Be lefonte, Pa., Dec
. 18, 1891.
AFTER AWHILE.
“Come, Freddie,my son,it is time for prayers!”
I called, and heard with a smile, :
A faint little yawn and a voice from the stairs :
“Yes, papa, after awhile!” 3
Dear sleepy voice, since I heard it last
How many a weary mile
I've wandered away from that dreamy past
Into life’s great “after awhile.”
With bursting heart as I musing stand
By that little grave alone,
I feel the touch of his vanished hand,
And listen to each loved tone.
I feel the gold of his sunny hair,
And thrill to the old glad smile; .
And, dreamily sweet, from the angel's stair,
Comes the whisper, “After awhile.”
After awhile, when the days are spent,
And our steps grow faltering and slow ;
When the eye is dimmed and the forehead bent,
And silver’d with sifted snow,
We, too, shall sleep, and at morn will wake
From the mists and the shadows gray,
To see on the heavenly hilltops break
The dawn of a lovelier day.
O wonderful faith! that cheereth us all,
When the step of the angel is nigh,
While the mornings rise and the sunsets fall,
And the stars set their lamps in thesky ;
Ineftable mystery, boundless and deep,
That giveth us, wearied with toil,
Like children to rise from onr Fathers sleep,
When He calleth us—after awhile.
—J. R. Parker.
a —————————
JENNY.
It was night. The cabin, poor but
warm and cozy, was full of half twi-
light, through which the objects ot the
interior were but dimly visible by the
glimmer of the embers which flickered
on the hearth and reddened the dark
rafters overhead. The fisherman's nets
were hanging on the wall. Some homne-
ly pots and pans twinkled on a rough
shelf in the corner. Beside a great bed
with long, falling curtains, a mattress
extended on a couple of old benches on
which five little children were asleep
like cherubs in a nest. By the bedside,
with her forehead, pressed against the
counterpane, knelt the children's
mother. She was alone. Outside the
cabin the black ocean, dashed with
stormy snowflakes, moaned and mur-
mured, and her husband was at sea.
From his boyhood he hud been a
fisherman. His life, as one may say,
had been a daily fight with tne great
waters ; for every day the children
must be fed, and every day, rain, wind
or tempest, out went his boat to fish.
And while in his four sailed boat he
plied his solitary task at sea his wife
at home patcued the sails, mended the |
-nets, looked to the hooks or watched
the little fire where the fish soup was
boiling. ~~ As soon as the five children
were asleep she fell upon her knees
and prayed to heaven for her husband
in his struggle with the waves and
darkness. And truly sach a life as his
was hard. The likeliest place for fish
was a mere speck among the breakers,
not more than twice as large as his own
cabin—a spot obscure, capricious,
changing on the moving desert, and
yet which had to be discovered in the
fog and tempest of a winter night by
sheer skill and knowledge of the tides
and winds. And there—while the
gliding waves ran past like emerald
serpents, and the gult of darkness rolled
and tossed, and the straining rigging
groaned as it in terrcr—there, amid the
icy seas, he thought of his own Jenny ;
and Jenny, in her cottage, thought of
him with tears.
She was thinking of him then and
praying. The seagull's harsh and
mocking cry distressed her, and the
roaring of the billows on the reef
alarmed hersoul. Butshe was wrapped
in thoughts—thoughts of their poverty.
Their httle children went barefooted
winter and summer. Wheat bread
they never ate, only bread of barley.
Heavens | the wind roared like the
bellows of a forge, and the seacoast
echoed like an anvil. She wep’, and
trembled. Poor wives whose husbands
are at sea | How terrible to say, “My
dear ones—tather, lover, brothers, sons
—are in the tempest I’ But Jenny was
still more unhappy. Her hisband was
alone—alone without assistance on this
bitter night. Her children were too
little to assist him. Poor mother !
Now she says, “I wish they were
grown up to help their father!” Foolish
dream ! In years tocome, when they
are with their father in the ter pest,
she will say, with tears, “I wish. they
were but children still 1”?
* 0% ® ow *
Jenny took her lantern and her cloak.
“It is time,” she said to herself, “to see
whether he 1s coming back, whether
the sea is calmer, and whether the
light is burning on the signal mast.’
