Ar
Bewora Yaa,
Bellefonte, Pa., April 7, 1893
SPRING CLEANING.
Yes, clean yer house an’ cléan yer shed
An’ clean zor barn in every part ;
But brush the cobwebs from yer head
An’ sweep the snow-banks from yer heart.
Jes’ wen spring cleanin’ comes aroun’
Dring torth the duster an’ the broom,
But rake yer fogy notions down
An’ sweep yer dusty soul of gloom.
Sweep ol’ ideas out with dust
An’ dress yer soul in newer style,
Scrape from yer min’ its wornout crust
An’ dump it in the rubbish pile,
Sweep out of the hates that burn an’ smart.
Bring in new loves serene an’ pure.
Around the hearthstone of the heart
Place modern styles of furniture.
Clean out yer morril cubby holes,
Sweep out the dirt, Fora off the scum ;
‘Tis cleanin’ time for healthy souls—
Git up and dust! The spring has came !
Clean out the corners of the brain,
Bear down with scrubbin’ brush an’ soap.
An’ dump ol’ Fear into the rain.
An dust a cosy chair for Hope.
Clean out the brain’s deep rubbish hole,
Soak ev'ry-cranny great an’ small,
An’ in the front room of the soul !
Hang pootier pictures on the wall,
Scrub up the winders of the mind,
Clean up, an’ let the spring begin ;
Swing open wide the dusty blind
An let the April sunshine in.
Plant flowers on the soul's front yard.
Set out new shade an’ blossom trees,
An’ let the soil once froze an’ hard,
Sproet crocuses of new idees.
Yes, clean yer house an’ clean yer shed,
An’ clean or barn in ev'ry part;
But brush the cobwebs from yer head
An’ sweep the snow-banks from yer heart !
—S. Walter Foss.
I—————
THE ALTAR-CLOTH OF SAN CARLOS.
A Spanish song floated out on the
summer air and then died away, as a
young girl rose from the ground where
she was kneeling before an embroidery-
frame, and, moving from beneath the
shade of the banana trees into the sun-
light, clasped her tired arms above her
head and drew a deep restful breath.
The sunshine bathed her in its warm
light, bronzing the waves of her dark
hair, deepening the glow on her cheeks,
and losing itself in the clear depths of
her brown eyes, which were dreamily
fixed on the distant mountains.
She and her song seemed a part of
the perfect day—of the semi-tropical
landscape, the sensuous air, and the
rythmical murmur of insectlife.
Around her stretched the green garden
of the Hacienda del San Carlos ; at her
feet, a brook wound its sparkling way
through the grass; banana trees threw
the shadow of their leaves over the
pebbled paths, while at the eastern
end a long line of low buildings intensi-
fied with their dazzling whiteness the
brilliant greens of the foliage.
At the sound of steps on the path,
she turned, and, shading her eyes,
looked with eager joy at the figure of a
man coming toward her; then, laugh-
ing gently, she sank on her knees be-
hind a tall cactus and crouched there,
hidden from sight. She heard her
name called softly, then in more impa
tient tones:‘ Juanita! Juanita!”
Peering out between the broad leaves,
she saw the man look earnestly around
the garden and then throw himself on
the gronnd, his back toward her.
Rising, she glided to his side, her
footsteps making nosound on the grass,
and stood over him. Lying as he did,
he was unconscious of her presence till,
taking a scarlet flower from a bunch
in her belt, she dropped it on his avert
ed face. Instantly he turned a pair of
startled eyes toward her; then, seeing
the mocking face above him, he sprang
to his feet.
“Juanita! witch!” he exclaimed,
“where did you come from? Ah, false
one,” he added taking her unresisting
hand in his, “who promised to meet me
beneath the banana trees at noon ?”
“Truly,” she answered, demurely,
“I think it was you, senor, who made
the promise, and forgot it. You are
hours late !”” she said, reproaci:fully.
“Hours, child? Not more than
three minutes, and here is the proof,”
holding out his watch.
She motioned it away.
nothing but a machine.
