Beliefonte, Pa., Jan. 5, 1824.
THE WINTER DRESSMAKER.
Good Dressmaker Snow sits a-stitching,
For winter has come with a wili,
And the trees are all growing impatient,
And say they dread catching a chill.
The oak says she feels quite ungainly,
And the elms look ashamed of their bones ;
The firs are endeavoring, vainly,
To hinder the fall of their cones.
The cedar, superior, eyes them,
They send up a ery in despair:
“Be quick with our new winter garments,
We do feel so terribly bare.”
The mountains, although they are covered,
Still yearn for a pretty white train ;
The meadows and hedges are weeping,
“We'll never employ ‘Snow’ again.”
So.then, in a: very great hurry, .
Comes down from her place in the skies
A thousand and one shining garments,
Exactly the suitable size.
And then, while the land is a sleeping,
The world is transformed into white ;
And, waking, she cries the next morning,
“Bless me, how the snow fell last night I”
—selected.
ETL TT
LILLIANS NEW YEAR'S CALLS.
Oh, what a lonesome day it will
be!” sighed Lillian, looking wistfully
out across the snow bright prairie.
“Not unless you make it so,” re-
sponded her mother, cheerily.
“Make it so,” rejoined Lilian.
“How can I make it anything else?
It is always lonesome here, and to-day
will be the worst of all. Oaly think of
the fun the girls will be having in dear
old Deerfield, while 1 am off out here
in this—"
She stopped short, fearing she might
say too much. What she had been
about to say was : “This horrid, deso-
late Kansas ranch.” -
“Perhaps the boys can take you for
a drive, dear; and you know we're in-
vited to Uncle Abner’s for the eve-
ning.”
© #A drive!” replied Lillian ecornfully.
“I hate driving, all alone along these
endless roads. Nothing but snow, un-
til I am nearly blind.”
“You have your books, Lillian ; and
your father likes perfect lessons.”
“Yes, I can have books any day.
But think of the girls at home-—what
they are having. They are getting
their tables ready this very minute.
They will darken the parlors and have
gas light, and pretty dresses and lots
of callers.”
Here Lilian broke down and sobbed.
Her mother came to her side and
stroked her hair.
“Be brave, daughter,” she whis-
pered. “I know it is a great change.
But I have often told yon we must
bear in mind why we left the east, and
why we are here. Father would not
have been alive but for this change of
climate and open-air life. You know
he is getting well, and is so happy in
that. We ought not to mind anything
if he can be well again.” :
Lillian felt ashamed, and tried to
dry ber tears. Yet she was unwilling
to quite give up her discontent.
“If only something would happen !"
she said. Then, desperately : “I wish
there would be a cyclone or a blizzard,
ora prairie fire! I wish the Indians
would make a raid!”
“We don’t have cyclones and prairie
fires in the winter,” her mother eaid,
calmly.
Justthen Lillian heard a great stamp-
ing of feet and gay voices outside the
kitchen threshold.
Her four brothers were coming in
from doing their morning chores. As
they entered they let in a great rush of
cold air. Jack spied Lillian through
the haif-open sitting room door.
“Hello, Lil ?”’ he called.
She did not answer.
“Lil in the dumps again ?”’ he asked
his mother.
_ “She is a little homesick this morn-
ing.”
“Why doesn’t she get out as we do,
and stir up her spirits?” said Harry.
“It’s nothing but moping makes her
homesick.”
“This is a thousand times better
than poky old Deerfield,” asserted Ben.
“There was nothing to do there but
slide down hill on a hand sled, and
here we have the ponies and the cattle,
and—"
“But you are a boy, Ben,” inter
posed Mrs. Wyman, *‘and can do a
great variety of things. Lilian isn’t
strong enough for riding, and, besides
she missess her friends.”
“Let her make new ones,” piped up
Jamie. “There's lots of nice people
all over these prairies.”
“She will find them in time,” said
Mrs. Wyman. “But you must cheer
her all you can meanwhile.”
Lillian overheard herself discussed
and began to sob afresh.
Jack went into the little sitting room
and playfully pulled ber ears, and
tried to laugh her out of her gloom.
“Come, now, Lil. What is it you
want—a gallop, a sleigh ride ?”
Lillian could confess anything to
Jack.
She told him all that had been in
her thoughts—how the Deerfield girls
were getting ready for callers, what
pretty dresses they would have, and
what gay, good times.