She went out. There was nothing to
be seen.—barely a streak of white on
the horizon. It was raining, the dark,
cold rain of early morning. No cabin
window showed a gleam of hght.
All at once, while peering round her,
her eyes perceived a tumbledown old
cabin which showed no sign of light or
fire. The door was swinging in the
wind; the wormeaten walls seemed
scarcely able to support the crazy roof,
on which the wind shook the yellow,
filthy tafts of rotten thatch.
“Stay,” she cried, “I am forgetting
the poor widow whom my husband
found the other day alone and ill, |
must see how she 1s getting on.”
She knocked at the door and listened.
No one answered. Jenny shivered in
the cold sea wind.
“She is ill. And her poor children |
She has only two of them ; but she is
very poor, and hae no husband.”
She knocked again, and called out,
“Hey, neighbor!” But the cabin was
still silent.
“Heaven 1" she said, “how sound she
sleeps that it requires so much to wake
her I” :
At the instant the door opened of
itself. She entered. Her lantern illu-
mived the iuterior of the dark and silent
cabin, and showed her the water falling
from the ceiling as through the open-
ings of asieve, At the end of the
room an awful form was lying—a
woman stretched out motionless, with
bare feet and sightless eves. ITer cold
white arm hung down among the straw
of the pallet. She was dead. Once a
*
strong and happy mother, she was now
only the specter which remains of poor
humanity after a long struggle with the
world.
Near the bed on which the mother
lay two little children—a boy and a
girl—slept together in their cradle and
were smiling in their dreams: Their
mother when she felt that she was dy-
ing, had laid their cloak across their
feet and wrapped them in her dress, to
keep them warm when she herselt was
cold
How sound they slept in their old,
tottering cradle, with their calm breath
and quiet little faces | It seemed as it
nothing could awake these sleeping or-
phans. Outside the rain beat down in
floods and the sea gave forth a sound
like an alarm bell. From the old crev-
iced roof, through which blew the gale,
a drop of water fell on the dead face
and ran down it like a tear,
* * * * *
What had Jenny been about in the
dead woman’s house ? What was she
carrying off beneath her cloak? Why
was her heart beating ? Why did she
hasten with such trembling steps to her
*
own cabin without daring to look back ?
What did she hide in ber own bed be-
hind the curtain 2 What had she been
| stealing ?
When she enterad the cabin the clits
were growing white. She sank upon
the chair beside the bed. She was very
pale ; iteeemed as if she felt repentance.
Her forehead fell upon the pillow, and
at intervals, with broken words, she
murmured to herself, while outside the
cabin moaned the savage sea.
“My poor man | Oh, heavens, what
will he say ? He has already so much
trouble. What have [ done now ?
Five children on our hands already !
Their father toils and toils, and yet, as
if he had not care enough already, I
must give him this care more. Is that
he ? No, nothing. I have done wrong
—he would do quite right to beat me.
Is that he? No! So much the better !
The door moves as if some one were
coming in ; but no. To think that I
should feel afraid to see him enter !”
Then she remained absorbed in
thought and shivering with the cold,
unconscious of all outward sounds, of
the black cormorants, which passed
shrieking, and of the rage of wind and
sea.
streak of the white light of morning
entered, and the fisherman, dragging
his dripping ner, appeared upon the
threshold, and cried, with a gay laugh,
“Here comes the navy |”
“You!” cried Jenny ; and she clasped
her husband like a lover, and pressed
her mouth against his rough jacket.
“Here I am, wife,” he said, showing
in the firelight the good natured and
contented face whicn Jenny loved so
well.
“I have been nonlucky,” he continued,
“What kind of weather have vou
had ?”
“Dreadful.”
“And the fishing ?”
“Bad. But never mind. I have
you in my arms again, and I am satis-
fied. Ihave caught nothing atall. I
have only torn my net. The deuce
was in the wind to-night. At one mo-
ment of the tempest I thought the boat
was foundering, and the cuble broke,
But what have you been doing all this
time 2
Jenny felt a shiver in the darkness,
“I 7?” she said in trouble. *0h,
nothing ; just as usual. 1 have been
sewing. [ have been listening to the
thunder of the sea, and I was frighteq-
ed.”