“That is
No matter
..what happens, it beats calmly or, not
faster nor slower than usual. What
does it know of impatience? Ah, my
senor, you meet me by this cold guide,
while Juanita waits your coming by
the slow lengthening of the shadows
on the old sun-dial and the impatient
beatings of her own heart.”
For answer, he stooped and kissed
her lips, despite their smiling protest.
“You need not blush, child ; there is
no one in the whole hacienda to see.”
“Yes, but—Ah, no, senor! Yon
must do it again; you will make me
angry if you disobey.”
She moved toward her embroidery
frame, and, kneeling, bent her flushed
cheeks over its maze of delicate threads;
while the man lay on the grass beside
her, lazily watching her deft fingers.
“Do you remember, senor,” she said,
after a few moments’ silence, ¢ the sto-
ry you told me yesterday of the three
sisters who, the Greeks believed, held
our life-thread and cut it at the hour of
death 7 He nodded. ‘lt is strange
how it has run in my head ever since.
As I sat here this morning, working on
my altar-cloth for our Church of San
Carlos, twisting the thread in and out
of the meshes, I almost fancied myself
a Fate!”
“You are as irresistible as one,
murmured. ”
It seemed such a strange idea,” she
went on. dreamily; “it half frightened
me. 1 fancied it was my own life-
thread I was weaving in and out—all
80 regular, you see, except here. I
worked that the first day I met you,
senor, the new mining engineer from
the North I bad heard so much of;
and—and I think perhaps my mind
was not on my work.” She looked at
him, smiling, then flushed at the ans
wering glow 1n his eyes.
“But really, I am half superstitious
over the idea. A few more days, and
the cloth will be finished. I shall be
afraid to cut the last thread; I shall
feel that I have ended someone's life,
perhaps my own!”
“Juanita, you must not be serious ;
"he
. it is the first time I have seen you so,
and you promised me this hour for my
very own. Lay aside your work and
amuse me!’
“Senor, you have but to ask and I
obey. See, I have put it away. Now
hand me my guitar from the branch,
and we will sing together the song I
promised to teach you; that is more
amusing.” :
Catching the insirument from his
hand, she swept her fingers over the
strings, and their voices were soon
blending in an old Spanish love-song ;
that to be followed by another and an-
other, till the point ‘on the mossy old
sun-dial, which Juanita held up as an
example of slowness, had cast its shad-
ow over more than one hour-mark on
its ancient face. i
The sun was just rising above the
jagged mountains, and its beams had
not yet warmed the heavy shadows in
the valleys, when, on the following
morning, Juanita opened the door of
her home and walked quickly through
the garden toward the httle river which
ran through its lower end.
Following its bank for a few rods,
she came to a broad flat rock, about
whose sunken end the water foamed in
eddies.
An old woman was kneeling there,
balf hidden by a pile ot linen.
“See, Chita, I have brought you
these pieces of embroidery to wash ;
and, if you will do them now, I will
wait and spread them to bleach for
you.”
With a nod of assent, Chita took the
bundle from her, and then, piece by
piece, dipped the linen in the stream,
beating it on the stone worn smooth by
generations of lavanderas, lashing the
water to a foam with the vigorous
strokes of her thin bare arms, all the
while crooning in a cracked voice the
song that Juanita had taught Russell
Melvin the day before.
The girl watched her, idly wonder-
ing how it would seem to be wrinkled
and unlovely. The sharp morning air
blew her own tangled hair about her
eyes, her cheeks glowed, and her whole
frame thrilled with youthful vigor.
“Chita,” she exclaimed, “I must do
something-—I want to work; let me
wash this piece myself.” And in a
moment she was kneeling beside the
old woman on the sunken rock.
The first freshness of the morning
was past when, the linen spread in the
sun, Juanita turned toward home.
At the sound of rapid steps behind
her, she turned, and recognizing a
young Mexican approaching, waited
with a troubled face until he overtook
her. He was out of breath, either
from bis hurried walk or some strong
emotion ; there was a deep flush on his
swarthy cheeks, and his eyes gleamed
aagrily.
“Good morning. Alejandro,” she fal-
tered.
“Juanita, what have I done, that
yon should avoid me during the past
weeks as it I were the plague?’ he
asked, fiercely.
“Nothing, nothing,” she answered
quickly ; “we were always good friends,
Alejandro.’
“We were more than that, Juanita.
We loved each other as boy and girl ; I
am now a man, and [ love you moreeach
day. You know this, Juanita—-know I
would die for you—and you treat me
like a stranger: no, not a stranger
—you are kinder to him,” he add-
ed, bitterly. “What has come between
us?’ Shall I answer for you ? A stranger!
A mau you never saw t'll a month ago;
oft wnom you know nothing; who wiil
play with you as with a pretty toy, and
throw you as carelessly away when he
tires of the sport; who would not sacri-
fice one moment of his selfish pleasure,
or lift one of his white hands to save
you from danger.”
“You lie!” she cried, passionately.
“How dare you talk so to me?"
“How dare 1?” he cried, with fury.
“How dare 1?’ Because—I love
you,” he ended, almost piteously. It
is he who lies, with every glance of his
blue eyes and every word of his false
English tongue. And when hesays he
loves you, Juniata, are you mad enough
to listen to him ?”
She shrank from him, terrified by
his vehemence, and was silent.
“Juanita, did you never love me?”
he asked, tenderly.
Tie tea? suddenly rushed to her
eyes, the color to her face.
“I always did; that is, until—"
He turned, with an inarticulate ex-
clamation of rage, and struck his hand
heayily against the tree beneath which
they stood ; then he let it fall unheeded
by his side, while the blood slowly
gathered on the dark bruise. Moment-
arly sobered by the pain, he spoke al-
most calmly.
“You have loved me, and would to-
day bat for that man. Ob, Juanita,
do not let him come between us! I
love you—love you! Don’t look at
me in that way! Ob, for the love of
Christ, say he is nothing to you!”
She hid her tace in her trembling
hands.
The birds filled the air with their
gongs, and the infinite peace of the
morning seemed a cruel contrast to
their fevered hearts. A large white
butterfly floated to them on lazy wings
and hovered around till, with an im-
patient movement of the hand, he
swept it bruised and flattering to the
grass, and ground his heel on its pal-
pitating white wings. Juanita turned
away with a little cry. He laughed
harshly.
“Caramba! You can pity a butter:
fly—but a man! Yet it is as easy to
kill the one as the other, and I swear
no ore shall stand between you and
me.”
She sprang toward him in terror.
“Alejandro, you will not hurt him ?”
she gasped. :
He caught her appealing hands in
his.
“If you will promise me not to meet
this man again, not to—"
She snatched away her hand.
“Leave me!" she cried. “You are
wicked—cruel. No, no;stop! Come
back, Alejandro!” :
Bat, with an oath, he bad thrast her
aside, swung himself up by a branch,
Load
and disappeared over the high adobe
wall of the garden.
111,
“How quickly the light fails! Ifit
would only last a few minutes longer !”
Juanita arose from the embroidery-
frame, threw back the window-curiain,
and then bent with straining eyes over
the nearly completed altar-cloth.
“It is really finished,” she exclaimed |
at last, “after all these weeks; and
how lovely it is!” The heavens were
crimsoned by the setting sun, and the |
meshes of the cloth were rosy frem the
reflected glow which wavered and flick-
ered there as if imprisoned 1n the intri-
cate web. The girl stood looking at it
thoughtfully ; suddenly her eyes fell on
the place where the pattern was not
quite regular. “I was thinking of him
when I worked that,” she murmured,
shuddered as she seemed to see Alejan-
dro’s white angry face. She resolutely
thrust the image from her mind. “1
will not think of it,” she said; “he
would not dare—he could not!”
