ERATE
A ET A ER SET Py
Demonic alan.
EE Tr A SA PE YA
ably dreary when the gloom of winter | maybe she won't believe a word I say.’
settled down upon it. “He kinder smiled at that, and
We urged her to come with us, bat |said,— ° :
she was as immovable as a rock, until, | “ ‘You only go and offer to bring
Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 17,1893
at last, my husbaud laid on her his her to her husband. Tell her that
command as her pastor, and the guard- | Frank issick and wants her, and you'll
THE INCURABLE HURT.
*Tain't likely ez a awkward chap.
Like I am, big and stupid,
*Ud ever go a monkeyin’ ‘round
A dandy kid like Cupid ;
But, major, dern my ugly mug,
I done it once, fer certain,
An’ ef I live a hundred years
The thing ’ll keep on huntin’.
I never knowe’d a woman's ways
Tell one day little Kitty,
Her that’t the banker's only gal,
Come down from Timber City,
An’ stoppin’ at our boardin’-house,
Begun her purty flirtin’,
I guess with all the boys around,
An’ me, that's doggoned certain.
Them eyes uy her'n shined like the stars,
That skeckles night all over,
An’ both her cheeks purtier than
Two medders red with clover.
An’ when she talked—good Lordy, me!
Why can’t a man take warnin’ ?—
It seemed to me like all the songs
The bird sings in the mornin’.
1 drinked it in an’ wanted more,
An she, I guess unthinkin’,
Wauz tickled half to death to see
A thirsty man a drinkin’;
An’ let me have it every day,
From June clear to October,
Tell I wuz drunk and crazy wild,
An’ she thought.I wuz sober.
At last I up an’ told her straight
That I wuz fairly dyin’
Fer love uv her—and dern my boots,
She just broke down a cryin’,
An’ told me it wuz all in fun,
That she wuz only flirtin’—
An’ ef I live a hundred years
The thing ’ll keen on hurtin’.
— Free Press.
CT TERT
A STRANGE STORY.
Poor Mary! As I watched her sit
ting by the window day after day, care-
ful never to go where a gleam from the
water could catch her eye, as I saw her
pale face bend over her work and heard
her subdued tones to the children, I
knew that the past was ever with her,
and that she was hourlyliving over her
dreadful sorrow.
A few friends of us had found a little
nook on the lake shore that exactly
Far from the gay, madding
crowds which wasder up and down
the country and are fast spoiling the
natural beauties of our land, this love-
ly spot seemed to ave waited for our
suited us.
eoming.
‘We soon built .a number of cosy cot- |
tages and came -down from the city to
take possession, installing our house:
hold divinities,the babies, the nurs
es and children of all sorts and sizes, |
and before long were as much at home |
ag the birds and eguirrels whose quiet |
we invaded.
Mary and Fraok Hunter were the
ian of her boy. He urged ber for the | see whether she won't come.’
sake of the poor child now lett to her “Well, of course I couldn’t stand
alone, to come with us to our own home, | that, so at break pf day I started. I
and there wait in patience the will of | rode fiity miles to the nearest railroad
God, and after long persuasion she Jon; and here I am, ready to start
yielded. Very sadly our litle party | right back with Frank's wife.”
turned back to our home, and poor | Mary neither wept nor fainted, but
Mary moved as in a waking dream. | sank right down on her knees and
As time passed by she faded into a | poured, out her thanks to the man who
mere shadow of her once bright cheer- had come with such good vews.
fal self. Patient and subdued she |Strangeto say, she never doubted the
seemed almost to forget her own iden- | story for one moment, and when some
tity, and to live only in her sorrow and | of the family gently hinted that it
her child. We could not allow her— | would be well to make some inquiries
she did not seem to think of doing so— | before trusting herself with the stran-
to go back to that home now so sadly | ger, she turned on us like an angry li-
desolate. So for nearly two years she | oness deprived of her young. We had
lived with us, a loving sister to the eld- | no heart nor courage to protest against
ers, a tender teacher to the little ones. |any of her plans and could only give
Accustomed as [ was to her quiet de- | her all pessible aid in preparing for the
meanor, I was surprised one morning | journey, and promised to keep the
to see her enter the breakfast room | little boy until she returned.