“Yes ; the winteris a hard time.
But never mind it now.”
Then, trembling as if she were going
to commit a crime :
“Husband,” she said, “our neighbor
is dead. Ske must have died last
night, soon after you went out. She
has left two little children, one called
Wilhelm and the other Madeline. The
boy can hardly toddle, and the girl can
only lisp. The poor, good woman was
in dreadful want.”
The man looked grave. Throwing
into a corner his far cap, sodden by
the tempest : “the dence I" he said,
scratching his head. “We already
have five children ; this makes seven.
And already in bad weather we have
to go without our supper. Wha shall
we do now ? Bah, it is not my fault ;
it's God's doing. These are things too
deep for me. Why has He taken away
their mother from these mites ? These
matters are too difficult to understand.
One has to be a scholar to see through
them. Such tiny scraps of children |
Wite, go and fetch them. If they are
awake, they must be frightened to be
alone with their dead’mother. We will
bring them up with ours. They will
be brother and sister toour five. When
God sees that we have to feed this little
boy and girl besides our own He will
let us take more fish. As for me, 1
will drink water. I will work twice as
hard. Enough! Be off and get them !
But what is the matter ? Does it vex
you? You are generally quicker than
this.” $i
His wife drew back the curtain.
“Look I" she said.
Translated from the French of Vietor
Hugo for Strand Magazine.
EL ais
No End to Democratic Leaders.
From the Lancaster Intelligencer.
The Democratic party does not often suf-
fer from lack of leaders,and in the present
Congress it will not, but rather may suf-
fer from their superabundances. Besides
the candidates for Speaker there are
many Democratic Congressmen who are
well fitted for leadership and who
might well be candidates for Speaker if
qualification for the post alone suffic
ed to bring them out for it. Mr. Wil-
son, of West Virginia, would make an
ideal Efpeaker. The Breckinridges
would make excellent ones ; so would
Holman, who is one of the oldest mem-
bers. Able men in the House are abun-
dant, and it chould make a great record
in this Congress.
—-There is no sweeter music in
heaven than the song that goes up from
a grateful beart.
All at once the door flew open, a
Home Made Gifts and Candies,
A Few Ideas for Christmas.
A writer in the Home Queen tell us
how to make a “Heathen Chines” The
foundation for our Chinaman is peanuts.
Select eight for his body arms and legs
fasten them together with a strong
thread then lay him down while you
make his clothes. First of all come his
tiny trousers, made of black silk, very
full and baggy ; a stoutdrawing string
confines them to the place where the
waist ought to be a stitch or two to
keep them in place. The sack comes
next, and for this use a gorgeous yellow
silk or 1nch wide ribbon is best, for it
needs no hemming. Cut a piece suffi-
ciently long togo around, and sew up
the seam ; cut down a slight distance
on each side for the sleeves and put
these on with a few tiny plaits.
A drawing-string for the neck com-
pletes this becoming garment, and the
gentleman from the land of the Rising
Sun is ready for his cue.
To make this, cutout a round piece
of court plaster—black, of course—ruan
three strands of thick black wool through
it, paste it to the back of the head, and
braid the wool to form the cue.
Now put in the featurers—slanting al-
mond eyes, a line for the nose and an-
other for the mouth.
A writer in Youth's Companion, des-
cribes a catch all thus, Get three bas-
kets of ditferent sizes, one piece of No.
1 ribbon of a pretty shade, and twe.ve
coins or any pretty little ornaments.
Cut four pieces of the ribbon, each
measuring sixteen inches Fasten one end
to the largest basket a short distance
froat the top then measure four inches
of ribbon, and confine to the next basket
then four inches more and confine to
the smollest basket, leaving eight inches
of ribbon.
Fusien the other pieces of ribbon to
the basket in the same way at equal dis-
tances apart, around esch basket. Then
sew the four pieces together to forma
loop by which to hang up.
Make bows of ribbon to decorate the
s.des, making one end long enough to
hang a iittle below each basket, on
which attach an ornament.
A pin ball requires two pieces of silk
or satin of two pretty shades, each three
TR nar
and onehalf inches square, seven-eights |
yard ribbon one inch in width, a very
litle embroidero silk, two rings and
black and white pins.
Cut flannel or other heavy material
into strips one inch in width and roll
| very hard until you have a flat roll three
inches in diameter.
Fusten the end securely aod cover
with thin cloth to keep in place. Then
baste nicely the pieces of satin on each
side, folding a little over each edge,
{ which is then covered with the ribbon,
feather stitched on each edge.
The two rings are crocheted with the
silk and sewed on each side of the ball, '
| through which fasten the ribbon and tie
in a small bow. On the ball stick pins,
white on one side and black on the other
in rows about one-half inch apart.
If you wish to make French vanilla
cream break into a bowl the white of
one or more eggs, as is required by tha
quantity you wish to make, and add to
1t an equal quantity of cold water ; then
stir in the finest powdered or confec-
tioners’ sugaruntil it is stiff enough to
mold into shape with the fingers. Flav-
or with vanilla to taste. After 1t is
formed into balls. cubes or lozenges,
place upon plates to dry. Candies
made without cocking are not as good
the first day. This cream is the found-
ation of ali the French creams.
MARGERY’S MOLASSES CANDY.
Take two cupfuls of molasses, one
cupful of sugar, a piece of butter the
size of a small egg, and one tablespoon -
ful of glycerine. Put these ingredients
into a kettle and boil hard twenty or
thirty minutes ; when boiled thick, drop .
if
a few drops in cold water, and
the drops retain their shape and are
brittle, it is done ; do not boil too much.
Have pans or platters well buttered, and
just before the candy is poured into | my handkerchief in.
them stir in one-half teaspoonful of
cream of tartar or soda- If flavoring is
desired drop the flavoring on the top as
it begins to cool, and when it is pulled
the whole will be flavored. Pull until
as white as desired and draw into
sticks.
PEANUT NOUGHT.
Shell the peanuts, remove the skir,
and break into small pieces, or not, as
preferred. Take two cups of confection-
ers’sugar and one cup of the peanuts.
Put the sugar ma saucepan, and as
soon as dissolved threw into it the nuts,
stirring rapidly. Pour quickly into
a buttered pan and press into a flat cake
with a buttered knife, as it cools very
quickly.
SPICED CHOCOLATE.
Take two cupfuls of brown
sugar,
one-half en
pful of grated chocolate, one-
half cupful of water and a small piece of
butter. Add spice to taste. Boil these
ingredients, and when nearly done test
by dropping a little into cold water.
Pour ino buttered pans when done und
wark in squares.
' NUT CREAMS.
Chop almonds, hickory nuts, hutter-
nuts or English walnuts, quite fine.
Make the French cream, and before
adding all the sugar while the cream is
still quite soft, stir into it the nuts, and
then form into balls. bars or squares.
Three or four kinds of nuts may be
mixed together.
ORANGE DROPS,
Grate the rind of one
squeeze the juice, taking care to reject
the seeds. Add to this a inch of tar.
taric acid ; stir in confectioners’ sugar
until it is stitf enough to form into small
balls the size of a small marble. These
are delicious.
orange and
STIRRED CREAM WALNUTS,
Take two eupfuls of sugar, two-thirds
of a cupful of boiling water, and one-
half salt teaspoonful of cream of tartar
Boil until it “threads, cool slighty and
beat until it begins to thicken. Stir in
chopped walnuts and drop on tins.
MAPLE SUGAR CREAMS.
Grate maple sugar, mix it in
ties to suit the taste, with French cream,
adding enough confectioners’ sugar to
mould into any shape desired. Walnut
creams are sometimes made with maple
sugar, and are delicious,"
quanti
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| bought it for a lump-shade.”
A Well-Deserved Rebuke.
The man who disregards the rights
of others will certainly come to grief.
We have met the young man of whom
the one mentioned below is a type. We
would not wish him ill, but we feel con-
fident that if he lives long enough he
will see himself as others see him.
