Dewortali: Waldo,
Bellefonte, Pa., April 14, 1893.
THE QUIET HOME.
0, mothers, worn and weary
With cares which never cease,
With never time for pleasure,
With days that have no peace,
With little hands to hinder
And feeble ste ps to goard,
With tasks that lie unfinished,
Deem not your lot too hard.
I know a house where childish things
Are hidden out of sight ;
Where never sound of litle feet
Is heard from morn till night;
No tiny hands that fast undo,
That pull thing all awry,
+ No baby hurts to pity
As the quiet days go by,
The house is all in order
And free from tiresome noise,
No moments of confusion,
No scattered, broken toy ;
And the children’s little garments
Are never soiled or torn,
But are laid away forever
Just as they last were worn.
And she, the sad-eyed mother—
What would she give to-day
To fee! jour cares and burdens,
To walk your weary way !
Ah! happiest on all this earth,
Could she again but see
The rooms all strewn with Playthings
And the children ’round her knee !
Alma Pendexter Hayden.
———
A PEDDLER’S PERIL.
The sun sank behind the western
mountain peaks, and the short twilight
of southern latitudes came on apace.
After a time the man of the house
came in. He was tall and thin. Two
ferret like eyes gleamed sharply upon
the peddler from amid a shaggy tangle
of white hair and beard.
He placed his long rifle in a rack
over the door, unslung his shot pouch
and then seated himself and gazed
gloomily into the fire, without vouch-
safing either a greeting to the stranger
or a word to his own family. Nan,
passing by, whispered to the peddler.
“Don’t ye mind uncle ; he’s got one
of his bad spells on now, but if he
ain't bothered it'll pass off by and by.”
The peddler nodded, and began a
tale concerning one of his adventures
in Texas. He was soon interrupted by
Aunt Viney.
“Sit up, stranger,” said she. “We
hain’t got much to eat, but such as it
is you're welcome,”
The old man ate his supper in sol-
emnsilence, after which he took his hat
and abruptly left the cabin. Aunt
Viney saw fit to explain.
“Mose, my old man, hasn't been ex-
actly like hisself since the revenoo men
carried his son John off five years ago
last April.”
“*Suillin I s'pose 7”
“Yes, 'nd top of that he shot one of
‘em while they were trying to take
him, "nd they put him in" pen’tensh’ry
at Nashville for ten years.”
The peddler remained silent for a
moment or two. But when the dishes
were washed and put away he again
entertained the two women by relating
sundry reminiscences of his own career,
and also describing the wonders of cer-
tain great cities he had visited.
After a while Mose again stalked si-
lently in and took a seat in a far cor-
ner. While the peddler talked he con-
tinued to eye him closely, as if suspi-
cious that the stranger was not just
what he should be.
“Speakin’ of the telephone,” contin-
ued the peddler, “some folks in these
mountains don’t believe that people
can talk to each other, nd them a huu-
dred or more miles apart, but I tell ye
it’s a fact, I've seed it done myself.”
“I've knowed of men hollerin across
from one mountain to another,” said
Aunt Viney dubiously. “Mebbe they
could make themselves heard a matter
of two miles. Bat a hundred’—she
shook her head disapprovingly.
“It’s 80 all the same, though. I've
sot "nd heard ‘em talkin’ jus’ as we be
be now.”
“That's as big a lie as ever was
told,” exclaimed old Mose, rising and
making for the door.
He seized his rifle as he passed,
threw a menacing glance at the peddler,
and once more left the cabin.
“Old man’s alittle touched in the
head; ain’t he?” asked the peddler,
who seemed to take no offense what-
ever at the old man’s rude behavior.
“Ever since John was took off he's
had queer spells that come over him
every now and then. I must say he’s
more’n apt to be ’spishus of strangers
when they come around. He's always
thinkin’ of ravenoo spies. I dessay
that’s what makes him act so toward
you. But you musn’t mind him. I
never know’d him to succeed in hurt
ing any one yet.”
It was Nan who replied, for Aunt
Viney was making preparations to re-
tire for the night. When the girl and
the peddler were left alone the latter
seemed somewhat curious about this
son John, who for so many years had
been under the ban of the law.
