Democratic lata
Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. 13, 189i.
A MAGIC WORD.
If a merchant has goods, but customers none,
And ruin stares him in the face;
If his eredit’s at zero, his ereditors run
From morning till night to his place.
Is anything helpful to brace up this man,
If he only the remedy tries?
Can any ene tell of a trade bringing plan?
CHORUS —
“Why, tell him to advertise !”
If a new preparation to cure all the ills
Of aT people on earth,
No matter if taken in liquid or pills,
In some Yankee drug store find birth,
What should the man do, and do big and bold ?
What is it that captures the prize ? Hi
What gathers the sheckles from young and
old?
Crorus—
“Why, bless you, to advertise ?
Ifa man takes an acre or two of a farm
That's worthless and fully played out,
And cuts it up neatly in nice city lots,
And an auctioneer hires—to shout ;
Then if he plants some short wooden stakes
To show where each full sized lot lies,
What is it he does—and the money he rakes?
CHORUS—
“You bet he will advertise!”
And so the world over, this magical word
The coffers of wealth opens wide:
It's power extends where language is heard,
For ages its usefulness tried. :
A man who once uses 1t, if with good sense,
No other plan ever he tried,
But sticks to it close, gathers dollars and
pence—
Reader—
“Why don’t you cdvertise 2”
bmr—————
A CONSUMING FIRE.
BY C. A. P. ANDE. W. F.
- Helis a man who has failed in this
life, and says he has no chance of sue-
cess in another; but out of tne frag-
ments of his failure he has pierced to-
gether for himself a fabric of existence
more satisfying than most of us make
of our successes. It is a kind of tri-
umph to look as he does, to have his
manner, and to preserve his attitude
toward advancing years—those dread-
ed years which he faces with pale but
smiling lips.
If you would see my friend Hayden,
commonly called by his friends the
connoisseur, figure to yourself a tall
gentleman ot sixty-five, very erect still
and graceful, gray headed and gray
bearded, with fine gray eyes that have
the storm tossed look of clouds on a
windy March day, and a bearing that
somehow impresses you with an idea
of the gracious and pathetie dignity of
his lonely age.
I myself am a quiet young man,
with but one gift——T am a finished and
artistic listener. It is this talent of
mine which wins for me a degree of
Hayden's esteem and a place at his
table when he has a new story to tell.
His connoisseurship extends to every-
thing of buman interest, and his stories
are often of the best.
The last time that I had the honor
of dining with him, there was present,
besides the host and myself, only his
close friend, that vigorous and success-
ful man, Dr. Richard Longworthy, the
eminent alienist and specialist in ner-
vous diseases: The connoisseur evi-
dently had something to relate, but he
refused to give it to us until the pretty
dinner was over. Hayden's dinners
are always pretty, and he has ideals in
the matter of china, glass, and napery
which it would require a woman to ap-
preciate. It is one of his accomplish-
ments that be manages to live like a
gentleman and entertain his friends on
an income which most people find quite
inadequate for the purpose.
After dinner we took coffee and re-
fused cigars in the library.
On the table, full in the mellow light
of the great lamp (Hayden hasa dis-
taste for gas), was a bit of white plush
on which two large opals were lying.
One was an intensely brilliant globe of
broken gleaming lights, in which the
red flame burned strongest and most
steadily ; the other was as large, but
paler. You would have said that the
prisoned heart of fire within it had
ceased to throb against the onter rim
of fice. Langworthy, who is wise in
gems, bent over them with an exclama-
tion of delight.
“Fine stones,” he said; “where dig
you pick them up, Hayden ?”
Hayden, standing with one hand on
Tangworthy's shoulder, smiled down
on the opals with a singular expres:
gion. It was as if he looked into be-
loved eyes for an answering smile.
“They came into my posssssion in a
singular way, very singular. “When
I was in the West last summer, I spent
some time in a city on the Pacific
slope which has more pawnbrokers’
shops and that sort of thing in full
sight on the prominent streets than
any other town of the same cize and
respectability that I have ever seen.