Oneday a smart young fellow with
shiny shoes, a new hat and checkerboard |
trousers, boarded a street-car in a west- |
ern city and stepped to the front plat-
form. He pulled out a twist of paper
and lighted it, and began puffing a con-
centrated essence of vile odors into those
who were obliged to ride upon the plat-
form if they rode at all. One, a plain
old farmer. couldn’t stand it, and stepped
off to wait for the next car. When he
reached the station, the young fellow
was there before him, and it happened
that the two met at the restaurant
counter. i
“Got any sandwiches?” called the
young man to the waiter. “Here, gim-
me one,” and he tossed outa nickel, |
and then proceeded to pick up and pull
apart evervone of the half dozen sand-
wiches on the plate before he found one
to suit him. The farmer, who bad been
waiting for his turn, drew back in dis-
gust. Finally, he found something
which the fingers of another bad not
fouled, and presently followed the loud
young man to the car. He found every
seat occupied, including the half of one
on which were piled the young man’s
gripsack and overcoat.
“Is this seat taken ?”’ he ventured to
inquire. |
“Seat’s engaged was the curt ans-!
wer, with a look meant to squelch the |
old farmer, who went into the smoking- |
car.
That afternoon the same young man
walked into the office of the governor
ofthe state, armed with recommenda-
tions and endorsements, an applicant
for a position under the state govern-
ment. He was confronted by the same
plain old farmer, who recognized his
traveling companion of the morning
without anv trouble. Glancing over :
his papers, the governor said :
“Hu-m, yes: you want me to appoint
you to so-and-so. If I should, I guess’
I might as well write my own resigna-
tion at the same time.
“Wh—why so?”
young fellow.
“Because I saw you pay fora street-
car ride this morning, and you took the
platform of the car, You bought a
sandwich, and spoiled the plateful. You |
paid for a seat in the train,and took
mine, too, and if I should give you this |
place, how do T know that you would |
not take the wkole administration 2”
me ————
Wore It on Her Arm.
stammered the
i
Mrs. Gregg had one of the prettiest
weddings that ever took place in the
Massachusetts town in which she lives,
But there was one odd incident of the |
occasion which a few of her friends who |
are in the secret recall with much
amusement. Althongh a lady of quiet |
taste, Mrs. Grego wore something which |
certainly no bride ever wore before.
Her wedding present from her old
friend Dr. Jameson was an exquisite
affair of lace, embroidery and white sa-
tin ribbon which he had brought from
Paris. 1t came just as the wedding par-
ty were starting for the church.
“What a lovely bag !"’ exclaimed the
bride, “I am going to wearit. That
will please Dr. Jameson,” and, slipping
the white satin strings over her arms
she thought no raore of it until after the
ceremony.
“That is a beautiful bag, and so
odd,” “I never saw a’ bag like it. The
material is beautiful,” commented some
of her friends,
“I suppose thestyle is new,”
Mrs. Gregg. “Dr.
to me from
with it.”
“Did you put anything init 2” asked
Dr. Jameson, who had been listening
to the conversation with a smile that
was suspiciously near a laugh.
“No,” replied Mrs. Gregg. “Ill put
What—why—
why, there’s no bottom in it. What is
it 2” Dr. Jameson ?
“Well,” replied Dr. Jameson,” “I
|
.
|
replied
Jat eson brought it
Paris. IT am delighted
And it was a lamp-shade, edged with
lace and drawn up at the top with
white satin ribbon.-— Youth's Com-
panion.
Against Mixed Drinks.
A Barkeeper Says the Poorest Liquors
Are Used in Fancy Decoctions.
Have a Manhattan cocktail 2"
“I think I will,” answered his com-
panicn.
“I wouldn't if I were
the barkeeper. .
“Why nut 2 both asked together.
