Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, June 15, 1894, Image 2

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    Bellefonte, Pa., June 15, 1894.
Say, Si, don’t fuss an’ growl st life,
An’ furrow up yer brow ;
Yer don’t know what life is, my bey ;
Yer eatin’ poun’ cake now.
The corn-bread time is goin’ ter come,
An’ tougher times ye’'ll see,
An’ things won't beez they are now,
W'en you git old ez me
Now is the summer of yer life,
An’ natur wars asmile,
You'll find more thorns than roses, son,
An’ winter after while.
Now all looks beautiful an’ fair;
O! wat a change thar'll be,
Wen storms of age and trouble cum—
Wen you git old ez me.
Ah! Time will flop its rapid wings,
But age comes slowly on,
An’ you will see that manhood’s years
Come quick an’ soon are gone.
Thé older, too, that you may grow
The faster they will flee,
An’ you'll go runnin down life’s hill
W’en you git old ez me.
My boy, ez you go skippin’ down
The rocky road of life,
You'll not find flowers ter tread upon,
But thorns of toil an’ strife.
Yer step won't be ez nimble then,
Yer voice so full of glee,
Yer won't feel like a boy eg’in
When you git old ez me.
Take my advice, while you are young,
An’ do the best yer can,
You sow the seeds of knowledge, Si,
That w’en you are a man
You'll have a home, perhaps a farm,
From want an’ care be free,
An’ you'll be fixed for “rainy days”
Wen you git old ez me.
Thar'll come er day that face o’ you’rn
So fair, will lose its smile ;
*Twill bear the finger-marks of age
An’ wrinkle after while.
Yer curly hair be white ez snow,
You'll find yer can not see
Ez well ez w'en yer wuz er boy,
Wen you git old ez me.
You take the Bible for yer guide,
Be resolute an’ strong,
An’ ef you'll stick ter it, my boy,
Twill never lead you wrong.
Thar’ll come a time you’ll wish you had
An’ cftener bent yer knee,
An’ read the Bible more an’ prayed—
W'en you git old ez me.
Now, Marthy, you an’ me an’ 8i,
Kneel down an’ let us pray;
*Twill make the angels glad, an’ God
Will hear what I’ve ter say.
I'll pray that He will teach our boy
A Christian true ter be,
That he may be prepared ter die
W'en he gits old ez me.
—Will 8 Hays.
Grimes was his name—*Old Grimes’
he was called by the irreverent world,
which knew him well, and which
doubtless he knew to well, as a man
knows something that has not been
pleasant to him, and the pain and
wickedness and ‘hollowness of which
have been forced upon him by a grim
Grimes’ name was the only thing
about him that offered any poetic sug-
gestion and was not lightly passed
or forgotten by those who saw him
every day. The legend of that old
man whose dirge has been sung these
60 years—whose coat was old and gray
and buttoned down before in
every version - of that irrever-
rent elegy—is the common inherit
ance of all the English speaking race
wherever they wander. The ragged
urchin twanged it endlessly in his ears
from behind the corners of shanties
whenever his bent figure came in sight.
Even the grownup Texans who
lounged, gambled and traded horees at
the sutler’s store repeated it to him as
a standing joke that could not be worn
out. But he paid no attention or di-
verted the topic when he could and
hobbled away slowly, ever muttering
to himselt something that nobody
heard or heeded.
The residence of this song tormented
old person was a rough and canvas
covered shanty situated by a rambling
path in the midst of a congregation of
such, some better, some worse. The
place was known by the denizens of
the neighboring post as Slabtown.
: The open and unfinished quadrangle
and the square stone houses that had
all a homeless and dreary look were
some half mile away. Fort Concho
was confessedly a hard place, all of it.
Slabtown was its foster child, filled
with stranded emigrants, cattle herd-
ers, gamblers aud men who had no oc
cupation. Out toward the bleak north-
west Llano Estacado stretched its end-
less leagues of rock and cactus—the
wildest land beneath the flag, governed
and owned by the Comanche and ut-
terly useless and tenantless for all
time, save for that Saxon savage who
was almost as wild as he.