One day, when { had been looking in
the bazars for something a little out of
the regular line in Chinese curios and
didn’t find 1t, it oecurred to me that iu
such a cosmopolitan town there might
possibly be some interesting things in
the pawn shops, =o I went into one to
look. It wasa commen dingy place,
kept by a common dingy man with
shrewd eyes and a coarse mouth.
Talking to him across the counter was
a man of another type. Distinction in
good clothes, yon know, one is never
sure of. It may be only that a man’s
tailor is distinguished. But distine-
tion in indifferent garments, that is dis-
tinction indeed, and there before me I
saw it. A young, slight, carelessly
dressed man, his bearing was attrac-
tive and noteworthy beyond anything
I can express. Ilis appearance was
perhaps a little too unusual, for the
contrast between his soft straw colored
hair and wine brown eyes was such a
striking one that 1t attracted attention
from the real beauty of his face.
“On the desk between the two men
lay a fine opal—this one,” said Hay-
den, touching the more brilliant of the
two stones. “The younger man was
talking eagerly, fingering the gem
Jightly as he spoke. TI inferred that
he was offering to sell or pawn it.
“The proprietor, seeing that I wait-
ed, apparently cut the young man
short. ‘I'll jgive you—'1 heard the
other say, but the young man shook
his head, and departed abruptly. I
found nothing that I wanted in the
place, and soon passed out.
“In front of a shop window a little |
further down the street stood the other !
man, looking listlessly in with eyes |
that evidently saw nothing. As I
came by he turned and looked into my
face. His eyes fixed me as the Ancient
Mariner's did the Wedding Guest. It
was an appealing yet commanding
look, and I—felt constrained to stop.
I couldn’t help it, you know. Even at
my age one isnot beyond feeling the |
force of an imperious attraction, and
when you are past sixty you ougnt to
be thankful on your knees for any emo-
tion that is imperative in its nature.
So I stopped beside him. Isaid: “It
was a fine stone you were showing that
man. I have a great fondness for
opale. May I ask if you were offering
it for sale?”
He continued to look at me, inspect- |
ing me calmly, with a fastidious ex- |
pression. Upon my word, I felt singu- |
larly honored when, at the end of a
minute or two, he said: “I should like
to show it to you. If you will come to |
my room with me, you may see that, |
and another; and he turned and led |
the way, I following quite humbly and
gladly, though rather surprised at my-
self.
“The room, somewhat {0 my aston-
ishment, proved to be a large apart- |
ment, a front room high up in one of |
the best hotels.
There were a good |
many things lying about that obviously |
were not hotel furnishings, and the!
walls, the bed, and even the floor were
covered with a litter of water color
sketches. Those that TI could see
were admirable, being chiefly impres-
sions of delicate and fleeting atmos-
pheric effects.
“I took the chair he offered. He
stood, still looking at me, apparently
not in haste to show me the opals.
looked around the room.
“You are an artist ?” I said.
“40h, I used to be when I was alive’
he answered, drearily. ‘I am nothing
now. And then turning away he fetch-
ed a little leather case, and placed the
two opals on the table before me.
“This is the ‘one I have always
worn,” he said, indicating the more
brilliant, That chilher one I gave
once to the woman whom I loved. It
was more vivid then, They arestrange
stones.’
“He said nothing more, and I sat in
perfect silence, only dreading that he
should not speak again. 1 am not
making vou understand how he im-
pressed me. In the delicate, hopeless
patience of his face, in the refined, un-
insistent accents of his voice, there was
somehow struck a note of self-abnega-
tion, of aloofuess from the world, pa-
thetic in any one so young.
“I am old. There is little in life
that I care for. My interests are large-
ly affected. Wine does not warm me
now, and beauty seems no longer beau-
tiful, but I thank heaven I am not be-
yond the reach of a penetrating per-
sonality. I have at least the ordinary
instinets for convention in social mat-
ters, but I assure you it seemed notin
the least strange to me that I should
be sitting in the private apartment of
a man whom I had met only half an
hour before, and then in a pawnbrok-
er’s shop, listening eagerly for account
of matters wholly personal to himself.