“Well,” replied the man behind the
counter, 4f vou never taken mixed
drink you wiil never he cheated. I
have been too long in the business not
to have learned some of the tricks in
the trade. It issuch an easy thing, after
knowing how, to palm off cheap liquors ]
under the guise of strong and spicy |
flavors. You ean't fool ‘a man who |
takes bis whisky straight, hut very few
know what they are drinking in a cock-
tail. It is usually cheap stuff. The
fact is most bars are run with poor and
good liquors. The worst is al waYS |
used in the mixed drinks. Tt is quite |
reasonable, and is such an easy thine to |
gull tipplers. Did yea ever stop to |
think how much whisky is put into u
cocktall ? That fuct alone oaeht tr tell
an observant man that he 1s not getting
the best.” :
“I think T will take a little straight |
liquor,” said one of the men, “So will
I,” remarked the other. The honest
barkeeper had converted them.
mtn NUR "FT —
you, remarked ,
‘The literature and, dress during |
the last ten years, would form an im. |
posing also would the collection. Equal- |
ly carious and 1mposing also would be |
the col.ection of all the empty bottles
used in the last ten years for Dr. Bull's
Cough Syrup.
a —
“It lends them all,” is the gener-
| al reply of druggists when asked about |
the merit of sales of Hoods Sarsa-
parilla.
——Narrow trimmings of tiny over-'
lapping spangles.
.Chang, the viceroy
, drooping
that which issimply within
"of pleasure ; for, as he is himself fond of
| Li-Hung-Chang
0 Ee mares
The Greatest Man in China.
From the St. James Gazettee,
It there is at this moment in China
any man who more than another has
power to control the agitation now
making head against Europeans settled
in that country, that inan 1s Li-Hung-
of the empire and
‘“‘President-Secretury” of state.
“The size of a tower” says a Chinese
proverb. ‘is ‘measured by its shadow,
and great men by the number of their
enemies.” Dreaded and obeyed, «I,-
Hung Chang is the powerful arbiter
whose word 1s law to 450,000,000 of hu-
man beings.
future, and the other, deep-set in resign -
ation, he regrettully turns towards the |
past. By what feelings, based on a |
sense ot self-preservation or obstinate
reliance on old-world prejudices, will he
i be swayed in his action in the present
emergency ?
On the ancient historical heights from
which he contemplates our modern civ
ilization, this most humble scribe of
Hawabii sees in it naught but the evan-
escent creations of a day, subject to the
eventuaities of all social and political
conditions.
ern races, before whose eyes for aces
pust a continuous panorama has been
passing while they themselves have re.
mained encrusted with their old-world
feelings, customs and prejudices.
Li-Hung-Chang is descended from a
race of conquerors ; his high muscular
stature shows it. Jn his expressionless
features, in the furtive depth of his in-
telligent look, the studied reserve of his
words, in his unimpulsive courtesy to
strangers, race is evident and the politi-
cian 1s revealed. In his thin lips, his
! wrinkled forehead (looking like a block
of carved ivory seasoned by time), 1n his
lids (veiling when necessary
the expression of the eyes), in his fea-
tures drawn and puckered by the inces-
sant preying on the mind ofa single
| aspiration, ever keenly alive but cau-
‘ tously restrained, one can tiace the
working of that powerful mind which
‘guides the destinies of the Celestial
empire. Draped in long black silk
robes, his wiry, supple frame 1s unbent
by age and the weight of public affairs,
| His sobriety is proverbial ; and of all the
charm of life which attract other men,
he cares only for power and disdains
3 the region
repeating “Flowery paths are no
At the outest of his
t long.’
political career
followed in the foos-
steps of Tseign-kwo-Fau, whom he was
destined to succeed as viceroy as Nank-
| ing, and who died without leaving a sin-
gle enemy behing him ; having, accord-
Ing to some of his satirical countrymen,
suppressed them all while he was “alive,
The Cheap Wax Dolls,
Progress of Manufacture in Germany
From the Plaster Models Up.
Nine dolls out of ten are little Ger-
man girls. In whole districts in Ger-
many the country people spend the
winter in making dolls, tilling their
fields in summer. The cheap wax doll,
commercially known as “composition
wax,” such as may be bought at retail
in this country for twenty-five cents,
furnished perhaps the best idea of how
dolls are made. A “modeler,” who has
nothing further to do with the making
of dolls, makes plaster of Paris models
of the styles of heads and limbs most in
demand, and sells them, singly or in sets
to the peasants who make ‘the dolls.
Throughout the winter, father, mother,
and all the larger children unite in mak-
ing papicc mache from these models.
