Deworealic Wald
Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. Ill, 1892.
THE RIGHT TO THINK.
We cannot always speak our mind, for there
are moments when
It would notdo for us te tell our inmost
thought to men. :
Nor would we d are to write them down in ev-
erlasting ink.
But this we know let come what may we have
a right to think.
When we are walking on the sireet—as we
ave done, alack !
And step on a banana peel and land upon cur
ac
Then as we brush our clothes and watch the
people grin and blink,
We can’t say what we would, but ah !we have
a right to think.
‘While sitting in the street car where are ladies
fair and sweet,
The fat man comes along and tramps our corn
with both his feet,
And as we grit our teeth and cee the other
people wink,
We feel how thankful we should be we have a
right to think.
For years we spent our hard-earned cash to
buy a girl ice cream.
Until at length she speaks the words that
shatter love’s young dream— :
*I’ll be your sister”—'tis enough to drive a
man to drink—
We cannot speak our feelings, but we go away
and think.
Whe= husbands at the theater together slyly
lan
Each y an act is finished to go out “tosee a
man,
And as they reach their seats again exchange
a knowing wink,
Their wives can’t tell its meaning, but they
have a right to think.
And likewise when theyre at the play men see
before their eyes
Awom is hat that towers pretty nearly to the
skies.
They might say things about that hat to make
vit wiltand shrink,
think and think. .
— Nixon Watcrman,in Chicago Mail.
TWO BIG HEARTACHES,
Jack Belton’s wife had gone home
to Virginia. She had taken old Jane,
who had cooked for Jack, ever sinoe
the T-Anchor was a ranch, because
she couldn’t go all that way alone, and
Jack couldn’t leave to go with her;
and old Jane made an awkward but
very effective protectress and attend
ant.
The headquarters of the T-Anchor
near Amarillo, Texas, had never
seemed so dreary and forlorn asnow in
those bachelor days, before Jack had
followed pretty Louise Carpenter, who
visited some friends in Amarillo, to her
Virginia home, and brought her back
his bride—it is by comparison that we
measurz things. The silence and ne-
glect about the house, the mute piano
and all the abandoned softness and
pretty refinements he had procured tor
her with such loving pains were only a
sort of visible expression of the desolate
ache that had been growing in his heart
as he saw her shallow discontent and
restlessness, and knew that she was as
lonely beside him for the life of diver-
sion to which she was wonted, as he
by his finding that the pretty body did
not hold what he needed and hungered
for and thought to clasp in it; that his
generous adoration was accepted as a
matter of course. His unselfish devo-
tion could never find in that-small pa-
‘tare any answering tenderness and
faithful love on which to rest.
One day Jack was sitting at dinner
at the hotel in Amarillo when the pro-
prietor came to him and said : “Belton,
there’s a right nice, likely looking
young woman here that’s wanting aw-
fully to find something to do. She's
got a baby about six or eight months’
old ; her husband's a sickly sort of fel-
ler, and she's willing to cock or do.
anything to help earn a living. I
thought you might want her to cook’
out at headquarters—the man could’
help about the house, maybe. I think
they about starved out on a section!
down here on Teepee creek. My idea
is she won't go gome nor ask her folks
for nothin’ because she run away with
this poor triflin’ feller against their
will.”
They looked very poor, the young
woman and child; and Jack experi-
enced a little shock of surprise when
she raised to him a delicate face oat of
which loeked eyes so darkly blue they
appeared purple, and answered him in
a low voice, whose accents were unmis-
takably those of culture and intelli-
gence. Ilesaw the man outside later
and arranged to send over from the
ranch for them as soon as he got back.
Once more the T-Anchor was the
abode of comfort as in old Janes days.
Again the meals were good and regu-
lar, the room clean and bright and in-
viting, the little turkeys and chickens
(Jane's special pride and care) were fed
and nursed and tended—the place
seemed like a Lome.
The baby was phenomenally good,
her little face was a chubbier repetition
of her mother’s, with the same big, deep
blue eyes. The boys all idolized her;
she knew no name but Sweetheart, and
her baby presence, her laughter and
cooing, cunning ways were the source
of unending delight.