Taking up the scissors, she cut the
last long threads, smiling as she
thought of the Fatal Sisters, uufastened
the cloth from the framework, wrapped
it carefully in a napkin, and then ran
through the garden till she reached the
path leading to the little Church of San
Carlos, on the hill overlooking the ha-
cienda. At this hour she was sure to
find the old priest there ; and, remem-
bering that she had no flowers to give
him for the image of Nuestra Senora
de Guadaloupe, she gathered some bril-
liant red blossoms growing by the way-
side.
There was no one in the church
when she entered ; she stood alone in
its dim interior, where only the altar
and a white saint in her niche were
clearly visible. The silence was oppres-
sive, and the air taint with the scent of
withered flower-garlands hanging on
the walls around the images.
Juanita laid her blossoms at the feet
of the saint, and turned toward the old
priest, who had entered and was light-
ing a swinging lamp in front of the al-
tar. He greeted her kindly, admired
the altar-cloth which she gave him,
commended her piety, and then, with
his blessing still in her ears, she left
the church and hastened down the
road to the hacienda, whose lights
shone brightly through the darkness.
Suddenly from behind her came the
furious beat of a horse's hoofs, and,
springing to one side, she saw a man
gallop by, lashing his jaded horse until
both disappeared into the court-yard of
the hacienda, where instantly arose a
tumult of voices and the loud shrieks
of a woman. Terrified by a sense of
disaster, Juanita ran on and entered
the patio ; the mao, still on horseback,
was gesticulating violently, surrounded
by an excited group.
“Gracias a Dios!
the woman’s voice.
“We had pot seen him since early
morning,” continued the rider; *‘and
the overseer, thinking he had become
lost in some one of the galleries of the
mine, ordered a search to be made. A
dozen of us went down, and there, in
the farthest end of the mine, we found
him. He must have become dizzy,
and fallen from the ladder, but an hour
or so belore ; for the candle still burned
in his hat, and his hands were hardly
cold. We thought at first that he still
lived, and tried to restore him; but it
was useless—he was dead. May his
soul rest in peace!”
Who was dead? Juanita’s heart
stood still as she pushed her way to
the Senora Monte's side.
“Who?” she gasped.
who is dead ?”’
The senora burst into loud sobs.
“Senor Melvin, child ; they found him
fallen from the ladderin the Hidalgo
mine. Ab, he was so handsome and gen-
erous was the senor.”
But Juanita had vanished. To get
away from the light, the people, every
thing, but this dull numbing pain!
Dead? Ah, Dios, itcould not be! And
then Alejandro’s voice sounded in her
ears: ‘I swear that no one will come
between you and me!”
She found herself running blindly on-
ward through the dark garden; the
ripple of the river sounded in her ears.
Ob! for water to cool the glowing, tor-
turing pain in her heart and in her reel:
ing brain, as she staggered on, her
breath coming in quick gasping sobs.
Dead! Had anyone said murdered?
The air seemed ringing with the word
—but by whom ? Alejandro had said
that he would not harm him if she
promised—promised what? She could
not remember. On, for water! She
threw herself down on the river-bank
and plunged her hands in the cool
stream to bathe her forehead. Her
blood seemed boiling in her veins, her
temples throbbed, and fiery flashes
swam before her eyes.
How softly the river plashed in the
darkness ; its waters were so cool, so
clear, and such intolerable pain ‘and
fever possessed her. “And he isdead,”
she whispered.
The river murmured gently, the
water foamed about the sunken rock,
and, in the bend where there was no
current, the stars were brightly mir-
rored; but the torm of the girl crouch:
ing on its banks had disappeared.
“Yes, it is a beautiful cloth.” said
the old priest, as he spread it on the al
tar. “I will put it on to-night for the
Mass to-morrow; it will please her.
Dead?’ cried
“Tell me,
‘See, Jose,” turning to a lad who was
arranging the chairs, “the senorita Ju-
anita has just bronght me this altar-
cloth ; help me to put back the holy
vessels.”
“Wait, Father—here in front is a
spot where the pattern is not quite reg-
ular; if you turn the cloth around, it |
will not show.”
“Yes, that is better. Now the foot
of the crucifix hides it from sight.”’—
Catherine Thayer, in Peterson's.