But Slabtown, straggling up from
the little river's side, sat with its shaa-
ties under the lee ot the post, fully con-
fiding in its military neighbor. Here
were privileged to come and remain
through the windy Texas winter all
men, with a due propor..on of women,
whose tastes or whose occupations led
them to the far verge of civilization.
Thither came the cattleman and
watched his wild herds on the neigh-
boring hills until returning greenness
warned him off upon the Eitri
trail. Thither returned the man who
had accomplished the wonderful jour-
ney, laden with fortunate gold. Beard-
ed, broad brimmed and belted, here
lounged a small army of guides and
trailers, playing shrewd games at cards,
drinking San Antonio whiskey and at
intervals shooting at each other. The
gaunt and long footed Texas girl,
chalky, yellow haired and awkward,
minced from cabin to cabin with neigh-
borly gossip and did her calico and
green ribbon shopping at the pine
counters of the trader’s stores. There
were urching many, coatless and shoe
less from January to December, who
were as the calves of this corral of hu-
manity. Here, too, was that pink of
the border, the dashing stage driver,
who for $40 per month every day ran
the gauntlet through 60 miles of In-
dian haunted desolation and who at
the end of his “trick” rewarded himself
with two days of dalliance with the
belles of Slabtown, to whom indeed
he was as the apple of their pale eyes.
And among these people lived Fath-
er Grimes, and these were they who
sang the ancient ditty to him as he
passed by. What his occupation was
nobody precisely koew or cared, but
“ lowed” he was “well heeled” and
“had a little tucked away somewhere.”
In the particular condition of society—
or rather want of all society—that en-
vironed bim the inquiry into Grimes’
business would hardly have gone so
far as that had it not been that his
daughter occupied a conspicuous posi-
tion as the prettiest girl at Concho and
was famous alike for the brilliancy of
her cheeks and her dresses. She and
Father Grimes lived alone, and it was
scarcely thought of that at some former
period a mother had been necessary in
the usual course of nature. “Old
Grimesand his gal” filled all the Grimes
It would be entirely in accordance
with good taste if it were possible now
to describe a dutiful daughter, entirely
devoted to her aged father and resent-
ing the verbal indignities daily heaped
upon him. But: the facts, as some-
what dimly remembered, altogether
forbid. Of all the man’s troubfes, his
daughter was probably the greatest.
She was not gaunt and angular, like
the other ladies of Slabtown, as a rule.
Her cheeks were like peonies, and her
round figure had a perceptible jellyish
shaking as she walked. She die-
turbed her father’s slumbers with hoy-
denish laughter while the hours struck
small in the night watches, and while
her many admirers staid and would
not go. She was a coquette besides
and refused to comfort the paternal
heart by assuming the hard dgties of a
Texan's wife. Sary Grimes was a wild
girl, possibly not a bad creature, but,
asit might have been expressed in an
eastern village, “liable to be talked
about’’—one of the social punishments
not much dreaded, however, in the re-
gion of Fort Concho. There was I
fear, a consciousness in her face when-
ever she passed a man in the road, and
it is equally to be feared that her pru-
dent chastity had but little suggestion
of snow or crystal in it, but as belle of
Slabtown she reigned supreme, and of
course the greater part of her female
friends cast aspersions upon her. She
kept all her admirers in a state of
mind which had init much torment,
with occasional glimpses of beatitude.
Charles Hanks, Esq., stage driver,
started out upon his trip with a large
fortune of happy thoughts and dis-
cussed the object nearest his heart
with the box passenger for 20 miles at
once. But when he returned Sary,
would no more apeak to him than if,
as he complained, he “had been a val-
ler dog.” But Mr. Hanks had no spe-
cial cause of complaint, for he fared as
all his rivals did.
Father Grimes’ reputation was that
he was ‘“allus good to that gal o’ his'n.