“John was always good to Uncle
Mose and Aunt Viney, ’nd that's one
reason Uncle Mose takes it all so hard
now.”
. “I'g’spose bein’ as you're kin to ‘em,
you must 'a’ felt powertul bad when
they took him off 9
He eyed Nan closely as he spoke,
aod the girl blushed slightly.
“I ain’t no real kin to 'em,” said she.
“My folks is all dead, ’nd they raised
me from a little gal, but John 'nd me
was always good friends.”
“Nothing more ?’ :
The girl looked at him reprovingly. |
“It’s about bedtime,” said she cold-
ly. “Shan’t [show you were you're
to sleep ?" :
The peddler rose, took up his pack:
and followed her into the’ little shed
room, There was an open window by
the bed, through which the full moon
was shining. |
“You won't need no light, I reckon,’
she remarked. Then, bidding him
good night, she. returned to the main;
cabin and went to bed herself, i
Bat for some reason she failed to.
sleep; The bright moonlight; the rasp-|
ing ory of katydids from’ the trees with.
out and the discomforting nature of her
| this.
thoughts kept her awake. She felt
vaguely uneasy about. Uncle Mose.
Where waghe? Very likely at the
little moonshine still up Bear hollow, !
half a mile away. He often spent the
night there engaged in his illicit toil-
She remembered his unfriendly treat:
ment /of the peddler, whose heavy
breathing could now be heard through
the thin partition wall. ‘He had once
laid in ‘wait, rifle in hand, for a pass-
ing drover, whom he had set down for
a spy. Oaly Aunt Viney’s prompt ap-
pearance bad prevented a probable
murder. Uncle Mose, though a good
man enough when in his right mind,
was a dangerous, uncertain personage
when stirred by the memory of his son
into a spirit of half insane hostility
against all the world. !
So uneasy did Nan become that at
‘| last she rose, slipped on her dress and
stole out into the moonlight, An im-
pulse she could not control impelled
her Lo peep in at the peddler's open
window, She was prompted by an in-
definable fear. What she saw there
caused her to start back, clasp her
hands and gasp for. breath. Then,
trembling in every limb, she looked
again, iw goa
“My God!” she faltered. “Am I
dreamin’? Surely it can’t be—'nd yet
I must believe my own eyes.”
Acting under a new impulse she
turned and fled along the trail leading
to the still. Arrived there she found
the place. silent and deserted. There
was no fire in the furnace and nothing
to be heard but the cries of the whip-
porwills upon the mountain side.
Full of painful forebodings she re-
traced her steps and once more
crouched beneath the peddler’s win-
dow, There she waited until her limbs
became cramped and the night air
chilled her to the bone,
“I might as well lie. down again,”
she thought. “I reckon uncle’s gone
down the valley, for he ’lowed to-day
as he'd have to go after coffee right
away. I could wake the man up, but
somehow I dassn’t. He might think I
was forward.”
But a second trial of the bed was no
better than the first. The peddler's
heavy breathing was ever in ler ears,
ard her thoughts reverted constantly
to the sence of peril that vaguely, yet
persistently kept her upon the tender.
hooks of anxiety.
“I wish mornin’ would come,” che
said forthe hundredth time. “Lord,
what a meeting there'll be then!”
The sound of a stealthy footfall up-
on the gravel without brought her to a
sitting position at once. Her heart
beat loudly as she listened breathlessly.
Yes, it was moving around the house.
Now she could hear it no more.
Could she have imagined it all? No;
there it was again—in the back porch.
Then—then—she heard a gentle
creaking sound. Ah! The shed room
door; She sprang out ot bed, and a
hasty bound brought her to the door
leading to the back porch. She
wrenched it open just in time to catch
a glimpse of a tall shadow that disap.
peared within the shed room.
“Good Lord, help me!” she faintly
ejaculated as she sprang forward,
nerved to desperation by this dreadful
fulfillment of her fears.