The legs and arms are dipped 1n flesh
colored paint, and the painted shoes are |
put on with brushes. Tnese various
parts together with the head are fastened
to a cloth body stuffed with sawdust,
and dolly goes off to the factory, where
the more artistic work is done. Her
limbs have the proper tint, her body is
as true to nature as necessary, but ner
head is still bare, her cheeks are gray,
and her colorless eyes express no intel-
ligence.
An expert workman in ihe factory,
holding dolly by the foot dips her head
and shoulders fora moment in jmelted
wax, and she emerges from the bath the
composition-wax doll of commerce,
When she is sufficiently dry she passes
into the hands of a girl operator, who
quickly paints the pink tinee upon her
cheeks. Another girl adds the blue
eyes, still another the eyebrows and eye-
lashes, and so she goes through the
hand of a row of girls, one girl for each
tint. the whole process taking about six
hours, for there are delays while the
paints are drying.
girls are expected to ,aint 10 gross, or
nearly 1,5000 dolls complete.
quires rapid work, and the girls receive
about $1,75 a week each. Flowing
locks of mohair are fastened to the head,
und dolly is ready to
America. :
smear
What Is a Kiss,
Some time ngo the London Tit Bits
offered a two guiiea prize for the best |
thousand |
definition of a kiss, Seven
ans vers were received, The prize was
awarded to Benjamin J. Greenwood, of
Pulse Hill, London, whose definition is
here given :
“An dusipid and tasteless morsel.
which becomes delicious and delectable
in proportion asitis fl vored with love.
Tae tollowiag are some of the best of
the other definitions sabmitted.
“Chat which yon ewinot give without |
taking, and cannot take without giv.
ing."
Something rather dan gerous,
Something rather nice,
Something rather wicked,
Though it can’t be called a vice,
Some think it nanghey,
Uthers think it wrong,
All agree it's jolly
Though it don’t last long.”
“An article that is always accepted,
and (im) printed, but not always pub-
lished.”
“A demonstration of love which will
dry the baby's tears, thrill the maiden’s
heart, and soothe the rut « feelings of
a tired wife.”
rr ——————
AND Less SENSE —— Yabsley: “Well,
you area beauty! The idea of you try-
{ing to whip a man twice your Size! I
thought you had wore set se-"
Mudge. “1 huve” — Indianapolis
Journal,
An Asiatic Janus, he |
turns one face inquiringly towards the |
He has all the astute east- |
In six hours six |
This re- |
emigrate to |
BERYL
The World of Women.
Silk braid fringe for wraps and dresses,
White satin ribbon oy tull-dress bon-
net. :
Beaver edgings to trim f.wn cloth
gowns.
Striped flannel sgzhtshirts op
wear.
Mertar-bourd ors
boys.
Princess brocade gowns for g
home wear.
Single bamboo fire-screns filled in
with China silk.
Short white face veils of figured or
| applique lace.
Kate Field says that American wo-
men spend $62,000 a year for cosmetics,
most ot which are prisonous compounds,
The “Lady Mayoress” of London, as
| Mrs. Evans is called, was chambermaid
in a country hotel in Kent when she
| married the present Lord Mayor.
Jessie Benton Fremont is reported ag
being engaged on an important piece of
literary work, which has engrossed Ley
| attention for the lust six months.
The pioneer woman stenographer of
'Eogland, Miss Mary Beauclerk, is said
to be a belle as well, and to spell her
I heaux by the witchery of good work-
| manship.
Mrs. Taylor, of Little Washington,
| Pa., is known as the Oil Queen, because
. she has accumulated a fortune of $3,000,~
| 000 by personal investments in the Ritch.
"ie County fields.
Queen Victoria pays her private sec.
retary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, $10,000 a
year und gives him a house, rent free,
Sir Henry is a smartly dressed, well pre-
i served man of 66.
{ Linen cuffs are worn considerably
With tailor dresses or with cloth toilets
less severely made. They are fastened
with link buttons in the inside of the
arms, and aresmall and close, as of nec.
essity they must be.
