Bellefonte, Pa., July 28, 1893 PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS. If pansies, with their dark, impassioned aces, Had but been given the power of human speech, What 4 the lesson that, from lowly places, Each tender, fragrant voice to us would teach ? Perchance in tones like tinkling dewdrops sighin What their lives tell, their velvet lips would say : : “For at life's trials that are round thee lying, ee be the brighest in the darkest day. ———————— BARKER. I think I may safely say that Barker has been the bane of my existence. We were at school together, and he made me break the rules so often that I was never free from punishment or ever able to come within measurable distance of the height of my ambition the good conduct prize. When I re- monstrated with him he said it did not matter, only muffs got a conduct prize ; but it did not matter. My aunt bad promised to give me a sovereign the first time I brought home a prize, and, thanks to Barker, she has that sov- ereign still. . Later in life we found ourselves in the same office in the city. Barker at- tached himself to me on the strength of our old school-fellowship, and again made my life miserable. He is a bumptious, self-assertive, healthy, ath- letic sort of a man, is Barker, while I am modest and nervous. He forced himself upon me, and then did the most reckless things imaginable with- outa thought of what the consequences might be. He would, even without a ticket, enter a train in motion sooner than miss it, and, what was worse, if I was with him be wonld drag me in after him. If I ventured to hint that we were breaking the by-laws and might be summoned, he laughed and said it would be all right. According to Barker whatever he did that he should not have done would be all right—and I must say he was lucky. The ticket collectors always took his word and his money without even hinting that he had been trying to de- fraud the company, and porters have actually aided and abetted him by opening doors and saying, “Come along gir,” when they ought to have stopped him--but, then, Barker always tips porters. ; He had a tandem tricycle, too, and he made me go for rides on it with him. As soon as we were out of town be didn’t care much what he did. If we passed a nice park or wood, he would propose that we should turn in and have a smoke, and when I pointed out that there was a board up threatep- ing tresspassers with prosecution, he would laugh, and, as usual, say it would be all right. He always left the lamp behind, assuring we that we should be back before dark, but we never were, and for the last mile or two I used toride in fear and trembling though we were never stopped. I be- lieve Barker bribed the police. Luckily, I consulted my doctor about tricycling, and he said [ was too nervous for it, so Barker had to find another victim. I joined a lawn ten- nis ¢’:b—Barker said tennis was all right when men played alone, but that women turned it into a babies’ game, so I thought I should be free of him there —and through that I became engaged to Sophy Bell. We had been engaged some time when we had a little discus sion about going to the theatre, which led to—but you will see what it led to if you read tothe end; so, without far- ther explanation, 1 will produce as much of it as concerns my story. “Really, Algernon, I don’t much care about going at all,” said Sophy ; but there were tears in her eyes when she spoke, and I knew that she did care, therefore I firmly but mildly in- sisted on my point. “That is nonsense,” I said. “You know you have been looking forward to it for months. Three weeks ago you asked me whether I had got the tickets yet.” “Yes, but then—"' she began and stopped. Then, apparently recogniz ing how foolish she had been, she gighed and added : “Neyer mind, dear, I'll go if you wish it.” “Ot course, I wish to give you pleas- ure Sophy,” I replied. *‘And really the gallery is—" “Oh ! for goodness’ sake, don’t begin all that over again,” she interrupted, speaking with a tartness that surprised me. “It’s settled now, and I will be ready by 6.30. Mind you're not late, sir,” “But, Sophy, I protested, “if I come down for you it will cost me threepence each way, and, besides, there is no time. The doors are open at 7.30, and we ought to be there at least three quarters of an hour before that. Sup- pose you meet me in front of St. Paul’s at 6. We can eaeily walk from there.” She gave me a glance, the meaning of which I could not fathom, then sighed again, and said she would be there I explained to her how, by start ing in good time and walking part of the way,she could save a penny in 'bus fare, and we parted in the usual manner As I walked home, I thought that perhaps