He was never known on any occasion
to use a petulant expression to any per-
son or thing. The peculiarity more
often remarked in him than any other
was that he did not swear. It wasa
wonder he did not, for nobody doubted
that he had a hard life of it. With re-
gard to Grimes, the balf bas not been
told. We have seen men who had sur-
vived some great disaster, some horri-
ble mangling, and went crawling
through life thereafter lame, scarred,
deformed the hideous, semblance of a
human creature. Such was this poor,
rich old man. His limbs were drawn
awry. His shapeless hands almost re-
fused to grasp his staff, and every line
of his face aenoted an experience of
pain, happily past for the time, but
ever leaving a grim promise to return
and wring the distorted limbs anew
until the hour of his relief. Yet
Grimes had not been the victim of any
sudden accident or great calamity.
Fire, nor falling walls, nor the rebel-
lion of man’s gigantic servant against
his master in rushing steam and fall-
ing fragments had been incidents in
his hard life. And yet his fate had
been little better. His days had been
days of pain, and his nights had been
spent in torture and in waiting and
praying for daylight or death. It is
common enough, but Ariel, bright
epirit of enchanted air, suffered and
groaned no more in the cloven pine
than a strong man may beneath rheu-
matic torture.
Thus it was that the old man’s gen-
tleness was a marvel to those who re-
viled him daily. Worn and de
formed with hie battle of years with
his enemy,he sat at his cabin door in the
sun and placidly nodded at those who
passed by and whispered to himself
and smiled. Sometimes he had been
asked if it had not burt him while in
slow torment his limbs had been twist-
ed and drawn thus. ‘Oh, yes!” he
said, “it did hurt.” But he smiled as
he thus answered a question which
would have been both superfluous and
cruel if the old man had not seemed to
possess some panacea which enabled
him to almost defy pain.
This distorted figure, this pain writ-
ten face and these strange ways Fath-
er Grimes possessed alone. They were
strange in the land, for sturdy, bearded
manhood, reckless ways, loud words
and a blood curdling blasphemy were
the rule with his associates and near
neighbors. While they knew that be
had within him something which they
neither possessed nor understood, they
only said “cur’us creetur’ and passed
on. Whatever it was, they had no re-
spect for it. They thought him a lit-
tle crazy. He had donestrange things
that they knew of. Had he not once
tried to interfere with a very promising
horse race on a Sunday? did he not come
down to the trader's store one night
last fall and lift up his quavering voice
in a Methodist hymn and try to get up
a prayer meeting right here among the
boys, “and a hundred dollars in the
ot, and me with three queens in my
and?” It was Charles Hanks, Esq..
who described this scene and added : |
“He's an old fool, with a stavin purty
gal. 'Twas just that which saved his
meat—a-interferin that-a-way.”
It wae ‘not strange that with these
queer ways Father Grimes was alone
in such a place, with only his heart to
keep him company. There was a
chaplain at the post, but he seemed as
yet to have discovered no affinity for
this eccentric old man. He preferred
soldiers of the cross of more robust
tendencies and in line, If being a
Christian. was what was the matter
with Grimes’ dazed head, he bad an
entire monopoly of the complaint.
On bright Sunday mornings there was
a formal service on the parade ground,
and plumed heads bowed slightly in
the etiquette of military devotion.
But Father Grimes was as much out
place there as he was at the sutler’s
and stood afar off, failing to under-
stand perbaps what all this had in
common with a camp meeting in far
western Virginia or with such piety
and worship as would have been ac-
ceptable to his fellow believers of the
United Brethren in Christ.
Ot course he had little control of the
hoydenish Sary. That young woman
shared somewhat in the current belief
regarding her father's mental condi-
tion, Living in the same house, they
had no companionship, and while she
cared for his common wants and daily
meals that was the extent, to all ap-
pearance, of her interest in him. He
perhaps constituted the sober side of
her life. She would have been ready
to do battle for him with a ready
tongue, but she also claimed the privi-
lege of privately regarding him with
as much carelessness and half coo-
tempt as was possible with her knowl-
edge of the fact that he really was her
father and she could not help it.
