Bellefonte, Pa., July 22,1892
SONG OF THE GRASSES.
Out into the beautiful summer weather
We are growing to-day, :
Waving and nodding our heads togetner,
All in a happy way. :
Standing close up beside each other,
Making a carpet meet ‘
To please the tired eyes of the mother,
Or the children’s dancing reet. '
Lifting our glad heads ever higher
Toward thie blessed sun. 3
Teaching that lowly souls may aspire
To great things—every one.
Never losing, for even a minute,
Our hold on Mother Earth ; :
Stretching our fine, firm roots out in it,
Glad that she gave us birth,
‘Look at our dainty, curious flowers,
Sober colored, ’tis true, . |
But gathering goodness all through the hours,
A future work to do.
Think how we make the bright world brighter
With color green and glad; :
Think how we make the light heart lighter,
And comtort all the sad.
Just because we are common blessings,
Will you our work despise ? :
Nay, fill your heart with reverent guessings
ot to our ways so wise.
And they will help you to something sweeter
Than you have known before,
Making your thought of life completer
And Par, evermore. ; lo
— Journal of Education,
© THE LUCKY MAN.
“Aunt, what is your true opinion of
Bessie Fallington ?” Fite
Old Mrs. Graham smiled over her
gold spectacles at her nephew Cecil,
and, with just a touch of humor, asked:
“Why ugh xo!
“Well, you know I've been paying
her'some attention” —
“95 And before committing yourself you
wish to get the opinions of your friends.
“You state it bluntly, aunt,” but 1|
suppose that is about the truth.’
“Then, Cecil, I cadnot give’ you my
“opinion.” tig aE
Cecil withdrew. ' As may be inferred
he was an indecisive fellow, and of
course!was not mow satisfied. Praise
of Bessie from Aunt Mildred ‘would
have decided ‘him. But he was! left
exactly as before, except that hie ‘could
draw the opposite inferences. First, if,
his aunt had not favored ‘his’ suif’she
would have adyised against it ; second,
that> her refusal ‘to give an opinion
meant that she opposed it.
_:Such men as he adopt tests, but he
had not ingenuity to invent one. The
secrét of such doubt is usually selt es-
teem, which conjures an ideal worthy |
of affection. . Oddly enough the lumi-
-nous point in Cecil's ideal was fidelity.
_Bessie’s social position was level with
his, but would she be true? Wasn't
-she a coquette ? ;
Tom Piotton was a down city com-
mission merchant—one of those men
who forge ahead on the voyage of life,
and by the twin propellers, energy and
determination, reach a port of com-
mercial success. Cecil and he had
been college mates, but their late ac
qnaintance had only been casual, cop-
fined to chance meetings at social
gatherings. An out-spoken man, but
withal a thorough gallant, acquainted
with all the marriageable ladies worth
knowing, he was just the man to ren- |
der the opinion Cecil craved.
He was found in his glass inclosed
office, millerishly white from flour he
had been examining before buying.
“Tom,” began Cecil, after greetings,
“T came to get your candid opiniou of
Bessie Fallington.” :
Plotton looked “fool” at him but re-
plied :
“Well, it depends on what the opin-
ion is based: As a commission mer-
chant,say, she,d be a prime failure; as
a sea captain, ditto; and as”’——
“As a wife, for instance.”
“That depends on the man who gets
her.” :
“Well, for me, say?"
“Oh 1” exclaimed Plotton, running
his finger through some coffee grains
in & tin box, ‘you're in love with her,
are you ?”’
“Frapkly, yes.”
“And before you putyourself in dan-
ger of making a matrimonial blunder
you're around getting opinions.”
“Well—bluntly, yes. The same as
you look into Bradstreet’s before sell-
ing to a stranger.”
. “The stranger's credit is boubtful
when I do.”
“Well 2”
“You doubt Bessie Fallington ?”
“Good gracious, no!”
“Then what do you want an opinion
of her for? 1f you don’t doubt her
you're sure of her, That's as plain as
A BC. If you love her and are sure
of her worth, an opinion ien’t worth a
coffee grain or shouldn’t be. If you
love her you'll pitch in and move
heaven and earth to get her.”