She entered the room. There lay
the peddler, slumbering heavily in the
white glow of the moonlight. His face
was strangely altered, for the heavy
beard had fallen off, leaving exposed a
clean shaven youthful face. Bat the
white bearded old man bending over
the prostrate form with uplifted knife
saw nothing distinctly. To his morbid
imaginings only the form of a hated
spy lay helpless before him. A spy in
the service of the detested ‘“‘revenoos,”
who had robbed him of his only and
weil beloved son,
“Uncle!” screamed Nan, dragging
bim back. “Uncle! You shall not.
Can’'tyou see? It's John—our John
—your John!"
The peddler woke and stared upward
in a bewi'dered way. The knife fell to
the floor as Mose, his eyes almost start.
ing from his head, stared at his son’s
white face. Suddenly he comprehend.
ed, and the effect descended upon him
like a thunderbolt. :
Uttering a low, quivering cry he
sank to his knees by the bedside, and
his ‘head fell forward. Nan’s and
John’s ‘eyes met 1n a mutually recog.
nizing glance; then they turned their
attention to the old man. As they
laid bim upon the bed ‘Aunt Viney,
awakened by the noise, came in.. She
fell as though confronted by a ghost.
John!” she exclaimed. “Yet it
can’t shorely be |” ]
“Yes, it is, mother. I didn’t know
how you'd all take my bein’ so long in
the pen, so when the governor par-
doued me out I 'lowed I'd come home
as a peddler "ud in disguise till T found
out if you all cared for me any more.”
While John was speaking Mose
opened his eyes, and tears blinded
them as he gazed.
| “My son, my son!” he murmured
brokenly. “And I might have killed
him! My mind’s made up. There'll
be no more stillin’ done in Bear hol-
ler after this.”
“Do you reckon Nan cares for me
any more, father ?”” asked John, while
his eyes sought those of Nan.
“Ot course she do. Hasn't she been
grievin’ herself away ever since you
was took. She never looked at anoth-
er man.”
Nan’s confusion seemed to sanction |
‘“Fhlere’s only one thing then to be
done,” interrupted Aunt Viney deci
sively. They've just got to go over to!
the circuit rider's next Sundayl’nd git
married. After that's over 'nd done,
with, Mose, I do hope you'll behave!
yourseltin futur’, a VT of
“Hain’t T-sad-T weren’t a goin’ to)
‘still ‘whiskey any miore?” said Mose,
‘'Stillin’s been at the bottom of all our!
troubles.” pont a
While the old folks talked John took
Nan’s hand in his, and they stealthily,
|| kissed each other, — William Perry,
Brown in the Philadelphia Times.
——Subscribe for the WaTcumaN.,
!| room; as does tha basement.
The Great Mormon Temple That Was
Dedicated Last Week.
‘An event that marks the completion
of & work of forty years was celebrated
the sixth day of April at Salt Lake City
when the great Mormon temple was
nally ded
formally dedicated to the uses of this
peculiar religious sect.
+ It was the 14th of February, 1853,
that the beginning was, made on the’
i suggested by President Young,
An
on June 6, 1853, the corner-stone
‘was laid with impressive ceremonies.
‘At that time the building material
most used was: ‘“‘adobes’’ “(sun-dried
bricks). At Red Butte Canyon, close
to the city, a red sandstone -was found,
and of this and “adobes’” it was’ decided
to build the temple; but betore the
foundation was begun a . very desirable
stone, a gray granite, was discovered at
Cottonwood Canyon, 20 miles south of
Salt Lake City, and this stone was chos-
en. The work has proceeded slowly
and steadily for over 40 years, since a
railway was built southward from Salt
Lake, the work has been ‘more rapid.
Previous to the building of the road
each of the great blocks of granite had
to be hauled 20 ‘miles ‘with oxen and
carts, and it.often required four days to
get one stone from the quarries to the
temple: Four, six or eight oxen, draw-
ing a cart under which was swinging a
block of granite weighing many tons
was a familiar sight on the streets of
Salt Lake City for over a quarter of a
century, during which time the work,
necessarily, proceeded very slowly, but
it did proceed with few interruptions.
There were brief interruptions when
famine ‘threatened the people from
grasshopper invasions. And again in
1869 and 70, when the great transconti-
nental railway was being constructed,
and all of the available force of Mor-
mons was employed in this great work ;
and still again, when the receiver was
appointed under. the Edmunds-Tucker
act to control the escheatad property of
the Church and a seizure of the temple
was made, it was in the possession of the
receiver for a short time.