The incident which placed Father
Grimes prominently before the public
in a new light—an incident all the
more remarkable because it was the
last in his career—came about in this
wise : There wandered into Concho a
long haired and ambrosial man, who
claimed to have been one of those hard
riders {rom the Lone Star State who
figured so extensively in the cavalry
force of the late Confederate army. He
was broad shouldered, tall, swaggering,
ot a military carriage and claimed to
be “still a rebel and a fighting man,
sir.” Now, Hanks was not just a
Yankee, but he and this child of chiv-
alry soon found means of disagree-
ment upon another matter. The Con-
federate used often to say that he did
not care a profane expletive for Miss
Grimes, but he “made it a point to al-
low no man to stand before him in the
graces of a livin womau, sir.” So in a
few weeks Hanks and he looked as-
kance at each other, and finally re-
fused to play poker at the same table
and avoided a mutuality in bibulous
exercises by common consent. The
wicked Sary, gifted with peculiar in-
sight into such matters, flattered the
new beau and smiled upon him with
beams particularly bright, albeit she
divided her favors and gave Hanks
enough to keep him alive to the stat:
ure and strength ot his rival, and the
dangers arising from delay and absence.
These things did not pass unnoticed
by others, and a keen lookout was
maintained for the hour when the dif-
ficulty should culminate. The pa-
tient sitters upon benches and the in-
dustrious carvers of deal boxes kept
the two men in sight and watched
them with an eye to being present
when the time came. They discussed
the chances among themselves, much
as they discussed the projected race
for 300 yards between Hopkins’ bald
face and the spotted pony. They
knew Hanks, and generally considered
him the better man. There was a
slight inclination to prejudice against
the Confederate perhaps. ‘He's full
o' brag,” they remarked. “Hain
geen his grit yet.”
One night Father Grimes sat in the
inner room of his poor house! The
cotton cloth which did duty as glass
puffed in and out in the window frame,
and the “grease dip” burned yellow
and dim on the edge of its broken cup.
There was the usual chatter and coarse
laughter in the outer room, and he
knew that the Confederate and Sary
were there. This gallant gentleman
was in his best mood that night, and the
laughter of the girl and the man’s tone
of light raillery reached Grimes’ wake-
ful ears with annoying distinctness.
The old man sat in his bent posture
near the light and studied out the
words of a big worn volume upon his
knee. His grizzled bairlay in tangled
confusion upon his neck, and as he
stumbled through tbe sentences he
spelled and whispered the words to
himself. The night was his enemy
and torment, He was passing the
dull time of age and affliction, and,
withal, gathering comfort from the
only book he possessed or needed. It
was no common book be pored over
and spelled. It is said to have been
the Bible.
Presently the outer door opened, and
with a gruff salutation Hanks entered.
His arrival from his last drive could
not have been more than an hour ago.
He had not wasted time in paying his
respects. He sat down at the rude ta-
ble and looked at Sary and her com-
panion. That Hanks was in an ugly
humor was quite evident. It was
equally evident that be was bent upon
the operation known among his kind
as pickin a fuse.” He did not attempt
to conceal his feelings and glowered at
his rival and still satsileat. The dark
purpose of the border rowdy was in bis
eye, and the jealousy and anger of all
his kind was apparent in the studied
deliberateness of all his actions. The
other looked at him with a cool grin
of defiance. At a meeting of this kind
two such men have little need for
Presently the late comer rose slowly :
moved his chair and sat down almost
in front of his rival. The old man in
EE ———————————————
old man’s
«] don’t do my fightin in the pres-
ence 0’ wimmen,” eaid the Confederate,
“but I'm a fightin man, an ye kin hev
all ye're sp'ilin for. There's no use in
bein in a ungentlemanly hurry about
this ‘ere little diffikilty. Tomorrer
mornin—break o’ day, sharp, at the
sand bar beyant Stokes’—Il suit me ef
you kin stand it.”
“Wot’s yer weeping 2" said the other.