“Do you waut callers? Is that
what you want, Lilian ?”’
“Qh, you stupid fellow! I want
anything except this awful experience.
I told mother I even wished the In-
dians would drop down on us.”
“Why, Lilian, if youn saw even one
Indian coming down the road, you'd
run and hide under the bed.”
“No, indeed, I wouldn’t, I'd make
my very best courtesy and wish him a
happy New Year. I would spread the
table with the best rosebud china,
make coffee for him and—"
#Y-e-s—but before you'd half done
he would whip out his tomahawk,
grasp you by the hair—this way—and
w-h-0-0-p! off would come your sealp.
Then he'd tuck your braids into his
belt, and away he'd go to the reserva:
CS KF SS er To SM CNTs
tion to hang them up on the ridge-pole
of his wigwam !”
“All the same, I wish he'd come.”
Jack laughed.
“Say, Ben,” be called. “Sis wants
visitors so badly, she even wishes a
Comanche would call.” ;
“I do,” persisted Lilian, “I wish a
whole tribe would come 1”
Harry stormed into the sitting-room,
io search of his heavy leather gloves.
“Where are you going, Harry?”
asked Lilian, eagerly.
“Out on husiness, he
“Are you ready, Jack?’ oo
“Are you all going ott 2” cried Lilian,
in alarm, lest she should lose even the
doubtful pleasure of her brothers’ com-
pany. ;
“We're going on the ponies, to look
up come stray cattle for Uncle Abner.”
“But mamma said you would take
me for a drive.”
“Can't this morning—too busy 1”
“We're all to go this evening, you
know,” comforted Jamie.
“This evening! What am I to do
dlone all day ?”’
A flood of tears again threatened.
“Oh, entertain your callers!” said
answered.
Harry, with scant sympathy.
Lillian watched the tour boys on
their ponies go down the poplar lined
lane to the highway, and then too des
perate for reading or study, or even
helping her mother, she flung herself
on a sofa and hid her tace.
The day was a d:zzling one. The
rolling prairie on every side looked
like a white ocean, with great, sweep-
ing billows of snow as far as eye could
see. :
The widely separated farmhouses,
with their windbreake of Lombardy
poplars and interspersing clusters of
evergreens, looked like ships on this
endless, shining, cold sea.
One needed a happy heart and busy
hands not to be eflected by the vast
ness and isolation.
Neither of these did Lillian have and
it took her nearly the entire forenoon
to get through her bitter struggle with
self.
When she finally roused herself she
found her mother bad put the rooms
to rights, and besides her own work,
had done all the little tasks Lillian had
been used to assume.
This made her remorseful, She got
her books and began to study. But
somehow the brilliant sunshine kept
drawing ber to the window to look out.
The sky was of an intense blue that
was almost purple. The biue jays
were flitting and calling. A few stray
crows hovered over a distant corn:
stubble—these were all the signs of
life she saw.
She stood tapping a tune on the win:
dow panes. Presently she noticed, on
the far crest of one of the enow billows
gome moving black figures.
They were mere specks against the
intense blue beyond, but they fixed her
attention. Almost as soon as she saw
them. however, they disappeared in an
intervening valley.
“That is on the Hardin road,” she
gaid, trying to fix the direction. ¢It
can't be the boys, for Uncle Abner’s
road is to the south.”
Almost immediately her curiosity
was stimulated again by the reappear
ance of the figures on the uext rise.
She could not distinguish vumbers,
but she felt certain that it was
horsemen.
Again they vanished from the crest
into the lower lying space between the
land billows. And so she watched
them until they were pear enough for
her to see it was indeed horsemen.
“Mother,” she called, ‘‘come here!
There's somebody coming along the
Hardio road.”
Her mother came.
“Who can it be?”
“One, two, three, four, five, six, sev-
en,” counted Lilian. “There are eev-
en of them! Perhaps they will turn
at the Climbing Hill corners. They
can’t be coming here.”
“Get the glass,” said Mrs. Wyman.
“See if we can make them out before
they reach the valley.”
Lillian ran after the glass. She ad-
justed it and raised it to her eyes.
She had only one glimpse, however,
before the descending riders were again
hidden by an intervening ridge.
“They ride so wildly, mother!” she
said, in a kind of breathless wonder.
“They must be skirting that hill
along the creek,” said Mrs. Wyman.
“We'll see in a minute if they come up
from the Corners.”
It seemed a long time before they
came again in sight. Lillian bad just
said : “They've turned on the Climb-
ing Hill road,” when they burst into
full view on a not distant summit and
halted.
Lillian could distinctly see them
pointing, as if discussing the way to
take. Then, ot one accord, they put
spurs to their ponies and came wildly
dashing down the slope.
Lilian turned deadly pale.
“Mother !"’ she gasped, “they are In-
dians !”
Mrs. Wyman grew pale also. Dur-
ing her short life in the west she bad
seen only one or two isolated Indians,
and those always at a railway stations
—dull, commonplace creatures enough,
and with nothing suggestive of the
warrior about them.
“Where is your father?” she asked,
with something of a tremor in her
voice. :
“Probably over at the sheep sheds,’
faltered Lillian. “He's always there
near noon. I wish—I wish the boys
were here.”
“They’ll be coming directly, Look
again, now, Lilian. They are ap
proaching very fast.”
Indeed, the Indians were coming on
fast. They were now in plain sight on
the long incline and were riding at a
full gallop, gesticulating and pressing
forward with what looked to Lillian
like savage fierceness,
“They will go by no doubt,” said
Mrs. Wyman, her native courage reas
serting itself. “They are probably out
in search of lost ponies or—"
#*L.00k, mother! See! They are not
going by. They have halted and are
pointing at the house. See! They
are turning in at the lane,
er!”
inquire, perhaps” —
the very door.
the porch.
momentary fears.
door and opened it.
in every muscle.
fellow, much taller than his followers
He was more fantastic in his dress
cheeks,
shoulders.
The chief uttered a surly “How!
eat.
paid : “Come in.”
after him in perfect silence.
hands to warm.
each other, as if exchanging views
They apparently approved of the com
fort, for a stolid silence ensued.
with terror and could not move. Mrs
Wyman went to the pantry to prepare
them food.
The chief was restless.
eyes roving over everything.
he began to move about. He went in
to the sitting room. He spied the chi
na closet door and opened it.
“Ugh,” he said, as if in delight a
the pretty dishes. He
bud china, making an imperative gest
these.”
Lillian, anxious to seem to want to
please these terrible visitors, nodded
The very
do something
and smiled a ghastly smile.
fact that she must
seemed to relieve the spell of cold hor
ror that had settled on her.
She took a tresh cloth from a draw
Oh, moth-
“Never mind, dear. They want to |
They ewung themselves from their
saddles, tethered their ponies to the
hitching rails and came quickly up on
Mrs. Wyman had thrown off her
She stepped to the
Lillian trembled
The leader of the party was a huge
too, and had streaks of paiut on his
The rest had turkey feathers
stuck into the bands of their slouch
hats, and all had blankets over their
and made a motion of his hand to his
mouth that he would like something to
Mrs. Wyman smiled cordially and
He obeyed directly, the rest stalking
They
went at once through the sitting room
to the kitchen stove and held out their
This done, they squatted on the floor
with various low guttural sounds to
Lillian was absolutely spellbound
He kept his
Finally
waved his
hand at Lillian and pointed to the rose-
ure, as if to say : “We want to eat off
“Where did you get your toggerv,
i Jack ?”
“Qh, Uncle Abner’s garret is full of
| all sorts of Indian traps. This morn
But while she was speaking the In- | ing when you were crying for callers
dians had wheeled into the gateway | —especially
and swept up with a headlong pace to
Indians—the thought
struck us it would be lots of fun to give
you your wish. We tound Cousin
Harold at Uncle Abner’s, and he
helped us ont. He's been on a ranch
for years. We knew you wouldn’t rec
ognize him. The restof us kept in the
background.”
“It you hadn’t been’scared, Lillian.
you would have known the pouies,”
said Jamie.
When they had nearly finished din-
. | ner, Lillian said :
,| “I'll write it all to the Deerfield girls.
I don’t believe they've had half as jol-
ly a time as we have, Their calls will
be just the pokey polite ones, But
mine are genuine wild west.”—Mrs.
Clara Doty Bales, in Golden Dys.
)
Photography in Colors.
The Time is Coming When Your Red Nose
Will Show Up Nicely on a Picture of Your
self.
American inventors are turning their
attention to photographing in colors.
That the object aimed at will be accom-
plished before very long there can be no
reasonable doubt. In fact, the thing
has been done already ; the process only
requires perfecting.
| Photographs of the solar spectrum,
- | showing all the brilliant hues of the
rainbow, have been made, possessing
the long-sought quality of permanence.
. | This is accomplished ina way devised
by a member of the National Academy
of France. He lays upon a sheet of
glass a very delicate, translucent film of
chloride of silver, and against the film
- | he places a vessel containing mercury,
. | so that the latter is in contact with the
film,
t| The glass sheet and mercury thus ar-
ranged are placed in the camera like an
ordinary sensitive plate. Exposure be-
ing made, the image of the object to be
photographed is projected upon the
glass. The light conveying the image
passes through the glass, and through
the translucent film, and is reflected
back by the mercury behind. The ac-
tion of the light splits the silver in the
film into thin layers, which breuks up
- | the light rays into their component col-
ors.
| There can be no doubt that first-rate
er, and spread it deftly on the table |/portraits in colors will eventually be
As she straightened the corners dainti
Indian grumbled his approval.
She took out the dishes and set sev
en places.
had been no warlike demonstrations.”
She bezan to be more at ease. Bu
was prying into everything. Lilliar
distinctly saw him put her scissors in
to his pocket. Bat she dared not pro
test,
merry laugh,
see what had come over her.
Mrs. Wyman was in the pantry
mouth, as if to smother her amuse
ment.
There sat the six Indians on the
floor, with hats drawn surlily over
their faces, and with blankets shrugged
about their shoulders.
“Mother, what is it?" was Lillian’s
whispered inquiry.
Mrs. Wyman pointed silently at the
lips again with her apron.
Lillian could not help laughing, too
“New Year's callers, after all,” she
said, to herself.
ham and warm potatoes. Lillian re
turned to her talile setting.
bright teaspoons.
The inquisitive chief gave a genuine
whoop ot delight at sight of them
gan putting them in his pocket.
This was too much.
from him.
jabbered at her in excited gutturals.
At once she heard a great scufiling
The other In.
dians, attracted by the sound, were
of feet in the kitchen.
coming to his rescue.
In they filed in formidable line. “He
shan’t have them,” cried Lillian, strug
gling to prevent the last installment
“He has my
going into bis pocket.
thimble ond scissors already. Here,’
to the others, “your chief is stealing
But he can’t have my spoons.
Harry, hold him.
mon thief.”
A roar of laughter followed.
“Good for you, Lillian,” cried Jack,
flinging off his hat and blanket, and
leaping on the oftender’s shoulders to
“He shan’t have
Butallow me to
present to you our cousin Harold Wy.
from Wyoming.
We found him at Uncle Abner’s, come
pinion his arms.
your spoons Lillian.
man, just arrived
to spend New Year's with us.”
spoone, blushed and dropped them on
the floor.
80,"'she stammered. *
know it was the boys ?”
“Not until Jamie winked at me
other, did you
laughing aloud. I saw you were well
over your first fright, so [ thought I'd
let the boys carry out their fun.”
“My, but I’m hot!" ejaculated Ben.
“Sis has good grit, hasn't she, Har.
old ?"
“Yes,” cried Jack, “and she kept
her promise about the rosebud china.
Let's have dinner. All we lack now
is the coffee, Lillian,”
When the new cousin and Uncle Ab-
ner’s boys and the four teasing brothers
were seated about the table, Lillian
asked :
ly, to see if they were quite even, the
She recalled, with a great
thump of her heart, what Jack had
said about scalping, but as yet there
what was that uneasy chief doing ? He
While thus distracted, she heard her
mother in the kitchen burst info a
She ran hastily out to
holding a corner of her apron over her
Mrs. Wyman had made the circle of
waiting braves move somewhat away
from the stove, so that she could cook
She placed
a spoon-holder on the cloth, full of
He sprang to her side and openly be-
Lilian flew at
him and tried to snatch them away
He scowled fiercely, and
You”
—catching hold of the nearest one—
“Jack, Ben, Harry" (for as soon as she
got one good look at the faces of her
callers she knew them) ‘Jack, Ben,
He's just a com-
Lillian, who had captured part of the
“It's real mean of you to scare me
from the floor, and then it was all go
ridicalously clear I conld not help
- | mace, superseding, perhaps, the work
of the portrait painter. Such likenesses
will reproduce the tints of the complex-
. | ion, the brightness of the eye, and all
those details of varied hues which are
of lite itself. One difficulty tc be yet
overcome in this matter will relate to
the intensification of color effected in
¢ | photographing a human face down to
what is called “cabinet” size. You can
see what this means by looking through
the camera at a person sitting for his or
her portrait. But it would be particu-
larly objectionable from the point of
view of an 1nuividual affected with a
red nose.
Eventually great paintings will be
copied imperishably with the camera.
Though time mu-t destroy the originals,
, | the photographic replicas will remain
through centuries, being susceptible of
- | indefinite multiplication.
Application has been recently entered
at Washington for a patent on a process
tor printing sun pictures in colors—-the
invention ot & New Ycrk photographer.
By means of the camera 1t reproduces
water color paintings with such perfec-
tion that the counterfeits can hardly be
distinguished from the originals
The negatives are made on glass in
the ordinary fashion, except that a tint-
ed screen and what is termed a ‘‘grat
ing” are interposed between the camera
and the object. The grating is a sheet
of glass with parallel lines scratched
upon it, the purpose of it being to give
the picture the effect of a line drawing.
Three screens are used—one for red,
another for blue and the third for yel-
low.
First, the photograph is taken in the
manner described, with a glass screen
. | interposed, which permits only the yel-
low rays of light to pass through it from
the object to the camera. Thus, no im-
pression whatever is made on the nega-
tive except by the yellow parts of the
water-color to be reproduced, for exam-
ple. Then another negative is made in
the same way, with a screen that shuts
out all but the blue rays; and finally a
third which takes only the reds.
Now the photographer has three glass
negatives--one reproducing the reds of
the water color, another the blues and
* | the third the yellows. Prints are made
from these on bichromatized gelatine,
and, from the prints, by the process com-
monly used in photo-engraving, metal
. | cuts are produced. One cut, being in-
ked with red ink and applied to a sheet
of biack paper. puts on all the reds re-
quired for the picture, another cut adds
the blues, and the third cut contributes
the yellows.
The white lines made by the ‘‘grat-
ing” are almost microscopically fine and
do not show, except on close scrutiny
with a magnifying glass. Where one
color is printed over another it forms a
eombination with it Thus, blue and
yellow make green, and the primary
colors—yellow, red and blue—produce
in this way every gradation of tint.
The effect is wonderful.
i]
Labor is Not Protected.
General Master Workman Sovereign,
who succeded T. V. Powderly as bead
of the Knights of Labor, in & recent in-
terview in Washington declared: “I
am an out and out free trader. I be-
lieve in no makeshifts or partial reduc-
tions of tariff taxation. The so-called
protection to American labor is delu-
sion. Labor 1s not protected. I[nves-
ted capital receives a bonus in the form
of protection, and it is then optional
with the capitalist to give a share of the
bonus to labor in the form of increased
wages. But this opinion is seldom, if
ever, exercised.’
A Fractious Fluid.
Mother—*How did this ink get all
over this table ?’’
Small Son—*It run right out all by
its own self, quick as the bottle upset.”
—Gcod News.
|
The Work of the Shelter Brigade,
The Salvation Army believes in
sociology us well as ip heartology.
Indeed, beneath its tricolored flag these
two are very much intertwined, and
made as twin handmaidens to serve
each other. Separate them, and the
one becomes empty sentiment, while
the other degenerates into ‘*‘charitable
patronage.”
Sociology, like religion, must consist
in something more than théory. In
economic questions, as in religious, the
great lack has been in their practical
side. We have found that true sociolo-
gy consists not merely in a correct
knowledze of the status of society, but
in bringing help and deliverance to
those who suffer for want of them.
Too long, alas! has this science been a
mere system of theorization stored
away in the minds of men as a medi
cine, to be used only in case of an
epidemic. We need in these virulent
times the administering of the remedy.
It is the help of true social measures,
united with the power of salvation,
that has brought real divioe comfort
and reliet
visited by our shelter and slum workers.
While the average captain (of whom
there are now over 11,000 in command
in the Salvation Army) seeks by the
aid of song, testimony and personal
appeal to win from the lairs of sin and
meshes of iniquity the unsaved of his
congregation every night, the officer in
charge of the Food and Shelter Brigade,
or Social Wing, is exerting a personal
influence over the unfed, unclothed and
unworked applicants who nightly ap-
peal for assistance.
Side by side witb each other in this
and other cities are two powerful
agencies effecting the uplifted and up.
building of those who have been drag-
ged down low and belplessin the social
scale—the Food and Shelter and the
Slum brigade. A touching and lengthy
story of these two important branches
it would not be difficult to write, did
time and space permit; and in epeak-
ing of the Shelter Brigade, or Social
Wing, we must content ourselves in
dwelling upon but a few phases of the
fascinating work,
Now, first, it must not be for a mom-
ent supposed that the classes reached
and benefited by these social apostles
are composed exclusively of those who
have no intelligence and refinement.
On the contrary, it would surprise the
unsophisticated and uninitiated to learn
the large proportion who have known
every refinement, careful training, and
the highest education that are found
among the list of Lazaruses who throng
our shelters and refuges.
We have sometimes reflected that
could all those who have applied to ug
for food and clothing and work, who
were once found in the higher walks,
be gathered together, it would test the
capacity of one of the largest buildings
to acccommodate them. Musicians,
artists, lawyers and clergymen alike,
who have been drawn into the mael-
strom of misfortune and sin, pitifally
plead at the same door with slum-born
and criminal-nurtured oues for tangible
sympathy and help. Yet it isnot for
the fallen in the higher walks nor for
the vicicus that the shelters are par-
ticularly inaugurated. The primary
object of our Food and Shelter is to
help those who, while still honest and
painstaking, have, through some mis
fortune or twisted circumstances, been
left to go adrift without work, without
home, and, what is worse, without a
friend.
How often have we found that be-
tween the life of want and the life of
sin, between that of misfortune and that
of crime, there is a point at which the
unfortunate can be saved—saved to
gaining livelihood, to honor to self:
respect !
But it must not be supposed from the
above that we do not deal with the
fallen one as well as those in danger of
falling. Could one stand behind the
counters of one of our crowded shelters,
whether in New York, Buffalo or San
Francisco, he would at once become
impressed with the variety of cases that
come to our notice—all the way from
the young man who, fresh to the great
city, has come beneath its subtle and
cunning influence, to the poor, ragged,
dishevelled castaway who spends his
nights in covered trucks or beneath
some damp archway. The good
Samaritan in the Social Wing not alone
finds the man stripped by thieves, but
the one stripped by the hands of dis-
ease and the gaunt fingers of hunger.
There are four classes who frequent
our shelters, to all of whom this poor
man’s refuge proves acceptable and
grateful :
1. The thoroughly vicious and crimi-
nal classes.
2. The unfortunates who, whilst hon-
est and deserving, through sudden mis
fortune have lost their occupation.
3. Those who have acquired drink-
ing babits, and who through inebriety,
have lost position and all belonging to
them.
4, The foreigner who finds himself
not as in his native country he sup:
posed, the early possessor of the yel
low metal, but hopelessly in want and
despair.
If it be asked, are you able to give
some help to all theee classes? we
gratefully reply, yee. And the
following figures, which represent but
three of our shelters in this country,
will speak for themselves of the num:
ber who have come beneath the influ-
ence of this special branch. During
the twelve months ending November,
1893, 80,391 meals have been provided
at a nominal sum; 51,648 teds have
been supplied to homeless people,
6,360 have been furnished with em.
ployment. The number of beds pro-
vided in all our shelters throughout
the movement is
2,000,000, while the meals given to the
hungry destitute reach over 3,000,000,
ET
Atchinson Overrun With Tramps.
ArcuineoN, Kan., Dec. 30.—This
city is overrun with tramps. Every
train brings in swarms, and a small ar-
my ot about fifty are encamped in the
southern portion of the city.
into thousands of homes :
considerably over
For and About Women.
By next September Bryn Mawr Col
lege, one of tbe leading colleges for
young women in the country, will have
a woman president, Miss Thomas, who.
will then succeed Dr. Rhonds as presi.
dent of the college, and will demson-
strate the fltness of a woman to bold an
executive position of the first importance.
in the educational world.
The ‘cut’ of the bodices of evening
gowns varies widely this season.
Though well covered shoulders are seen
and are permissible, the sleeve cul low
and displaying the point of the shoulder
is the dernier cri. For the shapely
maiden this is all well and good, but
let the angular air one take heed ere
she adopt this fashion Bret of
ribbon or embroidery passed over the
shoulders take awny somewhat from the
bareness of effect, or atany rate convey
a certain sense of security 1o the on-looi-
er at least. To the uwinitinted there
seems no earthly or possible reason why
these bodyless bodies shunld remain in
piace anyhow.
Miss Eila Knowles, who was de.
feated for the attorney-generalship of °
Montana by a small majority. and was
then appointed assistant by her suc-
cessful competitor, recently secured, in
favor of her state before the interior
department in Washington, a decision
involving about two hundred thousand
dollars’ worth of school lands in Mon
tana.
Elegant simplicity is the key-note of
table appointments to day. Never have
good taste and good form been in closer
accord than in the prevailing styles of
china and glass which the best city
stores show. Simple lines and forms
are always the most pleasing and grace-
ful, and fashion for once has consented
to follow the dictates of artistic teaching.
The colorings are, for the most part,
very delicate, and the designs in the
decorations are characterized by great
reserve of ornamentation rather than by
the lavish abundance which has been so
prevalent in past years. For regular
family use, or even for use on state oc-
casions. where the means are moderate,
there can be nothing more correct than
a set of white English china with a
decoration in printed monotone. Dall
blue is the most effective coloring in
such a design, which merely borders
each dish, leaving the centre and sides
untouched. No monograms or initials
are admissible. Such sets, consisting of
a complete service, cost $250, and are
really economical, as this china is
especially durable, owing possibly to its
being ‘“‘manufactured china.” This
term means that its clays are made by
chemical combination and fused togeth-
er by heat.
White and gold is quite as popular
and equally as tasteful as in the days of
our grandmothers’ best gold-banded set.
But the ¢lding is oot put on in plain
bands and burnished brightly. 1tis
applied inall sorts of delicate stencil
paterns and tracery and in embossed of
great richness. In the elaborate patterns
the finish of the gilding is generally
dull in tone. Sometimes the wecoration
in dull gold is daintly picked out with
dehecated tracery in black, and less
frequently other colors are sparklingly
used in the borders, giving a touch like
that of jewels. But however elaborate
the designs in gilding may be, they are
rarely allowed anywhere except as
borders upon the dishes and in orna-
mentation of the handles. Indeed, few
dishes which have for decorations
printed monotones, gilded design, or
color bands have any decorations in ‘the
centres of the plates or platter or sides
of covered dishes. Overdecoration has
been recognized as inartistic, and has
had its day, A set of French china
with a fine stencil pattern in gold, with
the handles and knobs to the covered
dishes also gilded, illustrates the pre-
valent simplicity of form and design
and he quiet elegance of the white and
gold ornamentation of to-day. It sells
for $175. Similar setsin English china
costs $250 to $300.
Miss Alice Stone Blackwell is de-
voting most of her time to the writing
of a biography of her famous mother,
the late Lucy Stone. Miss Blackwell is
a young woman of unusual force and
beauty of character, bred in her moth-
er’s ways and purposes, and greatly in-
terested in the cause of woman suffrage.
A woman mail carrier, Rose Shelley,
carries the mail regularly between Dex-
ter and Goshen, an eighteen-mile stretch
of lonesome road in Lane county, Or.,
Early or late, snow or shine, she makes.
the trip, and no stress of weather or fear
of road agents has yet interfered with
her performance of her duty.
It is one of the thorns in the flesh of
the fair young American that she whom
the wise ones pronounces as perfect in
style as the French woman, should be
obliged to acknowledge that ber feet are
not dainty, her instep so arched or her
ankle so slender as that person’s. The
rerson 1s largely, of course, that the
American girl is given to foot-enlarging
athletics, which the French woman
shuns. But another factor is the care
French women take in selecting their
shoes and hosiery,
A French woman who aspires to be
well dressed would as soon think of
wearing ready made gowns as of wear-
ing ready made shoes. She recognizes
the fact that a shoe turned out after a
general model will probably not fit a
foot made on a particular model. Walk-
ing boots with pointed toes she avoids,
saving those angular pieces of footgear
for wear when she will not have to
walk. She is careful, too, to have sen-
sible heels on her walking boots, for
high ones, by throwing the weight for-
ward on to the ball of the feet, broaden
that part. She indulges in high heels.
and points for indoor wear to her hearts.
content, however.
It her feet are by nature broad and
“pudgy” she wears shoes a size longer
than is necessary, and thus decreases the
apparent width. Flat, narrow seams
she prefers, because they help to make
the foot inconspicuous. Soft kid she
wears because of its comfort. All her
shoes fit as snugly over the instep as
possible. And there is never a limply
hanging button, a creased string, &
“rubbed” spot, a run-down heel or a
scratched toe,