It struck me as the most vatural and
charming thing in the world. It was
just such chance passing intercourse
as I expect to hold with wandering
spirits on the green hills of paradise.
“It was some time before he spoke
again,
“‘I saw her first,’ he said, looking at
the paler opal, as if it was of that he
spoke, ‘on the street in Florence. It
was a day in April, and the air was
liquid gold. She was looking at the
Campanile, as if she were akin to it. [t
was the friendly grace of one lily look-
ing at another. Later, I met her as
one meets other people, and I was pre-
sented to her. Aud alter that the days
went fast. I think she was the sweet-
est woman God ever made. I some:
times wonder how He cate to think of
her. Whatever you may have missed
in life,” he said, lifting calm eyes to
mine, and smiling a little, ‘you whose
aspect is so sweet, decorus, aud de-
pressing, whose griefs, if you have
griefs, are the subtle sorrows of the old
and unimpassioned’'—I remember his
phrases literally, I thought them
striking and descriptive,iconfessed Hay:
den—* ‘I hope you have not missed
that last touch of exaltation which I
knew then. Itis the most exquisite
thing in Life. The Fates must hate
those from whose lips they keep that
cap.’ He mused awhile, and added,
‘There is only one real want in lite, and
that is comradeship—comradeship with
the divine, and that we call religion;
with the human, and that we call
love.’ :
“Your definitions are literature,’ 1
ventured to suggest, ‘but they are not
fact. Believe me, neither love nor re-
ligion is exactly what you call it. And
there are other things almost as good
in life, as surely vou must know. There
is art, and there is work which is work
only, and yet is good.’
“4You speak from your own experi-
ence?’ he said, simply.
“Itwas a home thrust. I did not,
and I knew I did not. 1 am sixty-five
years old, and I have never known just
that complete satisfaction which I be-
lieve arises from the perfect performn-
ance of distasteful work. I said so.
He smiled.
‘Part with them ?
| are going 7’
| diction.
“4 knew it when I set my eyes upon
you, and I knew you would listen to |
me and my vaporing. Your sympathy
with me is what you feel toward all
forms of weakuess, and in the last
analysis it is self sympathy. You are
beautiful, not strong,” he added, with
an air of finality, ‘and—1I am like you.’
“T enjoyed this singular analysis of
myself, but I wanted something else.
“You were telling me of the opals,’
I suggested. :
“(The opalg, yes. Opals always
made me happy, you know. While I
wore one, 1 felt that a friend was near.
My father found these in Hungary,and
sent them to me, two perfect jewels.
He said they were the twin halves of a
single stone. I believe it to be true.
Their mutual relation is an odd one.
One has paled as the other brightened.
You see them now. When they were
"both mine, they were almost equal
in brilliancy, This’ touching the paler,
‘is the one I gave to her. You see the
difference in them now. Hers began
to pale before she had worn it a month,
I do not try to explain it, not even on
the ground of the old superstition. It
was not her fault that they made her
send it back to me. But the fact re-
mains ; her opal is fading slowly; mine
is burning to a deeper red. Some day
hers will be frozen quite, while mine—
mine—' his voice wavered and fell in
silence, as the flame of a candle fight-
ing against the wind flickers and goes
out.
“I waited many minutes for him to
I speak again, but the silence was un-
broken. At last I rose. ‘Surely you
did not mean to part with either stone,’
1 said.
“He looked up as from a dream.
Why should I sell
my soul? I would not part with them
it [ were starving. I had a minute's
temptation, but that is past now.
Then, with a change of manner, ‘You
He rose with a gesture
that I felt then and still feel as a bene-
‘Good-by. 1 wish "for your
own sake that you bad not been so like
my poor self that I knew you for a
friend.’
