Demareaic Wald
Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 7, 1892.
THE DAGUERREOTYPE.
You hev to holt it sidewise
Fer to make the likeness show,
-’Cuz its sort uh dim an’ shifty
Till you git it right—'bout so;
An’ then the eyes winks at yeh,
An’the mouth is cherry-ripe.
Law! it beats your new-style picters,
This old diggerytype !
Thar's a blush acrost the dimples
Thet burrows in the cheeks ;
F’om out them clumps of ringlets
Two little small ears peeks ;
Thet brooch thet jines her neck-gear
Is what they used to wear ;
A big gold frame thet sprawled around
A Jock o'—some one’s hair.
"Twas took ‘fore we was married,
Thet there—your ma an’ me,
An’ times I study on it,
‘Why, 't fazes me to see
Thet fifty years ain’t teched her
A lick! She's jest the same
She was when Sadie Scriggens
Took Boone C. Curd’s name.
The hair is m2bby whiter
’An it was in it,
But her cheeks is just as pinky,
An’ her smiles ain’t slacked up none.
I reckon—love—er somthin’ »
Yerluminates her face,
Like the crimsont velvet linin’
‘Warms up the picter case.
*S I say, these eyardboa’d portraits
They make me sort uh tired,
A frjunip forf upon yeh
ike their very lips was wired !
Give me the old diggerytype,
Whar the face steals on yer sight
Like a dream that comes by nighttime
“When yer supper’s actin’ right.
—FEva” Wilder McGlasson in Harper's Weekly.
Sa. —
“JADIS,”
Over the flat fea country there were
white mists rising. It was already
rowing dusk, but it was not going to
very dark this summer night. The
weeds had been cut and drifted down
stream in thick masses. A thin middle-
aged man stood by the lock gates,
watching an approaching boat. He
was dressed in country clothes, but he
had not the air of a countryman; he
was pale, and had a look of experience.
Save fox the regular sound of the sculls
everything was quite still, save for the
man at the lock gates and the solitary
occupant of the boat there was no one
in sight. It was a wide, flat, desolate
scene.
The boat was rather a heavy tub, and
the man who was sculling was tired
and out of temper. As a rule, he was
thought to be a distinctly brilliant and
and genial young man; but he wanted
to get on to Nunnisham, which was
five miles beyond the lock, that night,
and he had been delayed by the weeds.
The gods had given him extraordinari-
ly good looks and many other good
things ; enough to keep him genial, un-
less, as on the present occasion, circum:
stances tried him severely. At the
lock he drew into the bank and hailed
the middle-aged man who still stood
watching him.
“Hi! what are the weeds like above
the locks?”
“Very bad, sir.” The answer was
given in a serious, respectful voice.
The young man swore gently to him-
gelf. “Is there any place near here
where I could put up for the night ?”
“There is only a public house, sir. I
am the landlord of it—my name is Hill.
I ‘could give you a bedroom, a little
rough perhaps, but”
“Good—a bed and some supper—
capital ! That is the only bit of luck I've
had to-day.” As he was epeaking the
young man picked up a small koap-
sack which was lying in the stern of
the boat and jumped out. He made
the boat fast and joined the landlord
on the tow path.
“It is thisway. You will let me car-
ry that for you, sir.”
As they walked along the brilliant
young man—his name was Philip
Vince—chatted freely. He was taking
a holiday up the river and was to have
joined a friend at Nunnoisham that
night and then gone on with him the
day after. He told the landlord all
this and aleo surmised that Hill was
not a native of the fen country.
“No, sir,’ was the answer, “I was
valet to Sir’ Charles Sulmont. You
have perhaps heard of him.”
Philip had never heard of him, but
said that he had,
“When Sir Charles died he left me a
little money and I married a maid who
was then in Lady Sulmont’s service. I
bought this house with a little assist
ance from: her ladyship and settled
here. I was very young then and 1
have heen here eighteen years.”
Philip gathered from further talk as
they went along that Mrs. Hill was
dead, and that she had left one child,
Jeanne, a girl of seventeen, who lived
with her father. When they reached
the inn, Hill showed Philip a bedroom
—a large, comfortable room, and be-
gan to make some apology about sup-
per. They very rarely had any one
staying in the house, and there was
nkiing left but—here Philip interrup-
ted :
“You would be doing me a kindness
if you would let me have supper with
you and your daughter. I hate soli-
tude. I mean, if your—if Miss Hill
wouldn’t otject.”
“If you really wish it, sir, I should
be very pleased; so also, I am sure,
would Jeanne.” Hill was a born valet;
he had the manner; if he had lived out
of service for a hundred years he would
have been a valet still. When Hill left
him, Philip looked around thé room
and congratulated himself. Everything
was very neat and clean. Thelandlord
was a capital fellow—a little solemn,
perhaps, but still a capital fellow. This
was far above the accommodation
which he had expected.
Just then a light footfall came up the
stairs, and Philip caught a snatch of a
French song. The song stopped short
just before the footfall passed his door.
Philip conjectured that this must be
the daughter, and that it had been a
French maid that Hill had married—
hence the name Jeanne and that snatch
of song; also that the daughter had
been warned of his arrival, and had gone
to put on her prettiest dress. All of
these conjectures were quite correct.
And yet when Jeanne entered the sit:
|
o
oat
[3]
ting room, a few minutes afterward, and
saw Philip for the first time, she was
so startled that she showed it slightly.
Philip was also a little surprised, for a
different reason, and did not show it at
all. He had thought of the possibility
that Jeanne might be pretty, and she
was a beauty—a brunette, childlike in
many ways, but with a woman's eyes.
Her voice was good, and her first words
showed that she had some education.
It took her about ten minutes to get
from decided shyness to complete con-
fidence. Philip was feeling far too
good-tempered to let any one be shy
with him ; he made Hill and his daugh-
ter talk, and he talked freely himself.
He liked the simplicity of everytbing
about him ; he had grown tired of for-
malities in London. He liked cold beef
and salad, for he was very hungry, and
—yes, above all, he liked Jeanne.
What on earth were that face and that
manner doing in a riverside inn ? She
was perfect ; she did not apologize too
much, did not get flurried, did not have
red hands, spoke correctly, laughed
charmingly—in a word, was bewitch-
ing. Really he was glad that he had
been prevented from going on to Nun.
pisham. Toward the end of supper he
discovered that she was wearing a white
dress with forgetmenots in it.
The table was cleared by a native
servant, who seemed all red cheeks and
new boots. Iill went off to superin-
tend the business of the inn. Philip
was left alone with Jeanne. She told
him to smoke and he was obedient ; he
also made her tell him other things.
Yes, she had been to school at Nun-
nisham—rather too good a school for
her, she wasafraid, but her mother had
wished it. Her mother had taught her
French and a little music. Music and
drawing were "the best things, she
thought, but she liked some books.
She owned that it was lonely at the inn.
“I am glad you came,” she confessed
frankly.
“Jeanne,” said Philip, “I heard you
humming a line or two of ‘Jadis’ be-
fore supper, didn’tI? I wish you
would sing it to me.” She agreed at
once, crossing the room to a little cot-
tage piano—rather a worn out instru
ment, but still a piano. The melody—
plaintive, gentle, childish—of Jeanne’s
sweet voice and the sadness of the
words with their quaint, pensive re-
strain, did not miss their effect—
For nothing further here 1 burn
A joy once lost cannot return.
My At asks only to be blessed
With an everlasting rest.
He thanked her; he had liked that
very much. “Why,” he asked, “were
you startled when you saw me?”
“Because you area dream come true.
I saw your face in a dream last night--
as clearly as I see you now. All this
timeI have been feeling as if I had
known you before.”
“Really ?”’ he said. He had not quite
believed it. ‘How many things come
true! One says things about the short-
ness oftime or the certainty of death so
often that they lose all meaning; then
when one grows old or lies dying the
platitudes get to have terrible force—
they come true.”