For ordinary wear, the skirt and long
jacket, with a soft blouse worn beneath,
is very popular as a walking and house
gown combined ; and short bodices are
certainly gaining ground for home wear
| but principally made with real or simu-
i lated corselets.
| Veils arealmost universally worn both
| with hats and bonnets, the most elegant,
, and consequently the most expensive,
| being made of real lace; while excellent
{ imitations and charming sprigged and
also to be found,
| embroidered nets are
black, white and cream being the oniy
permissible colors,
| Fancy blouse waists to be worn at
| breukfust, lunch or at home evenings
{couldn't ve prettier than they are. They
are made of silk muslin, crepe de Chine
or emb.oidered gavze in inzonceivably
lovely colors. Some are soft silk and
lace with a colored ribbon twisted twice
around the waist und knotted in front.
Ita girl goes to a dance she must have
dancing shoes or he miserab oe. Here are
some novelties. Morocco shoes with jet
butterflies on the toes may be had in
bright red, light blue, old gold and in
gray. A eatin shoe, which is just us
piquant as itis pretty, has a rather high
front, embroidered on both sides, and
long silk laces that are twited several
times round the ankleand tied in a bow.
Another example in satin is covered
with a fine network of gold.
Beavers and white Mongolian are the
fashionable furs for trimming children’s
costumes. A pretty coatfor a little
maid of four or five was of white diago-
nal serge, with a white fur cape tied
with white ribbons'and a full-trimmed
bonnet to match of white velvet with a
puckered brim. Pretty children never
look so pretty as when they are dressed
all in white.” Servicenble coats for every
day wear are of lambswool cloth in pile
blue, gray and scarlet. They are cusy-
looking ard beautifully warm,
Whenever there is a very high polish
on woollen goods itis well to distrust
them. They have probably heen fin-
ished by pressing them over hot rollers
or calenders and a drop of water will re-
move the finish and leave a spot. In
order to nike such goods of value they
must be sponged. Lay the cloth, yard
atter yard, on a board and go over it
with a sponge dipped in cold - water till
it is thoroughly and evenly wet through-
out; it need not be drenched: Lay it in
a sheet. Two sheets may be necessa:
1t it is a very long piece of cloth. Fold
it in the fold of the goods as it came from
| the shop, but lay a smooth piece of the
sheet between the folds. Begin to roll
it at the end and roll it up evenly and
firmly in the sheet until the cloth is all
rolled up. Let it remain over night,
In the morning press it on the wrong
side with a moderately hot won until it
1s perfectly smooth and nearly dry. Then.
| hang it on a clothes-horse until 1t is
thoroughly dry.
winter
iudent caps for small
ressy
|
|
|
i
One of the most churmiing ‘women to
| be seen in Washington is Mrs. General
Sheridan. So yoatuful is she in appear-
{ ance that it makes one wonder to see her
| daughter, a rosy, well-grown young
| miss of 13 stand beside her, almost as
{tall a her mother.
I With her girhsh, graceful igure,some-
| what pensive, beautitul face, and the
| sweet blue eyes that hold a friendly
smile, the young wid w of General.
| “Phil” Sheridan, the nativn’s hero, is an.
| exceedingly attractive indy.
| Some one said awhile ago that Mrs.
Sheridan and Mrs. Roscoe Conkiing pos-
I sessed in a greater degree than other
widows the art of wearing gracefully the
"long window’s veil,
Both Mrs. Conkling and Mrs. Sheri-
' dan are exceptionally elegant gentlewo-.
| men; and in her own house, in her plain.
| mourning dress, with deheate white
| bands at neck and wrists, Mrs. Sheridan
raakes a picture not ty be forootten.
This house is on Rhode I-iund avenue
in Washington. Tt stands on a sunny
corner on terraced ground ; itis a square
struzture three stories hizh and of mod-
est comfortable exterior. ludeed, it is
an exquisite home, filled with objects
that recall Genera! Sheridan. From the
entrance, rooms open to the north, south
and east. These are arranged with
dainty touch, and among the many sou-
venirs they hold are swords, arms which
the dead General wielded in the battles
he won, and pictures of him in bronze,
oil, or crayon. A great medallion in
bronze and a life-sized portrait in oil,
both representing him in full military
uniform, attract the immediate notice of
those entering Mrs Sheridan's home.