“We had exchanged cards, but I did
not see or hear of him again. Last
week these stones came to me, sent by
come one herein New York of his own
name—his executor, He is dead, and
left me these.
“It is here I want your counsel.
These stones do not belong to me, you
know. It is true that we are like, as
like as blue and violet. But there is
that woman somewhere. Idon't know
where, and I know no more of their
story than he told me. I have not
cared to be curious regarding it or him,
But they loved once, and these belong
to ber. Do you suppose they would be
a comfort or acurse to her? If—if—"
the connoisseur evidently found diffi
culty in stating his position. “Of
course I do not mean to say that I be-
lieve one of the stones waned while the
other grew more brilliant. I sunply
say nothing of it; but I know that he
believed it, and I, even I, feel a super-
stition about it. I do not want the
light in that stone to go out, or if it
ehould, or conld, I do not want to see
it. And, besides, if] were a woman,
and that man had loved me so, I
should wish these opals,” Here Hay-
den looked up and caught Langworthy’s
amused tolerant smile. He stopped,
and there was almost a flush apon his
cheek.
“You think I am maudlin—doting,I
see,” he said. “Langworthy, I do
hope the Lord will kindly let you die
in the harness. You haven’tany taste
for these innocent green pastures where
we old fellows must disport ourselves,
if we disport at all. Now, I want to
know if it would be—er—indelicate to
attempt to find out who she is, and to
restore the stones to her ?”
Langworthy, who had preserved
throughout his usual air of strict scien-
tific attention, jumped up and began to
pace the room.
“His name ?” he said.
Hayden gave it.
“1 know the man,” said Langworthy
almost reluctantly. “Did any one who
ever saw him foreet him? He was on
the verge of melancholia, but what a
mind he had!”
“How did you know him, Lang-
worthy ?” asked Hayden, with pathetic
eagerness.
“As a patient. It's asad story. You
won't like it. You had better keep
your fancies without the addition of
any of the facts.”
“Go on,” said Hayden, briefly.
“They live here, you know. He
was the only son. He unconsciously
acquired the morphine habit from tak-
ing quantities of the stuff for neuralgic
symptoms during a severe protracted
illness, After he got better, and found
what had happened to him, he came to
me. I had to tell him he wonld die if
he didn’ break it off, and would prob-
ably die if he did. ‘Oh, no matter,’ he
said. What disgusts me is the ide:
that it has taken such a hold of me.
He did break it off, directly and abso-
lutely. I never knew but one other
man who did that thing. But between
the pain and the shock from the sad-
den cessation of the drug bis mind was
unbalanced for a while. Of course the
girl's parents broke off the engagement.
1 knew they were traveling with him
last summer. It was a trying case,
and the way he accepted his own weak-
ness touched me. At his own request
he carried no money with him. It was
a temptation when he wanted the drug,
you see. It must have been at snch
moment, when he contemplated giving
up the struggle, that you met him in
the pawn shop.”
“] am glad I knew enough to respect
him even there,” murmured Hayden,in
his beard. .
“Oh, you may respect him, and love
him if you like. He died a moral hero
if a mental and a physical wreck.
“And the woman?” asked the con-
noisseur.
“Keep the opals, Hayden ; they and
he are more to you than to her. She—
in fact it is very soon—I believe that
she is to marry another man.”
“Who is—"
“A gilded calf. That's all.”
Langworthy took out his watch and
looked at it. I turned to the table.
{ What had happened to the dreaming
| 8'ones?
Did a light flash across from
one to the other, or did my eyes deceive
me? 1 looked down, not trusting what
I saw. Ouneopal lay as pale, as pure,
as lifeless, as a moon stone is. The
other glowed with a yet fiercier spark;
instead of coming from within, the
color eeemed to play [over its surface in
unrestricted flame.
“See here!” I said.
Langworthy looked, then turned his
head away sharply. The distaste of
the scientific man for the inexplicable
and irrational was very strong within
him.