I had made a mistake in ever taking Sophy to the theatre at all. Probably I never should have done so, but, when we were first engaged a man who owed money to the firm had some- times given me orders. They were al- ways for two, and it had seemed a pity not to make use of them, but, unfortu- nately, I never told Sopby that I did not pay for our places, and, when that man died suddenly, I found myself pledged on the strength of a promise from him, to take her to see ‘Gentle Gladys” at the Irreproachable. Our engagement had reached the practical ly sentimental stage when money saved should mean furniture bought, and I hoped she would cordially fall in with my Sigssation that on this oc- casion we should go to the-gallery. She disappointed me. I am not a mean man, Pat I do object to paying eight shillings when you can get prac- tically the same article for two, and I could not make Sophy understand that the gallery is, practically just the same as the upper circle. She said she thought I could afford something bet- ter, and I thought I told her it was not a question of what I could afford, but of where we should get the best value for money, she maintained that looking at the matter in that light took all the pleasure out of it—which is absurd; for what can be more exhilarating than the thought that you have made a bet- ter bargain in amusement than your neighbors ? It was this tendency toward obliqui- ty of economic vision which made me sorry I had accustomed her to think I was in the habit of spending money un- vecessarily, and I wished I had at least told her about those orders. It was too late, however, to do that now, so I met her outside St. Paul's as per arrangement, hoping that practical ex- perience of the gallery would convince her that, considering everything, espe- cially prices, it was the best part of the house. The usual frequenters of the Irre- proachable gallery are as respectable as the theatre itself, which, of course, is saying a great deal, but that evening unfortunately, an objectionable charac- ter had thrust himself in among them, probably by mistake, and, still more unfortunately, he sat just in front of us. We had very good places in the middle of the second row, and, as I told Sophy, we ought to enjoy ourselves thoroughly if we could manage to ig- nore our disreputable neighbor. Unfortunately, again, he would not allow himself to be ignored. I oelieve he meant well, too, and have no doubt be was considered by his usual asso- ciates to be the very pink of politeness. He had shrimps in a paper bag, oranges in one pocket, nuts in another and either chocolate or chewing tobac- co—perhaps both—in a third, and dur- ing the half hour that elapsed before the curtain went up he nct only re- freshed himself with these delicacies, but generously offered them to his neighbors. 1 think that if Sophy had taken a shrimp, or even a nut, much of the un- pleasantness which followed might have been averted, but she refused his kind offers in her most icy tone, and the two girls who sat next to him fol- lowed her example. Iv was easy to see that the character resented this; in fact; he scowled so diabolically that when he produced a flask of rum and offeredit to me I took a sip for the sake of peace and quietness. “Pass it to the lady, governor,” he said, as I was about to return it to him. “Perhaps it's more in her line than shrim pses.” “I am sorry to say the lady is a to- tal abstainer,” I replied, doing my best to conciliate him with a smile. “Poor thing!” he retorted. “Is she really ? She don’t look it either, does she ?"’ “Oh, Algernon!” whispered Sophy. “Let us go,” “Go-- go where?” I asked astonished. “Qut home, anywhere to get away from that borrid wretch,” she replied. “unless you can protect me from this impertinence.” Would you believe that because I tried to convince her of the utter folly of leaving before a performance you have paid to see has even begun, and also begged her not to make a scene, she afterward said I had aliowed her to be insulted without resenting it. 1 objected to the fellow quite as much as she did, but what could I have done? IfI had told him to bold his tongue he would probably have sworn at me, and we should have had everybody staring at us. If I had called the attesdant there would have been a row. which perhaps might have ended in a visit to the police court, even as a witness, always costs money or business time, which is the same thing. Luckily just then the curtain went up, and for a short time the objectiona- ble onmetecame absorbed in the play. It soon became clear, however, that he had not been educated up to the irre proachable standard. He yawned and began to fidget ; in spite of the indig- nant looks of the devotees on each side of him. “Say, governor,” he said at last, turning round to me, “what's it all about ?”’ : “Hugh!” I said. “You will find the motive explained on the back of your programme.’ He made some pithy, but rude, re- marks to the effect that he'd be dashed ifa drama which had to be explained on the programme would go down on his side the water, and then opened a running fire ot vulgar, but forcible, criticim of what was said and done on the stage. As he turned to me every time he spoke, I thought the people around would begin to imagine that I sympathized with him, so I lent him my opera-glasses to keep him quiet. “Oh, crickev!” he exclaimed in what, on his side the water, passes for a confidential whisper. “Look at the old gesser in that box: Disgraceful, I call it, and at her age, too. Just take a gquint, governor.” Sophy might have known that 1 should do nothing of the kind, even though to humor him I made a pre: tense, and therefore she need not have snatched the glasses away from me and hidden them under her cloak. As the first act of “Gentle Gladys” is devoted solely to detailing the pedi- gree of all the characters for the last ten generations, so that you may under- stand why they are compelled to act as they do later on, it is a short one, and before the objectionable character had time to distinguieh himself again, the curtain went down and he went out— probably for beer. All through the act the few remarks which Sophy had condescended to ad- dress to me had an active flavor about them that I did not relish, and, as che showed ro signs of returning to sweet reasonableness when the interval be- gan, for once in my life I was glad to see— Barker. “Hullo! Swaddle,” he said, coming from behind somewhere, and appropri- ating the temporarily vacant place in front of me. “What are you’doing ‘here ?” Wherever I meet Barker he asks me what I am doing there, in a tone which implies that I have no right to be any- where without his leave. “Oh 1" I replied, “nothing much. I brought Miss Bell, that's all.” ’ “Hm ! Miss Bell,” he said treating, Sophy to a stare which began in curi- osity and ended in admiration. “I haven’t the pleasure, I fear. Introduce me, Swaddle. my boy ?” I introduced him—what else could I do ?—and I hoped Sophy would snub him, but again she disappointed me. “I have often heard of you, Mr. Bar- ker,” she said, smiling upon him most graciously. #Nothing to my disadvantage, I hope ?”’ he rephed, laughing, as if he thonght that very simple remark con- cealed an excellent joke. Barker al- ways laughed at his own jokes, and they were generally very well con- cealed. “Not at all,’ said Sophy. “Alger- non has always spoken so highly of you that I have been quite anxious to make your acquaintance. How easy it is to be deceived in a woman! How could she have been anxious to make his acquaintance after the things I had told her about him? And yet, up to that moment I had al- ways thought sincerity was one of So- phy’s greatest charms. “Swaddle, you are a sly, sly dog,” said Barker, chuckling idiotically. “Do you know Miss Bell, that until this auspicious moment, I was igno- rant of your very existence.’ “I am not surprised to hear it, Mr. Barker,” returned Sophy, tossing her head. ‘Algernon is not at all proud of me I can assure you.” A more untrue accusation never proceeded from a woman's lips, yet I could not refute it without laying my- self open to an equally groundless charge of jealousy. I Lad not told Barker of my engage ment, it is true, but that was because he is such an interfering beggar. “Ah I" he would have said, “I must know the little girl Swaddle. You must settle down somewhere near my diggings so that I can look you up in the evenings. Iknow the very house to suit you. Where are you buying your furniture? I know a place—" and &o on. Indeed, he would have made me play second fiddle at my very wedding if he had been asked to it, and-surely it is not jealousy to object to that. They both looked at me as if they expected an explanation, but as I could not tell Barker my reasons for reticence there was an awkward pause in the conversation. I felt that Barker had once more placed me in a false position, and when I feel that I am in a false po- sition I always blush, and often say something which on reflection I regret. I was blushing, and about to speak when the objectionable character saved me by coming back to his seat.