The exterior of the temple was com-
pleted and the capstone laid June 6,
1892, the thirty-ninth anniversary of the
laying of the corner stone. The cere-
monies were attended by over 50,000
people. A copper plate inscribed with
historical data, various Church publica-
tions, photographs, ete., were laid in the
capstone.
It issurmounted bya figure repre-
senting the angel ‘*Maroni,” a statue 12
feet in height, of hammered copper,
plated with heavy gold leaf: it stands
222 feet above the earth and is indeed a
most graceful and pretty object, holding
to its lips a golden trumpet, through
which is being sounded the glad tidings
of ‘‘the Latter Day Saints’ to the peo-
ple of the earth. The angel ‘Maroni,”
according to the Mormon belief, appear-
ed and revealed to Joseph Smith the
hiding place of the golden tablets, on
which is inscribed the Book of Mormon.
This statue, as seen from the street, is a
most fitting crown to the grand archi-
tectural lines on which the temple is
built.
DESCRIPTION OF THE TEMPLE.
Its whole length is 186 feet and width
99 feet. There are six towers, three on
the east and three on the west end of
the structure. Total height to top of
highest spire, 333} feet ; height of walls
167} feet ; the thickness of walls at bot-
wm, 9 feet ; thickness of walls at top, 6
feet. The whole rests upon a foot-wall
16 feet thick and 16 feet deep ; the
building cove:g an area of 31,850 feet.
Situated 830 feet from the temple is the
“oiler and power house. Here four en-
gines furnish the power for four dyna-
mos of over 2000 candle power by
which the whole interior of the building
is lighted; as we.l as the powerful lamps
on each of the spires.
The lamp surmounting the figure of
“Moroni” is 200 candle power. From
here is also furnished, through a 12 inch
main, laid in a rock lined tunnel, where
it can be reached atany time, the hot
water heating for the building. From
this house also comes the power for two
powerful passenger elevators. = The
most modern plans of heating and ven-
tilating have been adopted, and have al-
ready proved successful. Ventilation is
secured by the pressing of an electric
button, by which ventilators and tran-
sows are thrown open and electric fans
put into motion. The building is abso-
lutely fire-proof ; still, every precaution
bas been taken against fire.
In each of the four corners of the
building are winding stairs ; over 200
steps of solid granite reach from the
basement to the top. These blocks of
grauite are built into solid walls and
newel posts and give the impression
that this building will stand while time
lasts. v
The basement room occupies the
whole building. Tt is tiled with and its
base is of marble. In this room is the
baptismal font. The font is of bronze
and rests on the backs of twelve life-
sized bronze oxen ; three looking to the
east, three to the west, three to the
north, and three to the south.
Strength and durability, combined
with graceful and pleasing lines of
architecture, are on every hand. The
prevailing colors throughout the inter-
lor are blue and gold, but with such an
artistic blending of subduing tints that
nowhere is there the unpleasing sugges-
tion of dazzling brightness.
There are three floors above the base-
ment ; the first and second are divided
into rooms large and small, in which
| the rites and ceremonies of the Church
will take place—marriages, the endow-
ment, and other secret ceremonies, on
which the public of course can not be en-
lightened. All of these rooms are beauti-
ful indeed, A large room on the north
sideis a dream of beauty. The decorations
of this room will surely compare with
anything on this continent, if not in the
world. iio. Id
*! "THE UPPER FLOOR.
The upper floor consists of one large
It is 120
by 80 feet, and. 35. feet to the ceiling. A
gallery of graceful sweep encircles the
room, and the seating capacity, includ.
ing the gallery, is over 8000 persons.
The gallery is railed ‘with’ bronze and
bas'hand-carved decorations. The ceil-
ings are artistically paneled and encir-
cled by a frescoed frieze. There are
| five large ornamental chandeliers. |
A noticeable feature is the permanent
wash basins of dblicately-tinted native
onyx with appropriately pretty plumb.
ing fixtures, which are seen in all parts
of the building. The hardware of the
temple is made to order, and is orna-
mented with either the bee hiveor the
clasped hands, the symbols of the
Church, in connection with the motto
“Holiness to the Lord.” !
1n vue basement ‘the knobs, hinges,
ets., are of brass On the first floor they
are of plated gold, n the second of
plated silver, on the third of ,ld silver
and the fourth of old bronze.
Of the dedication Mr. Burton a son-
in-law of the late Brigtam Ycung says
It 1s not the completipn of a forty
years’ labor of love, and the possession
of ome of the great buildings of
the world, © but it is: to
them the realization of over halfa cen-
tury of longing and , desire’ to build a
temple to their God.
“With its completion, also has come
to our people a feeling that they are be-
coming understood instead of being
misunderstood and misrepresented, as
has been their fate for the past half cen-
turv. Every obstacle that has barred
the way to recognition of the Mormon
Chureb, as entitled to the same rights
and privileges as all other religious de-
nominations, has been ol literated. Poly-
gamy no longer exists. The law
against it is strictly obeyed by our’ pao-
le.
vast amount of money and property es-
cheated from the Church will be retarn-
ed ; though the trials of our people have
at times seemed more than we could
bear, our faith teaches us to forgive and
forget. You see us to-day Mormon
and anti-Mormon working hand in
hand, shoulder to shoulder, to build up
here in this great interior basin a great
State a fine city. Noone can tell the
difference between Mormon and Gen-
tile ; each isstriving to outdo the other
in good citizenship.”
LAE SA SE.
——Blarney Castle was founded
about 1450 A. D. by Cormack MacCar-
thy, surnamed “the Strong,” the Lord
of Muskberry and chief of a younger
branch of that great MacCarthy family
who once ruled all Cork and for many
years waged a fierce and not always un-
successtul contest for its possession with
the Saxon invader. In the struggle the
Lords of Muskerry took ar active part
and shared both the triumphs and de-
feats of their illustrious kindred, their
stronghold of Blarney being several
times lost and regained by them. It
was captured in 1602 by Queen Eliza-
beth’s troops : but was restored to its
owner MacCarthy, who was created
Viscount Muskerry. In 1642 the Earl
of Orrery captured and retained it until
1658, when the then Lord of Muskerry,
who had been made Earl of Clanearty,
received it back. The last Earl of
Clancarty espoused the cause of the
Stuarts, took up arms in behalf of
James 11. and followed that unhappy
prince into exile, after his defeat. Tne
p:ssessions being forfeited, William of
Orange granted the estate ot Blarney to
a Sir George Jeffereyes, in whose family
it still remains ~~ As stated previously
the castle was erected in 1450, the date
being inscribed upon a stone in the wall
of the tower near its summit. The
stone also bears tte name of Cormack
MacCarthy, the founder of the fortress.
This is the stone known to fame as the
‘Blarney Stone.” Its supposed power
of imparting the gift of persuasion and
facility of language to any person who
shall kiss it, has been often described
and extolled in prose and poetry, but its
origin is not known to a certainty.
BE —
To MAKE CLAM CHOWDER.—Take
one quart of hard-shell clams, one-half
pint of fine cut carrots, one-half pint of
fine-cut celery, one piat of fine-cut on-
ions, one quart of fine-cut potatoes, one-
half can of tomatoes, one-quarter pound
of larding pork, one-half tablespoonful
salt, one teaspoonful pepper, one ten-
spoonfull thyme, two quarts water, one-
half tablespoonful butter, one-half ta-
blespoonful of flour, one teaspoonful
cayenne pepper. Cut the pork into
small dice, fry them in saucepan to a
ligh brown, add two quarts of boiling
water, then add the carrots, celery and
onions, and boil until the carrots are
done ; then add the potatoes, boil ten
minntes longer ; next add the tomatoe,
boil twenty minutes ; Add the fine-cut
clams and liquor ; fry the flour and but.-
ter together add them to the chowder,
season with salt and pepper, let cook a
few minutes, then serve.
i —————————
——A clergyman in Scotland invited
Bishop Selwyn to preach in his church
His lordship gave an inipressive and
beautiful sermon, which at the same
time was perfectly plain and simple.
The rector was delighted, and said so
on meeting one of the most regular
members of his congregation. “Well,
sir, I don’t thing eo much of it,” re-
joined the man. “It was so simple any
child could haye understood it. For my
part, I like a sermon that confuses
your head for a week. I don’t know
any which beats your for that sir.
A Ai —
Ea SaLap.—Put a piece of butter
the size of an egg in a frying pan, and
when it melts stir in a heaping table-
- spoonful of flour and two teacupfuls of
milk; when it boils thick and smooth
add a teaspoonful of minced paisley,
and remove from the fire. Slice twelve
hard boiled eggs, place a layer in a pud-
ding dish, and one of bread crumbs, and
continue until the eggs are used, leaving
bread crumbs on the top. Season with |
salt, pour the cream over and .bake in’
a moderate oven until slightly brown.
Garnish with parsley and serve hot.
CHEESE CRrouTONs.—Cut slices’ of
stale bread with a round cutter into
cakes, toast them quickiy. Put for
twelve persons, a half pound of grated
cheese into a sauce pan, add a teazpoon-
ful of butter and a tablespoonful of to-
mato catsup ; stir over the fire until
melted, put a teaspoonful over the top
of each piece of toast, and place on a,
napkin. Pass with the soup, allowing
each guest to help one’s self. ~
——John—Sallie, of I was to ask youn
if you’d marry me, do you thing you'd
[say yes?
—- Sallie—I—er--I guess so.
—— Jobn-- Waal, ef I ever git over
this "ere durn ‘bashfulness I’! ask you
some 0’ these times.
“I think there is no doubt that the
Mr. and Mrs. Bowser,
Some Old Recollections Revived and Denied,
“I see,” said Mrs. Bowser, as she sat
reading the paper the other evening,
wile Mr. Bowser was trying to dig a
peg oat of his shoe—¢1I sew that another
Brooklyn man has run away and lef:
his wife.”
“Has, ¢h ? Well, I don’t wonder at
it,” replied Mr. Bowser.
“Did you read the item ?”
“Ob, but I know how-it happened.
He found out t! at he ¢)uldn’t take a bit
of comfort in his home, and he left it.
No one knows the misery that poor man
suffered before he took that step.”
“It doesn’t say he was unhappy.”
“Of course not. No husband ever
gets justice to say nothing of pity. I'll
bet he suffered a thousand deaths before
he walked away to die in some lonely
gpot by his own hand.”
“Well, dear, you’ll never be driven
away at any act of mine,” she said as
she went over and kissed him.
#W-what in thunder are you doing ?”
shouted Mr. Bowser, as he dropped the
shoe and sprang up.
“Why, I kissed you.”
“Well, I don’t want anybody blow-
ing into my ears or spitting on my
chin I What struck you all at once 77
“There was a time, Mr. Bowser—there
was a time when —-"’
“When what ?”
“When you said that if I would kiss
you, you would be the happiest man in
the whole world.
“Never | Never even hinted at such a
thing!" T wasn’t that sort of a noodie-
head !”’
“Mr. Bowser | Why, there was for
three months, while I was waiting to
wake up my mind to marry you, that
you could hardly live from day to
day,”
“Waiting | You waiting! Well
that is cool | That tickles me—ha | ha!
ha!” he shouted, as he held his sides.
“Yes, waiting.”
“Why—ba ! ha | ba !|—you said ‘ves’
so mighty quick you bit your tongue in
doingit! The idea of me pining and
wasting away because I feared you
would say no |”
“Do you remember the pet name you
used to call me ?” she asked.
“Pet nonesense |’
“You called me your red wild rose.’
“Red wild pigweed | Are you get-
ting soft in the head, Mrs. Bowser ?’’
“Nearly all your letters to me were
dated anywhere from midnight to 4
o’clock in the morning, and —"
“Never! Naver wrote you a letter
except in the afternoon, when I hadn’t
anything to do and wanted to use u
half an hour’s time,” replied Mr. Bow-
ser.
“And every one of them speaks of
how lonely you were, and with what
joyous anticipations you looked torward
to your next call.”
“Lonely | Joyous anticipations !
I'd be apt to lonely when there were a
dozen or more mighty good looking
girls afier me, wouldn’t T 7”
“But in a few brief years after mar-
riage how the average husband does
change,” observed Mrs. Bowser, as if
speaking to herself.
“Yes, that’s it. You huated me down
and got me to marry you, and now you
# e trying to make my home happy. If
you are teeling badly why don’t you go
and make yourself some catnip tea.”
“Husbands talk about happy homes,”
she continued, as she looked the paper
over, “but what do they do to' make it
happv ?”’
“ While they are courting they are all
smiles and soft talk, but the honeymoon
is no sooner over than they stand reveal-
ed in their true colors.”
‘Keep pitching right in, Mrs. Bow-
ser | Nothing like a fault finding
wife to make home pleasant !”
“Do you remember that Fourth of
July evening when we sat on the
veranda ?” she asked. “I shall always
remember what you said that night and
how much the situation affected you.”
“Affected me! What on earth are
you talking about ?”’
“You took my hand in yours, Mr.
Bowser and you asked me to please try
and learn to love you.”
“Never! If you’d swear to that on
16 family Bibles I wouldn't believe it.’
“You said that life was but a weary
waste to you before I crossed your path,
and —
“I never did—never ! never ! never!"
he shouted as he sprang up. No one
but you ever charged me with being an
idiot or a lunatic !”’
“Didn’t you once show me some bak-
ing powder in a pill box and tell me it
was strychnine, and that you'd take it
if I married any one else ?”
“Never! Never cared two cents
whether you married any one else ?”’
“And you deny that when father
came out one evening and threw you off
the stoop and told you never to come
back that you wrote me you—~"
“Threw me off ‘the stoop! Your
father I! By the great hornspoon, but
thisis too much, Mrs. Bowser! Threw
me! I'd like to have seen the whole
caboodle of your relations throw me off
a stoop I”
“Perbaps you don’t remember how
you used to compare my eyes to stars
and tell me that it would be the one ef-
fort of your life to make me happy 2"
“Eyes | Stars | The idea of my talk-
ing any such bosh ! I came home ex-
pecting to spend a happy evening in the
bosom of my family and you've gone
and knocked it all ‘over! That's” the
way with the tarpnal woman--always
kicking and complaining about some-
thing.”
“There was a time when you used to
pet me, Mr. Bowser.” ad
“That's it |. Keep right on harping
| on that same old string | If a husband
don’t tell his wife 40 limes a day that
she’s his wife, 40 times a day that she’s
his shining star she’s ready to kick and
make his home miserable, I may be
driven out any day now. I've seen it
coming for the last two years, but I
was helpless, I'm going to lock up and
go to bed. Good night, Mrs. Bowser!’
—New York World.
Wool—People are mighty ‘uncivil in
Philadelphia,
Van Pelt—How g5?
Wool—I asked'a native yesterday
what street I was on, and all the reply
I got, was : “Chestnut.”
= Subscribe for the WarcaMan,
i ——————
The World of Wome 1.
Some new skirts have a very wide
box plait at the middle of the back.
Mahogany, ox-blood and the medium
and dark browns head the list of modish
street shades for gloves.
Mrs. Jefferson Davis bas declined the
proposition of her Georgia triends to
raise for her a cash gilt of ten thousand
dellars.
Mrs. M. M. Anderson, of Pulaski,
was elected as assistant Sergeant-at-
Arms of the Arkansas House of Repre-
sentatives on Jaruanry 14 This is the
first time a woman bas been elected to
that position.
Femininity has developed a black
satin passion. Shiny satin or dul] satin,
80 it’s black it’s all the same.” You cea
nothing but black satin capes, coats,
jackets, mantles and gowns of al de-
scriptions, are made of the sombre black
satin.
‘Wide ribbon strings on bonnets are
once tore to the front. They are of
shot and brocaded ribbons. and tie be-
neath the chin in the old fashion. New
widows’ boanets have strings of corded
white ribbon, dull in finish, and nearly
a finger broad.
The new skirt is call the umbrella
skirt. There was a skirt wora last year
which bore that name, but referred to a
closed and strapped umbrella, so close
and tight was it. This year the umbrella
is hanging in loose folds, each gore
sloped to the top, and hanging freely at
the bottom.
Another charming gown is of Davy
blue sponge crepon. The skirt tight-
fitting around the hips, with a two inch
bunch of fullness ouly at the back
whence, fall the full round plaits, is
booped with four bands of black satin
ribbon, upon which a narrow line of
ecru guipure entredeux makes a novel
and effective finish set upon the satin.
This trimming also circles the waist and
lower portion of the sleeves. The cor-
sage is trimmed ' with a curiously cat
fichu of: crepen satin, and lace that
crosses upon the bust, high up in origin-
al fashion, passes around the back,
comes forward again and finishes in two
ends pendant upon the left side.
Two traveling gowns that have been
made for a visit to the World’s Fair de-
serve mention. One a navy blue, with
fine hair line stripes of white, was n.ade
absolutely without trimming ; the skirt
full and crinolined and the bodice a
double-vested affair that fastened up
with pearl buttons over a white pique
vest. A collar, cuffs and white cravat
completed a very fetching little ensem-
ble that looked clean, cool and sensible.
The other a cheviot of two tones
of brown in tiny checks. The umbrella
skirt has the ribs outlined in heavy silk
cord, ard the seams of the very short.
basque are treated in the same manner.
A cape goes with this entirely covered
with the the cord in rows set very close-
ly together. y
Where the very narrow gores are
used, the seams are often covered with
a narrow vine of embroidery or jetted
passementerie, or a full ruche of lace
runs up for a half-yard from the bot.
tom and is finished with a rosette ; with
this latter garniture there 1s no trim-
ming around the bottom of the skirt,
Though wider flounces are predicted,
none are yet seen except an occasional
one of lace on evening gowns. Narrow
ruffles, confined to the bottom of the
skirt, are still the favorite trimming.
Upon the spring woolens, many rows ot
narrow braids and Persian gimps and
velvet ribbon in graduated widths will
be the popular trimming. A gown of
rich silk and wool reps—green and
black —is trimmed around the bottom
with 15 rows of half inch velvet ribbon,
black and and green alternating, and
the revers and huge sleeve puffs of
green velvet.
Dear girl, if you are just a trifle over
plump and not tall enough to carry it
off well bear in mind that the more girl-
ish the style you effect the slighter your
figure will appear. You will have an
awful struggle, but you must impress
it upon your dressmaker’s mind that
you will not be boned and leaded down
in a sort of modified fashionable strait-
jacket under the erroneous impression
that fancy fixings will add to your size.
For an elderly woman of robust figure
it’s all very well to look imposing, but
a young girl should aim at dainty light-
ness and softness.
Have a very emphatic understanding
with the woman who gets up your
gowns to the effect that you will not
have your darts run up to give you a
bigh-busted figure, as if your age was
40 and your bust fortyfour. Do not
let her persude you that cloth is the pro-
per thing for a plump girl to wear, for
it isn’t. It shows off your superabun-
dant curves two much. In the next
five or ten years that will do all very
well, but until you are 25 at least you
want those curves merely suggested.
Choose soft, clinging "materials, and
don’t overdo the the thing in trimming
the bodice. You must have a sugges-
tion of’ fullness, but not really great
folds of the material, such as the thin
girl swathes herself in.
~~ If your hips are broad, insist upon
pointed bodices and have a band of
trimming folded about the bottom. It
has a wonderful effection the sharp curve
out from the waist and slopes it out
beautifully.
Make it a point to have your skirts a
trifle full in front and fitted smoothly
over the hips at the sides, and cling to
the plaited in back just as long as you
can for its narrowing effect. Beware of
too much trimming on the skirt and be
careful how you let .it run up above
your knees, for it will make you look
shorter. :
When choosing your summer pat-
terns, don’t pass by those pretty youth-
ful styles with a sign of despair. “Have
your skirts made full if you want to
and have that pretty bodice with the
fullness coming down from the shoulders
made pointed instead of round waist.
It ycu are your own maid and have to
tie your sash in front, leave the . part
that goes around the waist very loose,
and after you have turn it around draw
the sash into little pleats at the edge of
your bodice right in front, and the silk
will fall in soft folds following the line
of the bodice. Its quite as fetching as
the rcund waist and has ever 0 much
more individuality.