Botvlie old man bent forward, the
lamp light shining on his white hair,
and with a womauish gesture caught
the gleaming opals to his lips. “A
human soul?” he said. “A human
soul !'?
An Elaborate System of Canals Under
Way in New Mexico.
Some of the projects for irrigating
arid lands in the West and the remarka-
ble results of previous irrigation were
described and illustrated in the Sun a
tew months ago. Since then, at conven-
tion of engineers in Salt Lake City, the
subject of irrigation has been discussed
in all its branches, but the effect of the
| diszussion wiil not be felt for some time.
| The purposes of the convention were to
| consider matters pertaining to the recla-
| mation of the arid public lands of the
‘West, and to petition Congress to cede
to each State and Territory the arid
land within its borders for purposes of
| reclamation, for the support of its public
schools, and for such other public pur-
poses us the Legislature of each State or
Territory may respectively determine.
The number of civil engineers who are
becoming interested in irrigation is in-
creasing, and the enterprises are the
principal topics in ‘alt Lake City,
Leadville, and Denver 1t is believed
that mining ard hydraulics are the
coming sources of profit for the civil en-
gineer.
A project that has attracted consider-
able attention is the construction of an
elaborate system ot dams and canals in
the valley of the Pecos River in the
northern part of New Mexico. The
river rises northwest of Santa Fe and
flows in a southerly direction toward
Fort Sumter, N. M., and then, a little to
the east of south, across the territorial
line into Texas where it joins Rio
Grande. Tt is a mountain stream sub-
ject to alternate floods and drought un-
til it reaches Roswell, N. M., whence
for a distance of about one hundred
miles its course is so tortuous that its
length is about 250 miles. The land of
the valley between Roswell and Pecos,
about thirty miles south of the territor-
ial line, are broad and level, of the
choicest limestone soil, and with a total
area of nearly 1,000,000 acres, of which
fully 400,000 are below the level at
which it is practicable to deliver water
from the Pecos. Most of the land is
covered with greasewood and mesquit.
To irrigate the lands requires no level-
ing of the surface for ‘he distribution of
the water, the natural slopes being suffi-
cient.
Of the three sections into which the
lands of the Pecos Valley may be divid-
ed, the first, in the mountain regions
northwest of Santa Fe, is too high for
good grass land. The second extends
from Roswell, on the Hondo River to
Seven Rivers, and broadens out into a
plain of many thousands of acres of fine
agricultural land, with spring and
marshes on the east side of the river
which forms deep streams and rapid cur-
rent from thirty to sixty feet in width
ana constitute the Hondo river as a
branch of the Pecos. That is the water
supply of the upper canal system, which
is there entirely independent of the
Pecos. The third section extends from
the canon eight miles above Eddy to
some miles below Pecos city. Itis
from twenty-five to thirty miles in
width, and has the richest agricultural
land in the valley, It has a steeper
slope than lower down, and the soil
is lighter and more sandy.
For irrigating the second and third
sections of the valley companies "have
constructed four separate canal systems,
and the most important has been de-
scribed in the Engineering News.
Three dams head the most important
canal systems in New Mexico. The
dam of the Northern Canal is across
the Hondo River near Roswell, whence
a canal runs to and across the South
Spring River, where a pick-up weir has
has been built which turns the water
southward through a main canal to the
Feliz River; a distance of twenty-five
miles, bringing under cultivation 60,-
000 acres of agricultural land. That
canal is to be extended to a length of
fifty miles, and with proper storage
reservoirs may be extended for the irri-
gation of 100,000 acres more of produc-
tive land. The middle dam is across the
Pecos River below the eanon, about six
miles north of Eddy, and from it a main
canal runs aiong the east bank for four
miles to a bifurcation,whence the princi-
pal branch crosses the river on a flume
and extends down the west bank for
fifty-five wiles to the Delaware River,
bringing under irrigation at least 150,-
000
On the Texas line the eastern branch
extends twenty miles down the valley,
terminating in a dry lake and bringing
under irrigation 50,000 acres of rich,
sandy loam. A part of the sume systen.
is a short branch heading on the east
side of the river about fifteen miles be-
low Eddy, and having on its line a
large storage reservoir. The third, or
southern canal system, of the company
is now under construction, the water to
fill it being diverted trom the Pecos
River by a large dam just south of the
Texas line. It is to be twenty five
miles in’ length, and it will irmgate
about 70,000 acres in Texas,
The principal canal, and the one that
is the most interesting to ergineers on
account of its construction and magni-
tude, is the middle canal just below Ed-
dy. Iuisthe diverted from the river by
a great dam, built of loose rock and
earth, 1,600 feet in length on its crest
and fifty feet in height at the highest
point. The dam follows a gap worn
through a limestone ridge. Besides di-
verting the water the dam forms a great
storage reservoir about seven miles in
length and one mile and three quarters
in width, Ttis the shape of the Jetter
L. with the angle pointing up stream
and the long arm abutting against the
canal head. The long arms 1,070 feet
in length. The short arm, which is
wholly of earth, is 530 feet in length,
with an averaged height of about two
fect. At the end of the dam furtherest
from the canal is an ample wasteway in
the limestone rock,
agricultural pursuits, although it has |
| ing a cure because of their uawilling-
|
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|
i all stages and varieties, yet it is not
| ness to continue treatment long enough
which, in all cases of chronic catarrh,
The canal head at the east end of the
dam isin a rock cut thirty feet in width,
twenty-five feet in depth, aud 500 feet
in length. Below the rock cut the can- |
al is forty-five feet in width at the bot- |
tom, and seventy-five feet at the top,
and- it will carry a depth of six feet of
water. Its grade is sixteen inches to
the mile. It has been excavated
through a light, sandy loam. The first
part is four miles in length to the bifur-
cation, the embankment having becn
thrown up wholly on the lower side
wherever the canal was in a side hill
excavation, so that the floods caused by
arroyas entering the upper side become |
pounds or reservoirs of fair size into
which the waters of the canal spread.
At the entrance to the canal the water
is controlled by two sets of regulating
gates, and at the point of bifurcation
are two more sets. |
From the bifurcation the canal cross-
es the low valley of the Pecos river and
the stream by a high terreplein, or rais- |
ed woodwork embankment, and a great |
wooden flume. The first terreplein, |
leading to the river, is 1,600 feet in |
length and 105 feet in width at the base,
With a maximum height of 24 feet. On
the other bank of the river the terreplein
is only 300 feet in length. The flume
between them is 475 feet in length and
25 feet in width, with a depth of eight |
feet of water. After crossing the river
the canal has a bed width of 25 feet with
a depth of six feet of water. It passes |
to the westward of Eddy and goes
through the main part of the valley
eight or ten miles back from the river,
and it has been completed as far as
Black River, across which a high flume
is to be constructed.
Besides the main canal are laterals
more than a hundred miles in length,
from four to six feet in width, and with
a depth of water from one to two feet.
Laterals several hundred additional
miles in length are to be cut. The lands
through which the system runs are
principally government lards, and con-
siderable sections have been entered by
settlers.
i
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A Judge Giving Testimony.
Chronic Catarrhi— Twenty Years—ASet-
led on Lungs— Could Get No Re-
lief— Permanent Cure at Last.
New Viexxa, Criztox Co., O.
Dr. 8S. B. Hartman & Co.—Gents: I
take pleasure in testifying to your
medicines. I have used one bottle and
a half, and can say I am a new man.
Have had the catarrh about twenty
years. Before 1 knew what it was it
had settled on my lungs and breast,
but can now say I am well. Was in
the army ; could get no medicine that
would relieve me.
Yours truly,
W. D. WiLLiAMS,
Probate Judge of Clinton County.