She was struck by that; she kept
her eyes fixed on his and he kept on
talking to her. He did not, as the time
wore on, always mean quite 80 much
as he said, and she meant much more
than she said. That is a common dif-
ference between a man and a woman on
such occasions. It seemed to her now
that for the first time she really lived.
After Jeanne had said good night,
Philip had some chat with her father
about her.
“I expect that she will be engaged
very soon, sir,” he said; ‘‘a young man
called Banks— William Banks—is anx-
ious, and has spoken to me, and she
likes him.”
“Now, I wonder,” thought Philip as
he went up stairs, “whyghe never even
hinted that to me. M'yes, I see”
Nextmorning after breakfast he went
away, taking with him a few forgetme-
nots, a pleasant memory and just the
faintest possible feeling of remorse.
They all faded.
a imi og #
Eroha%
Jeanne had seemed so quiet and de-
presced of late that her father, in order
to cheer her up, had invited Mr. Will-
jam Banks to spend the evening. °
Mr. Banks was a small shopkeeper
in Nunnisham, and considered to be no
mean wag by’ those who knew him.
Yet he felt unableto cheer her up.
“Supposing we had a bit of a toon, Jen-
ny,” he suggested at last.
She was quite docile. She played
one thing after another. Suddenly she
began ‘“Jadis.”
“I don’t understand French myself,”
Mr. Banks remarked, “but the words
of a song don’t matter,”. She bad nev-
er thought much about the words her-
self before. But now—
Since no more his-love I be
Nothing further pleases me.
Her voice faltered a little, but ehe
sang on to the end of the verse—
- My heart asks only to be blessed
With an everlasting rest.
Yes, the song had “come true.” Just
there she gave way and began tocry a
little.
A week afterward Mr. Banks an-
nounced that his attentions to Miss
Hill were at an end.—Speaker.
Andraw Jackson’s Prophetic Words.
From Jackson’s Farewell Address.
The corporations and swealthy indi-
viduals who are engaged in large manu-
facturing establishments desire a high
tariff to increase their gains. Design-
ing politicians will support it to concil-
iate their favor and to obtain the means
of profuse expenditure for the purpose
of purchasing influenc in other quarters.
* *% % Donot allow yourselves, my
fellow—citizens, to be misled on this
subject. The Federal Government
cannot collect a surplus for such pur-
poses without violating the princples of
the Constitution and assuming powers
which have not been.granted. It is,
more-over, a system of injustice, and if
persisted in, will inevitably lead to cor-
ruption and must end in ruin:
TERRAIN
- A ———
| ——Grasshoppers ' contain formic
acid worth sixty cents an ounce.
Who Invented Kissing.
The word ¢ is Anglo-Saxon, and may
indeed, be taken as an instance of how
pleasant Anglo-Saxon can be. The
philogist assures us that itis allied to the
Gothic “kustns,” a proof or test, and to
the latin © gustus,”’ a taste; which
suggests the old saying that ¢ the proof
of the pudding is in the preein’ o’t.”
The same gothic kustus come from
the verb kiusan, to choose, from which
one would imagine that among the
Goths Kissing went by favor.
According to Prof. Skeat, writing
with all the austerity and scholarship
of an expert, a kiss is “a gust a taste, a
something choice. Rowena, the beau-
tiful daughter of the Saxon Hengist, is
credited with having introduced Kissing
into these fortunate islands; but it seers
as if that, had the natives been so utter-
ly unenlightened, the Romans could
scarcely have failed to anticipate her.
The Romans had really a delightful
word for a kiss—osclum, which came
from os, the mouth, and meant a little
mouth, a sweet mouth” “Give me a
sweet little mouth’ would be the phrase
used when a good little Roman boy ask-
ed his mother for a kiss.
Our English word occurs pretty neat-
ly in its present form in Anglo-Saxon,
Dutch, Icelandic, Danish Sweedish and
German. And thisis worthy of note,
because natural as kissing may seem to
be, it is a pratice unknown to the Aus-
tralian, to the Maoris of New Zealand,
the Papuans of New Guinea, the people
of Tabbati, the negroes of Central and
Southern Africa, Botocudos of Brazil,
the savages of Terra del Fuego, the
Laplanders and the Eskimo. Most of
these benighted mortals have not got
beyond the low stage of rubbing the
noses.