It very promptly became evident
that whisky was Hardy's disease. He
was quietly drunk as much of the time
as he could procure any means to he
80, and though this had always been
sufficient cause for discharge on the T-
Anchor, nothing was said for poor Ag
nes’ sake,
But the cbild grew and thrived, and
cut tooth after tooth, to the unspeaka-
ble delight and admiration of ‘the
boys,” and was as happy as a singing
lark, and the girlish voung mother,
housed and fed and treated with gentle
consideration by all the masculine
household, was happy with her, de-
spite the hopeless thing she was tied
to. As young and delicately bred as
his wife had been, Jack used to look
at her about the work of a servant—
cooking, sweeping, churning, feeding
the chickers and chirruping to the ba.
by—and wonder at her contented hap-
piness in the crumbs that Louise de-
spised. He came in one day and found
only Mre. Hardy and the baby at home,
the latter propped up in a chair crow-
ing ‘with delight while her mother
played for her a gay little waltz on the
piano. Then finding among the music
something to her taste she played on
and on to herself while Sweetheart tell
asleep. Her heart seemed revealing
itself while Jack stood on the porch
and listened ; love, hope, grief. despair,
resignation, and, at the last a gertle,
half plaintive hope again. A half for-
mulated thought clutched his heart
suddenly. If only Louise—if it were
his wife and child in there, ready to
give him back steadfast love for love,
not to neglect him and push him aside
and desert him, what possibilities life
might hold! And just then she began
to sing a little songshe had found about
two children, but the refrain only of
which remained in Jack’s mind:
For the ways of man are narrow;
But the gates of death are wide.
As she rose presently to take the
sleeping baby Jack saw her eyes full
of tears, and he went away toward the
| corral with a new pain in his heart
that yet was not all pain. After that
she used to play and sing often —firsat
at Jack’s request—for the baby, for
him and for the boys who sat on the
porch and listened.
Louise had gone home in April. At
first she wrote quite regularly, but
scon her letters became very infrequent
and finally ceased.
Late in August all bands were over
at the Windmill camp where cattle
were being gathered for shipment.
Hardy was left with his wife at head-
quarters. None of the outfit had been
there for three days. The baby was
ailing with some childish complaint
when they left, and when on the third
day a bitter norther blew up, Jack,
feeling uneasy about them, left the
Windmill camp and started, for head-
{ quarters, The norther blew fearfully,
And yet they don’t they only sit and think and |
carrying clouds of sand and dust along
the road, and he finally reached the
house in a fierce storm of icy, stinging
wind and hail. He get his poor fright-
ened pony under shelter and went into
the house. The silence struck upon
him witha premonition. At last, in
the kitchen, beside the stove, in which
was a little fire, he found what he
seemed to have confidently expected for
the last hour. Agnes sitting with the
baby lying across her knees in a sort of
stupor, her agonized eyes on its little
face.
“Where is Hardy ?” said Jack.
“In the room,” she replied, ‘““he—he
went to Amarillo yesterday.”
Jack could not leave her alone with
her anguish and the dying baby, to
bring some woman to her even if it
had been likely he could get any wom-
an to try the journey in that storm.
He made her as comfortable as he
could, then built more fire, prepared
some coffee and taking the baby from
her in his own arms told her that she
must eat and drink. And she obeyed
him with a look half piteous, half grate-
ful.
And all night long, while the wind
shrieked and howled outside, beating
upon the north of the house with pow-
erful, menacing hands, and dashing
the occasional rain or hail terribly up-
on the windows, they sat with the ba-
by, while it found its little helpless
way alone down to the shores of death.
Just at the last, when the wind had
fallen and a cold, gray dawn was look-
ing fearfully acrcss the plains, Sweet
‘heart moaned a little, the drooping lids
flickered, then the tiny fingers clasped
about one of Jack's relaxed, and the
fluttering breast was still. Those soft
little feet that had never borne the ba-
by a single step alone had found their
faltering way, unguided and unhelped
by one of all who loved her so, along
the whole dark, painful journey, and
into the place of peace.
Agnes’ hand, which had held fast to
Jack’s iu a sort of terror for hours past,
now clutched it convulsively, and her
eyes sought his with mute, appealing
anguish. “Yes,” he said, “I know—1I
teel.”?
His heart bled that he could not take
her in his arms, this poor desolate girl,
hardly more than a child herself, so
poor and stricken and bereaved—so
terribly alone—and comfort and care
for her. He went and waked Hardy,
who came in later, dressed and quite so-
ber. Jack left him with Agnes, and
went himself for the nearest women he
thought would be of any comfort to her.
They buried the baby the next day
—day of radiant beauty, the sun shin-
ing, winds howling, birds singing, the
open plaios smiling ‘in the light and
warmth and gladness,
Jack found a woman to stay with
Agnes for a time and himself was most-
ly at the Canon dugout or the Wind-
mill camp or away on business.
One day in November he came back
from Panhandle, where he had gone to
deliver some cattle, and, without stop-
ping at headquarters, went directly to
the Canon camp to see ‘his foreman,
who was there. »
There was a letter in his pocket from
Louise that he had got as he came
through Amari'lo. It was the unkind
letter of a weak, selfish nature, which,
fretful at feeling itself at fault, must
blame the heart it wounds. She wrote
that she could never think of living in
that lonesome, horrid place again—
she was utterly unsuited to such a life.
Certainly, if he cared for her as he
ought, Jack would sell the ranch and
come East to live, where she could be
happy.
That evening about 6 Joe Ellis rode
up and said : “Mr. Belton, Mrs. Hardy's
mighty sick. She got caught out ina
big rain last week and got an awful
chill. She had another one afterward
and one this morning, and she’s been
getting worse eversince. She wouldn't
let us go for a doctor—said it wasn't
anything much. But this morning
Hardy started into Amarillo for one,
I reckon he's blind drunk somewhere,
and I'm going for Doc Hollis and ask
him to bring his wife. You'll go over
to headquarters, won't yon? There's
only Jim and Shorty and Buster there.
I'll be back quick as I can get Doc and
Mrs. Hollis to come,”
When Jack got to headquarters the
forlornness of the picture there’ pierced
his heart like a knife. There were
Jim and Shorty and Buster—great,
rough, tender-hearted boys, desperate-
| ly anxious to do something for her—
tramping around in their boots and
spurs, asking her every few minutes it
she wasn’t better, to which she always
replied with a pitiful little smile and
“Oh, yes, I'm better.”
Buster, who was only a boy, and a
favorite with Agnes, having often been
detailed to help her about the house,
met Jack with a great platter of fried
beef in his hands.
“She could’t eat the pork,” he ex-
plained, “so we rounded up a yearling
and killed it!”
“You ought to get off those boots
and spurs, boys,” said Jack. And the
poor boys, overwhelmed at their crim-
inal neglect, immediately went in
search of shoes er slippers.
She was lying quite still the pretty
purple eyes wide open, and a little red
color—the faint, fluttering flag of the
departing fever—in each cheek. There
was death in her face, and the calm—.
even glad—consciousness of it.
When Jack came to the door she
raised her eyes to his face. She said
nothing, but her looks ran forward to
meet him and welcome him; they clung
to him and rested upon and caressed
him. He came in and sat down by
her and teok one little hand in both
his own. By and by Buster stepped
in with awkward quietness and set
down a lighted lamp, and asked her
what she would have—what he could
get for her, and when he turned and
saw the look in her face as she said,
“Nothing, Buster—you’re all very good,
but I don’t need anything,” he crept
out and said chokingly to Shorty and
Jim inthe kitchen, “Boys, she’s dying!
and nothin’ but a lot of men around.
My God, it’s tough! I wish my moth-
er was here!”
As the time went on she breathed a
little heavily, and Jack, with a sob he
could not'choke back, raised her softly
and laid her on his breast—over Lou-
ise’s letter. :
“@®h, no,” she said, almost against
his cheek, “do not be%orry. Life had
nothing for me. Since baby is dead,
nothing. And death can give me this.
I didn’t think to be so happy ; to have
you with me at the last; to be let to die
in your arms—on your breast. It can-
not be wrong or I would not be so hap-
MR smoothed back the soft brown
hair from her forehead and kissed it,
while his tears fell among the wavy
locks. She drew down the hand and
held ita moment against her lips, then
lay quite still, raising her cyes often to
his face, always with that look of per-
fect love and happiness and peace.
Buster had sat down in the outer
room to be within call, and as one
hour wore away after another Jack
could hear his heavy breathing—he
was asleep. Shorty and Jim were on
the porch.
She had not looked up for some time.
Jack held his own breath to listen for
hers. He felt the slight form slip on
his arm and saw the Lead droop—it
was all over. He laid her gently down
on the pillow, with the happy grate-
ful smile yet on her face. Then he
went blindly out, meeting the doctor
and his wife and replying to their ques-
tion only with a speechless movement
of the hand toward the inner room,
He stood outside and looked heavily
around at the great sweep of level
plain, asleep under the stars.
“She's out of it all, safe and happy,”
he said, and remembered his own lot of
emptiness and disappointment to be
faced somehow, and the refrain of Ag
nes’ little song came back to him:
The ways of man are narrow,
But the gates of death are wide.
—New York Herald.
Man and Mastiff Fight.
Fierce Encounter in a Yardat Windsor lerrace
Voy
A fierce battle with a ferocious En-
glish mastiff occurred in Windsor Ter-
race, Flatbush, on Wednesday last.
The dog was owned by John Willjam-
son. [twas tied in the yard with a
thick iron chain. James Murphy, a
neighbor, entered the yard to get some
water. He teased the dog, which
sprang for him and burst the chain.
Murphy had an iron corn-cutter in his
hand when the animal grabbed him by
the leg and bore him to the ground.
With a powerful effort he shook him-
self free and got to his feet. The dog
jumped for him again, and received a
stunning blow over the mouth. A sec-
oud blow on the head sent the beast to
the ground. By the merest accident a
dirt cart was passing, and Murphy ran
for it just in time to escape the mad-
dened dogs fangs. Mr. Williamson
came out and tied the animal up.
Murphy had a warrant for William-
con’s arrest, and before Judge Born-
kamp he said he was satisfied to
have the dog shot. Sentence was sus-
pended on the charge of violation of the
Health laws for allowing the dog to be
loose, and yesterday Detective James
Doherty put three shots into the mas-
tiff and killed it.
What is a Cola ?
The Answer Given in a Lecture by Dr. Hart-
man at the Surgical Hotel, Columbus, Ohio.
A cold is the starting point of more
than half of the fatal illness from Nov-
ember to May. A cold is the first
chapter in the history of every case of
consumption. A cold is the first stage
of chronic catarrh, the most loathsome
and stubborn of diseases. A cold is the
legitimate parent of a large family of
diseases, such as bronchitis, pleurisy,
pneumonia, and quinsy. To neglect a
cold is almost suicide. To tail to pro-
vide against this well-nigh inevitable
evil is dangerous negligence. Pa-ru-na
is o safeguard us a preventive, a specific
as a cure for all cases of catarrh, acute
and chronic, coughs, colds, consumption
etc., etc. Every family should be pro-
vided with a copy of The Family Phy-
sician No. 2, a complete guide to pre-
vert and cure winter diseases.
Company, Columbus, Ohio.
The highest praise has been won |
by Hood’s Pills for their easy yet effi-
cient action Sold by all druggists.
Price 25 cents per box.
Sent free | Gladys ;
by The Pe-ru-na Drug Manufacturing | that way
A New York Church Wedding.
The Century for November contains
the first chapters of a new novel New
York society “Sweet Bells Out of Tune,”
by Mrs. Burton Harrison, author of “The
Anglomaniacs.” It begins with a descrip-
tion of & fashionable church wedding,
from which we take these paragraphs :
“A burst of fortissimo music from the
organ, which had been dawdling over
themes from Wagner's opeeas, caused
every head in the seated congregation
to turn briskly around. Some pecple
stcod up, swaying to catch a first
glimpse of the bride. Outsiders, tucked
away in undesirable back-pews, went so
far as toscramble upon the cushioned
seats.
“It wes, however, a false alarm.
Tho middle aisle, center of interest, de-
veloped nothing more striking than a
trim little usher, in pearl gloves with a
buttonhole of white carnations, con-
voying to her place honor beyond the
ribboa a colossal lady with auburn
front, red in the face, and out of breath.
“Conversation in pews reserved for
the elect of good society.
“She: “Hum! Bridegroom’s maid-
en aunt, suppressed generally-—how
Freddy rushes her along | Sent twelve
silver soup-plates and a huge tureen,
when everybody knows soup is served
from behind the screen, and it would
take all one servants time to keep ’em
clean-—but she thinks she’s paid her
way well to the front, poor soul !’
“He: ‘Here's the groom’s mother—
deuced fine woman yet is Mrs. Vernon.
Who'd believe she’d a son of five-and-
twenty ? Hates to admit it publicly,
but is putting on the best face she
can.’
“She: ¢Not her best face—har sec-
ond best, I've seen her improve on
that. But then, this half daylight,
half electricity is abominably trying.
And she really does look very well,
viewed from the rear.’
“He: ‘Clever, too—the way she’s
run the family up—when one thinks
what the husband was.’
“She: ‘Does one ever think of him ?
By the way, what was he—soldier, sail-
or, tinker, tailor, what ?’
“He: ‘Tinker, most likely, consider-
ing the family brass. I saw him once—
coarse-grained creature, epidermis like
an elephant, diamond in his shirt-front,
and all that. Speculated after the war
in Virginia City mines, and made a big
fortune ; then dropped dead of apoplexy
and left it for her to spend. She sent
her boy toa good school; gave with
a tree band to all the charities; boy
made friends everywhere ; went through
Harvard like a streak ; has traveled,
yachted, hunted, been in the best sets
ever since ; is about to marry into one
of the proudest of the exclusive families
of New York—and there you are.’
“She: ‘Oh! But he’s really sucha
beauty, don’t you know? Half the
women in town have been pulling caps
for Jerry Vernon. And, afterall, what
are the Hallidays but has-beens ?’
“He: ‘Take care. There’s one of
the high-born ramifications glaring at
you from the next pew—old lady with
eye-glasses and a sniff. Come up from
Second Avenue in a horsecar—looks
liks the unicorn on the British coat of
arms.’
“She: ‘Gracious! It’s the bride’s
cousin or something ; let’s change the
subject. Oh! did you hear poor Mrs.
Jimmie Crosland couldn’t go to the
opera house last night because that
wretched, jealous husband shut ber nose
in a wardrobe door ?’
“He: ‘Really? Wasn't theirs the
last wedding we came to in this
church 7
“She: ‘Of course. Don’t you re-
‘member? Regular peep-show; six
chorus girls from the opera, in white
veils, to sing. “The voice that breath-
ed o'er Eden.” They say she even
hired the pages to hold up her train—
put ’em in Charles II. wigs, and passed
em off for little brothers.’
“He: ‘Exactly. One gets these
theatrical affairs so confoundedly mixed
up. See, the groom’s mother is still up-
on her knees. A woman couldn’t pray
so conspicuously unless in back seams
from Worth.’
“She. ‘Forshame! How malicious
you men are! I should have said it’s
because she’s keeping Mrs. Vane-Ben-
son standing in the aisle every one to
see. You know they have been at
some trouble to corral relatives to match
the bride's, and Mrs. Vane-Benson’s
their trump card. How bored the poor
rector looks waiting in his bower of
palms.’
“He: ‘Queer how people marry, and
bury, and flirt, under palm-trees, nowa-
day ! I’m getting awfully tired of be-
ing tickled by the spiky things every
time I sit out a dance, or go to call up-
on a girl. Hullo! There’s Mrs,~-who
does she call herself since she got her
divorice ?’
“She (animated); ‘Is she? No,
really ? I wouldn’t. have missed seeing
Hildegarde de Lancy for the world. It’s
the first time she’s been out. Isn’t she
perfectly lovely in that gray bengaline
and chinchilla, with the bunch of vio-
lets at hor breast? Talways did say
Hildegarde—de Lancy she is now ; so
nice to have got rid of her odious, ugly
Smithson—is the best-dressed woman in
the town. Why, what a belle shes!
I believe ull the ushers would like to
escort her in a body up the aisle. Of
course Freddy de- Witt saved her a front
place. He knows what people want to
see.’
“He: ‘She's a charmer, certainly. If
I were the Mrs. Gerald Vernon that
is soon to be, I'd be rather glad Mrs.
de Lancey is proposing to live abroad.’
“She: ‘Oh, nonsense. You men al-
ways think the worst. Jerry was touch-
ed, no doubt, but Hildegarde meant
nothing. You can’t conceive of a great-
er brute than Smithson, and Hilda was
always such a darling thing. Every-
one says she is in luck to get rid of him
so soon. How! well she looks--no won-
der everybcdy stares. Oh, I'm so glad
we're to have Hilda back !’
“Klsewhere in the church.
“A mother in Israel to her young
daughters : ‘So that’s the famous
divorcee, Mrs, What's-her-name Smith-
son, the papers have been so full of
lately 2 Don’t look at her Doris and
Linsist that you don’t look
. Have you observed the
figure of Dorcas in poor Mrs. Golding’s
memorial window? The drawing of
the right arm is excellent—I wonder if |
that person does anything to her hair
to give it that baby gold. I wouldn't!
trust her any farther than I could see.
Dear me! the best people bowing, and
smirking, and trying to catch her eye.
Ahem! Mrs. de Lancey’s toque sits
quite close 10 the head, girls; I think
it much more becoming than those
great cartwheel hats you insisted on hav-
ing sent home.’
“Doris and Gladys: ‘We know,
mama; we've been watching her ever
since she came into the church. What
tun it must be to make as much stir as
the bride !’ :
“Two girls in tailor gowns, with fur
boas and muffs, They have come in an
omnibus to the nearest corner, and were
splashed with mud in getting out.
‘Dear me! we ave lucky, but I had
to push awfully to squeeze in. IfI
hadn’t known Tom Brounlee I'd have
never had this seat. He asked me it we
are going on to the house, I coughed
and smiled, and he took it to mean yes.
My, Jennie, look at the new suits! I
can tell you the names of most evéry-
body here, I do know the bride, any-
how, for we're on a working-girls’
amusement board, together. I must
say she’s as nice a girl as I ever wish to
meet. Can't say as much for her sister,
Miss Betty—such a lank, sour-looking
thing, and a tongue sharp as a razor.
Nobody can stand her in our club I
wish the organ wouldn’t play so loud,
you can’t hear yourself talk. Gracious,
child ! lean over, and let me take that
lump of mud off your face. I'm think-
ing I can alter my blue Henrietta cloth
by putting coat tails bound with velvet
on the basque, like the one that’s just
gone by. Have a chocolate, do; “got
‘em fresh to-day, as I passed by Tyler's
on my way to match my blue. Oh! I
do love weddings. I goto ever single
one I can.’
“Lady from the Faubourg St.
Stuyvesant seated well forward in the
church.
¢ iPoor Margaret Halliday ! there she
comes with Betty and Trix and Jack.
I wonder if Ler grandfather isn’t turn-
ing in his grave at this minute, over the
marriage of a Halliday with one of those
upstart Vernons. Humph! Margaret
looks haggard, Betty as yellow as a
pumpkin, Trix rather overblown, and
Jack growing up one of the beefy kind.
I'm glad it isn’t my dauchter who's to
be sacrificed, that’s all.’ ”’
i ————————
How Dignitaries Where Brought.
Magnificent Trains Run Over the Pennsylvania
System.
From the Chicago Herald, Oct. 23rd, 1892.
One of the most important and suc-
cessful features in connection with the
dedicatory exercises of the World’s Fair
grounds, and one which fully illustrates
the wonderful progress which our coun-
try has made within the last half cen-
tury, was the movement made by the
Pennsylvania Railroad Company of the
cabinet officers, the supreme court jus-
tices and the diplomatic corps from
Washington to this city and back. It
required three special trains to perform
this function, and Vice-President Frank
Thompson, to whom the credit of the
achievement is due, made requisition on
the Pullman Palace Car Company for
the finest equipment which those famous
car builders could produce. The result
was atriple section train such as has ne-
ver before glided over the rails in any
country. A crew of twenty five persons
including stewards, cooks, waiters, por-
ters, maids, electricians, and machinists,
in addition to the usual quota of train-
men, was required to insure proper ser-
vice. The outfit resembled in a
somewhat lessened degree the personal
equipment of an ocean greyhound, of
which the trains were a duplication on
land.
These trains were provided and ten-
dered for the use of the distinguished
guests of Chicago by Vice-President
Thompson. They were run from Wash-
ington to Chicago as sections of the
regular ‘Chicago Limited,” of which
they were duplicates, and they con-
train. With the thorough organization
of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company
and its splendid system they came
through the entire distance, on the spe-
cial schedule time arranged for them,
without accident or delay of any kind,
and this in the face of an extraordinarily
increased passenger traffic. The great
line is in such excellent physical condi-
tion, so well protected by the safeguards
of the modern invention, and so per-
fectly managed by a corpse of men who
have been educated and trained under
the eyes of its high officials, that a
I movement of this kind, extraordinary as
it appears to the public, was effected
without interfering in any manner with
the routine of everyday traffic,
It is safe to say that while no other
country in the world would be able to
move the entire organization of its gov-
vernment a distance of one thousand
miles, so there is no other railroad com-
pany which would grapple with such a
problem and solve it with the ease to
the persons in interest and the credit to
itself that has distinguished this achieve-
ment of the Pennsylvania Railroad. It
reflects the utmost credit on Vice-Presi-
dent Thompson, who planned, and kis
associates, who executed the brilliant
feat of railroad transportation, and holds
out a bright promise of equally success-
ful work when the resources of this line
will be drawn upon next year to fur-
nish adequate transportation facilities to
the hosts who will visit the world’s
greatest fair.
The Poor Indian's Excuse.
In the early days of Southern Cali-
fornia booms, an Indian was brought
down from Los Angeles to testify in a
horse stealing case. When called be-
belore the magistrate to be sworn, that
officer began to examine him as to his
knowledge of an oath.
Do you know the nature of an oath ?
No.
You know God, don’t you ?
No.
Well you have heard of Jesus Christ,
have you not ?
No, I have nct. You see how itis I
live in Los Angeles, and don’t know
any of the people in San Diego.
Not Susceptible,
“Will your daughter take Latin this
your?”
Mother. “No, there is no danger of
it ; we had her vaccinated before she
left home.”
The World of Women.
Brilliant red, with black trimming; 1s
popular
The choker collar is quite the favor-
ite. This style is seen on most of the
tailor costumes.
Taft's College is to have three lady
students in the College of Letters and
three in the Divinity School.
Among the students of Iowa State
University is Mrs. Stark Evans, the
wife of a lawyer and the mother of five
children.
Ornament in the guise of wings are
seen on new hats, of black guipure,
wired and edged with a narrow border of
black feathers.
Over 300 women are now studying at
the Harvard Annex, and the f{resham
class of thirty, is the largest since the an-~
nex was opened.
Rosa Bonheur. notwithstanding her
advanced age, has just completed three
small pictures, studies of animals, as us-
ual not lacking in vigor,
A woman’s best qualities do not re-
side in her affections. She gives re-
freshment by her sympathies rather
than by her knowledge.~Saniuel Smiles.
Women are achieving considerable
success in their new business as florists,
and several of them, including Miss
Eadie, of Cleveland Mrs. Berger, of San
Francisco, and Mrs. Nichols, of Texas,
are well known as successtul decorators.
With the riot of celor that prevails in
fashionable wardrobes, they are yet not
considered compiete without at least
one or two black costumes. Among the
most effective black goods are the wool
bengalines, with cords of different
thickness woven across the surface,
Buckles are quite a feature in this
autumn’s dress arrangements. No shoes
are up to date withoutthem. They are
worn on gowns arranged in various
ways and as belts.
There is a craze for antique silver in
buckles, belts and ornaments of all
kinds, and women are becoming highly
educated in the matter of silver marks,
A black cloth coat may be transform-
ed by substituting for the plain sleeves
full ones of gaily-striped silk, also line
the flaring collar with the silk and
make two revers of the same. Ribbon
attached to either side of the collar and
ties in & bow that covers the opening
formed by turning back the revers.
The new narrowly-ribbed velvets are
very much used to trim gowns of
faced cloth and camel's hair. These
velvets and also Russian velours are
very popular and are used for cloaks,
dresses, redingotes, three quarter coats
and paris of tailor costumes. They
come in shade of chestnut, copper,
brown, magenta-red, gray, moss and
olive.
One of the most popular materials of
the moment is bengaline, and the figured
bengalines, both in silk and wool, seem
to be quite as well liked as the plain
also show novel effects, Fancy surahs
combined with many of the fine woolen
materials promise to he very popular
this autumn, and a brilliant” shade of
scarlet surah, in plain and dotted effects
combined, is one of the most fashionable
formed to the regular schedule of that
colors for tea gowns.
I've said little or nothing in these
our economical chats about coats and
wraps. for the reason that such garments
when made at home are very likely to
turn out sad failures. However with a.
little skill last year’s coat may be mod-
ernized to look extremely stylish. A
tan-colored loose coat can have full
wrinkled sleeve of black velvet inserted in
place of the orignal ones and a single
Watteau of velvet added to the back.
A charming wrap for a young girl
that may easily be made at home with
good hopes of excellent success is a cape
of Russian-blue smooth cloth. The cape
is raised on the shoulders in the usual
way and a Watteau pleat is arranged in
the back. A collar, flaring both back
and front, rolling stylishly from the
neck is very becoming. The whole
thing is finished with a tiny piping of
old gold silk to match the lining and a
Watteau bow yf blue moire ribbon is
placed over the fold in the back.
If really desirous of being in the
latest fashion all one has to do is too
add three or four inches to the width
of the shoulders. This may be done
by wearing a short cape flounce or large
epauleites arranged with much fulness
on top of the sleeves. The chest must
be broadened, enormous lapels put on
all gowns and outdoor garments.
Sleeves should be somewhat larger than
the waist-that is, if the corset be a
atwenty-inch one. The bodices of
evening gowns will, of course’ be made
short and cut low in order to show the
shoulders. The sleeves will be fairly -
short and of the balloon pattern.
A very pretty gown was of dark
green alligator cloth, the skirt plain and
the body a long, tight-fitting, coat-shap-
ed thing, which opened in the front
showing a neat vest of bright red cloth.
The coat had two pointed revers, and
the front breadths cf the skirt lapped
over the side, forming two more revers.
the whole was finished in tailor fashion,
while the only ornaments used upon the
dress were two rows of small, sparkling
brass buttons on the vest, two larger
buttons behind on the coat, two on the
sleeve and six on each of the skirt revers.
And what is alligator cloth ?
Does not the name show it to be
something woven with wavering circles
in definite lines imitating as nearly as
possible in a woolen fabric'the skin of
the Sawrian. Sometimes the effect is
crosswise, sometimes up and down,
while again the two are combined to
form stripes. A plain stripe next one
of the alligator effect is also seen. These
goods come in all the pretty new shades,
they are double width and cost 79 cents
a yard.
Havana brown and black make a very
distinguished and refined combination.
A gown of striped brown alligator
cloth and black moire has a double
skirt, the upper part reaching quite to
the knees. The waist is *‘pulled” into
a narrow belt of moire, cuffs, collar and
border around the skirt are of the same
silk headed with jet. The waist is
further ornamented with four faring
revers, two in {rout and two behind,
They start from the belt and reach to
the shoulders, where the pointed ends
stand very erect. Crinoline is used to
line them and keep them in shape,