While it is a fact that Pe-ru-na can
be relied on to cure chronic eatarrh in
oftea that it will so quickly cure a case
of long standing as the above. Hence
it is that so many patients fail in find-
Many people who have had chronic
catarrh for five, ten, and even fifteen
years, will follow treatment for a few
weeks, and then, because they are not
cured, give up in despair and try some
thing else. These patients never follow
any one treatment long enough to test
its merits, and consequently never find
a cure. It is a well-known law of dis-
ease that the longer it has run the
more tenaciously it becomes fastened
to its victim.
The difficulty with which catarrh
is cured has led tothe invention of a
host of remedies which produce tempor-
ary reliefonly. The unthinking mass-
es expect to find some remedy which
will cure them in a few days, and to
take advantage of this false hope
many compounds which have instant
but transient effect have been devised.
The people try these catarrh cures
one after another, but disappointment
is the invariable resuli, until very
many sincerely believe that no cure is
possible.
CATARRH IS A SYSTEMIC DISEASE.
and therefore requires persistent in-
ternal treatmeut, sometimes for many
months, before a permarent cure is ef-
fected. The mucous lining of the cav-
ities of the head, throat, lungs, ete.,
are made up of a network of minute
blood vessels called capillaries. The
capillaries are very small elastic tubes,
are congested or bulged out with blood
so long that the elasticity of the tubes
are entirely destroyed. The nverves
which supply these capillaries with
vitality are called the ‘vasa-motor”
nerves. Any medicine to reach the
real difficulty and exert the siighest
curative action in any case of catarrh
must operate directly ov the vasamotor
system of nerves. As soon as these
nerves become strengthened and stim-
ulated by the action of a proper remedy
they restore to the capillary vessels of
the various mucous membranes of the
body their normal elasticity. Then,
and only theny will the catarrh be per-
manently cared. Thus it «ill be seen
that catarrh is nota blood disease, as
many suppose, but rather a disease of
the mucous blood vessels, This ex: |
plains why it is that so many excellent
hlood medicines utierly fail to cure!
catarelye 1 |, |
Colds, winter coughs, bronchitis,
sore throat and pleurisy are all catar-
rhal aflections, and consequently are |
quickly curable by Peru-na. Each
bottle of Pe-ru-na is accompanied by !
full directions for use, and is kept by |
most druggists. Get your druggist to |
order it for you if he does not already |
keep it.
A pamphlet on the cause and cure
of all catarrhal diseases nnd consump-
tion sent free to any address by the |
Peruna Medicine Company, Columbus,
Ohio. \ !
—
——The beauty eraze has revolutionized
society and Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup has |
revolutionized the treatment of coughs |
and colds.
nmr wa
—— Madame Modjeska and Clara |!
Louise Kellogg are accused of smoking
cigarettes,
ES —— " a)
Facts for Woman.
WOMAN'S POWER OF APPRECIATION.
It takes a woman, says M. and D , to
| appreciate.
A tender word when she has failed in
some undertaking.
A gracious word when she bas made
some slight mistake.
One of the latest fuds is the “engage
ment cup and saucer.”
Umbrella handles of black wood carry
the monogram in gold.
An indulgent word when she is
peevish and “out of sorts.”
Dim blue and a rare tint of old rose is
affected by blonde women.
An ingenious word when she asks ad-
vice upon some important event.
A generous word when she is tirea
out with petty worries and says scme-
thing unkind.
Rubenstin’s mother has died at Odesea
at the age of 86. She was her famous
son’s first teacher in musie.
Huge ties of soft twilled silk, a yard
and a half or two yards long and of
bright hues, area late autumn gown
smartner.
Five bands of black velvet in gradu-
ated lengths, finished with a rosette, fall
over the back draperies of a shadowy
green gown.
Among the ostrich feather trimming
is an odd variety which presents a row
of tinty Prince of Wales tips attached to
a narrow feather band.
The girl who has not a mink hoaor
some other fur toswathe her delicate
throat these sharp autumn days is not to
be counted among the swells.