| According to the etiquette prevailing in galleries Barker should have yielded it to him, and perhaps he would have dove £0 had not Sophy told him in a whisper to stay where he was. “Ere, governor,” said the objectiona- ble one, “that’s my yitch.” His tone, I must admit, was not con- ciliatory, and Barker is a man who must be treated to an ell of conciliation befcre he will yield an inch of conces- sion. “Isit?” be asked. “I was under the impression that, like the rest of the theatre, it belonged to Mr, Crummules Delawnay.” “Was you?’ sneered the other. “Well, I was a-sitting in it, anyway, during the whole of the first act; I ap- peal to this lady and gentleman if I wasn’t 7’ Barker made no reply, but beckoned the attendant. ‘““Are these seats reserved ?'’ he asked calmly. : “Well, no sir,” replied the man. “Not strictly speaking, they're not. But when a gent goes out for a mouth- ful of fresh air or what not, it ain’t considered just the thing to jump into his place in his absence.” “Never mind about that,” said Bar- ker. “Is the right to find it empty when he returns included in the price of admission ?” “Not the right exactly, but—" “That wil! do, thank you,” said Bar- ker, coolly sitting down again. "Ere, I say,” grumbled the previ- ous occupier, “that’s not gcod enough, you know. You're a precious sight too big and ugly for there to be any sense in me talking of chucking you out, but if—"" : “Now look here,” said Barker, turn- ing round ; “if you had asked me civil- ly to move I would have done so with pleasure, but you didn’t so 1 won't. Stop. Don’t use bad language before ladies, but take this, and think your- self lucky to get it.” “This was a shilling, and the char- acter took it and departed, muttering some nonsense about being glad to flnd that, after all, the gent was a gent, and knew how to behave as such. The people round about laughed, and seemed to think Barker had done something’ clever, though where the cleverness came in I failed to perceive Any one can bribe a lout, but if So- phy had seconded my policy of con- ciliation as she ought to have done, there would have been no need to waste money or to make ourselves conspicu- ous, fin Of course, we were couspicuous after that altercation, which, as Barker was concerned in it, had not, you may be | sure,: been carried on in whispers. | Everybody stared at ue, or I thought | they did, which, as far as destroying | my comfort went, came to the same thing. 'Barker, too, behaved disgrace- fully ‘throughout the rest of the per- formance. He did his best to flirt “No, gir,” admitted the attendant. with Sophy, who, however, did uot en- courage him, but thongh she kept say- ing, “Don’t Mr. Barker;” ‘You shouldn't say such thiogs| and “Do be quiet,” he went on saying the things—jokes he thinks them—and he wouldn’t be quiet. He talked to the girls next to him, whom I am sure he had never seen be- 5 1 fore, and though they had so plainly | resented the advances of the objection- «ble character, they did not seem to mind Barker a bit, while even the de- votees, as 1 have called them, smiled | indulgently at him when he made fun of the play. How isit that Barker can do such | things with impunity? If 1 had. talked to those girls, which of course I | would not have done, without an intro- duction, they would probably have snubbed me, and if they hadn’t Sophy would have been vexed, yet she simply beamed on Barker. As for the other people, they would have told me they had paid to listen to the actors, or something equally cutting, yet they let Barker chatter on without a murmur. How is it, I say ? But to proceed. The drama dragged itself to an end at last. The educa- tionally acquired gentleness of Gladys proved too weak to withstand her nat- ural tendency to homicidal mania in- herited from her maternal great-grand- fathier, who once, when in liquor, shot a man of the Barker species. She killed all her husbands—she had three, I think—and most of her children, and was led off to durance more or less vile. while the few surviving characters shook their heads and sighed. Then the curtain went down and we went out, to catch, as I thought, a ’'bus for our suburb; but I reckoned without Barker. “Now, you two would like a bit of supper ?” said he, “Oh ! yes, Algernon, please. I am 80 hungry,” exclaimed Sophy, who al- Tags was inclined to speak impulsive- y. “My dear,” I remoustrated, “there is no time. The last ’bus leaves St, Paul's churchyard at 11.30.” “St. Paul’s churchyard!” broke in Barker in his overbearing way. “What on earth is the man talking about? Your ’busses pass this corner.” “Oh! Mr. Barker. Don’t you know we save a penny each by walking to St. Pauls?” said Sophy, very proper- ly, I thought. Barker buret into his brutal laugh. Though anxiety to sav- a penny is not a thing to laugh at, I was not surprised —at Barker—but why did Sophy laugh, too? Really women are incomprehen- sible. “Oh! hang the expense for once,” he said. “You can get up here and I'll stand the