Kissing points to an ancient discred-
ited belief in a veritable union of spirits
a belief common to all the Aryan peo.
ples that the breath of a man was his
soul, his spirit. Spirit,” is breath, and
“ghost” is a ’’gust which possibly
accounts for the cold air that is said to
accompanying apparitions.
If, then, the breath was a divine thing
—the soul and spirit of man--is not
easy to understand how naturally Kiss-
ing came to be a veritable communion,
a commingling of soul with soul ?
—Boston Globe.
Sp ———
A Solid Silver Statue.
Ada Rehan to Be the Model for a Valuable Fige
ure at the Fair.
Cuicaco—A statue in solid silver,
eight feet in height, costing $50,000 and
standing upon $250,000 worth of gold
compressed into a pedestal, will be one
of the exhibits at the World’s Fair,
from Montana. The pedestal will rep-
resent the largest lump of gold ever seen.
Sculptor R. H. Park will receive $10,000
for the model. Never in the world has
a statue of heroic proportions been cast
wholly in precious metals, except, per-
haps, one of Cleopatra, the exist-
ence of which was never authenticated
by the most expert silversmith in the
country.
Miss Ada Rehan has consented to be
the model for Mr. Park's statue. He
will go to New York next week for the
necessary study. Miss Rehan is con-
sidered to be one of the most perfect
types of American womanhood, her ar-
tistic ability also enhancing her value
as a model, which is to be viewed by so
many thousands. The figure will rep-
resent Justice standing on the globe
with advarced foot resting on the con-
tinent of North America. In her left
hand she holds balances equally poised
one side of which is filled with gold
and the other with silver coin. In her
right hand she holds the sword with
arm extended. The figure designates
ideal womanhood.
Cost of the Homestead Riots.
The Sixteenth Regiment Will Probably Soon be
Sent Home.
Adjutant General Greenland will
leave for Pittsburg to-morrow morning,
and before. his return it is expected that
the Sixteenth Regiment will be relieved
of military duty. The Adjutant Gen-
eral apprehends no further trouble at the
Carnegie works. The Homestead affair
will entail an expense on the State ap-
proximating $400,000. Warrants have
already been drawn for the payment of
$282.899.93 for the payment of officers
and men, commissary stores, quarter-
master bills, horse hire and other inci-
dentals. The Fifteenth Regiment, with-
drawn from Homestead a few days ago,
is entitled to eleven days’ pay, and the
Sixteenth has not been paid since the 9th
instant.
The bill of the Pennsylvania Railroad
Company against the State for transpor-
tation expenses is $52,000 and other rail-
road expenses will probably reach
$15,000. The aggregate cost of the
Homestead outbreak will exceed Gover-
nor Pattison’s estimate about $150,000
owing to the long service required of a
portion of the State militia.
Japanese Parties.
Coming to the fore are Japanese par-
ties, unique little affairs in which .deco-
rations and gowns are closely copied
from those of Japan, and refreshments
are served by well-gotten-up Japs who
pass around English danties in Japanese
guise. The hostess receives her guests
in a gorgeous costume which would do
credit to the swellest Japanese modiste,
and standing beneath a huge Japanese
umbrella. The rooms are adorned with
fantastic fans, umbrellas, lanterns, crepe
paper hangings and curious plants, all of
which show at # glance that they are
treasures of Japan.
The table is set with Japanese dishes
and paper napkins bearing mystical
lettering, while tea, sardine sandwiches
sweet biscuits, waters, fruit, conserves
and tinted ices in the form of odd-look-
ing blooms are served in quaint little
receptacles.
Before leaving every guest is presented
with something unique in the way of a
souvenir, the originality of this depend-
ing upon the ingenuity of the hostess
Re ———————————————————————
— My husband is the dearest and
most considerate man in the world.”
‘How does he show it?" :
“He knows I hate tobacco-smoke in
the house, and so he goes to the club
every night after supper and smokes
there.”
The Voyage of Columbus.
On August 2, 1492, everything was
ready, and the crew were notified to
embark, to awate the uncertain mo-
ment when a favorable wind should
permit the little fleet to set sail. Noth-
ing so benefitted that solemn hour as
a votive procession from the caravels
to the*monastery, to which the eyes of
the mariners turned as to a spirtiual
beacon, brighter than any that flared
along the headlands. This pious duty
performed, the crew returned on board
the caravels, where they patiently
awaited the order to sail, while Colum-
bus retired to the monastery, eagerly to
watch for a favoring wind.
Columbns kept all sail on his cara-
vels during the night of August 2. The
old salts of the crew looked for a favor-
ing wind at starting, and Columbus’
eager ‘watchfulness was not to pass un-
rewarded. From the height on which
La Rabida stood, he scanned sea and
gky with steadfast gaze, like one of
those seabirds, pres2gers of changes of
wind and weather, clinging to the scar-
red and storm-beaten cliff. About 3in
the morning, while the stars yet twink-
led 1n the skies and all earth slumber-
ed, the awaited breeze sprang up, bring-
ing new life to the discoyerer’s veins
and quickening the throbbing of his
heart. The pines murmured as though
hymning the dawn and the waters rip-
pled as thohgu heaving with the breath
of love and hope. Columbus awaken-
ed Padre Juan, and he in turn the
child Diego, and the three repaired to
the chapel in quest of heavenly aid
and religious solace for the approach-
ing pangs of separation and for the
fateful voyage. As in the boandless
ether shine the stars, so the lamps
flickered in the little church, lighting
with their rays alike the courses of the
ocean and the pathways of the souls.
The monk put on the priestly vest-
ments and celebrated the holy sacra-
meat of the high altar before the tap-
er-lighted Virgin,
The hour had come, and Columbus
resolutely descended to the shore,
plucking himself away from the em-
braces that held him to the land like
some deep-rooted oak, for the sail-wings
were ready to bear him to the realm of
sea and sky. He soon reached the
whatf, and as the dawn broke in the
East the flagship majestically run in-
shore to take the new Argonaut on
board. The fluttering sails, the hur-
ried maneuvers of the crew, the boat-
swain’s whistle, and the cries of the
sailors as the ships got under way an-
nounced a spaedy departure, and at-
tracted the early risen villagers to the
shore in#heir natural desire to witness
the scene, and to bid farewell to depart-
ing friends and loved ones. When
Columbus sprang from the skiff on
board the caravel, and the anchors
weighed, a shudder ran alike through
the departing sailors and the leave-tak-
ers on the strand. Where they were
going they knew not, but as their west-
ward course after leaving Cadiz and
Canaries was to take them far beyond
those lately won islands, none knew
whither they were bound or the direc-
tion of the voyage. The cross floated
above the flagship, which bore sea-
ward toward the unknown, seeking
mysteries perchance impenetrable and
inaccessible to the human mind and
unconquerable by human will
Early in September they left the
Canaries behind and plunged into the
abyss of ocean. It was growing urgent
that Columbus should do this, for in
the eyes of his companions the most
ordindry phenomena became celestial
warnings. In the clear, half-Andalu-
ries rose the deep-furrowed violet cone
of the volcano of Teneriffe, crimson
eruption, like the new sun springing
into birth, shooting its iris tinted flames
through clouds of smoky ashes, with
terrents of stony fragments like falling
meteors or glowing like an incandes-
cent milky way—all this filled them
with dread, for they deemed the flaring
mountain some vast Cyclops, imprison-
ed there by the Divine hand at the ut-
termost portals of the known earth, to
bar the pathway to the unknown
world, Columbus showed them the
error of their superstition, and how the
self-same phenomena were repeated on
the familiar shores of Etruria, Italy,
Sicily and Greece. But although their
dread was speedily tranquilized by his
marvelous eloquence, an unforseen and
tortuitcus occurrence threatened to re-
vive their fears and to wreck the plan
through uncontrollable panic. At
length a favoring easterly breeze sprang
up, and the ships sped arrow-like on
their course. The land soon sank from
view, and the explorers found them-
selves alone with sea and sky.
As the astute Genoese well divined
the dread which the ever-increasing
distance was certain to arouse, he kept
two log-books, oue for himself and the
other for the crew. In the former he
recorded the actual run, in the latter a
lesser distance, by which device he
diminished the fears and restrained the
impatience of his susceptible shipmates.
By doing this an unforseen complica-
tion arose. Their sure guide, the com-
pass, that ever had pointed fixedly to
the north, began to waver. Although
this phenomenon had been known for
two centuries—though many say it
had never been observed until then—the
crew gave themselves up for lost, and
imagined that for them even the one
fixed point was shifting, as though God
had cast them oft. Columbus recog-
nized the necessity of explaining this
phenomenon as he had explained the
volcanoes. But the explanation was
not easy, for while the volcanoes were
possible to understand or explain the
variavon of the needle by any familiar
fact or experience,
The caravel was better fitted for the
task of discovery than any other bark
of that day. Stout and big enough to
withstand the shock of waves, it was
at thesame time sufficiently light and
shallow of draft to enter-the mouths of
rivers and to tack with ease in narrow
channels. According to nautical au-
like others already known, it was im-
sian, half-tropical nights of the Cana-|
ET A TT Te
erally given in Columbus’ time to any
vessel of burden, whatever its size and
strength. “A long and narrow side-
decked vessel, with a beak at the
prow,” says our dictionary of Castilian
authorities, to which we turn as to an
oracle in the matter of nationalidioms.
This definition, in truth, cannot be bet-
tered in its first part, if able nautical
treaties are to be trusted. But when
that classical dictionary adds that a
caravel has three masts of nearly equal
size, with three large lateen yards and
sails, some emendation seems needful ;
for though the three ships of Colum-
bus were called caravels, only one of
them cerried the kind of sail thus de-
scribed, and that was the smallest and
trailest of them, the Nina. Our dic-
tionary is also in conflict with the clas-
sic texts of seamanship when it asseris
caravels to be dangerous because of
their shallow draft, being easily capsiz-
ed unless their sails were quickly trim-
med, when unimpeachable masters of
maritime science and experience de.
clare them to have been stanch and
stout enough for the needs of those
times. The Columbian caravels were
at most of 80 tons burden, and had a
square poop surmounted by a high cas-
tle, to match the smaller castle at the
bow. Square sails were sometimes
carried but caravels were generally
lateen rigged. Nevertheless, the defi:
nition of one versed in those matters
makes the caravel of larger size than
is commonly supposed, and describes
them as stanch and fleet, with high
castles at stem and stern, with three
vertical masts and a bowspirit, the
foremost and mainmast being square-
rigged and the mizzenmast carrying a
lateen sail. Some assert that they
could make but 28 leagues in a day’s
run, others as high as 72 leagues.— Ex.
Nancy Hanks’ Great Mile.
Horsemen Hugged Each Other and the Crowd
Yelled for Joy.
INDIANAPOLIS, Sept. 29.—A Senti-
nel special from Terre Haute says of
Nancy Hanks’ great achievement in
beating all the world’s records yesterday
kite and otherwise, by trotting on the
Terre Haute regulation track in the
marvelous time of 2:04, that there was
present one of the largest crowds ever
seen at the track. Crowds came on the
trains from all sections of Indiana and
the eastern part of Illinois, Terre
Haute was given up last night entirely
to Nancy and she can have anything in
the town, even the Court House. Every-
body sings the paises of the wonderful
little mare. $
The track was in great condition, the
day was refreshing and cloudless, and
when Doble came out with the mare
looking as fine as silk, the ovation he
and his fleet-footed queen showed com-
pelled him to lift his hat. Nancy went
at the first effort and came down to the
start like a whirlwind, keyed to the
master effort by Doble. Around the
track she flew as she had never done be-
fore. Everybody in the grand stand
seemed to believe this was the trial of
trials, and when the mare came in un-
der the wire in 2:04, a shout went up
that lasted fully ten minutes. It was
simply indescribable.
Horsemen embraced each other in the
exuberance of their joy. Men jumped
over the railing on to the track, and in
the twinkling of an eye the horse and
the driver were surrounded by a yelling
frantic mob. Doble was taken up in
the grand stand in response to demands
for a speech from the enthusiastic throng.
He started to tell Starter Walker what
to say for him, but the noise was so
great that nothing could be heard of
what Walker wassaying., Doble him-
self was so overjoyed that he had reach-
ed the condition bordering on speechless-
ness. Itwould have been doubtful it
he could have told where he was. The
feat yesterday was, over the same track
on whick Axtell beat the world’s stallion
record in 2:12, and sold immediateiy af-
terwards for the enormous price of $105-
000. Yesterday's work will be some
thing for trotters to shoot at for some-
time to come, and the officers of the
Terre Haute Trotting Association are
delighted that the Terre Haute track
has demonstrated its claim to be known
as the choicest and fastest track in the
country.
—— Miss Mary E. Wilkins, a mos
successful writer of short stories, who
has recently come into prominence,
cherishes an ambition to become a
playwright, and for some time past has
been at work upon a piece called “Giles
Corey, Yeoman.” She has chosen for
her subject the Salem witchcraft delu-
gion, which has also furnished the
theme to Mr. McClellan for “Purtania,”
and the play is as sombre in tone as
were the days which it depicts. This
play, it is said, has been read to sever-
al managers, but as yet no arrange
ment has been made for its. production.
There is no doubt that any piece from
Wilkens's pen would command a great
deal of interest from the people” who
have been familiar with her artistic
and truthful delineations of New En-
gland life and character, but to make
her work successful it will be necessa-
ry for Miss Wilkins to draw with a
stronger pencil that which she has em-
ployed in her short stories. It is to be
hoped, however, that she possesses a
great and undeveloped dramatic talent.
Omaha Wife—¢ What under the sun
are you doing ?”
uband—*Trying to tie this string
around my finger.
“Why, I did notask you to do any
errand.”
“No. This string is to remind me
Wea | have nothing to remember to-
ay. ;
COT
— «Have you a book called ‘Pansy
Poems ?”’
Yes, sir”
“Gimme all you have.”
“Certainly sir. You must have a
great admiration for the book.”
“No, I haven't. It was written by
my son, and I'm protecting the family
name.” k
AE ERR,
A Max's OPINION,--Too many wo-
men have an idea that they must laugh
at everything a man says.—dtchison
thorities, the name of caravel was gen- Globe.
The World of Women.
The black moirs are great favorites,
and in dark colors, cordelines, ottomans
and watered silks will be very popular.
Old-fashioned shoulder bandkerchiefs
of very thin silk or crepe de chine are
worn with the ends crossed and tucked
into the belt on either side.
Those who have recentlp come from
the shops of the leading French modistes
in Paris declare that during the coming
season buttons will be much used as a
garniture,
Four big Dresden buttons appear on
both sides of the stylish Bolers jacket,
which to be in perfect accord with, the
dictates of fashion, must be oie by a
slender figure. :
Velours miroir(mirror) is thinner than
the usual silk velvet and reflects like a
mirror lights and shades, and is much
liked for sleeve puffs and belts on silk
and woolen dresses,
Extremely becoming to slender neck--
ed women are the frills and flattings of
velvet which, when worn with pale
cloth costumes, complete a distinctly
modish tout ensemble.
The heaviest cloths and the roughest
fabrics in the market are made into
deep triple capes, ungainly enough to.
look at, but which, when donned by a
sweil-looking woman will present the
nobbiest appearance.
Upon the color card for autumn are
to be found fruity tones and dead leaf
shades. Mahogany is to be an especial
favorite, and in blues one may find
everything from a rich Russian blue to
the commonplace navy.