A pretty idea in the testoon fiounce is
carried out by turning over the top in a
hem and running in ita. ribbon that
matches some one of the shades in the
gown.
A soft felt bat with a crease on top,
that goes by the name of “Alpine,” is
worn by the girl who apes English fash-
ion and cares not a rap how she looks.
Isn't it ugly ?
The ‘‘real name’ of E. Werner, the
German novelist, translations of whose
stories are so popular in this country, is
Elizabeth Bur:tenbinder. She is a spin-
ster, and lives in Berlin.
A recent wedding in England was a
gray one. The bride, past her first
youth, wore gray silk en train, and the
five bridesmaids gray cloth costumes
with long coats and waistcoats of gold
brocade.
In Holland at every railroad crossing
stands a woman waving the signal flag
of danger as your train passes. Rail-
road officials will tell you that no acci-
dent has ever been caused by a watch-
woman's carelessness.
Miss Tillinghast, of New York, pupil
of La Farge, the artist of the wonderful
St. Thomas Church paintings, is one of
the most successful woman designers of
stained glass in the city, and is an arch-
itect of houses as well.
All fluffy effects, no matter how fas-
cinating, should be eschewed by the
short, stout woman. This it will be a
dificult matter to do. for skirts are fur-
edged, cloaks weighed down with fur
and every other hat encircled and band-
ed with feathers.
They are not worn under the bodice,
but are a part of the dainty girdle or
belt of fine leather, embroidery, velvet
or passementerie. Some woman howev-
er, attach them to the skirt band beneath
the girdle. In this way they become as
they are ornamental.
Philadelphia teachers to the nun.ber
of 2.500 have appealed to the powers
that be to have their salaries paid
monthly. They are the only city em-
ployees who are compelled to wait three
months for their pay, the men teachers
being on the monthly list.
Mrs. Potter Palmeris to drive the
last nail in the Woman’s World Fair
building. The lady managers of Mon-
tana, at the suggestion of Mrs, J. E.
Richards, are having the nail made of
gold, silver and copper. It will be for-
warded to Chicago as soon as com-
pleted.
Annie Jenness-Miller has picked up
her bifurcated garments ard shaken the
dust of New York from her common-
sense boots forever. Her residence now,
says the New York Sun, 1s in Evanston,
I11., and her latest project is the found-
ing of a national school of physical cul-
ture.
A jaunty ouifit for the small boy of
famuly is made of gray corduroy. A
deep white collar and brilliant scarf
with a Tam O'Shanter of the material
decorated with a quill completes the
stylish suit. Fashionable mothers are
attempting to introduce hosiery that
matches the tones of the scarf,
The newest sofa pillows have the cov-
er of India silk gathered full into a frill
on all four sides and are tied about with
a broad ribbon crossing each way and
made into a full soft bow in the centre.
Very attractive yellow pillows are made
in this simple style, crossed with a deep
orange band tied in an Empire knot.
Hygizne has found an ally in the fash-
ionable whim which brings into promi-
nence suspenders. While extremely
sensible they are, like everything which
womankind favors, decidedly decora-
tive. Many of them are elaborately
ornamented and finished with cuuning
bows fustened upon the shoulders.
Quilted cleaks wili take the place of
furlined ones. That they are certain to
be adopted is assured from the fact that
they are not so heavy to carry around,
can be beter fitted to the figure and
protect the gown from shedding fur, In
evening wraps the rarest tints or
satin give an artistic finish to the love-
liest models.
The fair students of Wesleyan Uni-
versity at Middleton aregubilant over
their victory won against the faculty.
A regulation had been made restricting
evening calls by the young gentlemen
| upon the young ladies, und a system hud
been arranged of visiting permits by
| cards whose issue was limited. So severe:
were the criticisms of the press and so
open the rebellion of the students that
the faculty have decided to remove the
restrictions and leave the matter to the
good sense of the young ladies, who
claim that they are old enough to be-
| have properly and to manage their own
affairs.