with a hot flush on her cheek,and in| The strange man needed rest and re-
her eyes a restless glitter ithat told of a freshment, and these she urged upon
troubled mind and a waekiul night. I | him, waiting upon him herself, and
asked no question, however, but waited | trying to show her gratitude in every
until the children left the room, when | way possible. ;
suddenly she came hurrying toward me Very early the next morning she
threw herself upon my footstool, and | started on her long journey to an un-
buried her tears in the folds ot my drese. | known place, and in care of an un-
“Mary, darling Mary, what is it? known individual. But she was like a
gaid I, tenderly smoothing he hair, new being; all her languor, all her
“@h, Mrs. Gray, do not think me | wearied, haggard looks bad vanished,
wild,” she cried, ‘‘do not reprove me and she seemed endowed with wonder-
for my folly—but I know that Frauvk is ful strength. © All traces of sadness bad
still alive. All night I heard his voice | left ber face and in her voice there was
calling ‘Wife, wife!’ He is not a thrill of wictory.
dead? Ihave never believed thathe| It was several days befere we re-
could die and leave me. What will be- | ceived any message from her, and then
there were but a few lines to tell us of
her safety, of ‘her husband’s rapid con-
valescence and that we might expect
them in a short time. When she
would explain all.
The story of Frank Hunter's dist
covery and his expected rewrn was
rapidly circulated about town, and all
of hisold friends and neighbors as-
gembled at the depot'to bid him wel-
come home. Aad to see him clasp his
baby boy and wife once more together
in his arms, was something never to
be forgotten by any of us.
In the quiet of bis home he told us
the story of his lite while abeent, and
it adds one more to the already long
list of truths ithat are stranger than
fiction.
«I ghall never forget.” said he, “how
happy and light-hearted I felt when 1
started out fishing that morning. You
know I did wot often have a holiday,
go I thought I would get sll the good
there was to be had. I remembered
come of me if I do not find my poor
Frank, who needs me so much, and
calls for me with so much longing ?”’
She seemed so excited, andgo unlike
her usual quiet self, thatI was half
afraid to dispute her, although 1 pitied
her for the sad delusion.
“My dear little sister,” said I sooth-
ingly, you are broken down with care
and grief, and dreams have troubled
your poor tired brain. Strange fancies
come to us all when we are out
of sorts, you know. Will you not rest
to-day and try to overcome this restless
fancy ?”
She raised her face toward mine and
wearily sighed.
4It was no fancy, dear friend, [ can-
not prove it, but I know it is true.
Frank is alive and called fer me last
night.”
Then with a look of patient grief,
she arose and left me. AN day she
| seemed to be thinking deeply, and to
avoid the presence of the family, even
young married -couple of our party.
Not exactly bride and bridegrooom,
however, for they drought with them a
rollicking baby boy. Neyer were there ;
two gayer, livelierimortals, and so de- |
voted to-each other; eo well satisfiei |
with life were they, that it was like eo- |
joying perpetual sunshine merely to
ol her baby boy.
Next morning I was shocked to see
the drawn lines about her mouth, and
the haggard eyes that told of another
sieepless night. £he came down to
breakiast with that strange air of ex-
citement about her, and all through
how I used to enjoy paddling about
alone in arow-boat when I was a little
boy, ea the Illinois River, so that was
why I wouldi’t let the little darkey
boy go with me. I fastened my lines
to the boat, and made for the deep
water in the lake,and there I had
some good luck fishing, and then I
have them with ue.
with as many projects as a pair
schoolboys, it was not long until the
two were at the bead and front of
our arrasgements.
Oh, what gay times we used to have!
Especially svhen our small feet of can- |
oes were seattered-over the lake, and
flitting like white-minged,bisds over the
smooth and shining surface.