extra ‘two d'. There'll be lots of time.” I shuddered as I thought of the number of trains I had been dragged ato by the collar all through Barker's idea of the period of time thatamounted 10 *Jois.” “But a!l the perforated bun places are closed,” I objected. “Oh! bother perforated buns’ retor- ted Barker. “It's my birthday, man, and, if Miss Beil graciously consents, we will sup tomght on something stronger than a perforated bun. The Gargantuan is just opposite.” It was not Barker’s birthday, unless be had one in March as well as August and though the “Garantuan’ was just opposite. I do not approve of that luxurions restaurant. It is perfectly respectable, of course, but—buat—well, I don’t think it is exactly suited to peo ple of limited, if sufficient, incomes and quiet tastes, especially when they are about to marry: Its spaciousness and its decorations, and its waiters and appointments generally, tend to make a girl discontented with the humble neatness of her future home. It was all very well for Barker to say, and Sophy to agree with him, that it was only once in a way : but there is a pro- verb about the thin end of the wedge, and even as we crossed the Strand to reach the “Gargantuan’ I was full of dismal forebodings that Sophy would some day ask me to take her there again. I didn’t enjoy my supper a bit. We only had steak and bitter beer, and I wondered how Barker dare order such simple fare from such a waiter in such a gorgeous saloon. I was sure that waiter and some ot the customers, too, were laughing at us because we were not in evening dress. Of course, it wasn’t done openly. Waiters seem to know by instinct that Barker will tip them, and our man was outwardly most polite, but I doubted his sincerity. Sophy, too, behaved badly, or per- baps I should say foolishly. Evident. ly unconscious of the ridiculous figure we were cutting, she seemed delighted with everything and showed her de- light so plainly that everybody must have noticed she was not used to that sort of thing. “Isn't this nice, Algernon?” she said. “Why didn’t you bring me here the last time?’ “Hush!” I whispered. “Don't speak so loud. Those people at the next table are listening to every word we say.” Then she laughed and turned to Bar- ker. “Mr. Barker,” she said, “don’t you think Algernon is painfully shy ?’ I was sure that the waiter heard that, go I blushed and looked at her re- proachfully, but without effect. The thoughtless girl joined forces with Bar- ker and they teased me till I could bardly eat. I hate being teased and I am afraid I lost my temper, but just ag I was go- ing to say something sharp we finished, or at least they did, so, I rose hastily trom the table and made for the door. Barker had taken off his overcoat, quite heedless of the probability of having to tip a second waiter for help- ing him to put it on again, and so he could not follow me immediately, So- phy did but when we got to the vesti- bule she proposed that we should wait there for Barker, as it seemed rude to leave him. My nerves had been so completely | lieve in it, it it as bad as the reality. upset that I didn’t care what it seemed | and I told her she could stop it she liked, but [ was going down the steps to look for a 'bus. I went, and she staid looking about her in an independ- eat way as if the place belonged to her. ! telt somewhat relieved when I reached the bottom step, aod so es- caped to some exteut from the curious gaze of the people lounging about the vestibule, Barker had told me scores of times that people did not look at me, and my fear that they do is nothing but fancy. Bat if it is, what difference | does that make. The faney, if you be- Now, Sophy 18 a very pretty girl, and standing about alone as she was | —entirely through her own fault, of course-—she became a mark for all | eyes, and presently some halt tipsy fel- | Jow came up and spoké to her. She looked at him indignantly, and he not only spoke again but caught her by the arm. Then she screamed—she is just the sort ot a girl who puts herself in the way of unpleasantness and then screams when it comes—and I re mained on the bottom step in an agony | of nervousness as to what would hap- | pen next. I should have hastened to ber help, but the man was very big and, as he was in evening dress, I felt sure the sympathies of the bystanders would be with him. I did not want to get into trouble, either, and I felt that Sophy was almost rightly served for staying there. Nevertheless I hesitated, and I really believe that I should have risked the consequences and gone to her in another secord, bunt up came Barker and asked the fellow what the devil— Barker sometimes uses very violent language; I have often told him he