floy and I discreetly withdrew farther into the hall. After a tew moments Mr. Everett and Helen came out, At last my beautiful Galatea was endowed with | life. A look of happiness such as I | had never seen there before showa in | the dark eyes. Then Mr. Everett, in | a manly, straightforward way, told | their story. He and Miss Trevor had | been children together in a far distant Southern city, and became engaged | soon after both had left school, but after the death of Helen's father, near- ly a year before, an unfortunate mis- understanding arose, which separated them, and Helen and her mother quiet- | ly left the city leaving no trace behind them, and all these months he had | been searching for them. Then that | little simpleton, Floy, proved her head not quite empty by saying : “Papa, Mrs. Trevor and Helen must | go home with us, where we may re- pair, if possible, the wrong I did them.” And it was dove just as Miss Rattle- brain proposed, and she proved herself the most faithful, untiring, and devot- ed of nurses—the most unselfish and loving of friends and cousins: and be- fore the wedding day came around, she and Helen were as devoted as sis-. ters, and when that day did come, old Money-bags was the most generous of uncles. And when Helen kissed me good-bye that day, she said with hap- py tears in her pretty dark eyes : “Dr. Heathcote, I wi'l never cease to love and bless you! The brightest day of my life, except this, is that on which you rushed Floy in upon her avenging Nemesis !”’ Before Philip left with his wife he told me, at Helen's request, what he told no one else—the story of their poverty and separation. Helen’s fath- er bad been Philip's guardian,and after his death it was found that he had ap- propriated and squandered the whole of Philip's fine fortune, butin some way she learned it, and her grief, mor- tification and despair were terrible to see. Sbe thought that Philip would scorn to marry the daughter of a dis- honest man. So after she and her mother had settled their small fortune upon Philip—for both felt keenly the disgrace, and wished to make what reparation they could—they quietly left the city, giving Philip no hint of their destination. “I knew she was a heroine?” I said, as I slapped Philip on the back. Mrs. Trevor remained with the Gar- risons until Philip and his wife return- ed from their brief trip, then she went with them to their cozy home that Col. Garrison gave Philip on his wed- ding day. My gift to my beautiful girl was a complete silver service and a horse and phaeton: so Isee the bright, happy tace every day or so as shedrives by and nodsand smiles at we, Well, it is always the unexpected that happens. When that boy of mine, Walter Heathcote, came back from college, ready for a partnership with his old father, what should he do but fall in love with that pretty little simpleton, Floy Garrison, and make her Mrs. Heathcote before I could say Jack Robinson. EE INSULTED. —Wagg— We had a terri- ble thunder storm as I came up in the train this afternoon. Wooden weren’t you afraid of the lightning ? “No, I got behind a brakeman.” | *‘Behind a brakeman ? What earthly good did that do 7” “Why, he was not a conductor.” EE ——I was troubled with catarrh for seven years previous to commencing the use of Ely’s Cream Balm. It has done for me what other so culled cures failed to do—cured. The effect of the Balm seemed magical. Clarence L. Huff, Biddeford, Maine. ET A —— Hats are large and in picturesque shapes ; bonnets are small. An Heir in a Prison. J. Edwin Rayn, Who Will Inherit a Million, in the Penitentiary. The heir of over one million has been found in the western penitentiary in Allegheny City. Early in the eighties an actor, whose stage name was St. Rayn, but whose real name was J. Ed- win Rayn, became stranded with his company in New Orleans. He had the good fortune to rescue a wealthy Cubian Louise De Amboise and daughter Edith an only child, from a deadly assault of two villians. In the struggle St. Rayn was severely injured. The De Amboises nursed him back to life. The young couple fell in love, but the father demanded that his daughter should marry a cousin, Horace Leigh. Ste refused, and the lovers eloped and were married. The father forgave them. St. Rayn trequently ab- sented himself, and Horace Leigh circu- iated stories, as a result of which De Amboise and his daughter were led tc believe that the husband was unfaithful. A separation ensued. De Amboise and his daughter and the latter’s child went back to Cuba. Leigh on his deathbed confessed his deceit. De Amboise and his daughter also died, leaving an immense property to St. Rayn, who after a year’s search was discovered to be an inmate of the West- ern penitentiary, convicted of a crime that had never been committed. In his wanderings after separating from his wife, St. Rayn worked at Jeannette, and became known to several peopie there. The efforts to trace bim brought agents of the estate in contact with a re- porter, who aided them in discovering tbe identity of St. Rayn. Efforts are being made to have him set free on ha- beas corpus proceedings. St. Rayn has told the story cf his mar- riage and gave, without suggestion, names, dete and facts which corrobor- ate the romantic -tory of his hfe and proved him to be the heir to the De Am- boise fortune. FE — Training Children. Disorder in a child is inherent. It is just as natural for a boy when he comes into the house to throw his hat on one. ehair and his coat on another as it is for him to eat when he is hungry. The on- ly way to get him out of this bad habit is to make him stop whatever he is do- ing, when the misdemeanor 1s discover- ed, and pick up the hat and coat and put them in place. He will soon re- member to perform the duty when he comes in. Girls are quite as disorderly as boys, but being more continually under the watchful eye of the mother, they are more quickly trained into thoughtful ways. The habit of taking care of things should early be instilled in chil- dren. It has a good effect upon the mind. One often hears an indulgent individ- ual say: “Oh, don’t bother the child. Let ber have own her way. Her troubles will come fast enough.” Such a meth- od carries out completely wrong, for it gives the child so much suffering later in life. Self-control, learned early, smooths over many difficulties. There is no more serious work in the world than that of training children. All mothers do not have the art. There was a time when the birch rod did the work. Now it is seldom resorted to. Patience and loviug kindness are more effective weaggns. As for the former, there should be no end of it; the latter comes naturaily. Minister Egan’s Son Arrested. The Chilean Government Must Settle With the United States. SANTIAGO, Oct. 19.—The Balmacedists who took refuge at the American lega- tion still remain under the protection of the American flag. The junta re fuses to grant them ‘safe conducts’ and spies are continually watching the legation in the hope of being able to capture the refugees. The orders which were issued last week to arrest all per- sous entering or leaving the legation have been revoked on the protest of Minister Egan. Several persons were arrested, including Mr. Egan’s son. The Chilean government will shortly be notified that the United States will not be trifled with. Instructions to this effect have been received from Washingtoa by Minister Egan and by Captain Schley, of the cruiser Baltimore, and both are preparing to act firmly. A strong feeling exists here against the American officials. An intimation is given that a fleet of American cruisers will soon assemble in Chilean waters. The First Railroad. The first timid experiment in railroads was a tramway in Quincy, Mass., built in 1826, chiefly by Thos. H. Perkins and Gridley Bryant, of Boston. Its on- ly purpose was for the easier conveyance by horse, of building stone from the granite quarries of Quincy to tide-wa- ter. It was the germ, however, of a mighty movement in the country. The first railroad in America for passenger and traffic—the Baltimore and Ohio— was chartered by the Maryland legisla- ture in March, 1827. The capital stock at first was only half a million dollars, and a portion of it was subscribed by the State and the city of Baltimore. Horses were its motive power, even after sixty-five miles of the road were built, But in 1829, Peter Cooper, of New York, built a locomotive in Baltimore which weighed on ton, and made eighteen miles an hour on a trial trip to Ellicott’s Mills. In 1830 there were twenty-three miles of railway in the United States, which were increased the next year to ninety-five miles, and in 1835 to 1,098, and in 1840 to nearly three thousand.—Bryont’s History of the United States. —————————— ——Salt Rheum with its intense itching, dry, hot skin, often broken into painful cracks, and the little watery imples, often causes indescribable suf- ering, Hood’s Sarsaparilla has wonder- ful power over this disease. It purifies the blood and expels the humor, and the skin heals without a scar. Send for book containing many statements of cures, to C. I Hood & Co., Apothecar- ies, Lowell, Mass. HOE ei OT Soldiers on Bicycles. Tests Made in Connehticul Show Their Efficiency and Usefulness. The little State of Connecticut prom- bicycle to usage in its nstional guard, and at the recent State encrmpment the bicycle service, which had been estab. lished some time previous, was given a Army and Navy Register, forty-four caliber carbine and Colt’s regular army revolver. When mounted, each man carries his carbine slung across his back by means of a strap. The carbine has a capacity ot twelve shots and the revolver of six shots, giving to the nine wheelman a total of 162 shets without pausing to reload. The weight of the carbine is five pounds. The man- ual used by these wheelmen was com- piled by Lieut. Giddings, from United States infantry and English cycle tac- tics. One of the tests to which the bi- cycle corps was put to at camp was a sham fizht between wheelmen and a de- tachment of infantry and a squad of cav- alry. They were also tested as messen- gers and the flag signaling, with which the wheel messengers competed, seems to have been slow. Col. Daherty, of the Second Connecti- cut regiment, was supposed to be at- tacked on his flank when two miles from his camp. He sent a niessage of some ten or fifteen words to headquar- ters by means of the regular flag signal service, asking that a machine gun be sent to his assistance at once. At the same time he gave the mes- sage to one of the wheelmen for deliv- ery: For the first half mile the message was carried for the regular sericve by a Lorseman to a house, from whose roof the first flag began to wave. The bicy- clist reached his destination and deliver- ed his dispatch in ten minutes, while the same message did not get in until forty minutes later through the ordinary sig- naling by fiags. In fact, the gun had reached its position and was alreaay fir- ingin support of Col. Daherty, two miles away, when the message asking for it reached headquarters according to the usual method. The Paris Rag-pickers. A curious series of statistics estab- lishes the value of the refuse of the Paris streets. The figures seem incredible, and show that the rag- pickers discharge a duty of primary im- portance. Working at night, busy un- der the gas lights with hook and panier, the value of what they collect is estima- ted at £2,000 each day. Assuredly one half the lives. Ofcourse the conditions of Paris life are exceptional: Popula- gardens as with us--there are but the lumber and refuse into the streets, and harvest. A use is found for everything, the details are interesting, though some are rather disturbing. Rags, of course, go to make paper; broken glass is pounded and serves as a coating for sand or emery paper; bones after the pro- cess of cleaning and cutting down, serve to make nail brushes, tooth brushes, and fancy buttons ; little wisps of women’s hair are carefully unraveled, and do duty for faise hair by and by. Men's hair collected outside the barbers’ serves for filters through which syrups are strained ; bits of sponge are cut up and used for spirit lamps; bits of bread if dirty are toasted and grated, and sold to the restaurants for spreading on hams or cutlets ; sometimes they are carboniz- ed and made into tooth powder. Sar- dine boxes are cut into tin soldiers or 1nto sockets tor candlesticks. A silk hat hasa whole chapter of adventures in store tor it. All this work employes a regiment of rag-pickers numbering close on 20,000. and each earning from twen- ty pence to balfa crown a day. With all the wonders of our great’ cities we have nothing quite like this. —— Heads of Two Noted Men. When the wise and witty Sir Thomas on a pole on London bridge, wher it was exposed for fourteen days, much to the grief of his daughter, Margaret Roper, who resolved to secure it. “One day,” says Aubrey, ‘as she was passing under the bridge, looking at her father’s head, she exclaimed: “That head has lain many a time in my lap ; would to God it would fall into my lap as I pass under!” She had her wish, and it did fall into her lap I” Probably she had bribed one of the keepers of the bridge to throw it over justas the boatap- proached, and the exclamation was in- tended to avert the suspicion of the boatmen. At all events, she got posses- sion of it, and preserved it with care in now inclosed in a niche in the wall of her tomb in St. Dunstan’s Church, Canterbury. : Sir Walter Ruleigh’s head in a red it to beembalmed, and kept it with her all her life, permitting favored friends, to kiss it. Hisson, Carew Raleigh, af- It is supposed now to rest in the church Magazine, Providing Water fo r Wayfarers. ——t—— The providing of water for thirsty duty in the East. little-domed houses, covering the tombs of Mohommedan saints, are often to be found large jars of water, with a vessel to lift the cooling liquid to the lips of the passer-by. Many travelers must have seen the curiously figured earthern jor beside the door of the little well at Magdala. The villagers keep it con- stantly replenished with fresh water from the lake, such service to wayfarers honored. There are certain tanatical drink from a vessel dom will they refuse a drink of cold water to the traveler, although they must immediately destroy the vessel from which he has drunk. west of its efficiency and usefulness. | The men rode safety machines, says the then the rag-pickers gather in their and mewamorghosis never ceases. All | Moore was beheaded his head was stuck | a leaden casket until her death, and it is | bag was carried to his wife, who caused | ises to be the pioneer in adopting the terward preserved it with similar piety. of West Horsley, Surrey.—GQentleman’s | houses and the sireets. The Parisians | ices entirely, the elastic webbing have a way of emptying all kinds of | wa TORT Snap Shots tor Women, —— Large poppies have appeared on French brocades. r The milliners are taking well to the. peau de soie ribbons. Fine ostrich feathers are quite notice- able among the elegant effects, Some very neat crepes are in striped. designs, covered with tiny fiowers Many feather effects; in fact, al) feather garnitures sell well, except long: plumes. Heavy corded bengalines for visiting and home gowns, in dark shades for matrons. Black Bedford cord jackets, having a trimming of mink, moufflon, Alaska sable, etc. Narrow mohair Hercules braid tor- trimming woolen gowns made in the plain tailor style. Black silk and chiffon for gowns | trimmed with jet for second mourning evening gowns. Opera cloaks of white camel’s hair, tufted with long golden tan hairs in ir. regular dashes, Pink eiderdown wrappers, trimmed with satin ribbon and a jabot of point de Gaze lace. Velvet basques, with skirt, sleeves and vest of plain or striped, smooth or rough woolen goods. . Wedding gowns of lampas, introduc. Ing many silver threads, are about the most expensive seen, Velvet ribbon trimmings, with velvet corselets, peasant waists or girdles, as they are severally called. Beautifully fine handkerchiefs, simply finished with scallops and a tiny dot or figure within each one. Pearl white silken fabrics are more favored than the bluish or dead white, or delicate cream shades, Visiting and carriage toilets are an. nounced of brocades, small designs, with satin panels, vests, ete. _ Toques of cloth, to match or harmon. 176 with street costumes as well as the more elaborate visiting gowns of cloth. Satin bows will be used to hoid in or fasten the tolds of the waist, In fact, satin ribbon will be very much in vogue. Short evening wraps of white French cloth, broadcloth,etc., in the form of a cape, trimmed with ostrich feather bands. Sleeves. as predicted, will no longer be made as high on the shoulders, but what they lose in the height they will make up for in width, Velvet peaches, with their foliage, on a deep cream satin, which set off the Datural shades, are said to have made if Fa 0 | the beholder’s mouth , tion is very close, the tall houses are | Waist crammed with inhabitants, there are no | Ecru silk guipure, copied from old Venetian, is provided for covering bod- being drawn tightly over a close fitting founda- tion without darts and as few seams sas possible. The light-weight silks will all be fashionable for home wear all through fall and winter, the darker colors being chosen. Dark-blue, green and brown foulard will all be popular, with rather large and highly but artistically colored flowers, and some few scroll and polka designs. For the trimming of very handsome robes of brocade dressmakers choose work that recalls the pattern of the silk. Thus a very beautiful pale pink gown, brocaded with roses in ‘old? tints, will have a trimming, the upper portion of which reproduces the same flowers in similar colors, and the lower a regular lace pattern in ecru silk. Heavy laces are fashionable, as the guipure de Renaissance, the Venetian guipure, the guipure d’art, the silk gui- pure and with jet cabochons, These gui- pure trimmings are used for dresses of cloths, vicuna and other woolens in the shape of Figaro jackets, plastrons, re- vers, collars, hip skirts, insertions, etc. Blonde and, more lately, red -gold hair have been all the fashion for years poy now it has the turn of dark hair, adies are having their hair dyed black. In this, as in the matter of hair dressing we are of the opinion, that it is quite a mistake to follow the whims of fashion, and our advice is, leave your hair as Nature made it; be sure it suits your face and complexion better as it is than as you may make it. An elegant Louis XV, coat of black velvet has cuffs and collar of Alaska sable, with a vest of cream satin heavily embroidered. Some of the famous Pa- risian ‘‘creators’” of rare and beautiful carriage and evening wraps are again lining them with ermine, though the trimming is of brown fur nine times out of ten. Pearl gray will be worn greatly for evening, also cardinal, old. rose and yellowish tan, Capes now run from thirty-two to forty-four inches in length, and are of three distinct styles—fitted in the back, with jacket front and back and eape sleeves with a close vest from under the loose fronts. Pokes are round pointed orsquare ; velvet, furand feathers offer a variety in the trimming line. When they are lined it is with brocade, glance , or satin, but-domesiic. wraps are not as | | often lined as those of English makers. like Bishop Goodman, to see and even | There is some pretty erameled jewel- ry made to imitate rosettes and bows of the narrow ribbon. The rosettes are rather formal and stitf-looking. But some of .bows are very good and most successfully represent satin ribbon, They ! are worn in lace or mousseline jabots, and sometimes placed in black lace travelers has long been held a religious ! By the doors of the | cabechons set in chased silver. being esteemed very well pleasing to | the saint, whose last resting place is thus religious sects in Syria who may never | which has once touched the lips of a stranger; yet sel- quillings on hats. But for the moment everything Russianis in great vogue, especially the jewelry consisting of real One may dress very inexpensively, and yet be fashionable, if only the gen- eral style is inaccordance with modern taste, Thus, one of the pretty broead- ed delaines may be adopted instead of a lain tissue embroidered by the hand. The effect is nearly the same, if made up by a clever couturiere. Brocaded or printed borders are arranged so as to form the trimming of the skirt and bod- ice: square or parked panels are describ- ed upon the skirt; a Figaro jacket, vest or plastron over the bodice. Two different materals are often combined, one plain, the other figured, and the modiste’s skill consist in varying such combinations as much as possible, but always in the peculiar style which pre- vails in modern fashion.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers