Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, August 05, 1892, Image 2
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 5, 1892 IF MOTHER WOULD LiSTEN. If mother would listen to me, dears, She would freshen that faded gown ; She would sometimes take an hour's rest, And sometimes a trip to town. And it'shouldn’t be all for the children, The fun, and the cheer, and the play : With the patient droop on the tired mouth, And the “Mother has had her day !” True, mother has had her day, dears, When you were her babies three, And shé stepped about the farm and the house, As busy as a'bee, When she rocked you all to sieep dears. And sent you all to school, And wore herself out and did without. And lived by the Golden Rule. And so your turn has come, dears, + Her hair is growing white, And her eyes are gaining the far-away look That peers beyond the night, One of these days inthe morning, Mother will not be here, She will fade away into silence— - The mother so true and dear. Then, what will you do in the daylight, And what in the gloaming dim ? And father, tired and lonesome then, Pray, what will you do for him ? If you want to Yoep your mother. You must make her rest to-day ; Must give her a share in the frclic, And draw her into the play. And, if mother would listen to me, dears, She'd buy her a gown of silk, With buttons of royal velvet, + And rufles as white as milk, And she’d let you do the trotting, While she sat still in her chair, That mother should have it hard all through, It strikes me isn’t fair, * ? o — Margaret E. Sangster. "A TASTE OF THE WORLD. BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. “on Harper's Bazar. The room was full of the sweet smell of fresh linen ; and at the ironing table, "in her pink gingham, stood as fair and fine a piece of flesh and blood as eyes ever rested on—her forehead the lily’s leaf, her cheek therose, the curling lips pulpy with color, the teeth even as the kernels ona milky ear of corn, the nose a chiseled outline, the thick bright hair great ‘cords of braided gold; and all this without mention of smiles and dimples, wide opening of eyes like two blue jewels, quick dropping of white lids and lifting of slender even brows, and all the swift sweet changes that gave the April face ite added life and charm, and made it seem to Del Grif: fiths thatthe world was made simply - that such a perfect thing as Sally Syl- vester might come to light. I am not ..gure that Sally did not think so herself. At any rate, ehe evidently thought that Sally Sylvester was very much put to waste while standing at the ironing-ta- ble and ironing the napkins for the sum- mer boarders. ; “If ever I do marry any one,” she ..8aid, in reply to Miss Nancy, who sat in a flag-bottomed chair atthelow rose- _ hung window, hulling strawberries, be- canse now. and then she liked to come into the low-browed old kitchen and have a taste of domesticity in the midst of her summer boarding, “it will be some one who can afford tolet me keep a laundress, so that I can have just as many white skirts as I want to every week.” “Why, what hinders you having “them now?’ “I don’t possess them, in the first place; when you've ironed all the other ‘ ‘things, you don’t feel like doing up more "tucks and flutings and inserting and flouncings than you need, you know.” i “You don’t like your life,” said Miss “Nancy, presently. “Not this part of it," said Sally, test- ing a hot flat-iron against her velvet cheek that bloomed with a redder rose just then, “Strange! And I like the kitchen so much !”’ “That's because you sit in the par- for.” “T never sit inthe parlor. I haven't a parlor in my honge.” . “Why, what kind of a house is it, then?” “A very nice house. A house my great-grandfather built when they knew how to build houses. My father tarned the drawing-roomsinto a library; there's a reception and a music room, and some great ball-rooms, and a banquet- ing hall.” And Miss Nancy stopped to pop a particularly big strawberry in- to her prim little mouth. “You shall see it some day.” “Dear! dear !—there! you've made me scorch the corner—and ycu’re will- ing to come up here to this underground cabin?” “Underground “Buried alive!” “I can see,” said Mise Nancy, “why, living’ here summer and winter, ycu “feel the monotony of “it.” Scat!” as: a -great mouser leaped tothe window sill. “I never could abide a cat.” “Why, Ithought—"" | “You thought: oid’ maids liked cats. Well, they don’t—all of them, you see. But then I am not an eccen- tric old maid.” Yes, but this is not a cabin jis averygood houseand home.” “Y es; it’s pretty, after a sort—quaint and all that. My grandfather built it, and he was the minister. And my fa- ther was a minister too ; and here am I, at the irening-table 7” ( “I think it’s very likely my grandfa- ther’s-wife sat at the ironing-table too, | and did up all her nice caps and linen cuffs.” oro] “] wouldn't if ny husband had built a palace like hers,” said Sally, opening wide her blue eyes. “You would do what every one did. I shouldn’t wonder if Madame Han- cock herself did up her own laces ?” “Why, what was the use of her mon- ey “Money is to do good with.” . “Well, I'd begin by doing good to me—Sally Sylvester,” “Your name wouldn't be Sylvester.’ “Ob, my name !”’ cried Sally, slam: ming down the iron on the rest. “What made you remind me? I don’t know what my name will be.” “I do,” said Miss Nancy. There was more carnation than rose ) there was no reply. “I do,” repeated Miss Nancy. “Un- less I am mightily mistaken in you. It you have any heart. If you're not a young savage dazzled by bits of look- ing-glass.” “Much obliged,” said Sally. “If yelvet carpets and antique rugs and hot-house flowers and diamond rings and horses and carriages and steam-launches weigh more with you than an honest fellow’s love: Why, you can have a chaise to drive in if you marry Del Griffiths" “That old thing!” “You are speaking of the chaise, I suppose. Sally Sylvester, if I didn’t see fine possibilities in Del Griffiths, if 1 didn’t know that some day he'll be a judge upon the bench, if I didn’t know that he was simply sterling, I wouldn't | take another atom of interest in you!” “Yes, you would. You couldn’t help it”? said Sally, putting down her flat- iron, and throwing her arms round Miss Nancy’s neck. “I suppose I couldn’t, you poor little rose, you little blush-rose. Now I'll tell you what I'm going todo. I am not doing it altogether for you, though. I mean thai Del Griffiths shall not take a wife who hankers after the world and hasn't had a trial of it. I'm fond of the lad. He's noble into the core of the heart—a heart that sha’n’t be bro- ken by you. And since you want a taste of the wicked world out there—’ “I don’t believe it’s a bii more wick- ed than this world here.” “Perhaps not. But that's neither here nor there. You shall have a taste of it for yourself, and shall see if the fresh sweetness of your own life isn’t worth it all.” “Ironing in a hot kitchen, instead of sailing on the open sea; walking in the dust, instead of driving on satin cush- ions ; wearing cotton, instead of silk; withering your life away, with nobody to see.” “That is just it, Sally. You want a crowd of admirers ; you want to be in the mouth of a heartless, meaningless set, all of them together not worth the dust Del Grifliths walks on. Well, you shall have them. I may as well do some good while I can. 1t’s a disease, this hankering. If it isn’t cured it will undermine your whole moral constitu: tion, Cousin Helena's hay fever is so much better now that she thinks she can go to the Adirondacks. So I shall go down to Scaithness Sands next week—TI haven't been there this dozen years; it’s a giddy abomination—and I shall take you along.” “Qh 1" cried Sally, “it would be hea- veuly, if it could be at all. [I atScaith- ness Sands—except as a house-maid in a calico gown and white apron !” “Yon have some pretty prints, that pink Chambery gingham, some white cambrics. There are miles of ribbons in my boxes to knot and loop on them. I have a white China silk—you are so handy with your needle you can take it in and make it do nicely —very fine, with yards and yards of rose-colored chiffon round the low open shoulders and down the front. And your moth- er is bleaching cut her wedding gown, that embroidered 1ndia muslin; and there’s. your blue serge for travelling and yachting.” “You have arranged it all.” “Yee, AndI think my riding-habit will do. I've outgrown it; we may have to change the sleeves a little. And I'll seeto the gloves and boots and shoes. I left Fifine at home, but she will come to the Sands, and I think I'd likgato haye Fifine arrange another dress from a white organdy of mine— perfectly cover it with tiny butterfly bows in pink and mignonette green and canary-color, till it will look as if it were made of little yellow butterflies hovering everywhere over sweetbrier- roses. I ought to have been a design- er for Worth. Yes, I see it now.” “You are just dressing a doll in me.” “Well, I want the doll; the doll wants the dressing. You are going to object because if I give yon pleasure [ take my pleasure too?” “I am going tosay you are an an- gel I” said Sally. “4% am going to press out every gowi®'t have, like a French laundress. I know you are just trying an experiment ; doing missionary work or something ; showing me that the men of the world are all stuffed with sawdust, and--and—and—" “And that Adelbert Griffiths is the only real man among them—it a man is romething made in the image of God ? Yes, I am.” And Sally went back to her ironing. the flush deepening on her face, and as she threw back her head impatiertly, Miss Naney came behind her holding ‘a giant strawberry over the mouth open like a bird's, the head tipped back, the white throat lifted, and Del Griffiths, who bad just crossed the grass, stood with his arms on the window sill, look- ing as if he wished he were the straw- berry. = of an 3 11 x “I am going away,” said Sally, as she leaned later that evening, over the old stone wall once cemented with earth, and now #s completely grass: ‘grown as a bank.” '" i “I am going 'to'see what the world is like. Atleast,” she added, wistfully, “ag much of it as comes to Scaithness Sands,” “Going away!” said Del, his bright face darkening even in the dusk. Lo "ou don’t seem very much delight- ed. oo . “Delighted I”’ ii 0s “I should be delighted if you were to have such a chance,” she pouted. “Such a chance for what, Sally 2’ “For enjoyment; ‘for seeing the world,’ “A good deal of the world comes to you up here.” “Just enough tc give me a hint of what it may be.” j “Why should it be different from our world? Aren't we all human beings 2’ “Oh, to be sure!" Only it is a hand- ful of narrow, contracted things up here. And it’s yourself I've heard say that out there you're in tonch with the whole great race.” y “I was a fool, then.” “Well-——Oh, look there, Del I” on the lovely face for one moment, but And a great green meteor streamed over the sky, and left the night a deep- er dusk behind it. “It is like happiness. It blazes and goes out, and all is blacker than before it came,’’ “I should think something was go- ing to happen, to hear you talk.” “Something is.” “How absurd you are, Del! Posi- tively you make me creep. What is it can happen? When I come back—" “You never will come back.” “Never wili ? What nonsense! Why not, I should like to know ?”’ “You are going out fresh and single as a sweetbrier-rose. I don’t know what artificial thing will be coming back.” “What an opinion you have of me! I'm too flattered. I thought you'd be pleased that I was to have pleasure, and would write to me, and like to hear from me. But—good-night, sir!” And she turned away swiftly, came back, and held her hand across the bank, and Del Griffiths caught it and held it with a kiss before she could snatch it back and run as if she were running away from herself, leaving him out there alone with his young and bitter passion in the dew and the dark. And when, in the middle of the night, she heard the falling of the -mountain brook and heard the trill of the waking bird, and going to the win- dow, looked out and saw on the deep, dim violet of the rent between the hills a red waning moon leading in the great morning star, and smelled the breath of the eweetbriar-rose and the honey- suckle heavy with dew beneath the window, she wondered if, after all, the outer world she longed to see were halt 80 sweet as this ; and she bent her head steathily in the dark, as it some spirit might see, and laid her own lips upon the fingers where Del Griffith's lips had been, ®o 0m wil Lig ulm The sea was swelling veiled and dark along the Scaithness Sands, and against the glow that came before the moon rose from her deep sea-caves to walk the water. Standing in the rich gloom, the young creature in her white and gold seemed the apparition of some- thing beautiful and remote as the moon herself to Duncan McMurray. He had just come off his yacht, strolling up from the shore with his cigarette, and wondering why one day was so much like another, and why he lingered on in this wilderness instead of making for the other side of the world, when, just outside the ballroom window, the light streamed over this radiant creat- ure ; and he was like a nfan on whom the sun has risen in the dead waste and middle of the night. That is to say, Mr. Duncan McMar- ray was somewhat dazzled by the beau- tiful apparition, and, **Who is this?” he said to the first man he met. “The Sylvester ? Oh, quite the last whim.” “Worship follows goddesses, whims,” said Mr. McMurray. “Why, you're hard hit, old wan,” was the retort. “You're not the first, however. Ycung Manners, and John- ny—oh, the whole string of them have gone down like pins before her! She isn’t twenty, and she winds old Sage round her little finger. She is some- thing fresh, yon see—dew on her, and all that. Came from the country. Pet of Miss Featherstonhaugh’s—old Miss Nancy, don’t you know! Father was a clergyman—sweetheart in the hills— no money—dances like a sylph—rides like Die Vernon.” “Quite incomparable. I never knew you to go down before bread-and-butter, Balcomb.” “Glad you look at it in that way, Mack. Keep on: Ishouldn’t want to have the little Sylvester follow Rhody.” “I hope she is greatful for your so- licitude,” said Mr. McMurray. If there were any disdain on the lip, the triste mustache hid it, and he passed on with the air of one who wished there were uot a girl in the world. “Just a big brute, a big handsome brute,” said Miss Nancy, when, some- time later, he lounged by as Sally came up radiant from her dance. “No, Mr. Balcomb; it's quite unnecessary. I had rather not have him acquainted with Miss Sylvester.” “Bat, Miss Featherstonhaugh—" “Duncan McMurray 1s perfectly well aware of my disapproval of his career. And you may just tell him I am aston- ished at his presumption in asking to be presented to any girl under my care.” “But in a ballroom, my dear Miss Naney.” “A ballroom is the same to me ag any other room. People don’t cease to be accountable for their actions because they're dancing, Do you suppose I could see my sweet innocent Sally Syl- vester whirling round the room in that fellow’s arms?’ “[ dare say she has whirled in those that are no better.” “But not with my knowledge. And while I— My goodness! Sally! Mr. Balecomb—"" : Some one else has presented Mr. Mec- Murray while Miss Nancy was denoun- cing him; and Sally, ignorant of the whole affair, had smiled up gladly—for Miss Nancy, acting as duenna, had un- not mercifully kept at a distance that night every man whose record was not to her mind, and Sally's card had some woful gaps in it. And all at once, those that would have filled the gaps stared open- eyed to see this young being, whom they were not good enough to approach, clasped by McMurray’s arm, his dark head bent above her fair one, and swing- ing down the dance in the long step that made his dance as carelessly per fect as everything else he did, confound him ! As for Sally, she knew nothing of the imprecatory thoughts of these others. She only knew ifthis were dancing she had never danced before. She oculy knew that the eyes bent on her, the dark glittering eyes, were admiring her with something sad and far away in the midst cf the admiring pleasure ; she knew that this was a man out of the J best accounts of daily occurrences. great world, a man of experiences, who had seen life. And he had found her charming enough to ask for the next dance, and to sit out the following one, that is, to step through a window and , walk up anddown the long piazza, with | the sea singing soft undertones to the band music, and land and rock dim be. neath a mist of stars; and she wished Del could see her at that moment, and wondered what Sue Waterson would ' think of it all, and directly forgot about them both, as Mr. McMurray went on telling of the night at sea when the | yacht was chased for a slaver while the real elaver got away, and she looked at him with a charmed wonder, as at the hero of a hundred fights. And he had not brought the story in by the shoulders-either, but it had come about from ber interest in the yacht, the Roc, which she had seen lying at anchor in the offing, and in the sea itself, which she had uever seen till now three weeks ago. She was in quite another world, at any rate entirely forgetful of this, when he himself led her back to the ball- room. “I fear you may hear some bitter music of which I shall be the theme. Don’t believe all you hear. Perhaps there are worse men than 1,” he mur- mured in her ear; and with a low bow to Miss Featherstonhaugh—a bow hali merriment, half mockery —he left Sally at Miss Nancy’s side. After all, the place was not quite the wilderness it | bad seemed; he hardly thought he should say good-by in the morning. “Well,” said Miss Nancy, marching straight out of the room with her charge, ‘there never was anything to equal Duncan McMurray's imp- udence!” And she shut her mouth with a snap till she was in the seclu- sion of Sally’s room, and there, throw- ing herselton the lounge, surveyed Sal- ly from head to foot—the girl standing shamefaced and wondering and beau- tiful before her—and exclaimed: “I never, never, never would have brought you here if I had thought for one in- stant that that man, and such as he, could be along! To see you dancing with him, it made my blood run cold!” “Why—why—what has he done?” Sally mustered courage to say. “What hasn’t he done, you had bet- ter ask. I can’t tell you the things he has done. They are not to be talked about. He has had a career that can’t even be discussed. He is not received in a drawing-room in town. He is a thoronghly bad man, and that is enough. You must not dance with him, walk with him, speak with him again!” “But, Miss Nancy, urged Sally, “he told me not to believe all I heard—" “Oh, of course he did, the wretch! the—the—oh, there aren't words enough in the language to say what I think of him.” “But, Miss Nancy, dear Miss Nancy, how can you know,’ urged Sally once more—*‘“how can you kno wv these things if they are not to be named? How can you be certain they're not false- hoods? They must be gossip. They may not be true. I'm sure he doesn’t look that way. He seemed so kind, And he's very entertaining.” “Entertaicing ?"’ said Miss Nancy, with a laugh. *‘Of course he's enter- taining. He's the most brilliant man I know. But he’s evil-hearted,” “ ‘Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Par- is,” quoted Sally ;* ‘came up from greedy Simois all alone.) He's all alone, evidently, Why, Miss Nancy, I should think you'd pity him and try to help him be better. “Oh, don’t be stung by that bee! Lots of girls have pitied him and helped him to be better to their everlasting sor- row! Now don’t let me see you walk- ing or dancing with him again!” And Miss Nancy weat into her own room and shut the door between. Foolish Miss Nancy! Had she for- gotten the days when she was young? —the eins of the world was a terra in- cognita, a dark unfamilier region, that the wings of fancy must nerds hover over, as they hover over all that is strange with portents, unexplained, un- known? Why, why had she not said that Mr. McMurray was a scholar, a Dryasdust, using kis spare hours in de- ciphering the Kabala, a scholar who had a lolty disdain for girls and folly and youth? Why bad she not said that he was good, so very good, 80 dull and good, that he read no light litera. ture, did not know the names of the cards, did not know what flirting meant, did not know the meaning of mixed drinks, was prosaic, stupid, and, above all things, good? I do not know. I am not sure but that, even if she had, Sally Sylvester would not have wished to see if she could not conquer the scholar’s disdain of girls, teach the good man how to flirt, bring St. An- thony himself prostrate at her feet. At all events, the most unlucky thing this faithful chaperon could have said, she did. The man was wicked. What wild dream was this flitting through the innocent little girl's brain—what wild dream of showing him what good- ness was, to help him resist temptation, repress dark tendencies, to develop the beautiful things, the power for good, the strength, that there must be in his nature? Of course she did not con- | P sciously to herself resolve on any such undertaking; only it seemed as if some one ought to do so; it presented an al luring picture ; it made her think of the man, and blush when she met him. [ To be continued.) The American Won. New York, July 25.—Krnest Raeb- er won the American championship Graeco-Roman wrestling this evening. M. Appollo, the French champion, left the stage in the third bunt, claiming he bad hurt his side. Appollo won the first bunt and Raeber the second. News of the Great Strike. Best Given in the Pittsburg Dispatch. Absolutely fair, impartial, and with- out any bias—but giving every detail of interest promptly and correctly. The The finest illustrations, giving real views of the situation. TR ECAR A Queer Taste. The old Romans had an adage which reads, “There is no accounting for tastes,”” That this maxim is as true to day as it was when uttered 2,000 years ago we see proofs on every hand. The most remarkable example that has come to my notice for some time is that of Mr. Highford Burr, a rich bache- lor who lives in the midst of a fine park near Reading, in England. Mr. Burr's hobby is snakes. He hatches them out on his grounds, and as he wili permit none to be killed, and particularly dotes on large and vicious reptiles, his park is not a particularly at- tractive place to his neighbors. Mr. Burr keeps a frog pond, and it is his greatest delight to watch the snakes hunting for frogs. Colonel Ewell, of Texas, chanced to meet Mr. Burr two years ago and they at once became friends and the Ameri- can was invited to Aldermaston Hall, as the snake lover’s home is called. After dinner the colonel was taken out to see the pond and the snakes, and his opinion of the collection was asked. “Wa-al,”” drawled the American, “I'll allow you havea right smart lot of snakes, sich as they are, but if you’ll come over to see me on the Sabine and put up for a week or two I'll show you snakes till you can’t rest and they'll be snakes as are snakes.” “less me!” exclaimed the English- mau. “What do you call shose extra- ordinary reptiles 7°’ “Oh, different names. There’s some dandy fellows we call copperheads ; then thar’s moccasins, puff adders; pizen hoopsnakes and sich, but I reckon the boss snake over on the Sabine is the rat- tler, more pariicular when they git to be ten feet long and ’boutas thick as your thigh.” . “Why, you excite my curiosity,” said the Englishman, “and ifon your return to Texas you could send me a consign- ment of the snakes you mention I should gladly pay you whatever thg ex: pense may be. But let meas? d you think your Texas snakes would get along friendly with their English cousins 7” “Wa-al that depend on how their English cousins treat em. Our Texas snakes are high toned and rather like a fight, but they never go out hunting a fuss, that I'll say for ’em,” replied the colonel, who though not fond of snakes, felt that state pride compelled him to stand up for the Texas reptile. Six months after that three frightened men left a number of crates marked “‘Texas snakes” at Mr. Burr’s mansion. A letter preceded the consignment and in it Colonel Ewell, enjoined on the Englishman to “treat the snakes kindly till they got naturalized,” and as he loved his life not to take them to his bosom “nor fool with their business ends. The delighted naturalist took the crates down to the frog pond and let the hissing squirming creatures free. The snakes were famished, and Mr. Burr rubbed his hands as he pictured them feasting on frogs, but he was doomed to disappointment. Instead of attacking the frogs the American snakes started for their “En- glish cousins,” incidentally swooping in a frog on the raid. Three days after this Mr. Burr's man entered the library in great alarm and reported that the American snakes had killed and eaten everything in the pond including the ducks and young swans, and that some of the larger ones had started after the lambs in the park. «We must keep the American reptiles in a separate inclosure till they get ac- climated,” said Mr. Burr. At once every man on the place and every man who could hte bribed by double pay to do the work started out with nets and pitehforks to corral the Texas snakes, but the snakes were not of the same way of thinking. They in- vaded the neighboring farms and one entered the city of Reading and fright- ened the people out of their wits. The magistrates had Mr. Burr arrest- ed for encouraging a dangerous nuisance and all the country was up in arms. I am aware that this reads as if it were fiction, but it is true in every detail and it was not till a year passed and the cli- mate of the county killed the snakes that the people near Reading breathed easier or dared to venture out at night. Mr. Burr still cultivates snakes, I learn, but they are of the harmless En- lish variety. Abandoned Their Efforts. The Braddock Workers Will not go ona Strike Hoxmesteap, Pa., July 26.-— The Homestead men have apparently abandoned endeavors to bring the Braddock workers out on a strike. Af ter four days of proselyting the leaders are greatly discouraged and say that Braddock seems determined to con- tinue at work notwithstanding the combined pressure of the other Car- negie operatives. A member of the advisory committee to-day said that he had been informed by several Amal: gamated men who had gone among the Braddock men that they had not forgotten the fruitless appeals for assis- tauce they made to Homestead 10 1887, and were disinclined to strike for sym- athy. Several of the locked out men, al- though aware that the leaders have given up the hope ofa strike at the Edgar Thomson plant, are still hope- ful of bringing them out. The intense heat has prostrated many ot General Superintendent Potter’s non-union men, according to the Amalgamated scouts. At all events there is not the activity that was manifested around the mill yesterday and no plate was rolled this niorning. J efferson’s Precepts. Never put off uatil to-morrow what you can do to-day. Never trouble another for what you can do yourself. Never bay what you don’t want be- cause it is cheap; it will be dear to you. ‘We never repent for having eaten too little. How much pain the evils that never happened have cost us. Take things always by the smooth handle. When angry count 10 before you speak ; if very angry, 100, The World of Women. Italian straws in flapping shapes are deftly surmounted -with slender, swal- low-tailed bow ends, and occasionally a twist of gold rope. “Stonewall Jackson's widow devotes all her energies now to the education of her motherless grandchildren, Julia and Juckson Christian. Still prettier was a frock ot Leliotrope taffeta with a clint in it of every color under the canopy. Black lace garni- ture kept the many hues in harmony. Mrs. Hattie Brooks, of Maine, is con- ducting an extensive foundry and loco- motive building establishment near Dunkirk, which turns out a locomotive a day. Miss Frances E. Willard, who has been active in platform work for 20 years, is prevented from engaging there- in at present by her devotion to a help- less mother. Toilets of immaculate whiteness, from the top of the chiffon parasol to the kid tips of the linen shoes, are in great fa- vor “in ihe country” this summer. They are worn at all hours. Rainbow flounces of ribbon gave a wonderluily gay and festive look to the costuming. I remember a gown of white silk muslin with pale, delicate green and pink and leaf brown and am- ber ribbon ruches at the bottom of the skirt and at waist and throat and upon the puffed sleeves. A dress of white serge was ruflled and girdled with three shades of blue in much the same way. Modjeska has gone to her ranch in California for the summer with her hus- band, Count Bozenta. Her wealth is considerable and most of iv is shrewdly invested. She does not look her age, which is dangerously near 50, and the marvel of her youthful demeanor and ripe beauty 1s that she has been a hard working actress for more than thirty years, To prevent the hair from falling out 3 Bho gray, take a teacupful of ried sage, and boil it in a quart of soft water iPM enty minutes, Strain it off and add a piece of borax the size of an English walnut; pulverize the borax. Put tbe sage tea, when cool, into a quart bottle; add the borax, shake well together, and keep in a cool place. Brush the» “oroughly and rub the wash well on the head with the hand. Then, after a good hard rubbing, brush the hair well before the fire so it will become dry. One pretty white suit flecked with iittle dashes of scarlet was worth par- ticular attention. It had a short bell skirt and one of this season's funny lit- tle abbreviated waiter’s jackets opening over a scarletsilk blouse of just the shade of color the marseilles was srlash- ed with. It had a broad-brimmed hat of marseilles also, with no trimmings whatever but a few upright loops of scarlet ribbon. Almost as pretty was a white pique skirt with a blue and white striped silk blouse, a white ‘‘garcon’ jacket and a little chip hat with blue eyed grasses for its ornaments The outing dresses for girls are brighter and prettier this year than ever before. The designs are more elaborate and the coloring more striking, yet they are made of inexpensive materials, One of the prettiest outing dresses seen was made of white yachting linen: The skirt was made plain and short. The waist was cut to represent a blouse. and over it was worn a jacket of dark blue vicuna cloth. The jacket had wide revers of white silk, and a dark blue necktie was knotted at the neck. An- other outing costume having the Rus- sian blouse effect was made of dark blue duck. The skirt was plain but the blouse was trimmed with an exquisite gilt passementerie. The corselet belt was of solid bands of the passementerie. An odd little suit for a boy is made of sage green vicuna cloth. The trousers are short and the coat is cut like a zouave jacket. It is worn over a full shirt waist of fine white cambric, with deep collar and cuffs edged with lace. A white surah sash is worn about the waist and hangs down with long ends. The dresses for little girls grow more and more simple in design. A dainty dress is made all in one of white China silk. The yoke is entirely of smocking dene in yellow silk. The sleeves are full and puffed. Atout the edge of the dress are three rows of narrow yellow ribbon sewed on the silk with an em- broidery stitch in white. With this dress is worn a large hat having a soft crown of yellow silk, with a white chip brim edged with white ostrich feather trir mings. There is no reason girls, why you cannot go to college if you really want to. No matter if you have to wear old clothes and are 30 before you graduate ; there will be plenty who are making the same sacrifices, and people whose opinion is worth caring for will only respect you the more. As a rule it is best to avoid running in debt; rather, go to Coilege for a year at a time, teaching or doing some other work the alternate years. The experience will be of great value and heavy debts are things to be always avoided by one just starting out in life. In a large college there is always office work, such as copying, cataloguing, etc., that stu- dents can get to do in their leisure hours, also during vacation, and a bright girl can devise other ways to bring in a few dollars, which will be a help in meeting the various incidental éxpenses. he women’s colleges of the grade of Wellesley, Smith and Vassar are quite expensive, Tuition costs $100 to $150 and board from $200 to $400 more. The University of Michigan at Ann Arbor offers as good advantages as any to a girl who has only a little money. On entering the University a matricu- lation fee is paid of $10 for residents of Michigan, or $25 for those of other States ; in addition a yearly fee 1s due, which varies in the different depart- ments, but never exceeds $25, and the fee for a diploma is $10 apart from these expenses, tuition is free. Board can be obtained at from $3 to $5 a week, but students often club together and reduce the cost from $1.50 to $2.50 a week. Books can always be obtained second hand, and $25 ought to cover the ex- penses of books, stationery, ete.; $200 should enable a girl to meet a year’s college expenses quite comfortably.