But onenight theplacid water turned
ghty cauldron, full ot seething
foam that *aubbled.and tossed as from
Oat
into a mi
the fathomlsss depths of Inferno.
on the shere we hutldled together,
our little fair-weather commnwenity,
gerly watching if, perchance, we might
caich some glimpse of the laggard
boats. Ounetby one they slowly came
to port, and all the time the wind
moaned, and the wraves dashed
againet the murky sky.
Hurrying up and down the shore
poor Mary flew, wringing her bands in
agony, her clothes drenched with the
spray, her pale face and gleaming eyes
turned to the darkening water.
vain ske cried end called her basband
by name. Aliithe other boats had
this time reached the shore, but ao tid-
ings came from Frank. Ail night
waited, the men and whe fisher people
working bard to find some clew ¢o his
At last, just whea the
. cold light of early morning lifted & por-
«tion of the night's black pall, a breken
.boat came floating up:and was thrown
upon theshore, rightat her feet, as the
She had
. whereabeuts.
(poor wife stood evaiting.
~ceased her wailing and stood silent
«one in a dream.
When daylight eame we gathered
wound her and tried to draw her from
tthe scene, but she pazed at us as one
who hears not a single werd. Tearless
nosy, and overcome with grief, she
We
tried to cheer her with the hope that
seemed a pale image of despair.
overtaken with the storm, her husba
bad found
to all her inquiries, even that belief
longer,;remained to us.
All through the second day and t
long, long night poor Mary waited,
while pitying neighbors searabed
vain for the missing one,
revealed the depths of her
on, until at length all hope perish
save in the besom of the stricken wi
She could—she would not—give him,
up, although ‘the boatmen who spent
their lives on’ the lake assured her
was useless to fancy any man could
"have escaped alive from the fury
such a dreadful storm.
Weeks went by, and no tidings came
to cheer her or settle the question
his fate.
In the early autumn our party w
scattered, and the cottages on the lake
shore were left deserted. Oh how hard
poor Mary begged that she might be
left there to await her husband’s com-
Poor young creature, of course
ing!
we could not leave her alone in th
wild spot.
place in the summer time, but unepea
Full of tun, and
i refuge in some neigh-
boring port; bat as the mext day
passed, and no tidings came in response
Her self
control was wonderful ‘as the hours
passed by. Only her compressed lips
and the wild agony in ber lovely eyes
despair.
Days passed and still the search went
It was the brightest, gayest, |
the day she moved about as one who
hears a far off voice, unheard by oth-
er ears.
At sunset we est together. after the
little:enes had gone to sleep,cwhen sud-
|denly the peal of the doorbell rang
through the silent house.
Mary sprang to her feet, ber slender
figure drawn to itsifull height, her face
set and intense in ithe rays ot the fad
ing sua ; indeed, she seemed to me as
the embodiment of an expectant hear-
er. Ft was but a moment before the
door of our room ‘was opened and’ a
rough but kiokly voice spoke tous :
“Does Mrs. Frantz Hunter live here?
Can l-speak to her?”
Bhe.sprang past me with a.cry, to
meet ithe man who stood there, all trav-
el stained and dusty.
“Oh, sir, do you some from. my hus
band? Ob, have you come to take
me to kim ?”’
“Well, upon my word, thatie the
truth!” said the mao, drawing a long
breath of surprise.
No doubt he had come expecting to
be met with disbelief, or at least that
he would have to prove his words.
With a look of great relief he said,—
“Yeg, d bave come from a man who
calls-himselt Frank Hanter. He isin
our camp, up in the Pioeries, very sick
with brain fever. He hired out with
us mighty nigh two years ago. Wien
he came to our place he was a lone-
some looking sort of a ebap ; the boys
used to pity him, for he never talked
like he had any kin above ground, .er
any friends, either. All along he has
been kind of dull and slow in his ways,
and two weeks ago he suddenly tock
down sick with a fever. He lay in his
buck, moaning sorter stapidlike, not
speaking a mord for several days. ' But
two nights ago, as I wassitting by him
a-watching to eee if he wanted a drink
or any such thing, all of a sudden he
raised up in bed, and called out,—
“1 Wite, wife’ two or three times as
natural as you please.