“Navy size—10 paces.”
“Seconds ?”’
“Nary man.”
“I'll "be thar,” and old Grimes
heard the footsteps die away in oppo-
gite directions.
He hobbled into the room where his
daughter sat. Her pinky cheeks were
a little paler, and there was an unwon-
ted apprehension in hereyes. ‘“Sary,”
he said, “kin ye do nothin to keep
them two young fellers apart?”
“No; they’re two fools, an it's none
of my affairs,”
“Did ye hear what they said out
“Yes, I hesrd. I was list'nin.
They kin fight it out. There's better
men than either of ’em.”
Grimes turned and went to his little
bare room—the little bare and shabby
place where the company who came
and sat with him were not inhabitants
of Slabtown—and seated himself upon
the bed and communed with himself.
It is a strange life and a wonderful edu-
cation that can teach a red cheeked
and hovdenish girl to smile at the pas-
sions which lead to the grim revenges
of the border. The old man sat and
thought, and the hours passed slowly.
He lay down upon the rude bed, and
perhaps would have slept if he could.
Then he arose and occupied himself in
reading again and went out often and
looked into the shadows of the still
night. Only the far guard challenge
fell upon his ear at intervals and
geemed to announce the passing hours.
Finally the ripe stars that glow in the
noon of night began to pale in their
westward setting. The cocks crew,
and the lowing of kine was horne far
upon the damp morning air. The
day was coming.
No soul, save these two men, a
thoughtless woman and an old man,
almost helpless, knew of the meeting
on the sands, from which but one, and
probably ‘neither, would cver return.
Father Grimes got his hat and staff
and hobbled forth. He thought he
knew the spot. He would go thither.
The chill air of dawn pierced his
frail body, and he shivered. Painfully
and all too slowly he walked the step-
ping stones across the puny torrent
and toiled up the bank upon the other
side. He saw the gray streaks in the
east and hastened, groaning, for he re-
membered the words, ‘At break o
day, sharp.” His journey was a path-
less one. cactus grown and tangled
with long grass. Finally he reached
the crest of the low bluffs, and the lit-
tle acre of brown sand lay before him
in the dawing light. Peering with his
old eyes he discovered two figures
there. One of them stood listless,
while the other paced slowly across a
little space. ‘Then his companion
measured the space likewise 1n long
and swinging etrides. As the old man
drew nearer he saw that the two men
took opposite places, and that while
ove leaned forward anxiously the oth-
er’s attitude was careless, and his wea-
pon hand hung by bis side. He shout
ed with the utmost strength of his old
wiry voice, but they semed to pay vo
heed. Then, and for the first time io
10 years he tried to run. As he drew
flapping window
to him, and almost between him and
the Confederate. Then one said,
“Ready !"” and his adversary answered,
“Ready!” But Grimes noticed that
Hanks held his weapon in readiness to
fire, while the other brought his slow-
ly up from his side.
The thought must have pasced
through his mind like a flash, “If I
could but push oue of them aside, I
could save them I” But already they
had begun to count, slowly and simul-
taneously, “One, two’—and at the
word “Two'' Hauoks dropped suddenly
in his place, and two shots awoke the
silence almost together. The tall Con-
federate stood still a moment, then
staggered and fell backward, whilea
crimson stream trickled slowly out up-
on the brown sand and sank, leaving
the stain of murder beside his stark
fisure as he lay, with open, staring
dead eyes, looking at the glowing sky.
Hanks had dropped suddenly in his
place and had fired before the word.
It was the trick which almost disgrac-
es the Comache, from whom he had
in a measure acquired it. He now
rose up and looked around him furtive-
was a dreary and silent spot, and now
in the purple morning, with the dead
man lying as he had fallen, with the
brown sand, and the sage, and the
gaunt and thorny cactus on every hand
Hanks seemed to shiver as he but-
toned his coat and looked nervously
around and stood a moment thinking.
Then, by chance or throngh fear, he
cast a glance behind him and saw
Father Grimes sunk down in a heap,
with his bead fallen forward npon his
bosom. Perhaps he thought the old
man dead—at least be had caught the
bullet meant for himself. He hesita-
ted a moment, looked around the hori-
zon, and then moved by sudden fear,
walked rapidly away through the
stunted trees beyond the sand. This
the inner room heard the movement!
and stared and listened, closing his |
book. Having thus changed his posi-
tion, Hanks placed his hands upon his |
knees, looked hie rival obtrusively in!
the face and calmly remarked : |
“I ghouldn’t wonder, mister, ef I
thought you was a low down kind of a '
cuss.” |
“What? exclaimed the Confederate,
“1 say—are ye list'nin ?—that I
shouldn’t wonder ef I thought you was
a low down, sneakin’’— |
The Confederate gentleman arose,
' motioned to Hanks and moved toward '
the door. They both went out, walked
tale chronicles no further the wander-
ngs of the assassin. He never re-
Father Grimes slowly raised his
head, by and by pressed his hand to
his side and tried to rise. After a
while they eame and bore him to bis |
cabin and placed him upon his bed, for
ill news travels quickly, and the curi-
In the sunshine of high noon it
closer he saw that Hanks was nearest
osity of the hard community bad’
quickly hurried a crowd to the spot.
While he lay quietly and looked up-
| ward through the cabin roof, calm and
placid, the post surgeon came, and the
chaplain, and the crowd gathered at
the outer door, only parting to permit
a little way along the wall toward the : the passage of another burden which
and ' was borne there by chance or a fancied
connection with Grimes and his daugh-
ter and laid upon a low bench beside
the wall crying murder through the
hush with its white uncovered face.
They questioned the old man, and
brokenly and at intervals he told them
all he knew. No, no; not all, for his
mind seemed preoccupied, and at inter-
vals he stopped and lay very quiet
looking at something they could not
gee and smiling as he feebly held
out his hand. His carewotn and pain
burdened life was passing fast. That
they knew and were awed in the pres-
ence of that death so many of them
had courted; so many had pretended
to scorn, They watched him and
waited to hear if he had aught else to
tell. A little while passed in silence.
Suddenly he opened his eyes again and
looked intently toward a corner of the
doubt nor inquiry, but of happy certain-
ty and surprise. A faint flush stole in-
to the pallor of his old face, his eye
brightened, and he stretched forth his
hand and tried to lift himself upon his
arm. The doctor bent over him (the
chaplain bad gone home again) and
asked him what he would have. The
old man turned with a look of surprise
and pointed with his finger.
“Don’t you see him ?"’ he said.
“I see no one—what is he like 2”
“]—1I don’t know. His face shines,
and he smiles. It is like him as he
walked on the sea. I wonder—you
don’t suppose do you ?—he can have
come so far for me?”
And death sealed upon the scarred
and wrinkled face its last beatitude.
They went and left him there and
closed the door. And as they passed
through the outer chamber they saw
the girl sitticg by the bench beside the
wall and looking with tearless eyes
afar off while she held in her lap her
dead lover's cold right band.—James
W. Steele in Short Stories.
One of Lincoln's Jokes
Chicago Tribune.
Colonel Clark E. Carr of Galesburg,
who was minister to Denmark under
the Harrison administration, was in
Washington one day when Lincoln was
“I’m going to the White House to
see Abe,” said Owen Lovejoy to Carr
as they met in front of the treasury
building. Carr went with him. They
were shown into the president’s work-
ing room, and soon after Lincoln came
in. He wore a long garment which
might have been cut from .a bathroom
pattern or the cover ofa prairie schooner.
His hair was more frouzeled than usual,
and the carpet slippers were worn down
and without heels. The condition ' and
appearance of the presidential hosiery
were such as would have made Jerry
Simpson envious, provided the stories
they told on Jerry were true,which they
never were. The president gave the
callers an Illinois greeting and then
shoved up one of the sleeves of his
curious garment and pointed out to his
visitors the inflamed condition of his
“You knew I had the smallpox,”
said Lincoln in a cold blooded manner.
Lovejoy said yes and proceeded to talk
about other matters, while Carr's few
hairs had inclinatians to stand up, and
he moved about in his chair as if it con-
tained dynamite. The visitor over, the
callers passed out. Once in the air,
Clark asked Lovejoy :
“Did you know the president bad the
smallpox when we went there?”
“Centainly,” was the answer.
“You d——d scoundrel |” shrieked
Carr. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I’ve had it,” replied Lovejoy, ‘‘and
I suppose you had.”
«Well, I never had it !”” roared Carr.
“But if I do have it now I want you to
give me a certificate that I caught the
disease from Abe Lincoln. That will
be something.”
But Lovejoy had no occasion todo
so, as Lincoln had the varioloid only.
When You've Lost Your Corkscrew.
I have often been on a fishing expedi-
tion and found myself without a cork-
screw, with a bottle of wine or ale se-
curely corked. The primitive plan of
breaking off the neck with a piece of
rock is very dangerous and sometimes
cracks the entire bottle and wastes the
precious fluid. The other day Isaw a
number of bricklayers trying to open a
bottle of ale at the dinner hour. After
they had scooped at the cork with their
jackknives one of them took a piece of
twine, wound it around the neck twice,
and then for two or three minutes sawed
the bottle with it. Some water was
then thrown on the heated glass, and it
cracked instantly, enabling the expert
to break off the neck with his hand in
the most artistic manner.
Surplus Massachusetts Women.
The census of 1880 showed that wom-
en had increased numerically in Massa-
chusetts at a faster rate than men dur-
ing the decade, and appeared at the end
to be 66,205 in excess of the other sex.
This fact attracted general attention
and various theories were put forward
to account for it. The 1890 census
shows, however, that the drift woman-
ward has stopped. It discovers but 63,-
525 more females in tbe State than
males. The men are in a larger mino-
rity than 10 years ago.
rr ——
If Lion Pulls and Horse Pulls.
From Chamber’s Journal.
It was not a look of scrutiny, |
If a lion and a strong horse were to,
pull in opposite directions, the horse |
would pull the lion backward with com- |
parative ease ; but if the lion were
hitched behind the horse and facing in
the same direction, and were allowed to
exert his strength in backing, he could
easily pull the horse down upon his
ha:nches or drag him across the ring,
so much greater is his strength when
exerted backward from the hind legs
than in forward pulling.
— Now that fresh fruits are plenti-
ful a delicious drink may be made by
mixing two cupfuls of sugar in one of
For and About Women.
“T do not wich to vote,” she said ;
“I hate this suffrage rant ;
But I don’t want a horrid man
To tell me that I sha’nt.”
Miss Cora Dow, of Cincinnati, runs
three successful drugstores in that
The new liberty scarfs are simply
wide scarfs of silk muslin in pale rose,
delicate blue or violet or any
dainty color. Slender maidens drape
these, fichu-like, around their shoulders,
and tie them in a bouffant bow in front.
This scarf usually measures eighteen
inches in width by two yards in
Heavy corded bengalines, powdered
with small flower and foliage patterns,
are used upon stylish tailor gowns as
waistcoats, sleeve-puffs, piping and lin-
ings to velvet or satin capes. .
Rosettes and knots play an important
part in summer dress. They are used
to give an accent of form or of color or
both, and they are placed to “tell” on a
costume with wonderful effect.
I bave seen the skirt of a dinner
gown trimmed with nothing but three
rosettes and yet it looked elaborate.
The gown wes of moire silk and these
rosettes, of velvet, were placed to make
a diagonal line across the front; one
nigh toward the left side, one in the
middle and one near the bottom on the
right, and the effect was as great as ifa
continuous garland crossed the front.
But these rosettes are something more
than mere loops of ribbon srranged in
circles together, such as the uninitiated
usually understand by a rosette. They
are made with an art quite new ; they
are, indeed, nearly flowers. It would
be impossible for a mere layman to ex-
plain ; only an artist, whose fine fingers
have learned to fashion such things,
knows how it is done, and she
could not tell anybody else.
All I know is that these bits—thoy
are not always loops—of velvet or silk
or chiffon that ray out from a centre
are crushed or curled, or otherwise
manipulated till they are sensitive and
instinct with life as if they had
Sometimes the ends elongate and roll
under like the petals of a lily ; or else
they are triangular ; to fit a corner as
at the neck of a jacket, with a crimped
ruffle look round the apex and a long
frond falling out into each of the long
corners ; or may be they are five rayed
like a rose, or eight starrad, or have a
curious bisymmetry like the orchid.
One of these petaled velvet bows
fastens the great lace collar on a dinner
corsage, with a diamond pin if you like,
placed like a dewdrop in the centre.
A little hat for a piquant face, a big
hat tor a strong face, a hat set well back
for classic features, a hat set well for-
ward for an intelligent face with bulg-
ing dome of thought—these are the un-
alterable rules of taste in headgear
which fashion cannot change, even if it
makes us forget them. °
The drooping sleeve, by the way,
does not look so pretty in the summer
materials, therefore the short puffs are
much more popular. The puffs are of-
ten fantastically crught up or banded by
narrow ribbons, or folds of the material,
if it be a gauzy one.
Mrs. Julio J. Irvin, a graduate of
Cornell university, and now professor
of Greek in Wellesley, is mentioned for
the presidency of that institution.
A red and white challie, with black
satin sash, was another dainty get up,
and a pale pink organdie trimmed with
black insertion, also attracted much at-
tention. Insertion, black ribbon and
the handkerchiet form of drapery for
the bodice are three especial features of
the summer styles, though in most
cases fancy runs riot, with no definite
tendency in any objection.
Do your long, dark curling lashes lie
upon your cheeks like a dusky fringe
when you sleep, or when you coyly
gaze downward ? Would you like them
to if tbey do not ?
If your ambition is in the direction of
the regulation heroine eyelash, the first
step towards obtaining it is to cure any
trouble you may have with your eyes.
All local irritation is as bad for the
lashes as it is to the eyes themselves.
The tendency to rub the eyes invariably
results in thinning the lashes. Inflam.-
ed eyelids always bring about thin,
short “scrubby’’ lashes. If the lids are
inclined to be inflamed a wash of two or
three drops of camphor, a teaspoon of
borax and two ounces of water is valua-
ble. A mixture of two parts water to
one of witch hazel, allowed to simmer
and applied very hot, is also soothing to
inflamed eyelids. :
When these washes are being used to
strengthen the eyes, soothe the lid and
preserve the lashes from total destruc-
tion, the lashes may be rubbed every
night with some greasy ointment to en-
courage their growth. Vaseline is pro-
bably the best thing to stimulate the
growth and give a good dark color to
the evebrows and eyelashes.
A dainty organdie with a pale laven-
dar ground, deeply spotted with deep
purple flowerets, has two simple six-
inch ruffles finishing the skirt—each
ruffle trimmed with two rows of narrow
moire ribbon in the deep purple shade,
Then two other ruffles, more ostenta-
! tious, start from each hip and slant off
downward to meet at the back. They
are trimmed also with the purple.
Broad moire ribbon, in the deep purple,
edges the finely pleated organdie front
of the bodice and encircles the waist,
talliog at the back in two simple long
streamers. There is more ribbon on the
front of the skirt, starting at each hip
just inside the ruffles, continuing down-
lemon juice, a pint of the juice of straw- |,
berries, a small pineapple grated, two
quarts of water and enough ice to make
very cold. These will be found very
refreshing at a garden or tennis party.
ward to meet in & point, and a bow at
the foot a little to the left side. The
long line of the ribbon is broken by a
bow less than half way down tied in the
Gold chains on eye-glasses are no
longer worn much by young people. A
slender black silk cord is liked, and
sometimes nothing at all, which is best
if safe. Elderly’ladies wear the chain in
preference to a cord,