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AN EASTERN BEAUTY.
Then, on a sudden, came & maid
With tambourine to dance for us—
Allah il’ allah! it was she,
The slave girl from the Bosporus
That Yussuf purcuased recently.
Long narrow eyes, as black as black!
Ard melting, like the stars in June;
Tresses of night drawn smoothly back
From eyebr ws like the crescent moon.
She paused an instant with bowed head,
Then. at a motion of her wrist
A veil of gossamer outspread
And wrapt her in a silver mist.
Her tunic was of Tiflis green
Shot through with many a starry speck;
The zone that clasped it might have been
A collar for a cygnet's neck.
None of the twenty charms she lacked
Demanded for perfection’s grace;
Charm upon charm in her was packed
Like rose leaves in a costly vase.
Full in the lanterns’ colored light
She seemed a thing of paradise.
I knew not if [ saw aright,
Or if my vision told me lies.
Those lanterns spread a cheating glare;
Such stains they threw trom bough to vine,
As if the slave boys here and there
Had spilt ajar of brilliant wine.
And then the fountain’s drowsy fall,
The burning aloes’ heavy scent,
The night, the place, the hour—they all
Were full of subtle blandishment.
— Thomas Bailey Aldrich in Harper's.
A SOUTHERN CARNATION.
BY MIGNON VILLARS AND NORMAN
“In a moment, Miss,” he called to
his waiting customer, putting a tumbled
blonde head in the doorway adjoining
his “dark room.’ The girl nodded,
and, with quick movement, passed her
hand over the moss rose at Ler warm
It was a kingly June day in a little
Kentucky village. A playful kitten
climbed the three steps of the old pho-
tograph van and daintily washed its
paws, then, gliding swiftly behind a
bit of picture scenery, was lost to sight.
Two minutes elapsed, and the girl
moved restlessly. The sun shone full
on her shapely head and brought out
her figure, sleader and graceful, des-
pite the rustic cut of her white mull
dress. The eyes, large and dark, were
set in a slightly oval face, full of warm
tints and changing expression. Occa-
sionally she put her hand to the ‘‘cart-
wheel’ hat perched on a mass of dark
brown hair, and thrust out her scarlet
under lip in momentary impatience.
Catching sight now of her undeniable
prettiness ia the little mirror opposite,
she smiled, showing two rows ot even
teeth. Then her glance rested on the
various objects the tiny room contained.
‘On a small table were some crude toilet
contrivances for the benefit of the va-
rious “sitters.” A hastily constructed
counter, with glass top, held specimen’s
of the artist’s skill. Against the wall
hung a sheif, which held a lamp, water
bucket and developing tray. Her fem-
inine eye noted a little heap of dust
swept, manlike, into a corner, and half
pityingly she said, “Pore thing.”
At that moment the object of her
commiseration entered the room. “I’m
sorry I kept you waiting so long,” he
said; then, brusquely, “Sitting or
standing 7 And then for the first
time becoming aware of the girl's love-
lines, he started, with a photographer's
quick note of beauty.
“Sittin’, I think” she drawled, in a
slow, sweet voice, ‘an’ I hope et'll be
ez good ez Agatha Price’s. I met her
in the square, and she showed me the
-ones ye tuk fur her,”
Far better, I know,” he briefly re-
_joined, tilting her pretty chin upward
Half troubled by his admiring gaze
she talked on quickly. “This ez fur
the man I'm marryin’ soon. Our folks
pestered me to cum before our weddin,’
‘but he said arter, when we cud be tuk
together. Williyebe here next week ?”
“Is it then?” he asked, not heeding
the question. “and if it is no offense,
does he live here in the county ?”
“He's Morgan Barber. I reckon
you've hearn of him,” balf proudly,
“Qh, yes; I saw him only this morn-
ing. He's good looking, sure enough,”
with a ghort half sigh. ‘Front face or
“Profile, I guess.” Then, “He's
gloomy like, but brave. It's owin’ to
my uncle's wish thet I’m marryin’ him.
Ye likely know of Uncle Philetus
Mann. I'm Myrtle Howard, his dead
sister's child, and father wuz drowned
in Blue Lick last Thanksgivin® day.”
“So you’ve no other kin?” he queried
sympathetically, mechanically work-
ing at his instrument.
“No other kin,” she eehoed sharply.
“Kinfolks make lots o’ trouble, and I
keer mighty little fur one,” her color
rising, and with trembling voice.
A pause ensued, during which he
placed her in the typically stiff attitude
of the country picture taker, and a mo
meat later announced that the impress-
ion was secured. His customer, how-
ever, kept her seat, and he, nothing
loath, leaned on his instrument, gazing
at her with a Yankee scrutiny, famil-
iar yet unobtrusive.
In his own eceentric way he was
more or less of a philosopher, with a
good bit of cynicism intermixed. He
was a Vermenater, who from childhood
had pushed his way unaided. Now,
at the age of twenty-six, he presided
over the little canvascovered photo-
grapher’s van, bought from his precep-
tor and predecessor, He had one gen-
erous gift from nature, a face that
smoothed many wrinkles in his wan:
dering path. When busicess grew
slack the van moved on to some neigh-
boring village, drawn by his wonderful
“And what of yourself?’ he asked
after an interval, in which she had de-
jaled some happenings in her eventful
The girl stood up, “Oh, I don’t keer,”
recklessly. ‘I'd jest as lief be Mrs. ez
Miss--and thet reminds me I hevn’
axed yer name. Mr."——
“Kilburne,” he volunteered quickly ;
‘Waal, then, Angus—s'cuse me, Mr,
Kilburne—I reckon ye air plumb tired
out with my talk, so I'll be goin.”
Sbe looked at him archly. Kilburne
flushed, and for a moment lost his
ready speech. Then he found himself,
to his surprise, asking the girl the di-
rection to her home, supplementing it
with an ardent request that he might,
on the morrow, deliver the pictures
personally. She hesitated an instant,
then, smilingly with flashing teeth,
nodded a consent and was gone.
The old frame house that Myrtle
Howard called home was covered with
Virginia creeper and honeysuckle;
deep masses of white lilacs tapped the
front window-panes. Near the front
gate the **horse rack” was incumbered
by an old saddle and bridle and the
blanket-pad, damp and dusty. On the
fence glittered a row of bright tins, sun-
ning before milking time. The old
house dog, Hector, lay asleep on the
grass, with his nose between his out-
stretched paws. At times he opened
his eyes when the click of a distant
reaping machine was borne more dis-
tinctly on the breeze, -
It was the afternoon succeeding the
day of her visitito the village, and Myr-
tle perched on the topmost bar of the
pasture lot, called cheerily to the cows
as they came up the ferny hill. At
sight of Kilburne approaching her, she
exclaimed : “Goodness gracious!” ye
skeered me almost. an’ d'ye kuow,”
looking down onbim from her elevated |
perch, “I kan’t recollect when I wuz
ever skeered afore, leastways not more’n
With an easy assurance, he climbed
to a seat beside her. “Not even when
you see a mouse ?’he laughed, and
showed his teeth, a trifle crowded, but
white as polished ivory. He looked at |
the girl a litle curiously and wondered |
wherein lay the charm that impelled |
him to}walk two miles in the white dust
and blistering sun todeliver hersome pic
tures. Certainly Myrtle's appearance
had not improved since the day before,
for she had replaced her white mull
dress by a tattered purple calico, while
her head was bhatless and hair dis-
heveled. But in her eyes was an al-
lurement, and on her red lips played a
smile that was a challenge. “Tell me
about the time you were scared betore.”
“Oh, et warn’t much,” she made
answer indifferently, as they descended
and he aided her to let her down the
bars, through which the cattle ambled;
“et warn’t much, only a mad-dog bite.
The man on the next place had a nig-
ger-chaser that got the hydrophob-’ I
got in his way, an’ got bit fer doin’ et—
here, in my arm. They hed to burn
it out, an’ the hart on it kinder skeered
me fur ’bout five minutes.”
“Let me see,” said Kilburne, with
quickened breath, “let me see] jast
where.”” There was an imperiousness
in his voice that the girl obeyed with a
docility that would have filled her in-
timates with wonderment.
Dexterously she bared her arm,
round and white, Kilburne caught it,
and, drawing it up he kissed a mark
below the elbow slowly and a little rev-
erently, When he raised his eyes her
mood had changed, and in a bantering
tone that sobered him like magic, she
“Well, how bout them pictures ?’’
Mechanically he gave them to her
and, despite himself, his hand trem-
“They're very good,” Myrtle grave-
ly remarked, surveying them, her head
a little to cue side. ‘““Thet moss rose
tak ez nateral ez life. Qne o’ them’s
fer Auriiy, one fer the minister, ove fer
Agatha Pr ce, one fer Morgan, an’ ’'—
Her voic: taltered. To Kilburne the
mention oi vhis acted as a spur. Dur
ing his roving life his heart had re-
mained untouched, and he had thought
love an affliction from which he was
exempt. But, as he looked at Myrtle,
he knew, of a sudden, why he had fol-
“Sec here,” he broke out, in wrath,
“I don’t like that Morgan Barber of
yours, From what they tell me, he's
a bad lot, and if you marry him he'll
drag you down. Why, it ought to be
stopped ; it's a regular sacrifice, that’s
what it 18, and”’—
“Now, jest drop that, Kilburne,” in-
terposed the girl, tersely. ‘Mr. Bar-
ber'sa persunal friend 0’ mime,specially
when he's too fur away to giv ye what
ye.ought ter hev fur slanderin’ him.”
“I don’t care,” the other continued,
with dogged perseverance “It's a
shame. Ifyou had a relative worth.
the powder and lead to blow em up,
they'd stop it.”
“Wh,” with growing asperity. ‘‘Per-
haps ye'd like tu undertake it. May-
be ye want a dose of lead fer yer inter-
They stood face to face, and with an-
gry eyes looked each other up and
down. Then, something in the girl's
proud attitude touched Xilburne.
“Myrtle,” he said soltly, taking the
small brown hand that trembled in his
Her eyes softened with the same rap-
idity that marked her rising anger.
Gently she disengaged her hand and
pointed down the stretch of dusty road.
‘Please go,’ she entreated softly, ‘but
cum back to my weddin,’ Wednesday
week. It hez ter be, thet’s all, an’ I
want ye ther.”
Sorrowfully, with lowered eyes, he
Down in theold orchard a brook rat-
tled over the stones cheerily. Piles of
snowy linen were bleaching on the soft
grass, held down by tiny pebble stones.
They were Myrtle’s wedding linen and
and her mountain lover, Morgan Bar-
ber, clumeily helped arrange the sheets
when shade crept over them. The or-
chard was edged by a field in which
could be seen two dead crows, hanging
head downward, as a warning to their
pear tree, whose yellowing fruit formed
a banquet for the black wasps. Near
their feet a green and gold lizard came
out from an old stone, and, affrighted
by their presence, crawled away in the
“It don’t seem ez ef it’ll ever come
time,’ he complained, half below bis
breath, as he lay full length beside her.
He was speaking of their marriage,
and his dark eyes kindled with pride as
he regarded her.
She stopped and shreded a buttercup.
“Ivll come, true enough,” she said,
with an involuntary sigh.
Almost threatingly, he bent above
her. “Does it seem so soon to ye,
Blossum ?”” he implered, in such evi.
dent sorrow her woman's heart quick-
ly melted. She put her bands in his
strong brown fingers, emiling in his
charm of personality, a mastery that
dominated ; but which with abeence,
lost its sway. Hence Myrtle, who with
the impetuosity of her tropic pature,
had given her heart to Angus Kilburne,
now felt, in Moagan’s presence, despite
her change of sentiment, a vague con-
tent. Morgan plucked a blade of grass,
then took ber hand. “Wot’s thet fur 2’
she queried, absently.
For answer he twined it around her
finger, and, securing a measurement of
it, told her that on the morrow he was
gcing to Springfield for her wedding
ring. But Myrile insisted that one she
had seen in the little neighboring town
was quite good encugh. Besides, she
argued, it he carried out this plan it
would necessitate a good start, an all-
day ride, with only time for his return.
He must remember she playfully con-
tined, the event of Wednesday. She
did not propose to allows him the op-
portunity of a trip to Springfield in or-
der to avoid the issue. :
Her eyes were lit with merriment,
but beneath this ran another vein. She
was thinking of a journey he had un-
dertaken before their courtship. It
was then the gossips of the neighbor-
hood averred, that Morgan Barber
made his first step downward. Ru.
mor said he had joiued the moonshin-
ers; whether true or not, certain it was
that for a year his habitation was
The man surmised what memories
filled her. Drawing closer, he impet-
uously put his arm about her.
“Hark’ece, Myrtle,” he said, with
softened voice; ‘‘ye'r skeered ’bout my
gettin’ into trouble with the regilars.
But, see here, child, them things thet's
said 'bout me amn’t all true. Besides,
Mrytle,” his eyes growing brighter, “so
long ez I git you, I'll be fair an’ square.
Your uncle when he giv his consent
made me pledge that when we're mar-
ried I’d buy a farm there ’bouts an’ set-
tle down. Thet’s whut I'm goin’ to du
nex week, ef I can get it to my figgers,
so don’t you fret, but lemme git ye the
ring in Springfield. My Myrtle must
allers hev the best.”
She let his speech go by unheeded.
“Whut 'ad ye do,’ she said slowly,
bending on bim with curious eyes,
“what ’ud ye do ef I went back on ye?”
“What w’ud I do,” he reiterated giv-
ing his burly form a shake that was
half shudder. “I'd make them ez got
in my way think 1 wuz part blacksnake
part rattler. But why air ye talkin’
thet way, ye ain’t goin’ back on me?”
The girl's eye wandered slowly. A
week had dragged away since that in-
terview with Kilburne, during which
he bad made no sign. She had not
asked hiw to return, but woman-like,
was piqued at his ability to stay away.
She bad inherited her share of pride,
and the neglect, in reality only obedi-
ence. made her fingers tingle. She
reared her head, as an uncrowned em-
press, at the thought. So the Yankee,
who could love so quickly, loved light-
ly, alco. Very well, so could she, and
turning to Morgan, who awaited her
answer with dog-like patience : ;
“Ob, no; I'll rot go back on ye,”
was all she said.
Myrtle threw open her window
blinds and surveyed the dawn ripening
into morning, It was the day pre-
ceding her wedding, and every detail
was practica.ly complete. Slowly she
dressed, and lingeringly descended the
In thedistance, a man was coming
along the drv road, with eyes bent, his
clothes and shoes coated faintly with
the white dust.
in the week that had intervened since
his former visit his appearance had suf-
fered a change. Elasticity bad gone,
and in its place was age—that sorry
age, which makes a young face old, as
when a weighty grief attacks a child.
With all the sturdiness of his northern
character, he had tried to banish the
girl’s warm lovliness from his mind.
That he had failed, was proven by the
little van in town, closed and patheti-
cally lacking the customary notice on
the front, and was proven by the
directness of his footsteps, and in them
disregard of her command.
At length he raised his eyes, and,
looking first at the old house, aud then
beyond, he discerned in the orchard a
gleam of red, a scarlet ribbon in Myr-
tle’s hair. Myrtle was seated with her
back against a tree, her sunburnt
hands resting loosely in her lap. Kil-
burne hastened to her, then involun
tarily stopped. “I've come back,” he
began, and hesitated.
“So I see,” she answered, compos-
An awkward silence ensued, broken
at length by the man, who bethought
himself of the ruse he had in store, “I
caught you intwo attitudes that day,”
he volunteered, “and thought perhaps
you'd care to see the other position.
Do you ?”
“Don't care ef I do,” a trifle suepi-
Morgan Barber was strongly built,
handsome, in his way. Primitive, fear-
less and desperate, before Myrtle his
whole nature unaderwent transforma.
tion. Even the dark face softened won-
derfully, and his deep voice took a diif-
erent note in addressing her.
Presently she ceased her tack and
they seated themeelves under the old
He produced another bundle of pic-
tures, showing the girl, partly turned,
and about to leave the van. Half
smiling, half contused, they disclosed
a face singularly lovely at Myrtle
was appeaged instantly.
“Well, they're five,” she admitted,
The man carried with him a certain.
It was Kilburne, and"
ity, “Why didn’t you let me know
'atore, for Ud ruther hev give these
away than the others ?”
He smiled. “I thought of it that
day, but you sent me away so suddenly
[didn’t get a chance to tell you,”
“Oh, wall,” magnanimously, “we
won't waste no more words on that. I
certainly am sorry I didn’t eee em
sooner. Mercy Dean was here the
other day. ‘I hearn you got your pic-
tur took, Myrtle,’ sez she. ‘So I hev,’
I allows, ‘d’ye want one? ‘Why, of
course; and when I fetched her the
pitcher, she sorter sniffed, saying ez
how it wur very good, but that vou’d
tilted my nose, and give my eyes a
squint that warn't natural. She’d turn
green sure 'nough, if she seed these.”
“Myrtle,” he began again, awkward-
ly plucking at his coat sleeve, ‘you
told me you didn’t want me here until
your wedding, and I stuck it out till
now. But Icouldn’t any longer, dear ;
I couldn’t, honest.”
“I know she admitted, in a kindly
little voice, appeased at the downfall of
“So I had to come,” he went on
bravely. “You know you dou’t love
Barber, and maybe you don’t love
me, but I can make you do it, and
want you to let me have the chance.
Come away with me to-night, I
haven't much beside the van, but ['ve
got two arms, aching to work for you.
Won't you come ?”’
“I kan’t do et,” she faltered slowly.
“I give my promise.
“But listen,” Kilburne urged. “We
can be so happy, you and me, and we
can go far, far away.”
“No, no,” covering her face with her
hands. “Don’t arsk me. Et wud’n be
right, an’ I guess, arter all, we'll worry
’long some way. You'll forget me goon
'nough, I'll "low. Only, don’t ef ye
ken help it, fur I'll not forget ye.”
A moisture rarely seen there filled
Kilburne lost his head. “Sweet-
heart,” he entreated, dropping on his
knees, and bending over the half re-
clining char, “think a moment,
What's life to us without our love 2’
Myrtle felt his strong arms, the prox-
imity of his face, and for a moment
tasted the bliss of being loved. Then,
at the thought of her promise and of
to-morrow, her houor rose. Putting
her hands on his breast, she pushed
him back, and in doing so saw Morgan
Barber part the bushes and leap across
the brook toward them. At the thought
ot what awaited Kilburne, her strength
deserted her, and for the first time in
her life she lost consciousness.
Tenderly Kilburne bent above her,
but a moment later was violently hurl
ed away, and struggling to his feet,
turned to meet the livid features of Bar-
ber, who bad lashed himself into such
a frenzy that he shivered, and at inter-
vals moistened his lips, as though the
dryness choked him. A full minute
they glared at each other, without
speaking. Thenslowly, with quivering
hand, in which glittered a revolver,
Barber pointed to a tree. ‘Git over
that,” he said, “Git over that, an’ be
damned quick about it.”
Kilburne smiled contemptuously,
and did as he was bid, drawing himself
at full height, with his fair head
against the tree's trunk. “Horse
thieves never give a quarter, sup-
pose ?”’ was all he said.
Barber laughed hoarsely. “Wall I
guess not,” he replied, “Ye've got ter
be a corpse fer her to see when she
Kilburne turned his eyes on the girl
lying so quietly unconscious, How
gweet she was, be thought her face as
peaceful as though in sleep, the scarlet
ribbon peeping out, and the hair about
her temples scarcely stirred. Through-
out him, he was conscious of a deep
love for her, that robbed the situation
of its garishness.
A shot rang out, and Angus Kil
burne took a step forward and fell, his
face turned upward toward the skv,
Barber without a glance, tossed aside
his weapon, ran tothe brook. Filling
his hat with water, he brought it back
and bathed Myrtle's face. His efforts
were successful, for her eyes unclosed.
After a moment she seemed to under-
stand, and then counvulsively, she
caught his arm. “Wot 'd ye du to
him ?"! she demanded.
“I filled him full 0’ lead. He didn’t
harm ye, did he, blossom ?”
She was on her feet. Roughly
brushing him aside, she ran to
the other. Quickly she tore aside his
coat, and felt forthe heart, which had
ceased to beat. A spasm of despair
swept through her, in which she was
conscious of Barber bending over her
and drawing her away.
“He didn’t harm ye, did he, Blos-
som ?"’ he repeated. Like a tigress she
turned on him.
“Harm me !"’ she exclaimed, driving
her nails into her palm, “Curse ye,
Morgan Barber, he loved me, an’ me
only! D’ye hear? An’I loved him
an’ him only |” Exhausted by her ef-
fort, she turned again to the corpse,
bending over it caressingly and mur-
muring endearments to the heedless
Barber leaned against a tree, his
massive form torn by sobs. At that
moment every good emotion, every
worthy thoughtdied. It was as though
Myrtle had never lived.
He heard her move in search of
something. There wasa click, fami-
liar to his ears, but he did not turn, A
shot, and he wheeled about with a half
She had fallen on the dead man’s
outstretched arm, and, as Morgan
looked, her body gave a last throe.
Her eyes were open and her lips held
the faint, majestic smile that death
gives. Barber turned again and fled
up the mountain path.
At the farmhouse old Hector still lay
in his accustomed position, though
obviously his rest was troubled.
Myrtle's aunt, appearing, bent and
stroked him, ‘Never mind them shots
old 'boy,’”” she said. “It's some one
huntin’ on the mount’ens, But why
don’t that girl come in? 'Pears she
“an’ do me proud fer a fact,” Then, | don't recklect tomorroer's her weddin’
reproach fully, and with woman's van- day.”
How mar y an acorn falls to die
For one that mak: s a tree!
How many a hea t must pas: me by
For one that cleaves to me!
How many a suppliant wave of sound
Must still unheeded roll,
For one low utterance that found
An echo in my soul!
John B. Tabb, in the New Peterson for Feb- |
The World of Women.
All the Empire dresses which are
belted have the skirt gathered full.
A pretty style of dressing for the
home is the silk blouse waist, now fash-
ionably worn over skirts that are more
or less passe.
Some of the newest and most fashion-
! able bonnets are scarcely larger than a
| saucer. They are worn without strings
Laws Governing the Relation of News- | being fastened to the hair by plain or
papers to Subscribers.
1. Subscribers who do not give ex- |
press notice to the countrary are consid-
ered as wishing to renew their sub-
2. If subscribers order the discon-
tinuance of their periodicals, the pub- |
lisher may continue to send them until |
all arrearages are paid
3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to |
take their periodicals from the post office |
to which they are directed they are res-
ponsible untilthey have settled their
bill and ordered them discontinued.
4. If subscribers move to other places
without informing the publisher, and
the papers are sent to the former address,
they are heid responsible.
5. The Courts have decided that re-
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them uncalled for, is prima facie evi-
dence of intentional fraad.
6. If subscribers pay in advance
they are bound to give notice at the
end of the time if they do not wish to
continue taking it ; otherwise the pub-
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subscriber will be. responsible util an
express notice, with payment of all
arrearages, is sent to the publisher.
The Shiveirng Tramp at Last Finds a Sympa-
“Could yon give me something to
eat, ma'am ?” asked a tramp at a house
on Lafayette avenue.
“No,” answered the woman at the
door cartly, “we've nothing for tramps.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” and he turned
meekly away, drawing the skirtof a
wretched coat about him to keep out
the cold, blinding storm.
“I might give you some old clothes
if you wait until I can pick them out,”
said the woman, moved by the appear-
ance of the forlorn figure.
He waited outside with the thermom-
eter near zero, waited a long time, and
whistled ‘Annie Laurie” for company.
Then the woman of the house re-
turned, opened the door a crack, and
handed him out a linen duster and a
“Thank you, ma'am,’ said tue tramp
gratefully ; “there is just one thing
“We haven't any drinking water;
the pipes are frozen,” she interrupted.
“No, ma'am ; but if I might make so
bold as to ask for an old fan. It would
go 80 beautifully with this suit of
But she said that she drew the line
at fans, and shut the door in his face.
Victoria's Last Resting Place.
When the Queen dies her mortal re-
mains will rest in the gray granite sarco-
phagus with the late lamented Prince
Albert’s ashes. Underneath the arms
of the arms of the Queen and Prince
Albert, on the monument, is inscribed
“Farewell, well-beloved. Here at last
I will rest with thee. With thee in
Christ I will rise again.” The white
marble recumbent statue of the Prince
Consort isin the uniform ofa Field
Marshal, wearing the mantle of the
Order of the Garter—this is on the
right ; the left side of thelid and the
unoccupied space is where the Queen’s
body will be laid. Bronze angles with
outstretched wings and flowing robes
are at each corner of the tomb.
Frick to Be Tried This Week.
A Long List of Homestead Cases on the Docket in
P11TsBURG, January 21.—Next week’s
trial list for Criminal Court is replete
with Homestead cases. All classes of
indictment growing out of the great
strike will be tried.
Jack Clifford is on the list, charged
with murder, and he is followed by
Henry C. Frick and others, also charged
with murder. The remaing poison cases
will also be disposed of.
From the Detroit Free Press,
Three things to admire—Intellectual
power, dignity and gracefulness.
Three things to love—Courage, gen-
tleness and affection.
Three things to bate—cruelty, arro-
gance and ingratitude.
Three to delight in—Frankness,
freedom and beauty.
Three things to wish for—Health,
friends and cheerful spirit.
Three things to avoii—Idleness, lo-
quacity and flippant jestiong.
Three things to fight for—Honor,
country and home.
Three things to govern—Temper,
tongue and conduct.
Three things to think about— Lite,
death aad eternity. ;
A New Deal.
Mrs, Withers. **I am so glad, mother;
I know John’s going to do better. He
must surely have been at the Reverend
Sadsmile’s revival meeting last night.”
Mother. ‘What's put that into your
Mrs. Withers. ‘Why, after he came
to bed he kept talking in his sleep
about ‘that last trump” and his “mis-
erable, worthless heart” so anxiously
that I farily cried for the poor fellow.
I'm so glad, mother.”
"Teacher—That is really nice in you
Charlie. You have ‘not been fighting
with the other scholars to-day, How is
it that you have got to be so good all
at once ?
Charlie —It is because I’ve got a stiff
——The first man to can tomatoes
was the late Harrison W. Cooper, and
| jeweled pins.
Slippers, laced with ribbon. to imitate
| a sandal effect, are worn with ~ Empire
‘gowns. The gold toes and heels are al-
| 80 much worn, especially so on white or
| black satin slippers.
The new gold buckles, to be worn
over the broad black velvet belts, are
novel in design. They represent gold
ribbon, about half an inch wide, twisted
in and out to form a long oval shape.
The first thing we notice is the favor-
ite purple veil. | Every other fashion-
able woman has a veil over her black
hat, and as far down the thoroughfare
as one can see there are folds after folds
of the purple veiling.
Short waisted bodices are dicidedly on
the increase, and may be inciuded in
the list of blouse bodices, as they differ
both in cut and style from those of past
days being rarely made of the same ma-
terial and color as the skirt.
Mrs. Hettie Green, so often quoted as
“the richest woman in America,” has
celebrated the new year by securing
control of the whole Texas Central Rail-
road system. By and by she will be
known as ‘the female Jay Gould.”
A favorite glove for evening wear is
the pearl gray, though all the varieties
of what are known as “mode” shades
are worn, including deep shades of
fawn and light deer tints. Tan colors
gtill remain popular, though the gray
and “mode” tints are newer.
For theatre wear and for calling, a
pearl white glove of suede kid, fastened
by tour buttons, is considered the most
‘chic’ glove of the hour. Where this
is not chosen, a four buttoned suede
glove, in tan, gray, or any of the fash-
ionable tints, may be appropriately
The fashionable coiffare, when it is
not French, is distinctly early English
in type. The front of the hair is parted
and fluffed out on either side to look
very broad, the fringe, which is reduced
to a few light curls on the forehead, be-
ing parted as well, and the whole mass
waved and twisted loosely in a coil at
back of the neck.
Miss Sophonisba Breckinridge, daugh-
ter of the Kentucky Congressman, has
recently been admitted to the bar,
During ber two years’ absence in Eu-
rope she devoted herselfto the study of
law 1n preparation for this step. Miss
Susan B. Anthony is credited with hav-
ing first excited the ambitions of Miss
Breckinridge to undertake a profession-
Simplicity should be the keynote of
the gowns fashioned for the maiden
who bas not yet known the feeling of
importance which comes to the debu-
tante. She may be a young woman of
sweet 16 who has elaborate as well as
decided ideas on the subject of dress,
but unfortunately her youth makes it
necessary to crush these ideas. To be
correctly dressed for the evening she
must appear in the most simple of
gowns. Wken the young girl suddenly
becomes “grown up’ then in the de-
signing of her gowns simplicity is forced
a trifle into the background.
One of the natty winter coats worn by
stylish young women is fitted exactly
like a very long close princesse bodice
in the back, the skirt portion divided
into long, slender tabs, silk lined and
edged with a tiny roll ot fur. These
are made ot old rose, dark blue, garnet,
moss green or mahogany-brown cloth.
The fronts open over breasts of fur or
of cloth of a contrasting color elaborate-
ly braided. Other coats of Russian
style are very long and bave ample
colonial waistcoats of rich Persian bro-
cade, and fhe coat trimmings are of fur
ani Persian passementerie.
A preterence for dark rich colors is
this season noticeable, even in evening
dress, although soft, delicate tints are
not wholly abandoned. A beautiful
contrast is thus the result. Rose color,
green in corded silk that is almost black,
and often made up with ruches, revers
and full sleeves of richly plaided velvet;
deep violet, magenta, nasturtium brown
and Russian blue are the favoriteshades.
Some of these dyes appear among styl-
ish gowns for dinner and visiting wear.
Smooth faced cloths are used, but reps,
velvous, diagonals and boucle woolens
are considered a degrea more stylish.
There is no prettier street dress for a
half grown girl than a long red beaver
cloth coat made with two deep capes
edges with black astrakban fur. The
revers of the double breasted garments
are also covered with fur, and a fur col-
lar and muff to match complete the cos-
tume. The hatto go with this becom-
ing cloak is a red felt, trimmed with a
large, flat bow of black ribbon, and the
hair is brushed simply back and tied al-
so with black ribbon. Quiet simplicity
marks the dress of a well bred young
girl, and fashion has wisely decided that
she should not imitate her elders in
elaborate effects of frills and frizzles.
A long coat was a half loose affair in
brown cloth, with shoulder collar, revers
cuffs and battons of brown velvet, The
full Russian oversleeves, front and sim-
ulated jacket bad a narrow galloon
trimming. The jacket collar and cuffs
were edged with astrakban fur. I
knew the girl by sight, and as she bad
just returned from Europe her coat was
undoubtedly the latest thing.
The other, worn by ber friend, who
is a very stylish young married woman,
was of dark gray rough wool goods,
with full puff on upper sleeve. A vel-
vet plaited collar passed in revers to the
closing on the leftside. The trimming
was of narrow black fur. I do hope
long coats will come in again. Of
course they are a little trying on the
back, yet they serve so admirably to
cover a shabby gown that after ali they
are a real economy. If hops arrive, as
they are predicted, there will be no
chance for these graceful garments, and
every one of us will make guys of our-
they were sold at fifty cents per can.
This was in 1848.
selves just to keep up with the fashion.