should be more careful-—he meant by insulting a lady. I failed to catch the reply, but it must have been unsatisfactory, for Barker, promptly knocked him down. Then the manager came and for a mo- ment I thought that Barker, who has no discrimination when he is angry, would knock him down, too, but he contented himself with threatening to complain to the police about the way in which the “Grargantuan’” was conducted. I thought the manager would have giv, en Barker into custody, but he actually apoligized to him, and ordered the oth- er oft the premises. Then Barker and Sophy came down the steps, he swelling like a turkey- cock and she rather pale, but apparent. ly very proud of him. “Sophy,” I said, “do make haste, or we shall miss the last bus.” “Mr. Barker,” said she, ignoring me altogether, “will you see me safely home? I am sorry to trouble you, but—"} “Don’t mention it. Miss Bell,” he in- terrupted—I think he is the rndest man I ever know—and they straight. way got into a hansom and left me standing there. I have not seen Sophy since. She told me, by letter, that I had behaved like a coward, and that she was very glad she had discovered my real nature before trusting herself to my care for life. The accusation was false, of course—I was only nervous—-but I did rot condescend to explain, as after all, married life would have been expen- give. I fancy Barker finds it so—he has married Sophy—-for he is not halt as free with his money as he used to be. He isstill the bane of my exist- ence, though. Just at present he keeps bothering me to come down and have a look at his first, and let bygones be bygones. I hate babies—they make me ner- vous, especially when they cry and ot course I shall have to buy something for Barker; but for the sake of peace in the office I suppose I shall have to go some day. Behring Sea Arbitration. The Impression Prevails that the United States Will Lose the Case. W ASHINGTON.— Private letters receiv- ed here from Paris state that Senator John T. Morgan, one of the Behring Sa arbitrators, will sail for home August 5. He intended to leave in time to be pres- ent at the cpening of Congress, but will be prevented by private business from 80 doing. All of the other American members of the counsel have gone. The general impression prevails that the United States’ case is not as strong as it should have been. and a report in favor of England will cause but little sur- prise. Velocity of the Earth. The highest velocity by cannon ball has been estimated by 1,622 feet per second, which is equal to a mile in 3.2 seconds. The velocity of the earth at the equator, due to its rotation on its axis, is 1,000' miles per second, or a mile every 3.6 seconds. Therefore it has been calculated that if a cannon ball were fired due west, and that it could maintain its initial velocity for twenty-four hours, it would barely heat the sun in its apparent journey around the earth. Absent-Minded but Valuable. “That clerk of yours,” sharpely re- monstrated the customer, ‘‘sold me a pound and a half of butter yesterday for three pounds.” ‘Here's a little careless sometimes,” said the grocer, blandly, ‘‘but you musn’t mind that. It's only his weigh.” ) Must Take Care of His Own Found- lings, From the Mifflinburg Times. It is amusing to see the efforts John Sherman is making to deposit his financial offspring on some Democrat- ic doorstep. Death of Rear Admiral Smith, MILWAUKEE, Wis, J uly 19,—A spe- cial from Green Bay says Rear Admi- ral Melanthan Smith, United States navy, died here to-day, aged 83, after a two daysillness. For and About Women, Can't keep a secret? Well, I'm free To say she can, and I'll engage That when she passes thirty she Can keep the secret of her age. —New York Press. All the new hats show black wings, either back or at the side, and bunch of, cherries are often used with them. Unique costumes of huckabuck tow- els for very swell young women. One dozen are used for skirt and Eton. Henrietta Herschfield, the first wom- en graduate of the Philadelphia College of Dental Surgery, is assistant court denust in Germany. Lansdown in changeable effects is es- pecially popular this season, and it changes in soft, lustrous folds, wears well and is shown in a great variety of shades. The blazer which has been almost en- tirely superseded by the Eton jacket, is. making its way back in the long basque. piece which is not infrequently sewed to the belt worn with the jackets. ‘White muslin is worn by young girls. for ball dresses, with white moire or sat- in Empire sleeves and a sash deep in front, narrow toward the back and fin- kad off with a small bow and long- ends. Ancther evidence of the fickleness of fashion is seen in the sleeves, which