“But I ask your opinion, neverthe-
less.”
“Whether it cuts or not?”
“Yee”
“Give her up.”
“Why 9"
“Rirst, if you doubt her, she won't
suit you.”
“] don’t grant that.”
“Second, she’s ‘a pronounced co-
quette ; wants wealth in a husband; is
willful; demands continual petting;
admires men of distinction, men who
can cut a dash and especially men of
decision, but will quarrel with him if
her way is crossed; doesn’t know a
saucepan from a griddle. etc., full of
faults—but pretty as a spring morn-
ing.”
Graham rose pettishly.
“You don’t ;believe my opinion, 1
see. Very good; it's one sign you love
the girl. Of course, you're invited to
her progressive euchre party next week.
Go and criticise her—if you can in
sight of her beauty, Then we'll meet
and compare notes.” |
“Agreed. Good morning.”
The next Tuesday evening found
Cecil in: Bessie’s fashionable home,
He had exactly poised his mind, but
the first sight of her unbalanced it in
| this would be,’
her favor. She was rarely beautiful,
and her welcome rang with genuine
hospitelity. It seemed impossible to
criticise her; a good, true heart must
be the center of such physical loveli-
ness, but doubt whispered, “Wait and
watch.”
Of guests, there were seven ladies
and eight gentlemen, Bessie had,
| therefore, fo choose her first partner,
and Cecil watched eagerly to see which
It was Alfred Donald-
son Hughes, who lately won literary
fame: ot smiled brilliantly upcn
him as they took “seats at the ace
table.
“She’s flirting with that fellow,”
muttered Cecil, as the bell rang for
play.
When it rang aga for changing
tables he was obliged to remain at the
jack table, because in watching he had
blundered stupidly. Bessie and the
author won the game, and though they
were not partners in the next the mer-
riment between them continued. and he
saw her dart a perfect coquette’s smile
at him as at the next he went down to
the king. ©
Tom Plotton was her next partner,
but her sparkle was gone,’ She scarce-
ly spoke.
“Humph,” muttered Cecil, “quite a
descent from literature to flour, Plot-
ton and I will surely agree, for he is
“undoubtedly getting the cold shoulder.”
Yet, despite himself, doubts would
‘break into the adverse decision. ‘“Per-
haps she is true, after all; her spirits
‘may be her way of entertainment. I
may be making a fearful mistake.”
Finally good luck advanced him and
he became her partnerfora game. She
was all life again; exactly as she had
been to the author. He believed he
detected her wish to draw him on to
loving her; and, though flattered, the
old doubt, grew stronger. The duties
of hostess did not necessitate such ac-
tion she had tried to draw the author
on; she was trying him now. The
| only result would be that she would re-
ject them both in ridicule.
«Music and promenading through the
spacious house followed cards. Cecil
hastened to éngage Bessie as a coni-
panion. | The author forestalled him.
He walked angrily into the conserva-
tory and stopped before a palm, osten-
sibly examining it, but. in reality anal-
yzing his state-of mind.-~ Was he jeal-
ous ?, . If so, he really loved Bessie, but
could he ask her to:be his when all
he had seen confirmed her coquetry ?
Bessie and Hughes came near and.
stopped before a large ‘plant, but with
their backs toward Cecil, who was well
screened from them.
“Miss Fallington,” said the author
in ‘the unmistakable voice of devotion,
“doi you like literature?" 7
“I love it,” she replied.” “Let me
tell you a little secret that you must
never reveal. I have lately had quite
a number of poems published—anony-
mously of course.”
“Adorable,” he cried, enthusiastical-
ly. “You must show them to me.”
“By no means. You would criticise
the poor little attempts.”
“Not for worlds. They could not
help being full of fire and genius. But
would you not like to devote your life
yourself, to literature ?” =
“Oh! Mr. Hughes, my humble tal-
ents wouldn't last a fortnight.”
“f don’t mean in that way; though
your talent would. I mean would you
not like to live alwaye in a literary at
mesphere—in fact, Miss Fallington, as
the wife of an author.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Hughes,” she ex-
claimed, “but I do believe this rare
plant is dying. I must tell father at
once.”
“Don’t turn me aside,” pleaded the
author, trying to catch her hand. “I
love you to’ — !
“Hush, hush, Mr. Hughes,” she
whispered. ‘‘Here comes some one.”
The some one was Tom Plotton, and
he was coming direct for them.
“Mr; Hughes,” he said, “they are
asking for you in the parlor. They're
discussing the authorship of a late
anonymous poem, They want you to
belp them out.” .
“Very . well,” replied Hughes gal-
lantly, “and I think I can make a good
decision on the latest and directest in-
formation.” dil v
“Don’t you dare,” exclaimed Bessie
with a light laugh, the meaning of
which came in’ words as ‘socom as the
author was out of hearing.
“Oh! I'm so glad you came, for,
don’t you think, he was just declaring
| his love for me.”
Both broke into a hearty laugh. Con-
viction struck Cecil. If this wasn’t an
evidence of - heartless coquetry what
could be? He sincerely thanked his
good fortune that his doubts had kept
him from declaring his own love sev-
eral months before in a similar place.
“And Thavée no doubt,” he heard
Plotton say, ‘that if I were now to
say that I love you you'd thank some
one for interrupting, and laugh as
heartily over. my silliness, wouldn’t
you ?"’
“Perhaps I should.”
“Though you have given me some
encouragement, Bessie.”
“Have I? Come, I want to tell
father this plant is dying,”
They moved away and Cecil retarn-
ed to the parlor, thrilling with pleasure
at his parrow escape. He rejoiced
greatly that Bessie Fallington had nev-
er had a chance to laugh at him. He
shortly ‘withdrew elated, but 10 the
night doubt of his decision troubled
him. The heart and head would not
agree. The stronger became the latter,
the fuller was the former of regret that
he could not have Bessie Fallington.
Next morning he hastened to Plot-
ton’s establishment and found that
gentleman in his glass office looking
quite happy.’ :
“Happy commission stroke?" asked
Cecil.
“Yes, an unusual one. Well, T sup-
pose you haye come to compare notes
about Bessie Fallington.”
éY eg, ‘ HED
“Well, what's your decision?”
“That she is a heartless flirt, and I
think I'll give up all thoughts of her.”
“You think so.” :
‘lots of taults.
“Yes, only think, for I still can’t de-
cide, and I came again to get your
opinion.”
- “Well, I'll let you have it. I don’t
think she would make you a good wife.
I believe myself she is a fiirt, and has
If I were you I'd look
elsewhere.”
“This is your earnest, sincere ad-
vice, ig it ?”
“It is. But there is another reason
why I'd give her up if I were you.”
“What is it 2’
“She is engaged.”
“Engaged and flirting around the
way she did with you and Hughesand
myself. It's awful. To whom?”
“Well, it's something of a secret yet.
She engaged herself only last night.”
“Lact night? Not to Hughes?”
Plotton laughed heartily and said,
“Guess again.”
“I can’t. Give me the name.”
“Thomas J. Plotton,”
Cecil sank into a chair and stared.
Tom laughed boisterously, nine-tenths
of it being pure, unalloyed joy.
“But you said,” stammered Cecil,
“that she was a flirt, no housekeeper
and full of faults.”
“I know I did, and say so still,”
“And going to marry her?”
“Yes, by all means, and we'll be as
happy as any one can be on earth. I
love Bessie Fallington, and if she had
ten times her faults my love demands
that I must have her, and it will have
her. As I told you before, love will
move heaven and earth to get its ob-
ject: I've won her, and, let her faults
be what they may, I love her and
must have her.”— Howard M. Hope in
Yankee Blade. !
eae
Peculiar Habits of Ostriches.
Ostriches are long-lived creatures; in-
deed, it is impossible to say what vener-
able age they may be capable of attain-
ing, for however old they become, they
never ‘show any signs of decrepitude,
nor do their feathers deterioriate: while,
as for an ostrich dying of old age I do
not believe any one has ever heard of
such a thing. But it is accident which,
sooner or later, ends the career of nearly
every ostrich, and in about ninety-nine
cases out of a bundred the disaster is, in
one way or another, the result of the
bird’s own stupidity. There surely does
not exist a creature-—past earliest in-
fancy—more utterly incapable of taking
care of itself than an ostrich; yet he is
full of conceit, and resents the idea of
being looked after by his human friends;
and when, in spite of all their precau-
tions for his safety, he has succeeded in
coming to grief, he quietly opposes
every attempt to cure his injuries, and
at once makes up his mind to die. If
his hurt is not sufficiently severe to kill
him he will attain his object by nioping
and refusing to eat; anyhow, he dies, of-
ten apparently for no other reason than
because his master, against whom he
has always had a grudge, ‘wishes him to
live. He seems to die out of spite, just
as a Hindu servant will starve himself,
waste rapidly away, and finally come
and expire at the gate of the employer
with whom he is offended.
The worst and most frequent acci-
dents by which ostriches contrive to
make away with themselves are broken
legs; these, even were the patients
tractable, it would be impossible to cure,
owing to the strange fragieity of this
limb, which is capable of inflicting so
deadly a kick, and any poor bird which
breaks a'leg has to be instantly killed.
The bone seems almost as brittle as por-
celain, and a comparatively slight blow
is enough to splinter # into just such
jagged and pointed fragments as result
from breaking the spout of a china tea-
t.
Be ne very fruitful source of broken
legs is the dervish-like habit ostriches
have of waltzing, when in particularly
good spirits, and especially when first
turned out of the kraal in the morning.
They go sailing along so prettily in the
bright sunshine. their beautiful wings
spread and erect, giving them, at a little
distance, the appearance of white bal-
loons ; but they have a sad tendency to
become giddy and tumble down, and,
knowing the frailty of their legs, we do
not look with unmixed pleasure on the
‘graceful performance. Some birds, in-
deed, have the sense to save themselves
by “reversing,” which they do as clev-
erly as practiced human dancers; but
the accomplishment seems rare among
them, and we calculate that waltzing
costs us eight or ten per cent., per an-
num. Then they often fight savagely,
and the terrific “thud” of the blows
they deal upon each other's bodiés makes
one tremble lest the next kick should
fall on oneof-the brittle legs, as indeed
frequently happens. ' >
It is rather a curious sight to watch
the progress of 'a'large bone, or good
beakful of’ mealies as it travels down
the long throat of the bird. During its
journey, the large, slowly moving lump
is seen to make the circuit of the whole
neck, and while passing round the back
of the latter it looks comical indeed.
Queer things sometimes find their way
down this tortuous passage; the excessive
queerness: of some of them ‘giving rise to
the frequent boast of those persons fort-
.unately able to eat anything, fearless of
consequences, that they ‘‘have the di-
gestion of an ostrich.” But those mis-
cellaneous collections of old bones, glass
and china, stones, jewelry, hardware,
and odds and ends of all sorts, with
which the creature stores his interior,
till one is reminded of Mark Twain's
“solid dog’? fed on paving stones—far |
from showing that an ostrich has.a good |
digestion are necessary to prevent his
having a very bad one. They are, of |
course, simply his teeth—the millstones !
which grind his food ; only they are sit- |
uated in his stomach instead of in his ||
mouth, and, on an immensely magnified
scale, they “only “perform the work of
those grains of sand with which the lit- |
tle cage-bird « keeps himself | healthy. |
Certainly, ostriches occasionally show a |
sad want of discrimination, and make
choice of articles which are unsuitable ,
for their purpose. The manager's light- |
ed pipe, for instance, was snatched and
greedily swallowed by one of our birds |
before any one could stop him; and for
a while the theif was very anxiously |
watched to see if evil consequences
would ensue. Luckily, however, the’
strange fare did not seem to disagree
with him. Another bird picked a gim-
let out of & pust, in which, for a moment
it had bcen carelessly left sticking—
tossed it down his throat, and was none |
the worse for it. i
Ostriches, like magpies, are attracted |
by everything bright and ghttering; |
hence the frequent and just complaints
brought against them for theft. But
their own interior is the only mding-
place where they bestow the precious
stones and other articles ot jewelry
which whenever they have a chance,
they will always steal.
One day, while yet new to. the colony
| and to the ways of the ostriches, I was
standing with T-——by the side of one
of our camps, Jooking over the fence at
the birds. and much amused by the cu-
rious dancing manner in which the creat-
ures moved, as if hung on wires; when
suddenly one of them. with a motion as
quick as lightning, made a dash at my
earring, a little round knob of gold, ex-
actly the size and color of a mealie (In-
dian corn seed), for which perhaps he
took it ; and I only drew back just in
time to save it—and probably a piece of
the ear with it—from going down his
throat.
A newly arrived gentleman was less
fortunate. He, too, was looking over a
fence into a camp, when the sharp eye
of an ostrich spied a beautiful diamond
in his pin, and in an instant the jewel
was picked out and swallowed. A kind
of court-martial was held on the ostrich;
the relative values of himself and of the
diamond pin: being accurately cal-
culated that his judges might decide
whether he soould live or die.
Fortunately for him, it was just the
time when ostriches were expensive; and
the value was estimated at £100, while
the diamond was only worth £90. Those
£10 saved his life; and the diamond was
allowed to remain and perform the part
of an extra good millstone in his interi-
or. Had he waited till the present time
to furnish his internal economy thus ex-
pensively, he would have been very
promptly sacrificed. . But people should
not wear diamonds on ostrich farms.—
From Home Life on an Ostrich Farm,
by Annie Martin.
A Re-organization.
Last week the Bellefonte base ball as-
sociation was re-organized with the fol:
lowing officers : Dr. George Harris, pres-
ident ;John M. Dale, Esq., secretary ;
George R. Meek, treasurer; Hard P.
Harris, manager; and Lee Woodcock,
captain. With this organization Belle-
fonte ought to get a first-class team. Our
friend Meek is just where he ought to be,
but when the treasury gets one million
dollars in it he will bear watching lest
he might take a trip to Canada. Hard
Harris will make a first class manager,
and you may bet your bottom dollar
that he will not leave Bellefonte to go
on the next trip with only seven men,
instead of nine. Lee Woodcock is one
of the finest players in the State. He
not only plays with his hands, but he
uses his head, and if the boys heed his
instructions they will come out corquer-
or and more than conqueror. Dr. Har-
ris and J. M. Dale are good men in
their respective places, and have taken a
deep interest in the bat and sphere. If
is the purpose of this organization to get
the very best players in the club, and
from this out go in the contest to win.
It would be out of the question to say
Bellefonte should not go down once in
awhile, but the thing is to keep the per-
centage ahead.— Ex.
Mount Etna Again Active.
Two Towns in Danger and Great Damage Done
in the Country.
Catania, July 10.—A further erup-
tion of Mount Etna occurred to-day.
The Mayor of Nicoiosi declares that a
triple volcanic out-break is impending.
The inhabitants of the city and the sur-
rounding country are in a state of con-
sternation. l
The eruption assumed alarming pro-
portions during the night, though less
grand than the eruption of 1886. Huge
quantities of lava have been thrown
out of the volcano and have formed a
double stream, which is advancing
rapidly towards Nicoiosi and Beipasso.
The lava is already within six kilome-
tres of Nicoiosi. Great damage has
been done tothe surrounding country.
A severe earthquake was felt in the
immediate vicinity of the volcano dur-
ing the night. To-day the populace of
Nicoiosi ‘assembled outside the 'Cathe-
dral and knelt on the ground in pray-
er, being afraid to enter on account of
the continuous shucks and subterra-
nean rumblings; which are like the
noise of a storm. Twelve housesand a
portion of a church;have been destroyed.
The eruption is still active.
EUR St.
Leaders are Leaving.
Mill Men are no Longer Asserting Their Former
Authority. i
HoMESTEAD, July 18.-—A number of
mill men who were recognized as leaders
of the-conflict have left Homestead to
avert arrest. The arrest of the three
men now in Pittsburg is generally anti-
cipated and is causing considerable
alarm. If the leaders are arrested or
leave town the strike: will virtually be
broken. A gradual change in the situa-
tion is noticeable. Mill men no longer
assert their self assumed authority, and
today a subdued air is apparent every
where among the strikers, Strangers
are leaving and the streets are unusual-
ly quiet.
Sheriff McCleary was seen after he
appeared before the congressional com-
mittee, and when asked if any of the
Homestead rioters would be arrested
eaid : “I don’t know what shail be
done. So far no warrants have been
issued, Of course it any are placed in
my hands we will have to do our duty
and arrest the men wanted. However,
I know no more about what is to follow
than you do.”
Hr HAp A NArrow EscArr.—She
(after an absence of several years abroad)
—¢How do you do? So delighted,
I'm sure. Not married yet? Why,
the last time I saw you it seems to me
you were engaged.”
He—Yes, I was.”
She—*‘Let’s see; to whom ?”
He—""To you,” — Life.
——TFora general family cathartic
we recommend Hood’s . Pills, They ,
They should be in every home medi- |
cine che t.
| sent us by the S. P. C. A. , 1s of import-
The Check Rein.
A Very Interesting Aide Regarding the Check
em.
The following very interesting article
ance to every one and particularly so. to
owners of animals. -
“What is cruelty to animals?’ isa
question often asked when persons who
have neglected their animals have been
held for cruelty. A paper prepared’ by
Mr. Richard F. Read, and read by. Mr.
Thompson, at the fifteenth annual meet-
ing of the American Humane association,
in October 1891, at Denver, answers this
question directly. Mr. Read says, “The
courts bave decided and the Legislatures
of a number of states have enacted that
‘cruelty’ means not only direct infliction
of suffering, but includes every act of
omission or neglect whereby unjustiable
physical painis caused or permitted.”
Thus it may bs understood by everyone
why lack of proper care, insufficient
food, filthy stables and the kindred evils
are as strictly classified under the head
of cruelty us any direct infliction of pain.
Does any one doubt that the check
rein is torture? If‘he has seen a noble
spirited animal over-checked; has seen
the restless throwing of the head; the un-
easy stamping of the gronnd; the quiv-
ering nerves and the froth, often colored
by blood that flows from the trembling
lips and nostrils can he doubt it? And
yet the few who by fault of nature are
so incapacitated, or by some fault of train-
ing are so prejudiced as to say it 1s not
torture, we endorse the recommendation
of Mr. Read, and say with him, “Try it
yourselves,”
“Put an overhead check rein on your
precious body. - Pull back the lines as
far as they will go. until your face is
raised skyward. Then walk about the
street; ran upstairs: jump over a crossing;
push a wheel barrow along; go and stand
in front of a church fora couple of hours
and put on a few “‘airs’’ if you please.
Experiment is a convincing teacher.
After such a teaching you will probably
find the check rein ‘‘guilty as charged,”
The check rein is torture, may be re-
fined torture. but torture nevertheless.
Check reins are put on for the sake of
appearances. They are used to make
horses look spirited whether they are or
not, and it is this false pride which leads
people to be zo barbarously cruel. Mr.
Read says: “In my judgement there is
something lacking in the culture of any
person 5 uses the tight check rein,”
and Sir Arthur Helps ‘warmly seconds
him by saying, “ Whenever I see horses
suffering from a too, tight check rein I
know the owner is unobgervant, cruel or
pompous,” and anoted Eastern divine
voices the same thought in the strong
statement, ‘I have little faith in the reli-
ion of a man whose horses does not
now he is a Christian.”
The check rein is generally the cause
of bad temper. A Remove that, and you
will soon find that apparent viciousness
will be no more; runaways will be less
frequent, and many accidents that men-
ace human life will be avoided.
Realizing then that the tight check
rein causes unjustifiable physical pain,
shall we not separately and collectively
endeavor to suppress its use? Shall we
not educate ourselves and those with
when we come in contact to be thought-
ful, merciful and just; and most of all
shall we not by our actions evidence our
sentiment, remembering always, that in
our efforts to advance the cause of mercy
we have the approval and aid of the Di-
vine Father rE Creator, who made the
beasts of the field and said that they
were good, who appointed man to’ take
care of and use them, who condemns ¢ru-
elty, who promises to reward mercy and
who permits not even a poor sparrow to
fall without his watchful care.
Falling from a Great Height.
It will be remembered that Mr.
‘Whymper, who had a severe succession
of falls once in the Alps, without losing
his consciousness, declares emphatically
that as he bounded from one rock to an-
other he felt absolutely no pain. The
same thing happens on the battlefield ;
the entrance of the bullet into the bodv
is not felt, and it is not till he feels the
blood flowing or a limb paralyzed that
the soldier knows he is wounded. =
Persons who bad several limbs broken
by a fall do not know which limb is
broken until they try. to rise, At the
moment of a fall the whole intellectual
activity is increased to an extraordinary
degree. There is not a trace of anxiety.
One considers quickly what will happen.
This is by no means the consequence of
‘presence of mind," it is rather the pro-
duet of absolute necessity. A solemn
composure takes possession of the vic-
tim. Death by fall is a beautiful one.
Great thoughts fill ‘the vietim’s soul; |
they fall painless into a great blue sky. |
Drake’s Magazine.
Origin of Crape on the Door,
Being asked several times from where
and what people the idea of placing
crape on the door at funerals dated and |
originated, we have taken pains to look |
the history of this matter up, and find |
that the custom of placing crape on |
the door of a house where there has
been a recent death, had its origin in
the ancient English heraldic customs,
and dates as far back at least as the
year 1100'A. D." At that period hatch-
ments or armorial ensigns were placed |
in front of houses when the nobility
and gentry died, These hatchments
were of diamond shape and contained
the family arms quartered and colored
with sable in such a manner that the
spectator at a glance could tell what
branch of the family was dead, wheth-
er the deceased wae young or old, mar-
ried or single, widow or widower.
——The world is full of negative
men, men of velvety softness, tender
feelings, extremely ‘liberal,” They
“love every body,” but they are too
timid. They would sooner sacrifice
principle than wound a friend. They
shrink back from shadows, sulk away
from battle, and leave others to win the
victory. They carry no swords, bear
no palms, wear no crowns. Their as-
pirations do not rise above their heads,
and their lives are lived contentedly on
the dead level of mediocrity. Such
men are of little value to the world,
——The Earl of Dudley’s life is insur-
The World of Women.
Among the white gowns worn in
England the greater number have
touches of green.
A niece of the late James Russell
Lowell, Miss Ruth Burnett, is soon to
become a Sister of Charity.
A pretty way of trimming the hem of
the skirt is with a broad satin ribbon
tied here and there in a double bow.
The latest little over jacket is called
the Harrow, and is first cousin to the
Eton, to which it bear a strong family
resemblence.
Housewives who are troubled with
salt becoming damp and caking in the
castors in this humid weather should
mix a little corn starch with it:
Young girls are wearing gowns of
pink or blue crepon or muslin quaintly
trimmed in the old fashion way with
flounces of black Chantilly lace.
‘White pique dresses have been reviv-
ed and are worn with colored sashes and
ful white mull chemisettes or plastrons
beneath Figaro jackets for dinners and
high teas. :
The set of ribbors used to ornament
the simple summer gown, and which in-
cludes the fashionable Watteau bow,
shoulder knots and girdle, requires ten
yards of ribbon.
Some of the new Leghorn flats are
black velvet about the crown, a stiff
rosette bow with a sparkling rhinestone
buckle infront and a mass of soft loops
at the back.
What is believed to be the largest
ranch in the world is owned by a. wo-
man-—Mrs. Richard King. It lies for-
ty-five miles south ot Corpus Christi, in
Texas, and covers 700,000 acres in ex-
tent. :
Mrs. Delia Parnell, the mother of the
late Charles Stewart Parnell, is again at
her home in Burlington, up the Dela-
ware. She was accompanied to Ironsides
her estate, by Miss Delia Dickenson,
her granddaughter, who will return to
Ireland early in September,
Of the 11,000,000 women in Italy,
nearly 2,000,000 are employed in indus-
trial labor, and over 3,000,000 in agri-
culture. They are in the majority in
the cotton, linen and jute: industries,
and in the silk trade there are 117,000
women employed, and but 17,700" men.
With the fluffy knot of curls at the
back of the head the diamond dagger is
really the prettiest thing to. stick
through it carelessly, Bow knots in
blue pink and pale green in enameled
silver look most. coquettish when set
well up on one side of a nicely arranged
coiffure, :
The old-fashion combs of our grand-
mothers are again in vogue. They are
high in appearance aud price, being
made of gold and tortoise shell. Dag-
gers are also worn, and flne gold hair-
pins ure much in favor. - Ribbon is used
extensively as a decoration for the hair,
coming in tiaras, bows, ete.
Strings of pearls drawn through the
strands of the fluffy hair make the nine-
teenth century girl a living picture of
the maiden years ago before telephone
and phonograph were ever dreamed of.
All sorts of ornamentation holds ' good,
though too much at one time cannot be
commended, as it savors too strongly of
barbarism. ovan J ;
i. Everything is placed on the table for
a high tea at the beginning of the meal
You can have lobster or potato salad,
with stewed clams, or chicken ‘cro-
quettes for the hot dish. Some of the
fruit creams or fruit “short-cakes’”’make
a variety with the sweet cakes. Do not
overload the table.’ The beautiful green
of the lettuce in a. glass salad bowl;
seme cool pond lilies for the centre dish;
very hot coffee or chocolate, prettily
served at one end of the table, and your
fruit, whether a cut pineapple or berries
tastefully displayed and the whole thing
is done with very little anxiety—time is
the only requirement in setting the ta-
ble well, and potato salad is a most in-
expensive dish. Or you can get the
canned, salmon that comes in large
slices, like cutlets, ‘scald vit, drain: it
thoroughly, and then - letting it, grow
ice.cold. ~ Serve this with sliced cucum-
bers around it dressed with oil and vine-
gar. 8 SYD
A pretty sailor dress for a girl 8 to 12
years was made of blue and white strip-
ed flannel and plain blue flannel.” The
blue and white “material answered ' for
the gathered skirt, upper part of sleeves
and V or shield, with plain blue flannel
for the deep cuffs, revers and round
waist. A feather stitching of heavy
white embroidery silk forms the * trim-
ming and a blue ribbon belt. Sailor
hat of white straw, trimmed with white
and blue ribbon. hit i ihe
"Another sailor dress for a girl was of
| blue serge, the skirt trimmed: with three
rows of wide black braid edged on’ each
side with narrow gold braid. Blouse
back, ornamented with small gold but-
tons. Plain revers of black velvet with
gold buttons crossed at the waist “in
front, and sailor collar of velvet, ‘with
gold embroidered anchors. Full sleeves
with gold anchors on the velvet cuffs,
black velvet sash, tried 1n front.
White vest, striped with black and gold.
The back of bodice forme a pointed
sheaf of pleats.
There are few materials that combine
such pleasing style with durability as
pongee silk. Used for everything from
ashirred bat to a dainty chemise it finds
a place in woman’s heart that can never
be filled by a substitute. China silk
tried for awhile to usurp its place but.
after a few washings when the ugly
t“shirred’’ places appeared it was banish-
ed and womankind went back to pon-
gee. :
For the silk skirts, now in vogue,
pongee has no equal and although found
in but the one shade, some of the dainti-
est skirts shown in the large city, stores
are of this material. The effect when
trimmed with either white, cream or
ecru lace is very pretty and the silk
pinks and ruffles in the most approved
ways.
For shirt waists, orseaside gowns it is
simply lovely, and any woman who
wants a dress for daytime wear, either
for morning, afternoon or early evening
would please herself and her friends, I
know, by getting a pongee and having
it. made in some of those pretty old
fashioned styles so well suited to the
ed for $6,000,000.
material.
oddly trimmed with single band of
bodice with tabbed coat basque at the .
«Fr