Beilefonte, Pa., March 4, 1892
DOESN'T IT BOTHER YOU TOO?
Do you ever get mixed up in spelling
With physic and phthisie and such?
Can you, as a favor, please tell me
Why t's not inserted in much ?
It’s no wonder that much should be jealous
Of t in that cripplish cruteh !
Did you ever take time to consider
Why programme is spelt with an e?
It’s foolish and stupid to some folks
That gnashing is preceded by g.
And beabugs are righteously jealous
Of a in the cute little flea.
I've thought and I've thunk till I'm crazy,
And wondered what they were about,
Pronouncing that R-o-u-t-e
Asif t'were defeat and a “rout.”
And whatis that little b doing
Ina dubious wordlet like doubt ?
I’ve sab up till 2 in the morning,
Oft times, before going to bed
To find out what business a-i had
In a simple expression like said.
You read—when tie volume is finished;
You then say the book you have read.
You visit your tailor and tell him
To measure your form for a suit;
But you never can write to your shoe man
To send you a new style of buit.
And if you spell water like daughter
They’d call you a crazy galoot.
There is dying and sighing and guying,
And lecherous and treacherous and neigh,
A sweet suit of rooms and a valet,
“0. RK.” and obey and au fait.
i BUT
You can spell as you want to in future,
But 1—
ru
just
spell
my
own
way !
Howard Saxby.
SE I ——.
COUSIN MARK.
“I wouldn’t marry the best man
that ever lived!” And she meant it,
or, what answers the same purpose,she
thought she meant it. After all, how
few of usreally know what we mean ?
“I engaged myself once, when a girl,
and the simpleton thought he owned
me. [soon took that conceit out of
him, and sent him about his business.”
The voice was now a little sharp.
What wonder with go galling a memo-
ry ? “No man shall ever tyrannize over
meé—never. What the mischief do
you suppose is the ‘matter with this
sewing-machine ?” :
‘*Annoyed at your logic, most like-
ly,” said my friend, a bright young
matron, as she threaded her needle,
“My husband is not a tyrant, Miss
Kent.”
Iam glad you are satisfied,” was
the laconic auswer.
I was quite evident by the dressmak-
er's face that she had formed her own
opinion about my friend's husband,
and was quite competent to form and
express an opinion on any subject:
Miss Kent was a little women, fair as
a girl, and plump as a robin. She
wasn't ashamed to own that she was
forty years old and an old maid. She
had earned her own living most of her
life and was proud of it. She was a
good nurse, a faithful friend, and a jolly
companion ; but stroke her the wrong
way and you'd wish you hadn’t in
much shorter time than it takes me 0
write it. Her views ou all subjects
were strikingly original, and not to be
combated.
“What are you going to do when
you get old ?” persisted the mistress of
the establishment.
“What other folks do, [ suppose.”
“But you can’t work forever.”
“Can’t say that I want to.”
“Now, Miss Kent, a husband with
means, a kind, intelligent man—"
“I don’t want any man. I tell you,
Mrs. Carlisle, 1 wouldn’c marry the
best man living, if he was as rich as
Creesus, and would die if I didn’t have
«him, Now if you have exhausted the
marriage question, I should like to try
on your dress.”
There was something behind all this
I knew well. My friend's eyes danced
with fun; and as Miss Kent fitted the
waist, she threw me a letter from the
bareau.
“Read that,” she said with a kncw-
ing look. “I may amuse you.”
This is what the letter said :—
“My Dear JeNNIE:—I shall be de-
lighted to spend a month with you and
your husband. There must be, how-
ever, one stipulation about my visit—
you must say no ‘more about marriage,
I'ahall never be foolish again. Twen-
ty years ago to-day I wrecked my
whole life.” (“Better embark in a
new ship, hadn't he?” pat in Jennie,
sotto woce.) “So unsuitable was this
marriage,so utterly and entirely wretch-
ed have been its consequences, that I
am forced to believe the marriage in-
stitution a mistake. So, for the last
time, let me assure you that I wouldn't
marry the best woman that ever lived,
if by so doing I could save her life.