only a short time ago were made of a con- trasting color. Now theseare discarded for the bodice of a different color, but the sleeves must match the skirt. Very modish women especially affect the waistcoat of black satin. Worn with a skirt and cutaway of snowy duck or butcher’s linen the results are so charming that one can almost forgive the unsightly attempts at style which this especial fashion has provoked. A pretty costume was a lavender and white striped silk, made with a double skirt, having lace insertion set in each section. The waist was entirely cover- ed with lace, save for wide revers that came out over the shoulders and the big sleeves. These revers were piped with white satin, and there was a collar and belt of the same. The size and color of hat has 8 mark- ed effect on the apparent stature of 2 women. A black Lat takes inches off a tall woman, while a bonnet lighter in color than the dress will make a short woman appear taller than sheis. A bunch of flowers under the brim of a hat is a commendable style for those who wish to add to their appearance of height. A dainty little gown for evening is of dotted Swiss, having a full skirt trim- med with several rows of lace insertion, which shows the yellow slip worn be- neath it. The bodice is of yellow bro- cade and has short puffed sleeves made of lace insertion and yellow ritbon. A bertha of white lace and a smart little beit of narrow yellow satin complete the the dainty toilette. A very effective costume that was a compromise between the gay and the demure was a yeliow chambray striped with fine white lines in which tiny black dots were set at intervals. The skirt was trimmed with a deep flounce of white embroidery, over which were .set two rows of open work insertion run with black velvet. The round bodice had a yoke trimmed with two rows of the same, and edged with embroidery. Sleeves and belt were decorated with the insertion run through with ribbon. The election of Miss Ella M. Grubb for superintendent of schocls for Adams county, Ill, has aroused great interest there, for next to Cook county, the head city of which is Chicago, Adams is the most populous county in the State, and this is the first time in its history that a woman has been elected to office. Miss Grubb is only 28 years old. As an in- stance of her pluck and high character it may be said that she has already paid back from her earnings as a teacher the money the was compelled to borrow to secure a college education. A black and white silk was made with a nine-gored skirt, having a deep. flounce of black net on the bottom. On this was set three rows of white satin ribbon. The bodice had double capes of the net, the under one of which: had a band of white-satin set at its edge, but not on the outer side. Immense sleeves made on the bias were in gigot form and the neck and waist were finished with a stock and belt of black satin. With this dress the hat to be worn was of black net trimmed with white satin rosettes and black lace wings. Though flowers are very popular forms of trimming, the Mercury wings are a later and very stylish fancy. These little spreading, feathery trifles are set up in the most coquettish way on the crown of hats, looking for #ll the world as though the entire bit of head- gear was destined soon to fly away. Pale yellow ones on heliotrope straw are a perfect rage, and certainly are worthy of the favor they have received. Speak- ing of millinery, the Neapolitan straws are slowly but surely putting the Leg- horns in second place but they are so scarce that they have become very ex- pensive, and will not be worn by the masses, who find the Leghorn both 1nex- pensive and picturesque. Black silk is generally Supposed to be a material adopted by the old, but if one were tosee the pretty gown of this fab- ric that was among those that were to go into the trunk the long-rooted opinion would be changed. The black silk in question is combined with helio- trope satin, over which is black net. This gown is made with a very plain skirt that hangs in graceful folds. The bodice has a yoke and great puffed sleeves of heliotrope overlaid with net, deep cuffs of black silk reach up and meet the puffs and the neck and wrist- band are of black satin. The hat to be worn with this is a white rice straw, bent smartly up in front and trimmed with wired bows of black satin that stand up like birds just poired and ready to fly up at a moment’s notice. Com- pact bunches of violets are set at the back, and alittle to the side. and front where the rim turns up a bow of satin holdsit in place. The bang is gone. The brow that knew thick love-locks knows them no more.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers