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.