“Your old cousin,
Mark Lansing.”
“Rich, isn't he?” said Jennie, and
then pointed to the chubby little figure
whose back happened to be turned.
I shook my head and langhed.
“You'll see,” said the incorrigible,
“See what?’ inquired Miss Kent,
quite unaware ot our pantomine.
“That parties which are chemically
attracted will unite. Of course an
alkali and an acid. Don’t you think
this sleeve a little too long, Mss
Kent 7”
“Not after the seam is off. But
what were you saying, Mrs. Carlisle?
The other day at Professor .Boynton's,
I saw some wonderful experiments,”
“And did they succeed?” inquired
Jennie, demurely.
* “Beautifully.”
+» “So will mine.
job in my life.”
. “Idon’t think I quite understand
you,” replied Miss Kent, perplexed.
“No? I always grow scientific
when talking about marriage, my
dear.”
“Bother!” was all the little womaa
said, but the tone was much better na-
tured than I expected.
The next week Cousin Mark arrived,
and I liked him at once. An unhap-
I never yet botched
py marriage would have been the last
thing thought of in connection with
that gentleman. He had accepted the
situation like a man, Jennie told me,
and for fifteen years carried a load of
misery that few conld have endured.
Death came to him at last, and now
the poor fellow actaally believed him-
self an alien from domestic “happiness.
Singular as it may appear, Cousin
Mark was the embodiment of good
health and good nature ; fifty, perhaps,
though he didu’t.look it, and as rotund
and as fresh in his way as the little
dressmaker was in hers. As I looked
at him I defied anybody to see one and.
not be reminded of the other. True,
he had more of the polish which comes
from travel and adaptation to differ-
ent classes and individuals, but he was
not a whit more intelligent. by human
nature than the bright: little woman
whom Jennie determined he should
marry.
-#L'was surprised you should think’
it necessary lo caution me about that,
Cousin Mark,” ‘cooed the plotter, ‘as
she stood by his side, looking out of
the window. “The idea of my being
80 ridiculous 1” and in the same breath,
with a wink at me, “Come, let us go
to my sitting-room, We are at work
there, but it won’t make any difference
to you, will it?” =
Of course Cousin Mark answered
“No, promptly, asinnocent as a dove
about the the trap being laid for him,
“This is my cousin—Mr. Lansing,
Miss Kent,” and Mr. Lansing bowed
politely, and-Miss Kent arose, dropped
her scissors, blushed, and sat down
again. Cousin Mark picked up the re-
fractory implements and the Mrs. Jen-
nie proceeded with rare caution and
tact to her labor of love. .Cousin Mark
at her request, read ‘aloud an article
from tiie Popular Science Monthly,
drawing Miss Kent into the discussion
as dettly as was ever fly drawn in to
the web of the spider.
“Who was that lady, Jennie ?”’ Cou-
sin Mark inquired in the evening.
“You mean’ Miss Kent?" said Jen-
nie, looking up from her paper. “Oh, |
she is a lady 1 have known for a long
time. She is making some dresses for
me now. Why?”
“She seemed uncommonly well post-
ed for a woman,” eh
Under any other circumstances, Mrs.
Carlisle would have resented ‘this, but
now she only queried, “Do you think
80 2" and that ended it. .
Two or three invitations to the sew-
ing-room were quite sufficient to make
Cousin Mark perfectly at home there,
and after a week he became familiar
enough to say :—
“If you are not too busy, I should
like to read you this article.”
“Oh, I am never too busy to be read
to,” Miss Kent would say. “Sit down
in this. comfortable chair, and let's
hear it.” i)
Alter a couple of weeks, when the
gentleman came in hoarse with a sud-
den cold, Miss Kent bustled about, her
voice full of sympathy, and brewed
him a dose which he declared he should
never forget to his dying day; but one
dose cured. After thie occurrence.
Miss Kent was a really wonderful wo-
man.
Ab, what an arch plotter! She let
them skirmish about, but not once did
she give them a chance to be alone to-
gether—her plans were not to be de-
stroyed by premature confidences—un-
til the very evening preceding Cousin
Mark’s departure for California. Then
Miss Kent was very demurely asked to
remain and keep an eye on Master
Carlisle, whom the fond mother did
not like to leave quite alone with his
nurse.
“We are compelled to be gone a
couple of hours,” said she; “but Cous
in Mark will read to you—won’t you
cousin?”
“Certainly, it Miss Kent would like
it,” replied the gent'eman.
The infant Carlisle, thanks to good
management, was never awake in the
evening, so the victims of this matri-
mounial speculation would have plenty
of time. The back parlor was the
room most in use during the evening,
and out of this room was a large closet
with a large blind ventilator, and out
of this closet. a door leading to the
back stoop and garden. Imagine wy
surprise when I was told that Mr. Car-
lisle was going to the lodge, and that
we, after proluse warning about the
baby, and promises not to be gone too
long, were to proceed to this closet ov-
erlooking the back parlor, by the way
of the back gate and garden. In vain
I protested.
“Why, you little goosie,” laughed
Jennie, “there'll be fun enough to last
a lifetime. John wanted to come aw-
fully, but'T knew he'd make an awful
noise and spoil everything, so I wouldn’t
let him.”
The wily schemer took the precau-
tion to lock the closet door from the |
outside, so there was no fear of detec-
tion. On a high bench, sill as two
mice, we awaited results.
Presently, Cousin Mark, as if arous-
ing from a protracted revery, asked,
“Would you like to have me read 2
“Ob, I am not {particular,”’ replied
Miss Kent.
“Here is an excellent article on elec-
tive affinities. How would you like
that? hs
, Jennies elbow in’ my side almost
took away my breath.
SWho'is it by 2” she inquired.
Jennie exclaimed (clearin my ear),
“That's to gain time, see if it ain't,”
“It’s by a prominent French writer.
I believe,” answered Coasin Mark.
“I don’t think I care tor a transla
tion to-night,” said Miss Kent
“Nor I; vor reading of any kind,”
he continued. “This is my last even-
ing in New York, Miss Kent.” :
“I hope you've enjoyed your visit,”
she returned. 2.
Jennie (into my very head this time);
“She's as shy as a three-year-old colt.”
“I'didn’t think I should feel so bad
about leaving,” Cousin Mark went on.
“He is the wreck, you remember,”
whispered Jenuie.
Along pause. ' | ii :
“I think I hear the baby,” exclaim:
ed Miss Kent. *
(beverage go crazy.
“Oh, no, said Cousin Mark. “You
are foud of babies, are you not, Miss
Kent?”
No answer from Miss Kent,
“I have been a very lonely man,
Miss Kent,” Cousin Mark resumed ;
“but I never realized how lonely the
rest of my life must be until I came to
his house.” :
“Oh, how lonely,” echoed Jennie.’
“Now I must return to my business
and my boarding-house-boarding-house
for.a man so fond of domestic life as I
am, Miss Kent,” es
Just then we very distinctly heard a
little kind of a purr, which sounded
very like a note of intense sympathy
from Miss Kent.
| “I have friends in Syn Francisco of
course,” said Cousin Mark, “but no
fireside like this no one to care for me
; I am ill, nobody to feel very badly if
die.”
“That'll fetch Wer,” said Jennie.
“T wish that I lived in San Francis:
co,” said Miss Kent, in a little quiver-
ing voice. “You could call upon me at
any time if you needed anything.”
“If you will go to California with me
Miss Kent, I'll wait another week.”
“Why, Mr. Lansing, what do you
mean? What would folks say ?'’ said
she.
“We don’tcare for folks,” said Mark.
“It you will, go, we will have a house
as pleasant as - money can make it,
You shall have birds and flowers and
horses and all the scientific monthlies
that you want—deuced if you sha’n’t
--and you shall never sew another
stitch for any body but me. Will you
be my wife?”
Just then Jennie and I stepped up
another peg, and their was that little
o'd maid, who wouldn’t marry the
best man that ever lived,*hugged close
to the man’s breast, who wouldn't
marry the best woman that ever lived,
not even to save her life. We came
away then, but it's my opinion that
they remained in just that position till
we rang the bell half an haur later.
“How do you know ?7 I asked of
Jennie,
“My dear,” she answered, “my
whole reliance was upon human na-
ture ; and let me tell you, dear goosie,
what ever else may fail that never
does.
“Why, Miss Kent, what makes your
face so very red?” inquired Jennie,
upon entering ; “and Cousin Mark,
how strangely you look ! your hair is
all mussed up.”
“And I hope to bave it mussed up
often,” said Cousid Mark, boldly.
“Miss Kent and 1 are to be married
this week.” .
Jennie laughed till ker face was pur-
ple, and when I went up stairs, Miss
Kent was pounding her back.
a
‘Tolstoi on the Famine.
There have been many conflicting re-
ports of the distress among the Russian
peasantry, but fortunately there is at
least one authority whose statements are
universally received with confidence.
In spite of his many peculiarities Count
Leo Tolstoi, the novelist and philan-
thropist, is generally believed to be
thoroughly sincere and trustworthy.
He has been very active in the work ot
practical relief in his part of the empire,
and his report of a recent visit to one of
the famine threatened districts throws
some light on a very wretched state of
things. Itseems that even in Russia
there are those who doubt whether there
is real famine. Tolstoi refers to the
“dispute that has arisen between the
zemstvos (or local authorities) and the
government, on the elementary question
whether the population is actually in
the throes of hunger, or is suffering im-
aginary terrors from fears and vain ru-
mors of famine.”
Itis charged that the people have
counted upon aid from the goverment
orthe charitable therefore refused to
work and became intemperate. To de-
cide this question and study the causes
of all the trouble he visited the province
of Toola, which he says is not the
worst off of the famine stricken districts.
As he penetrated the afflicted region the
evidence of distress increased.
The first indication ot what I noticed
was that the bread eaten by nearly
every one there conteined 35 and in
many places 50 per cent. of pigweed.
It is'not the brown bread which is us-
ually cailed black, but, isin sober truth,
of inky blacknes, heavy, clammy and
bitter. And this is the stuff which
young and old, weak and sickly con-
sume.
There was also great scarcity of fuel.
These facts point to the conclusion that
the population has nothing but un-
wholesome bread to live on, and has ab-
solutely nothing at all to warm them-
selves with— a frightful condition for
human beings to be reduced to.
And yet, strange to say, if you look at
the people, who presumably suffer such
privations; you are struck with ‘their
contended, gay and healthy appearance.
The men were all from home, at work
I was told, while the landowners bitter-
ly complained that they could not get
them to work for love or money. ‘
He found some families eating pigweed,
although they had enough ay grain,
but by far the greater number were re-'
duced to desperate extremities, and in
one cluster of villages 80 per cent. - of
theinhabitants would have nothing at
all to eat in a few weeks.
Hunger does not seem to have pinch-
ed the cheeks or emaciated the bodies.of
thé populations, whose looks speak un-
mistakably of contentment gaiety,
health and exuberant spirits. = And this
view was amply confirmed by the local
authorities, themselves peasants, who
declared that never before had drunk-
enness been so rife. But the farther. he
advanced the more miserable was the
condition of the people.
Pigweed bread was the staple article
of food, and to make matters worse, it
was not the ordinary pigweed that was
employed, but a green unripe variety
devoid of the white kernel, without
which it is absolutely unfit for consump-
tions. Bread made of 50 per cent. of
this stuff and 50 per cent. of rye, cannot,
be eaten alone. It actsas a very vio-
lent emetic, and when brewed an quass
is'made fron: it those who partuké of: the
0 The farmers. who:
were badly off were eating their last
‘crust of this bread when I was, passing
through.
And miserable as they undoubtedly
off. One of the large villages of the
Ephremovsk district may serve as a typ-
ical instance. Out ot seventy home-
steads only ten were able to support
themselves for a little while longer,
All the members of the other farms
had devoured the last ear of corn, their
last pinch of flour, and had set out with
their skeleton horses to beg. The few
who stayed behind were living on pig-
weed bread with an admixture of bran.
I wentinto a hut to insp et that bread,
andl saw it'and many other things be-
sides which provoked my astonishment,
The head of the family bad just re-
ceived some rye from the authorities to
be used for seed, but seed time was long
since past, and ne had used his own
corn for the purpose at the time. He
was now mixing the rye with bran in
the proportions of half and half and
grinding it up together, and the bread
that resulted was tolerable. But unfor-
tunately there was very little of it, and
that little was the last. The housewife
told me that her little girl had eaten
the two fold effect of a violent purgative
and a powerful emetic, after which she
resolved to bake no more of it. The
corner of the hut was filled with twigs
and the excrement of cattle to be used as
fuel. The women regularly scour the
roads and fields in search of this malo-
dorous substitute for wood and steal in-
to the forests, whence they furtively
abstracted bundles of twigs as long and
as'thick as one’s finger. The filth of
the dwellings and the raggedness of the
inmates were indescribable.
He tells of a poor soldier's wife with a
family of five starving children, who
walked forty versts a day begging scraps
of food, and this she has done for three
years.
There are multitudes of others just as
badly off as she, and not this year only,
but every year. All the families of
prisoners—of whom there are legions—
of drunkards, and very often the famil-
ies of discharged soldiers, as well ‘as
countless multitudes of weak-willed
peasant farmers, are suffering the same
horrible death in life. Every year,
whether there is a famine or abundance
inthe land, the wretched wives of these
men prowl about the forests, watching
for an opportunity stealthily to crawl
in and pilfera little fuel to warm their
famishing children, painfully conscious
that if discovered committing this hein-
ous crime they will be beaten or impri-
soned. Year after year these people
subsist on the charity of their neighbors,
who throw them crusts and crumbs to
teed their forlorn and hungry offspring.
And this harrowing state of thing has
always existed. It is part and parcel of
our national existence. We live and
thrive in the midst of it and by means
of it. And the cause thereof is assured-
ly not the present failure of the crops.
Proceeding to the discussion of the
causes of the distress ip Russia, Count
Tolstoi says that the wretchedness found
in the Russian villages described is not
the result of any sudden catastrophe, as
famine or fire, but of far more terrible
and slow working causes. And the
number of these vegetating communi-
ties is as formidable as their misery.
And yet throughout the length ard
breadth of the Russian empire there are
numerous villages more comfortless and
desolate even than these. “I passed
through several in the Ephremoff and
Dankoff districts, and the impression
they produced upon me is still fresh and
vivid as the memory of a horrid
dream.”
He graphically describes one of these
villages found in the midst of the pros-
perous and wealthy estate of a large
land owner. The contrast between the
plenty of the great and the abject misery
of the villagers, notwithstanding the
picturesque appearance of their hamlet
is very striking. He found the people
with the smallest stock of food, but ap-
parently quite indifferent as to where
they would get more. Twelve out of
thiry homesteads kad not a single horse
to follow the plow.
Indeed, it would be hard to denv that
the failure of the crops this year is a but
a trifling disappointment in comparison
with the special causes of misery to
which each individual family in expos-
ed, and in comparison with the calami
ties common to the entire body of Rus-
sian peasantry, which have gradually
reduced them to their preézent terrible
condition. ‘
The general evils are in like manner
wider-reaching, more intense in their ef-
fects than any bad harvest, for they in-
clude dearth of land destructive period -
ical conflagrations, ruinous quarrels,
drunkenness and utter dejection, bor-
dering on despair.
Before leaving this villageI lingered a
moment by the side of a peasant who
had just carried home a load of potato
stulks from a neighboring field, which
he was engaged in piling up against the
walls of his hut.
“Where did you
from ?”’ T asked him.
“Bought them from: the landlord yon-
der.” i 10]
Bought them | For how much ?
“For two and one-fourth acres of
stalks I’ve got to till two and one-fourth
acres of his land,” he replied.
This means that for the privilege of;
gathering the potato stalks from two and
one-fourth acres of land, the peasant is
forced to plough, harrow and sow an
| equal amount of land, reaping, binding
| and carting the corn and generally per-
forming all the the work required.
The peasant was a talkative fellow
and while I stood leaning = against: his
cart chatting with bim, half a dozen
otbers sidled up and gathered round us,
and the conversation became general."
The women too, crept out of their ‘huts
and stole up within earshot, but still at
a considerable distance from us. A
crowd of ragged urchins,chewing lumps
of ink black 'pigweed ‘bread, revolved
slowly around us, eyeing me furtively
and eagerly devouring every word we
uttered. I put several questions to the
men, answers to which I had already re-
ceived from the elder, in order to verify
his statement, and I found that he, had
exaggerated nothing, Thus. amon
other things I" have learned that the
get these stalks
i
|
|
these peasants disclosed their poverty
without the least hesitation, though I
cannot say exactly they puraded it« or
took a pleasure in proclaiming. it, | but
everything they said. was. barbed, with
bitter satire, intended’ for ‘some person’
were, these villages were not the worst |
some pigweed bread, which produced |
or persons understood,
“How do you come to be so badly off
{ —so much worse than others 2’? I asked
‘and so fixed and definite was the ex-
| planation that several voices uttered the
i reply 1n unision.
“We can’t help that. In summer
balf the village was burned down as
bare and smooth as if a cow had licked
it. Then came the failure of crops.
{ We were bad enough off before autumn
| came on, but now we're cleaned out as
| clean as an eggshell. - And it’s little the
bad harvest troubles us, seeing that we
have little land to speak of.”
| Yes, but how about your earnings?”
| I inquired.
| “What earnings? What are they?
Why, the land owner yonder has hedg-
ed us in on all sides for a stretch of
eleven miles or thereabouts. Go where
vou will you're always on his estates.
No wonder the wages are the same
avery wherein this neighborhood. And
with that yon turn around and pay
him 10 shillings for potato stalks that'll
hold out no longer than a month.”
“And how do you mean to lve
then ?”
‘As best we can,” he replied. “We
will sell everything we can hunt up and
after that it is as God wills.”
“Sell, indeed! It’sa precious lot as
we’ve got to sell,’ chimed in another:
“It isn’t the horse manure you’d be of-
fering for sale, is it? If so, I've got a
whole corner of my hut piled chuck full
of ’em.’ ‘And it isn’t much benefit we
get from ’em, I can tell you. When
you put ’em in the stove to take the
chill out of your bones they make you
cough as if you'd half a hundred weight
of pepper. and your inside is a heaving
up, it is.”
“They’ve written and written about
us till all their paper and‘ink gave out
and that’s all the good it’s done us,” re-
marked another. “It’s easy to see the
scrawlers were poor hands at the busi-
ness; but grandfather there’ (pointing to
me) “will write he has a firmer hand.
And just look what a pen he has!” &o.
"And with this they burst out laughing,
in'such a way as to give me the im-
pressions that they possessed some secret
in common which they are unwilling to
reveal.
Now, what is the meaning of such
extraordinary fiippancy and light heart-
odness on the part of men thas over-
taken on the high tide of misfortune and
in hourly danger of being overwhelm-
ed? Can it be that they fail to realize
the gravity of their position, or is it that
they are so confident of receiving ade-
quate and timely aid from outside that
tbey deem it superfluous to make any
effort to help themselves? I may be
mistaken in my view, but I am s’rong-
ly disposed to favor the latter hypothe-
sis without wholly rejecting the former.
And I was confirmed in this supposi-
tion by the recollection of the two tipsy
old peasants whom I had met shortly
before in the Ephremovsk district as
they were returning from the cantonal
board, whither they had gone to inquire
how soon their sons would be summoned
for their annual military drill. TI asked
them what sort of a barvest they had
had and how they were getting along,
and they replied in a blithe, ofthand
manner :
“Oh, right enough, God be praised.”
Thanks to their Little Father, the Tsar,
they added ; they had received corn for
seed, and now there was to be a regular
gratuitous distribution of food--thirty
pounds of rye a month for every man,
woman and grown up boy and girl un-
til Lent, and sixty pounds a month af-
ter Lent.
And yet these unfortunate people,
who all reside in the most distressed dis-
tricts of the government of Toola, can-
not possible live through the winter,
| unless they bestir themselves in time.
| they are bound to die of hunger or of
| some disease engendered by hunger, as
surely as a hive of bees left to face the
| rigors of a northern winter, without
| honey or sweets must perish miserably
| before the advent of spring. The all
| important question, therefore, is this:
Will they exert themselves, while yet
| they possess the strength, if indeed it be
| not already wholly exhausted? Every-
{ thing that T saw and heard pointed with
| terrible distinctness to a negative reply.
i One these farmers had sold out the
| meagre possessions which he could call
"his own and had left for Moscow to
| work or to beg. The others stayed on
| and waited with native curiosity.
; watching for what could happen next,
like children, having fallen into a hole
in the ice or lost their way in a dense
forest, and not realizing at first the ter-
rible danger of their situation, heartily
laugh at its unwontedness.
Where Tebacco is Raised.
Lancaster county, it appears, still
stands at the head of all the tobacco
growing counties in the United States,
with her 19,217,800 pounds grown in the
season of 1889. Four other counties—
Christian and Henderson in Kentucky ;
Dane, in Wiszonsin. and Pittsylvania
county, in Virginia, grow over 10,000,-
000 each. There are seventeen other
counties that grow from 5,000,000 to 10,-
000,000 pounds each. Lancaster county’s
product in 1889, as all known, was sold
at exceedingly low prices--about the
lowest in our history—and even then
produced the growers $1,340,090. The
| nearest approach to this by any other in-
| dividual county was $886,840 by Hart-
ford county, in fact, fetched ‘more
money than that of the entire state of
{ Connecticut or of Wisconsin or of New
i York and Massachusetts combined.
‘A Romance in a Nutshell.
She went to a ball: wore too thin
clothing ; ¢aught cold ; she was very ill
for many days; a devoted admirer
brought a remedy, when her life seemed
to hang by a thread ; she took it; re-
covered ; and finally married the man
who had saved her life. And the re-
medy he. brought her was Dr. Pierce’s
Golden Medical discovery, whichis a
certain cure for all throat and lung dis-
eases and scrotula’ complaints, of which
consumption is one.
BUCKLEN'S ARNIC SALVE. —The best
salve in’ ‘the world for Cuts, Bruises,
number of farms: without horses ‘was Sores. Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores,
greater than he had stated it to be. All! Tetter,. Chapped Hands,
{ Corns, and ail Skin Eruptions, and pos-
| itively cures Piles, or no pay required.
| It isiguatanteed to give perfect satisfac-
Chilblains
tion, on. money refunded. Price 25
‘cents per box, For sale by C. M,
‘Parrish. *
The World of Women.
Mme. Patti thinks that singing should
be taught a child as soon as it can
speak.
The etiguette of ‘the day forbids the
use of numerals in letter writing. Even
the date must be spelled out.
It was the women of Toronto who
gave the city free text books and shut off
Sunday cars. They had votes and
were not afraid to come out and use
them.
An English governess is hereafter to
educate the: daughters of the King of
i Siam and she will be rewarded therefor
with a salary of $700 a year and a resi-
dence in the royal palace.
A special fancy this spring will be
the use of pale-green shades for accessor-
les on dresses of light tan, and darker
greens in pine sage and moss ; also the
use of palest yellow with gray and fawn
gowns,
The ckoice of a wife for Prince Georee
has gradually narrowed down to two.
women—Princess Victoria, daughter of
Prince Christian, and Princess Victoria
of Hesse, the youngest’ daughter of
Princess May. Both are charming and
popular girls.
An exquisite centre-piece used at a
recent luncheon was of sheer Irish lin-
en. The border was of forget-me-nots
embroidered in pale bluesilk. In the
middle of the cloth was & butterfly out-
lined in silk, :
embroidered ir silk and tinsel.
Miss Mary Wilkins, the writer, is a
slender little woman, with a fair skin
blue eyes, clean-cut features and a nose
that might be celled sharp but for the
gentleness and refinement of the face.
She wears her hair ina knot at the
nape of a neck which is simply perfect,
To emphasize this good point the bodices
of her evening dresses are invariably cut
very much in the back.
At last the milliner "has given to
womankind a thoroughly becoming bon-
net tie, We have for so many seasons
past been confined toa single choice,
the narrow strip of ribbon or velvet, that
a change of any kind should be hailed
with delight, and it has been, the aver-
age woman being sharp enough to rec-
agnize a good thing when she sees it.
Even a plain face is wonderfully im-
proved by the addition to her capote of
bia velvet strings knotted under the
chin.
A charming visiting or carriage gown
is of cloth corduroy in fine lines of pale
fawn and black. The fourreau skirt
has a broad band of jet passementerie
all round the bottom, while the Russian
jacket has a soft scarf of black silk
twisted about the waist and knotted on
the left side. The deep revers on the
jacket are heavily trimmed with jet,
while the waistcoat is of a dark shade of
fawn silk with a close line of tiny jet
buttons. A small Russian toque accom-
panies this gown «nd it has a crown of
tawn-colored velvet embroidered with
jet while a panache of ostrich tips and
jet aigrettes is on the left side rather to-
wards the front,
Black has lost in popularity because it.
makes every line deeper and ages a wo-
man more than even an unbecoming
color. The woman, fair, plump, with
few lines and no care inher face, can
wear black, but the thin woman, the.
woman who has fretted ber face into a
map of all the woes in the world, would
better keep .out of black unless she
wants to be mistaken for a grandmother
before she is one. Every woman should
have one good black dress in her ward-
robe tor an emergency or a change from
colors, but after that let the pinky
browns, mauve, soft grays and all ne-
gative colors in which a beautiful wo--
man locks all the more beautiful and a
plain woman less plain, reign supreme.
The spring girl at the top notch of"
fashion will look something like this:
Her bell demi-train will have on ita
fluffy silk border, reminiscent of discard-
ed fur, with bands above of galoon, in
true Russian feathers, and it will flange
very much at the bottom ; her blouse
will also flange at the bottom, like a bias
edge that has been stretched ; her collar
will spread out over her shoulders and
cut a horizontal wedge in her profile,
the upper sleeve will flange out at the
elbow, and the hat may cut the outline
after the same manner, The general
effect of the whole will be a succession
of flares. It will be confined at the
waist by the costliest cincture her pock-
et will buy, for the belt will be the fash-
ionable jewel of the season.
Girls who wish to look ‘quite Eng-
lish” affect the crush felt which resem-
bles a walking bat creased through the
top. In the shops it is known as the
“Alpine” shape. . Most styles in milli
nery shown for young woman are ex-
tremely fantastic in outline. Whimsical
brims invariably slope'downward at the
front, standing high atthe back and
resting with platter-like flatness upon
the head. Theinside band has become
a necessity when one wishes to secure a
jaunty finish. These bands are still
used to hold a coquettish bunch of pink
posies or a knot of ribbons, almost as
many flowers being worn now as during
the fairest and sunniest of June days.
Fur heads peep over the edge of the
broad brims at the fresh garland of"
blooms as if in wonderment at the sea-
son’s inconsistencies.
Bags are coming in again." Milad;-
wears one attached to a chatelaine and
hanging from her waist. Some of the
bags ‘are of leather or suede, mounted
either in silver or gold. A novel shop-
ping bag 1s of seal brown leather, with
six litt e gold pigs frisking upon it. The
chatelaine from which the bag hangs is
formed of afat gold pig, with eyes of blue
sapphires. ' Shopping bags ‘of ‘woven
steel, in the shape of a heart, are used
and many of them have the owners
monogram in silver. With these four
silver hearts are used as the chatelaine.
Odd shaped bags of red Russian leather
are popular. Occasionolly some: woman
upon whom fortune smiles will wear
hanging from her waist 8 shopping bag
of fine woven gold wire, with her mono-
gram outlined in her favorite gems.
Leather bags, with the upper: part of:
of silk, are convenient ard pretty. The:
silk matches in color the leather:
used. oe n
The raised wings wera
—