“¢Who are you calling, Frank?
eaid I.
“ ‘Why, I'm calling Mary, my wife,
of course; isn’t Mary here? and he
leaked around and called again several
times. :
4 hardly knew what to do or eay for
fear.of making him restless, so I said,—
4 4Never mind, she'll come before
long.’
¢ He lay there and looked at me, and
then clapped his hands to his head,
and was 6till for a very long time.
Presently he glanced up, and his eyes
seemed ¢nore quiet and natural than I
had ever seen them. He eaid,—
“Joe, Iam too weak to tell you
about it, but I have a wife. She must
beat Greenfield. Won't you go and
bring her to me?”
“Now I didn’t know what to think
or do, for I thought that surely a man
who had given his wife the bounce for
nigh unto two years must be a queer
sort of a feller, or else she must be a
queer sort of a wife, so I tried to put
him off, but bless you, it was no use.
The more I begged oft the more excit-
ed he was, and I was atraid he would
go into fits, and maybe die, and then
I'd be to blame. Finally I says,— that he will shoot any man in whose
“¢[ don’t believe your wife will come ' possession it may be found. The book
concluded togo ashore on the side
where the woods were thick. I drew
the boat up, butijust then my foot slip:
ped onthe wet sand; the boat elid back
into theswater and I fell down striking
my forebead on a large, sharp pointed
boulder. ‘Now you will be surprised
when I tell you that I remember noth-
ing more until I found myself in the
Piaeries, in the lumber camp. Yet
the men say that I came to them in
the middle of August, so that I must
have wandered through the woods for
geveral weeks, unconscious. I must
have had the outward appearance of
sanity, for I was somehow fed and
clothed, as the days went by. When
I started out fishing I bad a considera-
ble eum of money in pocket, and when
I reached the camp it was nearly gone.
Then follows a period in which my men-
tal conditien must have been very
‘peculiar. The meneay that gave
my name in ithe usual manuver, and
seemed likesather people, except that I
did not like to talk ; but I remember
nothing of my feelings, and notice. At
last my torpor was broken up bya
simple eecurrence. One day the mail
was distributed, and I sat watching the
men read their letters and papers. It
is strange that it never occured to me
to wonder why I received no letters.
Presently I saw a man hide bis face in
his band and sob bitterly.
“ (What can be the matter?” I
asked.
“My child—my boy is dead,’ said
the poor fellow, groaning and sobbing
worse than before. And then he went
on to tell me how smart his little boy
was, how beautiful, how he loved him,
how he was trying to save money just
for the sake of the boy, and so on, as
men will talk when the very fountains
of grief are broken up within them. 1
listened for a while, and suddenly my
brain seemed on fire. For the first
time since my fall on the stone, I be-
gan to havea conscious identity. I
looked at my hands, my clothing, and
tried to recall memories of the past,
but in vain. My mental struggles
were frightful, and términated in brain
fever. Then all at once the past came
baek to me ; the rest you know.”
Mary looked at me with shining
eyes.
"He called me, and I heard,” she
said softly. “You believe it now ?”
I pressed her hand im silence; I
could not speak ; surely this was a love
which passed human understanding!
averly Magazine.
of |
all
all
“a-
up
In
by
we
as
nd’
no
he
in
ed
fe.
——Jolly Bachelor, “I found my
first gray bair to-day.
Miss Antique. “Indeed ! Is it =a sign
of age?”
J. B. “I don’t know. I found it where
your head rested on my coat last nsght.
BARBIES,
SS
it
of
The Boston Girl—‘ ‘Do many Chica-
go men live by the pen ?”
The Chicago Girl—*‘Oh, yes out at
the stock yards ; lots of them.’’-— New
York Herald.
——1In the wild and wooly West,
when a man loans a book and fails to
get it returned, he merely announces
of
as
at
Queen Liliuokalani’'s Blunder.
Her Reliance on the Aborigines for Support and
the Causes That Led te it.
A Washington telegram in the New
York Sun says: Had the dethroned
queen of the Sandwich islands been sat-
istied to follow the course of her prede-
cessor and fill the restricted sphere pre-
scribed for the monarch by the constitu-
tion, she might and unquestionably
would be reigning to-day. And it can-
not be said that this would have been an
unreasonable requirement. ~ The consti-
ution, as revised, left the sovereign of
Hawaii very far from being: a mere fig-
urehead. The sovereign had a veto
power, and & decision of the supreme
court, after a “Uispute that had almost
threatened another revolution, made this
a persoral prerogative, not dependent
on the concurrence of the cabinet. An-
other decision of the supreme court had
allowed the queen to choose ber cabinet
instead of accepting and continuing that
of her predecessor that she began her
reign with a victory over those who
would further restrict the privileges of
the throne. Her income and perquisites
as sovereign were very liberal, especially
in view of the small demands for living
nounced by the leading ccmmercial resi- |
dents. !
Then came her effort to promote a new
constitution, under the advice of her |
cabal of native counsellors.
i
{
It has been |
urged that this would have restored |
an old condition of things; but it was
none the less revolutionary, and, while
the purpose was balked, the foreign resi- |
dents took the will for tte deed. The |
queen had probably counted on an up- |
rising of the native people. But appar-
ently she did not reflect enough on the
pitiable weakness shown in the fiasco of
1890, or the strong force of marines and
bluejackets abroad the Boston, or the
fact that the chief military organization
in Honolulu was that of the foreign resi-
dents. She was leaning on the weakest
of reeds. : :
It was a fearful apd fatal blunder.
Almost instantly she seems to have real-
ized whither race sympathy and person-
al ambition had led ber. But her steps
could not be retraced, and her over-
throw followed at once.
TG ———————
Stumbling on Fortunes.
How Gold Mines Have Been Discovered By
Mere Chance.
expenses and entertainment in Hawaii.
She had also an appuinting power which
allowed her to place friends and favor-
ites in places of trust and profit. She
had a strong native support, backed by
race, prejudice and loyalty.
The first feeling with which the news
of her unnecessful coup d’etat and its
prompt penalty was received in this
country must have been one of surprise
that she could have so risked her throne
The explanation of her conduct, as it
may now be derived from the details
brought by the commissioners and those
of private letters from the islands, seems
to be traceable to a union in her of race
sympathy and personal ambition. Had
her husband lived, with his strong Amer-
ican proclivities and his ability to see
whither the queen’s course was tending,
his warnings, we may surmise, would
have been timely. But his death follow-
ing ber succession to the throne, left her
free to consult the two motives already
spoken of.
As to race sympathy, it has already
been stirred for some time through the
efforts of the natives, and particularly of
the half breeds to found a political
party whose creed was embodied in its
watchward ‘Hawaii for the Hawaiians.”
It was & proof of the inherent weakness
of this party that it had once sought to
carry out its measures through constrain-
ing Kalakaua to abdicate. And an in-
dication of the small account made of
this native element was furnished by the
remission of penalities tor an offence of so
grave a character, Wilcox, the leader of
the revolution, being afterward, in fact,
allowed to take his place in the legisla-
ture as if nothing serious had happened.
Still, the queen’s ambition saw in this
movement an appliance which she could
use against the foreign residents.
The result was that a sovereign coming
to the throne under much promise, and
with many favoring circumstances, first
frittered away her chances of retaining
it, and then flung them all to risk on a
single coup and lost.
ber favor.at the start was the willingness
of all to take her as a ruler. This was
evident from the fact that no such out-
break occurred at her accession as at the
election of Kalakaua in 1874, Asto the
aborigines, the conspiracy of July 30,
1890, under Wilcox and his half-breed
friends, had proposed to overthrow Kal-
akaua in ber favor, That she was ac-
ceptable to the British and Canadians
among the foreign residents was clear
from her avowed British sympathies. As
tor the Americans, while regretting Kal-
akaua, a firm friend of the United States,
they knew that a majority of the crops,
commerce and capital was in their
bands.
Perhaps no one would have under-
taken to predict that the dynasty would
be continued in the person of Princess
Kaiulani, the heir apparent, although
full provision was made for that purpose
But it did seem likely enough that the
queen, under these favoring circum-
stances, and with the great prosperity of
the islands te aid her, would be able to
hold the throne during ber lifetime, or at
least for years to come.
But events soon proved less propitious
‘than they had looked. <The death of
‘her husband removed a valuable adviser.
The operation of the new tariff and reci-
jprocity laws of the United States affected
unfavorably © and severely Hawaii's
former advantage in her all important
sugar industry. The queen’s British
proclivities aroused American suscepti-
bilities and suspicions.” Then her unwise
political alliances began to show their
fruits. It was natural that with her tra-
ditions and inherited views she should
have considered the restriction of royal
privileges, effected under Kalakaua, as
an injustice, but she would have accept-
ed it. She reflected that this restriction
was the work of the foreign residents
rather than of her native subjects.
She recalled that the latter had
even been ready to dethrone Kalakaua
and to put her in his place. With a
natunal sentiment of gratitude for their
support and reliance came a feeling of
commiseration for the evils which their
leaders had been from time to time lay-
ing befor: her, They complained of the
competition which had been caused
through the vast importation of Mon-
golian labor by the American residents.
They complained that the danger of lep-
rosy was increased by this importation.
They eomplained that the system of
plantation labor was cruel. They com-
plained that they had not an adequate
share in the offices and the political con-
duct of the kingdom although some of
them had become educated and capable.
Their race was dwindling, the white race
and the Mongolian were increasing, and
they must make an effort to avoid grad-
ual dying out. Possible the recent legis-
lation of congress stimulated her anti-
American feeling.
Thus race sympathy and ambition
combined to push the queen to her fatal
stroke. She saw herself in imagination
supported by a loyal body of subjects of
her own race, far out-numbering the
white residents, grateful for her inter-
ference in their behalf, and with new
privileges, able to control all legislation.
She had just signed several questionable
acts, one being for the charter of a lottery
and anotker fox the importation of op-
ium. They seem to have been sprung
on the legislature toward the close of the
‘What she had in
Gold was discovered in California in
1848, and in Colorado in 1858. The dis-
| covery was accidental 1n both cases, and
the fact created the impression that
mines were ‘lying about loose.” Ad-
| ventures drifted about in hopes of stum-
bling upon a mine. Here ure some in-
stances of lucky finds :
Three men while looking for gold in
California discovered the dead body ofa
man who evidently had been ‘‘prospec-
ting.”
“Poor fellow,” said one of the trio,
“he has passed in his checks.”
“Let's give him a decent burial,”
said ‘another. “Some wife or mother
will be glad if ever she knows it.”
They began to dig a grave. Three
feet below the surface they discovered
signs of gold.
The stranger was buried in another
place, and where they had located a
grave they opened a gold mine,
An adventurer who had drifted to
Leadville awoke one morning without
food or money. He went out and shot
a deer, which in its dying agonies, kick-
ed ‘up the dirt and disclosed signs of
gold. The poor man staked out a‘‘claim?’’
and opened one of the most profitadie
claims ever worked in Leadville.
“Dead Man’s Claim,” the name giv-
en to another rich mine in Leadville,
was discovered by abroken down miner
while digging a grave.
A miner died when there was several
feet of snow on the ground. His com-
zades laid his body in a snow bank and
hired a man for $4 to dig a grave.
The gravedigger, after three days ab-
scence, was found digging a mine in-
stead of a grave. While excavating he
bad struck gold. ;
An unsuccesstul Australian miner
went up and down Colerado for ‘several
months ‘prospecting’ for gold and find-
ing none.
‘One day he sat down upon a stone,
and while musing over his hard luck
aimlessly struck a stone with his pick
he.chipped off a piece and sprang to his
feet. The chip was rich gold quartz.
He hurried into the little town of Ros-
ita, and went to the assay office, where
a teamster had just dumped a load of
wood. He agreed to saw the wood to
pay for assaying his chipped sample.
The result of the assay sent him back
to his “‘claim.” When he had taken out
of it $5000,000 he sold the mine for
$400,000 in cash and $1,000,000 in stosk
The Italian Bank Frauds.
Signor Grimaldi, Minister of Finance, Offers to
Resign.
Rome, February 7.—Signor Grimal-
di, Minister of Finance, has offered to
resign in view of the stories circulated
in connection with the bank scandals.
While denying any complieity in ‘the
frauds, Signor Grimaldi feels that the
stability of the Cabinet is endangered
by his remaining in office.
The examining Magistrate has
learned that in 1889 the Bank of Rome,
despite the fact that it was one of the
smaller of the six banks on issue dis-
tributed 1,020,000 lire among Deputies
and other politicians to secure the pas-
sage of the bank bill, and that under
similar circumstances in 1891 the same
institution paid 1,300,000 lire for sup-
port in the same class.
Whipping Post and Pillory.
New CastLE, Del., Feb, 11.—Sheriff
Gould this morning whipped a number
of prisoners iu the jail yard here and
put two men in the pillory. John
Evans, William Wright, Samuel Se-
well and Charles Saunders, all colored,
each received ten lashes for larceny.
Elias Robinson, colored, received five
lashes ; William Dorsey, colored, for
highway robbery, stood one hour in
the pillory and received forty lashes;
James E. Formen, also colored stood
one hour in the pillory for attempting
‘to kill bis wife. He will serve three
years in jail. Thomas Kennedy, the
only white victim, received ten, laghes
for larceny. :
TTT
ES
Mrs. Muscavado—‘The Newriches
are people who don’t know ‘who their
grandparents were.”
Mrs. Rockoil—*Ob, yes, they do,
but they hope that no one else does.”’—
Brandon Bucksaw.
BE ————————
——L_Nalentia, the Spanish theologian
died of grief - because he was accused
by the Pope of having falsified a pas
sage in St. Augustine.
—— Russia is the largest horse breed-
ing country in the world. The govern-
ment maintains twenty-eight breeding
establishments.
I
——Only 22 wiles of the Panama
Canal ren ain to be dug, if faith may be
put in the statement made by the orig
inal company.
[ce made at zero temperature
will last longer than that made at 18 or
20 degrees below.
—Two hundred and seventy-two
session, when many members were ab-
k- with such a looking codger as me; soon turns up again.
sent, ard the lottery bill was bitterly de_
textile mills were erected in this coun-
try in 1892.
The World of Women.
Shirt trimmings, in order to add to
the new very flaring effect are carried
up half the length of the skirt on both.
elaborate evening toilets and dressy day
gowns.
Plaid silk bodices are liked with
black skirts; the full belt should be of
velvet, the color most predominating in
the plaid, aud the high turn-over collar
and rather deep cuffs should also be of
the velvet.
Ruffles and big sleeves seem to be the
distinctive features of this season’s 'ecos-
tume. A velvet eapelet finished with a
deep ruffle, withsleves to match, is a
fashionable and becoming style.
Mrs. Arthur Stannard, better known
in America as John Strange Winter,
has organized a crusade against the
threatened invasion of Foopskirts. It
is called the “No Crinoline League,”
Success to it and her.
Those who do not find the hair rolled
off the fuce becoming are having their
bangs cut in/a short fluffy fringe that,
while it softens the face, does not give
the vulgar look of the deep full bang,
which completely hides the forehead.
The nicest materials for smart tailor-
made gowns are the “heather cheviots,”
“zig-zag tweeds’! and fancy Meltons.
The chiel novelties in this season’s dress
good are the fancy reps--ringed, streak-
ed or speckled —and the diagonal cloths
with shot grounds and the ‘‘crocodile
cloth.”
The fondness for Persian coloring:
finds expression in the useful and effec-
tive silk and satin ribbons as well as in.
hand-wrought and woven bands. These:
ribbons are Oriental in design, as well
as in coloring, and on dressy toilets are
disposed on skirt and bodice in spread-
ing bows and ends instead of loops.
The house gown continues to be after
the style of the Empire, with a very
high belt arranged either in ribbon fash-
ion or with huge rosette concealing its
fastening. ‘The neck is cut out so that
the throat shows, but the sleeves long;
these, of course, may be as fanciful as
possible, but I do not advise a very full
sleeves if one's shoulders are decidedly
broad.
Miss Frances Willard’s life in Eng-
land seews to be a continuous ovation.
Last week she addressed the East Lon-
don Women’s Christian Temperance
Union, and was received with *‘over-
flowing enthusiasm,” according to the
newspaper reports. The same journals
refer admiringly to the ‘quaint Amer-
icanisms” with which her address was
sprinkled.
Many princess dresses are being made:
for Spring and Summer, both 1n. rich
and simple material, and exaggerated
balloon sleeves have had pins stuck into.
them, so that they are diminishing rap-
idly in size. 1 also notice that there is.
a sensible majority whose taste is cor-
rect as to coats and wraps, and the
night gown horror is rarely seen, while
snug and neat fitting jackets, ulsters and
newmarkets are the favorites, with
handsome wraps for evening and cere-
mony.
“Anything,” said a worldly matron
to a group of friends, ‘‘under the sun
but a woman who sulks. A good, hon-
est fit of anger, with a burst of heart
sunshine to clear away the storm clouds,
is generally effective. The man, as a
rule, likes the fair one all the better for
outspoken sentiments that are free from
taunting meanness, but what he cannot
tolerate is the consciousness that the
little passage-at-arms is going to be fol-
lowed by a finishing-oft process which
ends in sulky resentment. This sort of
thing is so rasping.”
Half-low bodices, rounded in the
neck, with empire sashes, are worn by
very young ladies and Louis Trieze coat
bodices, with broad lace collars and bal-
loon sleeves, by those who are more
mature. These coat bodices are cut to
give the effect of & short waist and are
slashed below and edged with beaded
gimp. The open-patterned lace collar
nearly covers the shoulders and is open-
ed in a V.shape below the throat.
Deep lace cuffs often finish the lace
sleeves, although the flowing lace ruffle
is just as fashionable and n.ore becom-
ing. .
In the dressing of small children
mothers take much pride and spend
many thoughts. It probably was al-
ways 80, from the days when the little
child’s clothing consisted of a single gar-
ment. It isa long step from one gar-
ment to the picturesque costumes worn
by the tots of the present day. The
mothers of to-day think they have
reached the acme of the sensible and
pretty clothes tor children. = Have
they ?
During these last few years small
boys have. worn what was called a
«Fauntleroy suit.” It was fanciful in-
deed. The boy’s waist was girt about
with a sash, of which the ends flopped
at his side. He wore long ringlets,
which he abhorred, and a wide em-
broidered collar and cuffs, at which his
boyish soul revolied.
To-day the “sailor suit’’ takes prece-
dence. Of this the blouse seems to ful-
fill its purpose of covering the body
completely while allowing it freedom of
action. But the trouser! Tight across
the hips, and wide and flapping about
the heels | - The little creature clad in
them is the picture of discomfort. It is
impossible for a boy to run, jump, or
play actively in such trousers as those.
The boy’s mother has made him an ob-
ject of beauty, but she has taken from
him his liberty, and life is a hollow
mockery without that.
There is his small sister, She wears a
frock which comes within an inch of
the ground, and restricts her movements
as much as the sailor trousers do her
brother’s, Itis quite common to see
those little mites painfully holding up
their long skirts that they may not trip
over them. Little girls have been
trained to lift their trailing outer gar-
ments from a ear step or a muddy gut-
ter. Surely this quaint effect of long
skirts is painfully expensive when this
is the price.
The clothes which are a burden or a
responsibility to a child are neitber
healthful nor comtortuble, although
they may be “fancitul’”’ and ‘‘pictures-
que” and “artistic.”’ But is there any
real beauty in clothes which do not ac-
complish the purpose for which clothes
' were provided ?