It would have cost $3,000 to do the
work which has been undertaken grat-
uitously by Mrs. Dora Wheelar Smith
upon the ceiling and freize of the Wo-
man’s building at the World’s Fair.
The entire design will be original.
Among the new things for wedding
decorations is noticed a pair of white
satin slippers trimmed. with silver and
filled with choice flowers. These shoes
are placed upon a drawing room table.
A gift ordered for a golden wedding is a
pair of Louis Quinze slippers of yellow
satin, filled with orchids.
Louis Quinze coats of. very graceful
shape are imported from Paris for au-
tumn wear and also for the early win-
ter. They outline the figure without
fitting too closely, and fall open from
the throat on a deep vest of em-
broidered cloth or rich brocade. They
are about thirty-two inches long.
By wearing pure wool next to the
flesh the necessary warmth is given with
fewer clothes. Physicians and women
have become aroused to the importance
of light weight clothes, and manufaec-
turers have aided them in every manner
in putting upon the market a variety of”
well-fitting underwear of all kinds.
Ropes of jet mark many of the im-
ported robes, which appear in very
heavy dark cloth. These jet ropes are
carried down the sides of the skirt and
garnish the bodice very effectively,
standing in wires loops upon the shoul-
ders, encircling the stiff, flaring collar
and running crosswise upon the
sleeves.
Scotch plaid surah blouse is the cor-
rect thing at present, and will be for the
approaching demi-season. The blouses
are usually carefully fitted, made on the
bias of the plaid, and the latest touch is
a cravat of flock silk or satin, like the
old time neck scarf of our grandfathers,
wound twice around the high collar
band, and tied in a knot with two
‘tears’ in front.
From across the water there comes a
capote for the theatre which is a mar-
velous blending of colors. Pale blue
velvet, covering the low crown, is over-
laid with silver net showered with emer-
ald drops. At the side two long loops.
of emerald velvet rest flatly against the
crown, while a thick cluster of peacock
feathers cut very short and covered with
a web of silver threads, nestles amid the:
folds of the blue velvet.
New waist coats of Scotch plaid surah
or shot taffeta are made to be worn with:
open coats that have skirts and also with:
the shorter jackets reaching only to the
waist-line, similar in shape to the Eaton
and Russian models. The gay waist-
coats have a loose blouse front of
the silk, with a turned over collar and
broad ends to tie in a large cravat bow.
The back is merely of silesia. The
short jackets are made variously of
black or blue serge, Harris tweed, Bed-
ford cord, velvet and Venetian cloth.
Lemon crepe is the foundation of &
very beautiful dinner dress, which
blonde or brunette may wear with equal
grace. The skirt is plain, this serving
to make more striking the bodice.
Heavy jet suspenders cross the shoul-
ders, and jet is used so plentifully upon
the lower part of the flowing sleeves
that the pale yellow background .is in-
visible. A lemon tinted belt ribbon is.
studded at intervals with large jet but-
tons, and the ribbon bows which punc-
tuate the front of the corsage are also
sprinkled with jet.
Pointed shoes (and of course every
shoe is pointed nowadays), as every
body knows,must be a size or two longer
than the foot within, and the majority
of women go about with the toe crush-
ed in, and therefore wrinkled in a fash-
ion that will make any shoe ugly. How
much better it would be if they would
only take the pains to stuff the toe with
cotton, and keep the leather up smooth
and firm; it is all a mistake to suppose
that the wrinkled appearance is desira-
ble, because revealing that the foot is so
much shorter than the length of the
shoe.
At a recent reception one pretty little
lass wore a costume which was striking
on account of its simplicity. A cherry
strewn satin-like fabric was fashioned
into a long, loose-flowing robe, falling
from the shoulders to the ground in
graceful lines. To one side it was looped
upover a turquoise biue underskirt,with a
bunch of ripe red cherries, and upon her
curly locks the girl wore a quaint litile
blue velvet Priscilla cap, which was so
dainty and chic that many of her friends
avowed their intentions. of having one
just ike it. ‘Who knows but that Pris-
cilla caps may be become an important
addition to the evening gowning?