——0Oliver Wendell Holmes is sensi-
ble enough to be very particular about
his dict and means of living, and to take
care that no unwise indulgence on his
part shall benefit the doctors or shorten
his days.
\
Brain and Intellect.
The Lize of the One Does Not Always Indicaie
the Strength of the Other.
A society which has for its object the
examination of the brains of disunguish-
ed men has been organized in the hope
of solving some of the problems con-
nected with the physical basis of men-
taiity. Each member of the society be-
queaths’ his brains to the experts ap-
pointed to conduct the autopsy, and the
‘ fullest information available is trans-
mitted to the society. Itis hoped to
substitute fixed principles for the rough
and inaccurate estimates formed by
weighing the brains of distinguished or
notorious men. An example of the in-
accuray of the latter method of investi-
gation is shown in the fact recently re-
forts that the brain of the late Gen.
utler weighed within a few ounces of
" ‘that of the great anatomi i
as she bent and kissed the spot, then | ) z mize Gavior
whose brain is the heaviest yet exam-
ired) and considerably more than of
Daniel Webster, who in spite of grave
abuses of his physical powers, died with a
heavier brain than had been recorded of
any other American. This result is what
might havejbeen expected. To compare
Webster’s brain, worn out with physi-
cal excesses, to one who died in the full
vigor of intellectuality, is equally fala-
cious. The one was buta ruin of a
magnificient palace, the other the per-
fectly appointed castle.
Gall and Spurgheim nearly a century
as phrenology. Of course the modern
practice of the art, if such it may be
called, is almost devoid of any scientific
basis. Nevertheless one of the theories
which the original investigation worked
out has been indorsed by all physiolo-
gists. This is in brief that certain sec-
tions of the brain have definite and dis-
tinct functions in making up the total-
ity which the old writers called the ego.
For example there is a certain section of
the brain, definitely located, which con-
trols the power of speech, and so accur-
ately is this now mapped out that the
sections controlling spoken speech and
written speech--the knowledge of mean-
ing gained by sound and that gained by
sight—the part which has for its func-
tion the formulation of written signs
and that which controls certain coordi-
nate muscular movements which result
in speaking or writing—are fairly well
datermined. It is when itis attempted
to determine the power of these separate
functions by the irregularities of the out-
side of the bony case which cover these
wonderful structures, and especially
when it is attempted to formulate the
exact situation of moral and higher
mental qualities that phrenology lamen-
tably fails.
Yet even here there is a basis of rea-
son for the so-called science. A right-
handed man has almost inevitably a
larger development of the left side of
his skall than of the right side, and cer-
tain general tendencies are revealed by
the skull, as they are by the counten-
ance. The error consists in laying
down an absolute law which shall cover
all cases. This error is repeated when it
is attempted to measure mentality by
mere weight of nervous tissue. Not
long ago two brothers, both members of
of the society mentioned, died in Phila-
gelphia. One was Dr. Joseph Leidy,
one of the most distinguished an-
atomists and naturalists in the world.
The younger was Dr. Philip Leidy, a-
well-known, but nut a promineut physi
cian Both were men of high mentality
but in their lives no one thought of
comparing the mental force of the
younger to that of the elder brother, yet
the brain of the younger brother was
heavier than was the brain of the elder,
and it is stated by the experts who ex-
amined both that it appeared to be more
perfectly developed .
The truth is that there appear to be
no physical tests by whicn mental,
much less moral gifts, can be determin-
ed. The functions of the brain and
nervous system in general are far more
complex than the earlier psychologists
dreamed of. Thnere are no longer five
senses, for the sense of touch has been
divided and sub-divided, and there are
it is well-known, certain other so-called
unconscious senses which regulate the
heat-production and tissue-production of
the body and the proper working of the
various organs. The brain is still be-
lieved to be the seat of mentality pure
and simple, but no one of great scienti-
| ficattainments has dared to locate the
seat of such a function as memory, for
example, or sought to determine the
particular convolution which presides
over the will. The truth appears to be
that all the various factors of the ner-
vous system, including brain, spinal
cord and isolated ganglia, combine in
these greater functions, and that it is
the totality of nervous energy which we
recognize as the will and the totality of
nervous conservation which we eall
memory.
