—————————————— er
iad
SS RR
Demag Wada,
Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 3, 1893
SWEETHEART, COME BACK.
Sweetheart, come back! The day is sad
lonely,
Since youare gone, and I am left alone ;
The breeze that sighed of love now murmurs
onl,
A dhe of Sorvow in a minor tone :
Sweetheart, come back !
Sweetheart, come back! My heart for you is
in .
1 Von Ty with ghosts of long ago !
My hopes.’ my dreams, like autumn leaves,
are dying, . _
And on the world, and on my heart is snow—
Sweetheart, come back !
Sweetheart, come back ! Obey a lover's wishes
Come back to him who loves you, ah! too
well ; . .
Besides, I hate to see you washing dishes
And scrubbing floors in that third rate
hotel—
Sweetheart, come back ! :
— Washington News
S——————————
SCOTTY'S DAY OFF.
BY ROBERT C. V. MEYERS.
The flat had witnessed a fuss of con-
siderable acuteness; the old man had
landed the dishes in the street, and then
offered to go and hunt up a policeman
and have himself arrested if his wife
should feel like ‘entering a complaint.
She did as she had done on similar oc-
casiongs—she turned to her sewing-ma-
chine and pileof overcoats, ard frowned
over to Scotty not to say a word.
It was hard on Scotty. If it had
been his own father it would have been
bad enough, but a step father! But he
knew it would be all the worse for his
mother if he interfered, eo be held his
tongue, as usual, and hoped the old
man would leave before he did. But
the old man was not in a hurry this
morning, although he was shaking for
want of the bitters for the purchase of
which his wite bad told bim she had
not the money. The old man was sure
there was money in the place, and he
meant to have it. Scotty was afraid
the sewing-machine would follow the
dishes, so he lingered over the packing
of his lunch. All to no purpose, for
the old man sullenly planted himself
on a chair and silently eyed them.
Scotty dared not stay a minute lon-
ger; he was late already, and he had
‘been late every day for the week the
old man had been on his cantico, and
the foreman had complained of it. If
he lost his situation, what then ? The
old man had not worked since he went
on the strike a year ago; the overcoats
were not eternal, and the spring coats
would not be ready for a month yet.
With him out of a situation, how
would they get on? He could only
hope the sewing-machine might be
spared, and his mother remain unmo-
lested. He did not even dare to whis-
per to his mother not to be frightened,
for the 61d man was so suspicious, and
had regarded him with greater disfavor
than ever this last week because he
had been quiet and staid at home of
nights instead of going with the boys—
not even to annoy the Gradys on the
first floor the night Annie was married.
And why bad he not gone out ot
nights this past week? Scotty’s cheek
burned as he thought of that keeping
in doors and guarding a feeling he
could not understand and which he
dared not divulge. He knew his moth-
er locked on him strangely, too, and
very likely thought he'd got religion,
‘because the Heavenly Recruits had
roused up of late, and balf the people
in the bouse were whistling the hymns,
especially that one that sounded like a
‘break.down. Even the Catholic Gra-
-dys whistled and hammed that tune.
But it was not religion Scotty had.
He was in love, and he did not know it.
He bad been in love six months, and
not till a week ago had he been unhap-
py because of it. He was older than
his years, and younger by reason of his
-ecvironment, and yet he did not know
what love meant. The object of his
adoration was Miss Alice, his boss's
daughter who came down to the shap
Sometimes to walk home with her fa
ther. Tt began when he saved her lit-
tle dog from being run over. Scotty
loved her from that day ; her smile her
gentle voice, her delicacy. these were
all 50 new to him. After thet day she
would nod and smile to him if she saw
him as she went into the office. He
used to watch for her and getin her
way for the sake of that nod and smile,
and would dream abous her,
All this until a week ago.
A week ago, the day of the Grady
wedding, wheo he had anticipated so
much pleasure with the guests’ hats
and things, the foreman told the shop
that Miss Alice would be married the
following Thursday—that was to-day.
Scotty was at his bench when the fore-
man spoke. All at once something
seemed to pain him in the chest, like a
lump that had got there suddenly. All
day he made mistakes; couldn't get
things right. In the evening the boys
whistled their mystic whistle for him,
but he staid away from them. They
were no longer companionable; even
the peanut gallery palled upon him;
and he held himself to be a critic in
matters theatrical, and bad his favor-
ites among the actors, and fought for
them.
Yet for a week he had felt like keep
ing away from all that he knew and
staying up in the flat ~ith his mother,
in the ceaseless whir of the sewing-ma-
chine. He could hear the drums and
the voices of the Heavenly Recruits as
they went into barracks round the cor-
ner, and his mother, without stopping
her work, would look over to him and
emile her wan smile, and eay she was
80 glad for him, and that religion was
a good thing, and she'd often felt like
it herself, only she’d never had the
time, and she hoped he'd bea good
man, as his father had been. A tear
would tremble in her faded eye, where
great memories glimpsed out.
And Scotty did not contradict her.
He knew that if he attempted io say a
word he should break down, and then
bis mother might get to thinking all
had been he, as Grady maintained, who
had called *Fire I'" that night when all
the people were asleep, and the Dago !
had broken his leg in foolishly ventur-
ing down the fire-eseape.
The old man thought all sorts of
things about him instead, finding him
in the house .of evenings. The old
man abused him so that he might aseer-
tain if his surmises were correct, and
failing ‘to receive the irritating replies
for which he longed, imagined more
miserable things still, not the least
among which was that Scotty had
helped himself to the firm's money.
The old man was always accusing peo-
ple of taking money that did not be-
long to them.
Thus he was insistent for funds this
morning, giving as the alternative the
pitching of the room into the street,
beginning with the dishes.
After the dishes he waited awhile.
He had serious opinions regarding the
fitness of his wife’s following the china,
only he argued that if this came about,
and Scotty still refused to take the hint
and imburse him, the flat would have
to be given up, as there would be no
one to work the sewing-machine. The
stove might go and the bedstead, and
the plush photograph-album he had
once bought in a moment of weakress,
before he had gone on the strike ; but
he would wait even for this, and give
his wife time to give Scotty the wink.
For the old man was persuaded that
that the mother and son were in collu-
sion, and that some day he should
come home and find the flat vacant,
and the two of them gone off to live in
selfleh luxury somewhere, deserting
him for a life of mad frivolity and fash-
ion.
But the wink did not pass between
them, Instead, Scotty, not daring. to
stay any longer, and trusting that the
old man was too rockey to tackle the
machine, put his newspapered lunch
away up under his armpit, and with-
out a word, and followed by the fierce
whir of the machine, went out into the
entry.
The Grady children and Filipo, the
littlest Dago, who was cross-eyed and
confusing, bad some of the broken
china from the streetand had come on
the stairs with it, waiting for the de-
nouzment of the fracas. Jimmy Gra-
dy jeered, and Filipo winked in a puz-
zling way, but Scotty took no notice
and hurried on, not even staying to see
the outcome of a scrap between Mrs,
Grady and Dutchy, the shoemaker, re-
garding a pair of Grady’s boots, which
had such apparent invisible patches on
them that Grady declared every other
walking delegate would consider him
hard up. :
In the street Scotty took a long
breath. He wondered if his mother
would remain unmolested. He wished
he had the money to give the old man.
But be had not a cent of his own; he
was even saving his pie-money to give
his mother at the end of the week. For
he had done a most extravagant thing ;
he had told the foreman to put down
his name for the full week's wages to
wards Miss Alice’s wedding present
which the men were getting up.
What eyes the men had made when
be said that! and Shorty” Ginther, so
called becanse of his extraordinary
length of limb, and who knew more
about theatres than any other man,
said : “Why cert. What's the dif to
him? But this 18 sarc. Where did
you get the mun ?”’ and asked him if it
were ‘‘property’’ money.
No, he had not a cent except his pie-
money, and that belonged to his moth-
er, who need never know his lunch for
a week had been bread alone, without
the accompaniment of that pastry that
he liked above anything else. What
would his mother say when she knew
of the disposition of his week's wages-—
bis mother whose only hope was he!
But he did not care; somehow or
other, he could not care for anything
just now. For Miss Alice was so sweet,
go gentle, und had always spoken so
kindly to him, and she was going to be
married. Could he have given less
tnan his week’s wages towards her
wedding present? Wasn't it pleasant
to think he should suffer for her sake ?
She would never know, bute should.
To-day was the wedding-day. He
would be in the shop working, sinudgy,
at the beck and call of the men, while
in a church, to the sound ot beautiful
music, amid fragrant flowers, dressed
all in white, she would be married.
Then, he had heard, she was going to
another city to live ; he should never
see her any more.
He wouid cee her once more. He
did not care what might come of it, but
he would go to that church at noon to-
day, and stand outside the awning that
would stretch from curb to church por-
tal, and see her go in on her father's
arm and come out on her husband's,
He would, he must, see her once again.
His head was not quite clear. He
bad not slept much this week, and he
seemed to hear the whir of the sewing.
machine as he burried along. Would
the old man fire the machine? No
machine, and he with no wages this
week, how would they live?
“Shorty” Ginther called out to him,
in his tragic manner, as he entered the
shop : “Me prophetic soul, me uncle!
"Tis late you are, me lord. Who steals
me purse steals trash. You'll bedocked.
If you want to be bounced, say so.”
Scotty put on his dingy apron and
went to work. There was a elock in
the room, and he watched the hands,
Miss Alice would be married at nooo,
and it was now nine. At half past
eleven he would make for the church
and see her, The groom? He knew
nothing of him. He did not know his
name, He knew he should never for-
get the name if he once heard it, and
he was always afraid some of the men
would mention it.
Yer, at eleven thirty he would go and
look upon Miss Alice for the last time.
Maybe she would see him there, and
remember that time about the dog, and
smile at him. He wondered if she
would take her little dog with her to
her new home. He wished it would
get lost, and he should find it and keep
it as something she had cared for.
sorts of things about him, even that it ' Then he was angry with himself for
having such a thought. Whatever she
cared for, that she ought to have.
He worked and attended to the be-
hests. of the men: The wachinery
whizzed, tools scraped and pounded,
the men whistled popular melodies and
told jokes, and “Shorty” Ginther
showed them how Booth looked in the
‘third act of Hamlet.
Then the foreman went ont, staid a
little while, and came back, gingerly
carrying a remarkable creation of col-
ored glass and silver, which represen.
ted the gift of the men to the bride—a
gift which would cause a shudder in
the bride and groom, and be religious.
ly kept from their friends.
Scotty ‘with burning eyes approached
it. He considered it the most beauti-
ful work of art that could possibly be
concocted.
“I thought you'd all like to see it,”
said the foreman—he had headed the
committee that had purchased it after
the man who had it for gale told them
there was not another one like it in the
city—*“before we sent it up to the house.’
Scotty looked longingly at it. It
would belong to Miss Alice, and it had
his week's wages in it; thus she would
possess something of his. He put out
a finger and touched it.
“That's right!” said the foreman ;
“take all the polish off it! Rub your
hands all over it while you're about 1t!
Now who'll take it to the house?”
“I will,” cried Scotty, his heart
bounding—maybe he might see Miss
Alice, and she would say how beauti-
ful it was, and he could tell her he
hoped she’d be happy, and ask after
the health of ber little dog—*I will,”
The foreman asked him what was
eating him, and gave the shining mass
into the care of two men, and told them
he wouldn’t take any time oft it they
staid till after dinner hour. Ouse of
the men borrowed adime from ‘Shorty,’
who forthwith vented his nautical
knowledge regarding the value of a
pair of schooners. Scotty went back
to his bench. ' It was ten o’clock. Two
tours more and he should see the bride.
He had forgotten his mother, home,
everything; his head was on fire; he
must see Miss Alice once more. He
could not work ; he trembled like the
old man. The whistling men annoyed
him; the grinding of the machinery
set his teeth on edge. “Shorty” Gin-
ther threw a file at him to find out if
he were asleep. At half past ten the
foreman called him to take into the of.
fice some work that was to go there,
In the office the clerks were dressed
in their best; one of them had a flow-
er in his coat. The office had been
asked to the church wedding, and was
going, all except ald Baker, who was
said to keep himself with a chaffing-
dish, and so was much ot an old bache-
lor that he would’t have gone to his
own wedding.
And in the office was the boss. The
boss was in a great way. The signing
of an important contract had called
him down to the office.
Scotty delivered the work, when the
boss looked up.
“Oh,” he said, “you're the boy who
hus sometimes been'to the bank 2”
Yes, Scotty was theboy. Ever since
he had saved Miss Alice’s dog that
time, and especialy as Miss Alice said
he had an honest face, the boss had no-
ticed him, and had him do some er-
rands for him.
The boss handed him a check, and
told him to make haste, and smilingly
explaived to old Baker something
about somebody wishing to draw out
all ber account, which had been kept
in her maiden name. Old Baker sniffed
and turoed to his ledger, and said they
hadn’t been married seven years.
As for Scotty, he knew he should
have to hurry if he expected to get to
the church in time. He got on his
hat and coat and ran for the bank. Of
course everything got in hie way ; such
ordinarily inanimate things as fire plugs
started up suddealy just in frost of
him with the most malignant perversi-
ty.
Bat he reached the bank at last.
As he went in he happened to look up;
there was the old man going along. In
a flash all the old home life came up
before him, and he thought how @on-
temptible he must be to be thinking of
weddings when maybe the machine was
lying out in the street, and his mother
sitting up in the dismantled room ery-
ing in her feeble way—his mother, who
was waiting till he was a man and
could take her fromthe old man. He
would not go the wedding; he would
not lose that mueh time; he would
work, and try to make all he could for
his mother; only he could nef regret
having used his week’s wages for Miss
Alice’s present. Yet, his mother!
In the bank two or three were before
him at the teller’s window. He got in-
to line. He opened his check, and
then all the would spun round. The
check was signed by Miss Alice draws
out in her own name, the last act of
her maidenhood ; evidently her father
would give her the money on reaching
home.
his eyes. Reverently he raises the pa-
per to his lips, his head bent over it.
The man in front of him moved for-
ward, vacated his place at the window,
and it was Scotty's turn. He presen.
ted the check was recognized, and the
money handed to him—Miss Alice's
money, to be carried by her! He held
it close in his fist; he would hold it
thus, making it warm with his life, till
he gave it up to her father; it should
carry that much of himself to her.
A clock somewhere struek eleven.
Eleven o'clock! He hurried out.
There was the old man. He caught
Scotty by the arm.
“I want that money you got in
there,” he said. “No gettin’ off this
time. I want it—do vou heari—and
I mean to haveit. Fork it over, you—"
He made a lunge. With a deft
movement Scotty dodged him. Then
the old man called his mother a name,
and said that he had beaten her. All
that he had taken from the old man !
for sake of his mother, all that his mo-
ther had stood, all the agony that was
in his soul at that moment, came up 10, 1860.
to Scotty, and he leaped and planted a
blow itr the old man’s.
It was madness then.
down in the mud of the street, the old
man on top of him, poundin
searching for the money, beating the
boy who was powerless before such
frenzy. He was being choked, his
head nearly squeezed off his shoulders.
He almost heard his bones crack. He
might-be killed, but Miss Alice’s mon-
_ey should never be
alive. He had pains all over him : he
was ‘suffocating. But
should never leave him while he had
life, Was that his mother’s sewing
machine he heard, or was it the mach-
inery in the shop!
middle of the cartway, writhing to his
feet only to go down again, the old
‘people yelling, horses tramping near
to pieces, Then there was a lull, and
Her name, written by hereelf! |
He looked at it till a mist swam before | her any more.
the shop when next he went there, he
greeted him with, “Well, Scatty, I
guess that was your day off, wasn’t it?”
And Scotty nodded, and said yes, he |longer.
face.
Scotty was
taken from him
that money
Was he in the
man scratching away after the money,
bim.
There was one more awful shake
than all, and be felt that he was going
he gasped. There was a pressing
round him, and he pushed the dirt from
his eyes. ' A policeman held the froth-
ing old man. i
“Lam his father,” said the old man,
“and he siruck me. He's a thief; he
oldest of all’ proper names.
rived’ from r
which the body of the first man, Adam
was taken.
signifies “Matthew’s son.”
quest introduced Matthew 8s a proper
name into England.
James.
“Jacques,” was brought into England
by soldiers of the camp of the Black
Prince and of Henry V. and its transi-
tion to our “Jack” was easy.
Names of the Presidents
; |
Washington was originally from Wes- |
syngton, an English manor ofthat name |
! existing about the middle of the Thir-
him, | teenth century, whose owner took, ac-
cording to custom, the title of his estate
as surname. $
Adams is of Hebrew origin and the
It is de-
adama, real earth, from
Jetterson is simply a corruption of
Geaoffrew, or Godirey, a favoritename of
the Middle Ages,
peace.”
“God's
meaning
Madison is also of Hebrew origin and
The Con-
Monroe is an Irish name taken from
Mo unt Roe, a mountain in Ireland on
the River Roe.
Juckson is literally the son of John or
The French form of James,
Van Buren is’ Dutch and signifies of
or belonging to the town of Buren, in
Holand.
Harrison is partly of Norman origin
got his boss's check cashed, and ' he | #nd is the “son of Henry or Harry.”
was running off with the money when
I collared him.”
Scotty was dragged and pushed, his
muddy, torn condition laughed at. He
was before a magistrate, the old man
appearing against him. ‘Scotty listen-
ed, dazed, to the charge of theft pre-
ferred against him. Dared he tell the
ruth ? Even if he were believed,
would 1t not go all the harder with his
mother—wouldn’t the old man take it
out of her? He said not a word, The
clock in the room struck twelve—noon.
He gavea convulsive start,
a
Miss | a
is from u Saxon word meaning ‘ever
rich.”
Tyler has a very plain significance,
meaning simply “a layer of tiles.”
Polk is ‘an abbreviation of Pollock,
from the parish of Pollock, in Scotland.
The word is from the Gaelic, ‘pollag,”
little pond.
Taylor, like Tyler, is taken from the
name of a trade.
Fillmore is of Saxon origin ; ‘‘fille,”
fullness and ‘‘mere,” a moist piece of
ground, literally a fertile piece of ground.
It is also ascribed to the - Celtic “filea,”
bard, and ‘‘mor,” great, a great bard
Alice was being married; he had miss- | or poet.
ed the wedding, and her father had
not taken her the money.
She would think he was a thief! No,
no; he would tell how the old man
had tried to get the money ; he would
tell it now; he must clear himself now.
Then he saw his mother’s face, pale,
wan, full of suffering. Should the old
man wreak his vengeance on her ?
No, Miss Alice, all the world should
consider him a thief rather than that.
He looked wildly about him; the
pains all over him seemed to concen-
trate into one that was in his head.
“Miss Alice! Miss Alice!” he sud-
denly cried out, in a voice strong with
griet. and fell over in a heap.
The next thing he knew he was in
ierce is one of the forms of Percy,
the great English family ot Northum-
berland, which took its name from Per-
cy Forest, called probably from the
German *pirsen,’’ to hunt.
Buchanan was a parish in Sterlirg,
Scotland, whose name’s derivation is un-
certain, but probably from the same
root as Buchan, the Gaelic words being
“bora” and ‘‘dier,” a place full of deer.
Lincoln is from the Gaelic, “lin,” a
lake, and “coin,” the ridge cf a hill.
Lincoln, in England, is so named be-
cause it is on the top and side of a steep
hill on the River Witham.
Johnson is merely “the son of John’
and comes from the Hebrew.
Grant has three origins ascribed to it.
The Baxon, ‘‘gruns,”’ crooked —the Sax-
a little room back of the magistrate’s | on name of Cambrid e is Grantbridge ;
g g ge;
office. His face was washed, and a
doctor was beside him,
“His father has most unmercifully
beaten him,” said the doctor,
the worst of these rude uncultured peo-
ple; when they are honest they treat
dishonesty brutally. Open your hand,
my man.”
Scotty looked at him,
“Open your hand.” repeated the
doctor; “it is bleeding.”
Scotty held up the indicated hand.
It was tight shut.
“Open it,” said the doctor. :
Just then Scotty heard the voice of
the boss. Tune boss had parted with
win,” ready, prepared.
ed to the German ‘‘gar’’ and field, mean-
ing a place where all is prepared for an
army.
the old Irish, dark or swarthy, and the
Freach, “grand,” great or large.
Hayes is of Anglo-Norman origin and
“That’s | comes from ‘‘hay,” a hedge orinclosure.
The word “hayes,” is used by Chaucer.
Garfield is from a Saxon word, ‘gar-
Itis also ascrib-
Arthur is British and means a strong
man, from ‘‘ar,” a man, and Thor, the
| German Jupiter.
Cleveland comes from Yorkshire,
England, and it is a corruption of Cliff-'
and.
cliff, and “land,” a people,.— Baltimore.
The Anglo-Saxon is ‘‘cleve,” a
£ )
his daughter but a little while ago, | dmerican.
and in consequence was in a gentle!
mood, kindly disposed towards all’
whom she had ever liked—and she’
had liked Scotty.
“I am sorry to say,” he was saying, |
“my foreman tells me the boy has been |
coming late to work for some time, and
has been neglectful. Besides, he gave
his whole week's wages
wedding-gift the men got up for my
daughter, and I fear he could hardly
have afforded that honestly. Appear-
ances are against him. And yet I
trasted thefittle chap. He was brave.
At the peril of his life he rescued my
daughters little dog that had run un-
der the feet of some horses; and I nev-
er heard that he was untruthful, Brave
and truthtal people are not usually
dishonest, are they? He hae drawn
money tor we before, and I mever miss:
ed a cent. It would be difficult to
wake my daughter, whose money this
was, believe that he isa thiet—"
“Miss Alice! Miss Alice!” again
rangwout Scotty's voice. The boss went
up to where helay. “I didn’t collar—
the money,” he said, with an effort.
rT —
She Was From Chicago.
4 How a Western Young Woman Astonished the
Passengers in One Car.
There are some things that astound
and startle a New Yorker. One of these
is the exhibition on the part of anybody
towards 21 of any degree of affection for Chicago.
A day or two ago I met a handsome
young married lady on the Sixth ave-
nue elevated.
the west, where I had known her sev-
eral years ago, and we naturally discuss-
ed her recent change of base. S|
in one of the cross seats in the middle of
the car, and I stood with others in the
aisle.
She had always lived in
She sat
I like Chicago much better than
New York,” she begun.
The two men reading stock reports in
the seat facing her glanced at her sharp-
ly over their glasses. The old man next
to her hitched up hiseont nervously and
louked sorey for her.
‘It may be that New York will im-
prove on acquaintance,” she went on
mischievously, seeing the sensation she
made. I’ve only been here two months,
“I—dido’t want—to paint the town— | 41d if it wasn’t for my husband’s busi-
red with it. That's straight. 1 eaid
—I'd hold it till I give—it to yon—and
I done it—diss Alice’s money.”
His hand unclosed, and there was a
little wedge of banknotes stained with
his blood where the aails of his fingers
had pierced his palm. His hand had
never anclosed from the time he hed
been handed the money at bauvk sll
now. “Miss Alice,” he managed to
ness I'd go right back to Chicago. It’s
awfully slow here!”
IL considerately intimated that she'd
find things fast enough in New York
when she got acquainted —that the com-
plaint was oot a general one- that, in
short, New York was a real nice sort ot
a town shen you got wsed to it.
“But I like western people best,” she
said. The old man next to her looked
say, “tell her { wasn’t no thief’s, belp | out of the window and groaned audibly,
me! Motherknows [ ain’c. Heavea-
ly Recraits—machine in the street.
I'll go to church an’ see her onect more
before she goes away forever—"
And then it was dark. When the
light eame again many things were
brighter for Scotty. But Miss Alice
while the other people .apparently re-
garded her in <b light of a i
“Western people,” she continued, “are
not so formal and mear what they say
and don’t say swueb,” I thought the
old man bad been takes with cramps—
he looked so miserable.
“Chicago i= the city fer shopping. I
was married, and he should never see can’t find anything here, and 1 go miles
| and miles ! They havesuch lovely stores
When “Shorty” Ginther saw bim at | in Chicago! This is suck a dirty place,”
said she, shaking out her sealskin sack.
“And”?
The old maa eouldn’t stand it any
He got right wp, and after
guessed it was.
Hung Herselt te the Rafters.
CARLISLE, Pa., Jan. 28.— drs Sam-
uel Miller, of Mechaniesburg, commit-
ted suicide yesterday evening by hang-
ing herself to the rafters of her dwelling
while her husband was at church.
A Shrewd Suggestion,
From the Chicago Times.
New York is going to move its old
City Hall up town. Why not carry it
to Sing Sing, where so many of its for-
mer tenants so journed.
——John G+ Carlisle will be the
first man from south of Mason and
Dixon's line to occupy the Secretary-
leoking at me asif he would like to lick
somebody bolted for the Thirty-third
street platform. The whole carload now
creamed their necks to see the handsome
Chieago lady who objected to New York
because it was dirty.
“And ttere are so many foreigners,”
she went on. “Everybody here seems
to copy the English. I detest such peo-
ple. Why can’t they be satistied with
their own country ?”
The two gentlemen opposite—inten-
ely English—slunk diligently behind
their papers. A broad smile went round
and it was not one of derision either
Fortunately the guard called “Twenty
third street !”” at that moment, and the
handsome young Chicago lady moved
toward the door with an air of conscious
superiority, leaving us to breathe freely
once more.— New York Herald.
ship of the Treasury since Howell
gned the position December |
|
The World of Women,
Plaids hitherto arranged on the cross
are now made up on the straight.
As colors go green seems to be largely
in vogue, though eminener purple is a
strong rival for popular favor:
Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett be-
lieves in the benefits of walking as an
exercise, and taken a long constitutional
before breakfast every morning.
On the majority of thestylish costumes
of the present appear the very broad
revers, or falling collars, or shoulder
bretelles—wings, a man would be in-
clined to call them.
Miss Fanny Edward Young, beauti-
ful and only sweet 16, is conducting a
revival at Monrovia, Ind. Hundreds.
have protessed conversion, and some of
the toughest characters 1n the country
have retormed. :
The waists on some of the French
dresses are. merely round, op just a
trifle pointed in the back to give length,
but on others there is a princess effect
in the back, and the round waist shows
only in the front. ‘
New black princess dresses are braided
in black and gold to represent yoke ‘and
girdle or Eton jacket and revers, and are
given extra fullness in the buck of the
skirt by velvet brerdths that make a
slight demitrain,
A word on furs. Lynx is the most
fashionable trimming for outside coat or
street costume. Sealskin is as popular
as ever. Musk, sable and Persian lamb
are very stylish and otter, mink, blue
fox and skunk will all be worn,
Among new directoire redingotes are
models of pale biscuit color tor those
who admire neutral shudes. They have
maroon, violet, moss green, ublan blue
or butternut brown velvet accessories
and very narrow borders of durk fur.
A violet girl wasa pretty sight in a
ball-room the other evening. Her
white silk gown had sleeves of violet
velvet, with the upper part of the cor-
sage composed entirely of violets so cun-
ningly scented with the veritable violet
odor that the illusion was very effec-
tive.
Among the stylish fancies for youth-
ful wearers for the early spring—gowns.
upon which the dressmakers are already
at work-—are double breasted round:
waists of plain cloth or velvet, in dark
colors of blue golden brown, dahlia or
myrtle green, with plain cloth skirts
lapped on the side and buttoned about
half a yard down,
One of the new dress skirts is called
the abat jour, or lamp shade skirt. It
is not at all pretty ; on the contrary, it
has a very antiquated appearance. 1t is
trimmed with four valances mounted
almost dat and set on the skirt
about four inches apart. Undernea‘h
the lowest vualuncea black lace trill
simulates and underskirt, falling alight-
ly gathered all around.
As the season is drawing so rapidly
to a close the gowns are beginning to
look just a bit passe, though once in a
while a fresh one attracts by its unmis-
takuble “just made’’ appearance. Such
4 0Dme was wern by a pretty young mar-
ried woman at a reception and was
the lovelist bit of feminine finery I have
seen in a long while. The corsage was
of blue changeable velvet and was short
and round, with a narrow belt of yellow
moire embroidered in gold. The skirt
wus tashioned of this silk and directly
down the centre to the hem ran a line of
gold embroidery. The train section was
bordered by a rich trimming of yellow
ostrich tips. Double puffed sleeves and
a rich drapery of old lace on the waist
completed this charming costume.
Horiziontal skirt trimmings mount
higher and higher. To remodel an old
sheath skirt of ast season, to give it the
appearance of width now required, the
easiest resort is several ruffles of velvet
set at wide intervals up the skirt. One
model shows a very modish gown of
dark tan cloth trimmed , With many
rows of brown velvet. The same may
be carried out in dark aubérgine red
serge, with bards of black silk pipings.
A cape can be made longer and a
supplementary shoulder cape added
that is some ten inches wide and is
plaited. "It also should have bands.
It these pipings make the dress flange
out suflly, 1t is notan objection, as the
effect characterizes the style.
GRACIOUSNESS IN WoMxN.—So few
very beautifnl women consider it worth
their while to be gracious. They rely
so entirely on their charms of person to
attract that they do net put themselves
out or exert themselves to please others
than by their beauty. This is great
mistake, for though they may rule for a
season by the power that feminine love-
liness always exerts, their court will
willing to serve out adulation with
every sentence, with no hope of enter-
tainment in return.
The spell ot gracious womanhaod,,
however, lasts as long as life remains,
and the charm depends not upon beauty
wind that puts self in the background
and endeavors to bring out the best and
brightest in all those with whom it
comes in contact, says the Philadelphia
Times.
The celebrated women who have
been admired to their latest day were
not renowned so much for their beauty
as for their tact. Imagine some of the
belles of to-day listening with apparent
interest (whether feigned or real we
cannotsay) to the reading of a five act
tragedy or the impassioned renditon of
some sonnet written by one of their
adorers. They would probably yawn.
in the face of the aspiring genius and.
destroy forever his fond illusions.
The women who can become in-
terested in the hobby of whoever is in:
her society, or who can make that other
feel that his or her words are important
and worthy of regard, willl be: the one
to whom her entire circle will swear-
allegiance. A regard for others’ feelings
and a gentle though not fulsome fiat.
tery that stimulates rather than inflates,
are the weapons which, when used by a
clever, kindly woman, make her a pow.
er among any tet in which she chooses:
to move, though never for one moment.
does she give evidence that she is aware
of the influences she yields through the
———There is but one eudden death | all-conquering scepter of her own gra-
amoung women to every ten among men. cious womanhood.
goon be narrowcd to the very few who are.
of face or figure, but upon a grace of
magn
2