There cartainly can be no definite re-
lation between the weight of the brain
and mental power any more than there
is between the weight of a horse and
the physical power which the animal is
able to exert. It may be conceded that
there is a general relation and that the
man of the largest brain is usually the
wisest, just as the horse of greatest
weight is usually the strongest, but no
definite or positive assertion can be made
in one case any more than in the other.
What is known of the relation between
the nervous system and mentality is in-
finitesimal compared to what is un-
known, and generations yet to come
will probably struggle as hopelessly to
solve the question of relative mental
strength as we do in the present day.—
Baltimore Sun.
Nothing Wasted.
«What has become of that two-cent
Columbian stamp that I put away in
wife as he hunted round.
“Why, don’t you remember, dear,
you said it was in the way, and I might
have it.”
“Well, Mrs. Simpkins ?”’
«I papered the front room with it
| darl =="
“Ob, you did ? And you mean to
tell me you used the whole of that stamp
for one roow ?”’
“No, love, I’ve saved the border for a
frieza for your study.” —Detroit Free
Press.
She—*¢ Are these flowers all na-
ture?’ He - “Yes, all exceptithe price.”
— Chicaco nnter- Ocean.
ago laid the foundation of what is known
the attic 2” asked Mr. Simpkins of his |
Electricity “on Tap.”
The Mysterious, Potent Fluid Handled. Bought
and Sold Nowadays Just Like Coals or Can
dies.
Electricity, once a plaything, then a
scienulfic study, is now a commercial
product. Twenty years ago electrical
energy wus generated in the laberatory
for experimental purposes by afew phy-
sicans as a medicine of somewhat ques
tionable repute, and in weak currents
by those who applied it to use in the
arts. From the . cylinder of glass or |
mastic, excited by fricton to set cork
mannkins or pitch balls a-dancing to
the dynamo that runs from one to a
dozen powerful engines ise long step |
but one that has been taken within the
memory of men who sull call then.-
selves young.
Electricity as a commercial product is
to those that deal in it as commonplace
an affa.r as eggs or butter. The condi-
tions and cost of its production are pos-
itively known, and the product may be
measured almost as the clerk with the
yardstick measures dry goods You
may buy electricity by specific quanti-
ties, and, if you have the conveniences,
may carry it home with you as you
would carry any other purchase. It
can be sent to you by express or deliv-
ered by messenger, or it may be served
out over a wire in measured quantity
as gas and water are served through
pipes. All this seems mystericus to
those not technically educated, because
the electricity shops do not count their
product by dozens or measure it by yards
and gallons, but use outlandish denomi-
nations and a puzzling scientific nomen-
clature. Nevertheless the shopkevpers
are at home with the mysterious limber
thing in which they deal, and they nev-
er stop to think about its mystery, al-
though just beyond the small field
which their knowledge covers there lies
an unknown area of conjecture.
Electricity as a commercial product
and a handy tool, applicable to any-
thing that mechanical power can ac-
complish, isa thing approximately of
only the last 10 years. Before that
time its cost made it mostly a matter
of splendid practical possibilities. Now
with conditions giveu, a skilled electri-
cian can estimate to a hair the cost of
producing the amount of electricity
necessary to yield a specific power. 1t
is chiefly a question of the cost uf coal.
The existence of two simple laws,
makes electricity a practical power tor
doing the world’s work. Oae is that
when an armature is caused to rotate
within the magnetic fleld a current of
electricity is exeited in the armature
and may be taken up carried out over a
wire and returned to the place of vegin-
ning. That is what electricians call
the law of the dynamo. The other law
is that when a current of electricity is
passed through an armature
inclosed within the magnetic field the
armature is caused to rotate. That is
what electricians call the law of the
motor. By the first law a currant of
electricity 18 set up and by the second
that current is enabled to establish
mechanical motion. When these two
laws became known the problem of ap-
plying electricity to the world’s work
mainly needed for solution only a
cheapening of processes, such as should
make it possible to prcduce a current at
commercial rates.
Every dynamo, whatever its form, as
regards the communication of electrical
energy is essentially an electro-magnet
with a core ot soft iron, the armature
enclosed within the magnetic field,
which 1s the space between the two
poles of the electro-magnet. Every
motor, whatever the form, is essentially
the same thing, witli the core revolving
under the influence of a current from
the dynamo in accordance with the law
of the motor. Tre core of the dynamo
revolving under the influence of the
magnetic field, is a shaft, the current
generated is the belt communicating
power to another shaft, the core of the
motor. It is this transferrence of power
by the invisible belt from the dynamo
to the motor that makes the trolley cars
run, the electrical engine revolve, or
any other mechanism perform its work
under the influence of electricity thus
generated. The storage battery is sim-
ply an isolated reservoir ot electrical
energy, for the time being independent
of the generating source, as if a user of
water should prefer to fill a tank in the
top of his house once a week rather
than to draw from faucets directly con-
nected with the main source of supply.
EAA
“Colonel Shepard’s early efforts
to convert his newspaper into a relig-
ious daily were not unopposed within
his own office.” says the ‘New York
Sun’ “When the daily text first ap-
peared in the composing room it was
lost. This happened several times, and
more than one editorial utterance of the
kind that afterwards became characteris-
tic of the Colonel’s newspaper met the
same fate. But Colonel Shepard knew
what he wanted, and uever lacked the
persistence to enforce his will against
annoying obstacles. Once, after the
daily text had become an established
feature, the copy of the toxt was lost
between the Colonel and the composing
room, and an ungodly employe was
beard complaining of the mishap in
language peculiarly inappropriate to
the office of a great religious daily. In
the end the editor and progrietor was
asked to supply another text, which he
did without difficulty or show of vexa-
tion.”
Born on Monday,
Fair of face : .
Born on Tuesday,
Full of God’s grace ;
Born on Wednesday,
Merry and glad ;
Born on Thursday,
Sour and sad ;
Born on Friday,
Godly given;
Born on Saturday,
Work for a living :
Born on Sunday,
Never shall want ;
So there the week's,
And the end on’t.
EE ——————————
No Time.
“That's tough.”
“What's tough ?”’
“This year « fellow gets his
suit on Saturday.”
“Well 7”
“And that being the first of the quar-
ter he gets bis bill with it.”
Easter
The World of Women. !
All coats have applied or inserted
pockets on the outside.
Jet and metal buckles are in great.
favor, in all shapes and sizes.
The fancy in jewelry is the making
over of old tashiuned earrings into etick-
pins.
Plaids of all kinds are in vogue; surahs
lead the way, but soon wiil be eclipsed
~ by plaid velvets and plaid poplins.
| Skirts are no longer trimmed with
overlaping ruflles of the materials, but
often with two or three, placed their
widths apart.
One of the newest arrangements for
head decoration is the heavy ring of re-
| pousse gold through which the hair is
| drawn, and then twisted into a Psyche
- knot. rt
The 1830, or ‘‘granny’’ shirt, which
| is small at the top and spreads at the
| bottom, is usually trimmed with a
ruche, trill or narrow band of some rich
material.
Mrs. Belamy Storer, of the Rockwood
Potteries, Cincinnati, who won 100
awards in the Paris Exposition, expects
to be even more successful with her
Chicago exhibits.
A stylish spring umbrella is of brown
silk, with a pointed kLandle of ivory
through which a silver ring has been in-
serted. Apropos of spring umbrellas,
these are several inches smaller than the
winter ones, and are seldom seen in
simple black, a combination of navy
blue and black being tie favorite colors.
Rev, Marion Murdock, Assistant
Minister to the Kalamazoo Unitarian
church, and Miss Florence Buck, late
preceptress of the High school of that
city, have received unanimous alls to
the ministry of Unity Church, Cleve-
land, O. Both ladies are now in Ox-
ford College, England, and will return
1n July to assume the pastorate.
The smart little zouave jackets that
look so well for home dinners and thea-
tres over bright colored silk skirts have
either large revers edged with jet or col-
ored trimming, or upstanding frills over
each shoulder. Some have half sleeves
reaching barely to the elbow, like a
desponding tulip. Shert lace jackets
made up of flouneing, with very full
sleeves, are worn over low bodices bereft
of damaged trimmings.
The kerchiet blouse is sure to be one
of the great successes of the season. In-
to the shoulders and fronts of arm sizes
is fi.led in each side a width of material,
which is left to hang in two long scarfs,
until the waist is hooked. when these
are crossed over the bust and passed
around to the back of waist, where they
tie like a sash. This admits of pretty
variations, as the V neck space formed
by the crossed fichu may be filled in
with lace or embroidery.
Lady Henry Somerset has become
editor, with Edwin A. Stone, of the
Woman's Herald according to its pros-
pectus “the inaependent exponent of the
great body of conviction and sentiment
that 1s represented by the various asso-
ciations of progressive women pledged
to religious, social and political re-
form.” The paper will be the author-
ized organ of the Worid’s Temperance
Union, and its policy is strongly for
women’s equality in civil, educational
and political privileges.
A very stylish dress was a mixed
cheviot showing green, black and
brown. The skirt was very wide and
crinoline lined. The trimming which
was of brown und purple changeable
Benguline made it stunning. Bands of
it, the widest being about four inches
and nearest the top trimmed tha skirt
balf way to the waist. A tight plain
fitting vest of the silk without any visi-
ble opening or seam showed in the
front. A wide ruflle of purple velvet
fell over the shoulders and ended rever-
like at the bust. Then another set of
revers, fitted perfectly plain, graduated
to and ended at the waist. The sleeves
were ot the wool goods and very full at
the shoulders, but pertectly plain.
Reefers and blazer of tan, Havana
brown, or blue cloth or cheviot are the
new jackets for both large and small
girls. The double breasted reefers have
a pleated collarette, or else two or three
little fitted cape collars under their
turned-over notched coliar. Two rows
of large smoked pearl buttons are on the
wide front. Blazers with fitted back
and loose straight front, meeting only
by a strap on the bust or at the waist
line, have a shawl collar very wide
about the shoulders, and overlaid with
two narrow and shorter collars, the
edges ull finished with cord. Other
blazers have little capes under the large
shawl collar, or else a pleated butter-fly
collar. Pale biscuit-colored cloth jack-
ets for nicest wear are make short and
single-breasted; with the pointed Derby
collar pleated to a standing collar, the
front fastened by white pearl buttons.
Capes of all depths are shown for girls,
but are only acceptable when quite
short, falling just over the shoulder-tips.
These are soma times made of the ma-
terial of the wool skirt, and are worn
with a shirt waist instead ot a bolero
jacket or a blazer. .
We have had the summer girl, the
winter girl, the tailor-made girl. Now
we are to have the “lavender girl.” We
have had her pretty much, for a long
time, in that well marked variety of
lavender known as purple, and now
sheis to appear in heliotrope, violet
and so on, almost into faint blues and
grays. The lavender girl is to wear the
color in every part of her dress—that is,
ber gown, her hat, her glovos, her par-
asol, even to a dainty embroidery of
lavender on the edge of her cobwebby
handkerchief. The lavender girl will
be allowed to depart a little from the
strict hue by wearing white or purple,
and showing various shades of lavender
such as pinkish lavender, or bluish lav-
ender, or even reddish lavender. A
lovely combination that may be worn
by the lavendar girl next summer, will
be the flowered organdie, over lavender
silk, or white dotted muslin, with many
rows of lavender ribbon to set it off.
Every body knows that this combina-
tions are the daintiest of the dainty, and
that the lavender girl will be particu-
larly favored by fashion when she in-
dulges in her fancy to wear her favorite
color.