I
Smo pan
Bellefonte, Pa., June 22, 1894.
ETS EE FE RSIS,
THE LAND OF “PRETTY SOON,”
I know of a land where the streets are paved
With the things which we meant to achieve,
Itis valle] with the money we meant to have
saved ;
And the pleasure for which we grieve.
The kind words unspoken, the promises brok-
en.
And many a coveted boon
Arve stowed away there in that land some-
where—
The land of “Pretty Soon.”
There are uncut jewels of possible fame
Lying about in the dust,
And many a noble and lofty aim
Covered with mold and rast.
And oh, this place, while it seems s0 near,
Is farther away than the moon,
Though our purpose is fair yet we never get
Aero
To the land of ‘Pretty Soon.”
The road that leads to that mystic land
Isstrewn with pitiful wrecks,
And the Ships that have sailed for its shining
stran
Bear skeletons on their decks.
It is farther at noon than it was at dawn,
And farther at night than at noon ;
Oh let us beware of that land down there—
The land of “Pretty Soon.”— Ella W. Wilcox,
in Youth's Companiou.
A MINER'S STORY.
There be more heroes in this’ world,
according to my way of thinking, than
ever get talked of in the newspapers, or
have the Victoria cross presented to
them, or have books written about
them after they are dead and
gone.
All the same, I've never been able
to make up my mind as to whether
one man I've known was a hero or
not Maybe I’m a heavy kind o’ chap
and things don’t strike me so clear as
they do others ; but if I tell you the
story just as it happened, you can put
what reading you like on it.
I'm a miner down Staffordshire way,
have been a miner all my life, and
reckon I'm likely to stick the pick till
some explosion comes along and makes
an end of me.
I worked with a gang in the Nine
Pits colliery about fifteen years back,
and there was one man who hailed
from South Wales as I got pretty
friendly with.
“I've called him a “man” but I
don’t koow if the title comes right.
He was more like a stunted boy than
a man, and more like some sort of
queer animal than either. He was a
dwarf. He had monstrous large head
and shoulders and pair of little, bowed
twisted legs no bigger than a child's of
9 yearsold.
His back was crooked ; he had a lot
of hair on his face, as those Welsh-
men have, and his eyes hada look in
them as I never could get at the bot-
tom of—they were deepset in his head
as black and bright as a bit of silk:
stone, and sometimes there would
come a cloud into them and dull them,
and he would stare out before him as
stupid as if he was tranced ; it was a
sad look, too, as well as dull, and I
never could make out what he was
thinking of then.
I’ve said we were pretty friendly,
but Idon’t know as I was anything
more than civil to him." I havealways
been cautious with them dwarfs, for
though he seemed gentle enough, I
had heard they could be spiteful and
vicious if you crossed them in any way.
He was clever, as they often are, and
could speak English as well as any of
us. He had been two years and more
at the Nine Pits, and he brought some
money with him when be came, for he
had a cottage of his own and a tidy
piece of garden, which was above what
the rest of us had.
You might think that, being so mis-
hapen and little, he wasn’t much good
in a coal mine, but I can tell you there
wasn’t a man of six feet among us
stronger than he was. To have seen
him swing a pick would made you hold
your breath ; he went at the work like
steam, and he could walk, you see,
down some of the narrow, low gal-
leries, where chaps like me would have
to crawl.
I lived along with my father and
sister then. We were precious poor,
and father used to say he hoped Hetty
would marry some one able to keep
her, and so give us a lift that way.
Hetty was powerful pretty. I've
seen a sight of women, as you may
suppoee in six and thirty years, but I
have never seen one that could come
near her for good looks. Bright and
light she was as sunshine, and she had
a bit of temper, too, but only what you
may call the froth atop a jug of cider,
makiog it all the spicier.
When me and my mates left work
of an evening, she would come along
road to meet us sometimes, and put
her arm through mine and talk as gay
as a bird.
One day a new hand came to the pit,
Jim Marwood by name. Not a pleas:
ant name when you think of the
hangman, but a pleasanter sort to
look upon than Jim you never saw.
See him on Sunday going to chapel,
clean and smart, as straight as a pole,
with blue eyes looking so frank and
smiling you’d say he looked a pic-
ture.
He bad struck up a mighty affection
for me before he had been there a
month in the gang. You would have
thought ‘twas a wonder he bad maon-
aged to live so long without me. He
told me all about his friends and such
like most confidential, and I found
out he had to keep his mother and
hadn't a sixpence he could call his
own.
All he told me I would tell Hetty,
and she would listen; with a lovely
color in her cheeke, and go oa talking
about him after I had stopped, till all
of a sudden it came upon me that him
and her knew as much of each other as
I did, and more, too, and liked to a de-
gree that was considerable.
1 was a trifle put out about it, for I
knew be was poor and it would be a
bad lookout if they were to come to-
gether ; still, as I've said, Tm heavy
and slow in most things, and IT thought
I'd better hold my tongue a while
longer.
Well, one day—l remember it as
clear as yesterday—it was between the
lights of a September, evening, very
quiet and still, the stars just showing
out like sparks of diamond light we
get in the seams at times. I was
smoking my pipe in our back room—
father was out of the house—when I
heard voices in the other room across
the passage. It was Matty and my
gister talking together.
Matty was the dwarf, He had a
long Welsh name, but we called him’
“Matty" in the general way because of
bis rough hair, and he didn’t seem to
mind the joke. :
I knew his voice well enough. It
wasn’t exactly unpleasant, though
deep, with sometimes a sort of crack in
it, but anything like it, sounded just
then I never heard before, :
It made me sit up and put my pipe
down pretty sudden.
“I love you,” he says to Hetty,
“I’ye loved you ever since I've seen
you ; won't you marry me ? I'd be a
good husband to you.”
She went into a light kind of scorn-
ful laugh.
“Marry you?’ she says. “Why
Matty, you must be dreaming! Of
course I won't.”
And then I guessed she gave her
head a toss with a way she had.
I got up and went a step nearer the
door, for { dido's know how he might
take it, them dwarfs being uncertain
creatures.
He was silent a minute. Then he
says :
“I’m stunted and crooked, I know,
but I love you better than any other
man will ever love you, and I'vea
comfortable home to offer you.”
“If you had twenty homes I wouldn't
have you,” she answers quick ‘So do
say no more about it.”
I have ofton thought she was a trifle
sharp and unkind in her speech, but I
fancy the girl was more thao half
frightened, for he must have looked a
rare object in thai dim light, and, after
all, pretty girls don’t stop to pick and
choose their words so gently as they
might, perhaps.
I think he moved round the room
after that for his voice sounded near
to me. He spoke short and savage
like,—
“Jim Marwood’s the man that
stands between you and me. Do vou
think I've been blind ? Do you think
Ican’t see that? Jim Marwood has
got your heart ; and do you think you
will ever marry him while I'm
alive 7”?
I got a shiver down the back and
felt round for my stick, for his tone
was awful, and I didn’t know what he
might do next.
Helty never was the girl to be cowed
and she flashed round on him the
next moment.
“Itis Jim Marwood that has got
my heart, and I have his, and I’m not
ashamed to say it before you or any
man. I know you've got your cottage
and your garden that you are so mortal
proud of, and I know Jim is poor, and
we shall have to wait for years; but
you npeed’t think you’ll frighten me
out of marrying him, for you won’t;
and if I dido’t marry him, I'd never
marry such a miserable, wicked, ugly
wretch as you! So don’t flatter your-
self I would.”
And she gave a kind ofsob, and
borst out at the door, and rushed up
our little flight of stairs, and I heard
the door bang and the key turn in her
lock sharp aud passionate.
I waited, still as death, wondering
how he would take on, and hearing no
stir I kind of squinted around the
doorpost into the passage.
There hestood in the dusk’ facing
toward the open entry door and the
starry sky. A desperate, hideous,
evil looking thing, with his moustrous
head and shaggy hair and his little
twisted legs. There was that dull,
tranced look in his eyes. and he was
staring before him like I had often
seen him do in the mine.
“She shall never marry Marwood,
while I'm alive. God made me same
as him,” I heard him mutter to him-
self, and then he went out.
I saw him no more that night, and I
dido’t let on to Hetty that I had over-
heard them. The next day we were
all underground as usual, Somehow
orother Matty and Marwood and me
found ourselves always pretty close to-
gether. He seemed to me to be hang-
ing onto Jim in a way I didn’t like,
hearing what I had heard, and I kept
as close to both as I well could keep-
ing my tools ready to hand, and
watching the dwarf out of the corner of
my eye.
Jim pever looked taller nor hand-
somer nor straighter than he did that |
day. Happy he was as a lark,
whistling over his work and laughing
as light-hearted as could be.
I couldn’t be light, for there was a
curious weight on my mind, a sense as
if some mischief was going to happen
before nightfall.
I noticed that the dwarf scarce took
his eyes off Jim, except at 12 o’clock,
when we stopped for our bits of food,
and then be sat in a corner by himself
under a truck and scribbled on a scrap
of paper, with a queer sort of smile on
his face. I bad the shivers more than
once, for he looked so evil and so black
among the coal heaps, and every now
and then he would talk to himself in
Welsh, which I had never heard him
do before, and it turned my blood cold,
for it sounded for all the world like the
jabbering of a maniac.
In the afternoon we got down toa
lower level. It was a dangerous part
of the mine, as we all knew, and we
kept our Davy lamps pretty tight, I
can tell you.
“There’s fire damp about here,”
said one of the men,
“And a spark would settle the lot of
ug, wouldn’t it ?’ said the dwarf.
They were almost the first words he
had spoken, and the expression of his
face as he said it made my heart give
a turn,
ab, that it would !” Jim answer-
ed.
A kind of sick fear came over me
er and hanging, as it might be, on a
thread. Such a longing eame over me
for a mouthful of fresh air and the
sight of the open sky as I had never
had in the mines before.
i} Reorls warming their toes at their
handsome fires on the winter nights
don’t know what it means to us chaps
who nave the digging of the coals in
the depths of the earth, and who put
flesh and blood in jeopardy every hour
to do it.
Nothing more was said about fire
damp, however, and that day, the
longest day I had ever known, came
aronnd to6 o'clock without an explo-
sion, -
The cages were ready for us to get
up to the top.of the shaft, and most of
the men had gone.
“You go now,”
dwarf,
“No,” he answers; “I'm going to
stay a little overtime to-night. You
all go on, and send the cage down
again for me, And look here, give
thisto your sister, Hetty will you ?
and tell her to open it."
He put a bundle into my hand, tied
.up in a handkerchief. I took it gin-
gerly enough, for, with such suspi-
cion in my mind, I half expected it
might go off in my face some-
how. Lk
Then be touched the signal rope and
up went Jim and me, and the dwarf
stood underneath us and turned his
face up, watching us out of sight.
“Well, I felt more comfortable when
we put our feet on firm ground on ‘top
of the shatt, and then sent the cage
down again for him, :
“Wonder what's
says Jim.
“Maybe Hetty will tell you some
time,” I replied, little thinking how it
concerned him.
I took it home and called Hetty to
open it. Our cottage wasn’t far from
the pits, and it couldn't have been
above ten minutes since the dwarf had
put it into my hand.
She undid the knot, and there—if
you would believe it—were the title
deeds of his cottage and a dozen sover-
eigns tied up in a piece of canvas, and
the scrap of paper that I had seen him
scribble on under the truck. There
were these words on it:
“What is here is for you. ‘Ugly
and miserable’ I am, but ‘wicked’ I
am not. I said you shouldn’t marry
him while I was alive, and I shall
keep my word, Think kindly of a
dwarf if you can. God made me as a
well as him.”
We hadn’t got to the end of the poor,
dirty little letter when we heard a
sound that made our hearts stand still
—a long dull roaring, shaking the
floor we stood on as if it was thunder
under our feet.
‘An explosion in the mine !” eays
Hetty, with a face as white as chalk.
We rushed out. All Nine Pits was
out; men, women and children,
screaming and running to the shaft
head,
Hundreds of tons of solid earth and
rock and rubble had fallen in, and un
der it all was the dead, crushed body
of that poor creature we had helped to
send from the world.
It was no use trying todig him out.
He knew when he opened his Davy
lamp—and he must have opened it—
that human help could never reach
bim there. He knew when he watch-
ed me and Jim go up in the cage that
he wag staying behind for his death,
and he went to it of hisown free will,
for the love of my sister Hetty.
She cried about it for a week and
said she should never be happy again.
But I think she is happy now, for she
married Jim come the Easter after,
and they live in Matty’s cottage still,
and the garden is all abloom with
flowers.
says I to the
in that bundle?”
. India Rubber Trees.
From time to time articles are print-
ed in the daily and other press discours-
ing upon the advantage to be gained in
the cultivation of India rubber. One
advantage would be in the respect that
the rubber trees does not grow in or-
chards or groves, but generally isolated,
sometimes not more than four or five
being within the distance of a mile. It
is urged that if they could be cultivated
in groups the labor could be more ad-
vantageously handled. Rubber grow-
ing requires a hot, moist climate, and
the tress cannot be grown elsewhere.
The annual rainfall on the Amazon is
about 140 inches against one-quarter of
that amount in the United States. It
rains, as a rule, every day. The tem-
perature seldom falls below 75, its usual
height being about 90.. Tt is the ideal
climate for growing rubber, which is so
plenty that hardly any set of capitalists
would undertake to plant trees, and
watch them tea years before they re-
ceive the first fruits of their enterprise. —
Haadware.
Ready tor the Masher.
From the minute he laid eyes on her
pretty, fresh, daring young face he
thought that there was one girl at least
who could take care of herself and need
ask cdds of no man. That is why,
when the objectionable smart young
man on his right began to ogle the girl,
the Saunterer did mot interfere. For
ten minutes he watched the girl return
the voung idiot’s glances with a queer
mixture of absolute indifference and
contempt, but the young man did not
look at it in that light, and finally be
arose and took a seat by the girl's side.
“I beg your pardon,” he began, ‘but
vour face is strangely familar to me,
Haven't I seen it somewhere before ?’,
“Very likely,” returned Miss Sweet-
and-Twenty as she turned her face the
other way : *‘I am Lydia Pinkham.”—
Boston Budget.
——Palmer Cox’s Brownies have
roved uncommonly popular creations.
ot only have the Brownies been repre-
sented upon the stage with much sue-
cess, but at length a manufacturing
jeweler has bought of Mr. Cox the ex-
clusive right to reproduce the Brownies
in metal,and there are now little Brownie
scarfpins at absurdly high prices to
adorn the garments of the little children
that our lives were in the dwarf’s pow-
of the rich.
Child Slavery.
A Bar lo Industrial Progress.
slavery in America ap
rent issue of The Arena.
Woodbridge, Secretary of the Working
Women’s Society of New York, con-
tributes a paper which is. full of timely
a
interests. She considers child labor
finds it to his
household duties while wife and child-
Under the sweating system
ners has also steadily reduced the wages
of the entire family, In urging the
duty of the child to its parents the far
more binding and important obligation
great obstacle to industrial progress. She | of the parent to the child is often for-
says-:- The civil effects of child labor are gotten.
Those who take upon them-
manifested in many ways. Itisa fact | selves the position of parents should re-
beyond dispute that wages are lower, | member that every right has its atten-
hours of labor generally longer, and the | dant duty and that it is the duty of the
quality and quantity of production in-' parents to provide for the highest phy-
ferior, in industries in which children
are employed. In the mad race of com-
petition merchants and manufacturers
take no thought for the morrow. They
do not realize that the employment of
cheap labor retards production and
eventually closes the market to all.
They ignore the fact that the working
classes are the purchasing classes, and
that by employing children at reduced
wages they lessen the opportunities of
employment for adult workers and the
consumptive powers of the community.
In 1880 there were 1,118,000 children
under 16 years of age employed in mines,
factories and mercantile establishments
in the United States ; this about equal-
led the number of able-bodied adult
workers who were unemployed and de-
endent upon public or private charity.
e are apt to think of child labor as an
old-world idea, probably because the
majority of child workers are the chil-
dren of foreign-born parents ; but many
of the countries of Europe have far
more efficient laws regarding the em-
ployment of children than at present
exist in this country, As yet but 21
States have enacted laws restricting the
employment of children in factories, and
but five have placed restrictions upon
the employment of children in mercan-
tile establishments. No doubt one of
the greatest inducements for immigra-
tion to this country lies in the opportu-
nities of employment for children, and
is taken advantage of by shiftless and
unscrupulous parents, who see in com-
ing here a chance to be supported.
THE HARDSHIP OF YOUTHFUL WORK-
ERS.
Many of our most intelligent citizens
favor the employment of children, and
point with more or less pride to the fact
that they commenced work at the age
of 10 or 12 and are none the worse for
having done so ; but such people do not
realize that the conditions of employ-
ment to-day are very different from
those of twenty-five years ago. Labor-
saving machinery does not by any
means signify economy of physical
strength. The general conditions of
labor are often far more exhausting than
before the age of invention. Although
it is possible for young children to oper-
‘ate powerful machinery, yet itis often
the case that as much ability is required
of the machine minder as of the skilled
artisan. We would consider it very in-
human to require a child of 12 to be-
come 1 skilled mechanic, yet the labor
performed by children is often as ar-
duous, Thousands of young ‘children
operate machinery running at the rate
of 2,500 revolutions a minute, while
hand and brain must keep in pace.
Adult worker find the noise and jar of
machinery a constant wear upon the
nervous system ; what, then, must be
the effect upon the undeveloped child ?
Few realize what children employed in
factories must endure. In our textile
factories children walk 20 miles a day.
Two-thirds of the yarn manufactured in
this country is spun by children under
16 years of age. In our thread mills
children walk nearly as many miles.
In button factories children eyelet 20
gross of buttons per day. In our great
feather factories all through the hot
weather children stand ten hours daily
steaming feathers over pipes from which
volumes of hot vapor are constantly es-
caping. Our postmen and policemen
work but eight hours daily, and have
the benefit of fresh air and sunshine ;
but the children of tender years are
constantly running to and froin the
vitiated atmosphere of our mercantile
establishments, from 10 to 16 hours
daily. Those employed as stock girls
are seldom allowed to use the elevators
and are all day bearing heavy burdens
up and down long flights of stairs. = The
average wages of these children is but
$1.60 per week, and they are fined for
absence, tardiness and all mistakes. It
is frequently the case that children are
promoted to the position of saleswomen
yet receive the wages of cash girls.
EVIL EFFECTS MENTALLY AND MORAL-
LY.
Many merchants claim t!.at they can-
not conduct business without a system
of fines because of the indifference of
employes to their work, but the very
system, the constant surveillance of
floor walkers and superintendents, the
stern exactions of business, are incen-
tives to indifference. The majority of
these children are engaged for low
wages because they are incapable of
performing the duties required of them
and then fined for their inability. Itis
often stated that children are better off
at work than they would be at home,
as they generally live in tenement
house districts where associations are
not conducive to morality, but the fact
that their associates in workshops and
factories are also from tenement house
districts seems to be overlooked, and the
moral atmosphere of places where chil-
dren are employed is seldom superior to
that of the tenement house. In States
where factory laws are enforced inspec-
tors tell us that it is impossible to judge
accurately the ages of the children em-
ployed because the children of the poor
are stunted in growth. It is also reason.
able to suppose that the mental facul-
ties are also slow in developing, and it is
certainly a great injustice to require of
such childrentasks more arduous than are
placed upon the well-developed child.
Physicians say that no healthy child
should be employed before the age of
15, and then only for half the time re-
quired of adults. Many people believe
that it is necessary for children to be
employed, that often families could not
exist without the assistance ot the chil-
dren, and that it is the duty of the
child to sacrifice itself to the parent.
| Yet statistics prove that the employ-
ment of children reduces rather than
increases the family income. In our
large manufaciuring towns where entire
families are employed, it is often the
case that the wages of the adults become
so reduced that the head of the family
sical, mental and moral developement
of their offspring. The inhumanity of
the parent to the child is often the di-
rect cause of man’s inhumanity to man,
To force a child whose only inheritance
is a weak constitution into employment
which require the fullest developement
of mind and body isan act which out-
Herods Herod.
THE STATE'S DUTY TO PROTECT.
The average child worker is'looked
upon simply as the manipulator of a
machine. No thought is given to the
fact that it possesses powers which if
developed would add inestimably to its
own and the general happiness. Its
worth is estimated by the pitiful dollars
which it brings to its parents, the in-
creased profits which it brings to its
employer. Its mind becomes permeated
with the selfishness and greed which
bave thus far turned the civilization
and enlightment of all nations into a
curse to the masses ; it is starved in body
warped in intellect, corrupted in morals
and an impediment to all progress. The
prosperity of all nations liesin the de-
velopment of the working classes. Hu-
manity is ever inter-dependent. In-
vention is so fast increasing that it is
but a question of a few years when the
productive powers of the country will
exceed the consumptive powers. In-
creased enlightenment means increased
needs, and it is necessary for the general
welfare that all classes shall attain the
highest state of civilization possible.
Upon the weak shoulders of our child
laborers depends to s great extent the
welfare of the nation, and it is to the in-
terest of all humanity to see that every
possible opportunity for mental, moral
and physical development is obtained
for them ; if they are deprived of these
rights by the unscrupulous it is the duty
of the State to protect them, and stren-
uous efforts should be made in their
interests. Life is worth more than
meat, and character than moneybags.
A Righteous Judgement.
The charge against this man, your
Honor, is drunk and disorderly,” said
the officer, according to the Chicago
Tribune.
“I don’t deny it, Judge,” said the
prisoner. “I got pretty drunk, I guess
but it was my first offense, and I know
when I’ve had enough. I shan’t doit
again.”
“In that case,” said the Magistrate,
“Iam disposed to be—but haven't I
seen you before ?”
“I reckon you have, Judge.
right across the street from you.”
“You do, hey ? Haveyou a lawn-
mower ?"’ -
“Yes.”
“You get up at 5 o'clock in the mora-
ing and run it until breakfast time,
don’t you ?”’
“Yes. That's the kind of a man I
am. I’m always busy, and never let
any of my time go to—"
“Thirty days. Take him away and
call the next.”
I live
A Political Experience.
A candidate for office was so sorely be-
set by undesirable visitors that after
much patient suffering he gave orders
to the servants to deny admittance to
all callers save his personal
friends. How well the order was car-
ried out he soon had evidence. The
door bell rung, and the maid, upon op-
ening the front door, was confronted by
a body of “delegates” from a “willing”
constitutency, when the candidate
overheard the following colloquy :
“Js Mr, C——at home?" said’ the
leader.
“He is not,” returned the maid.
“When will he he in ?”
‘Are ye personal friends of his ?”
“Well—no,” said the leader;
“Shat—""
“Then he’s never comin’ back.”
And the door closed with a bang.
A Murderer Breaks Down.
HunTINGDON, Pa., June 17.—The
mysterious compound which Edward
Couch administered to William R.
Miller with such swift and fatal effect
was ascertained at the coroner’s inquest
last night to be a mixture of laudnum,
powdered nutmeg and whisky. After
mixing the laudnum Couch said he in-
tended to add the nutmeg, which would
intensify the action of the narcotic.
This evening he broke down completely
in watching the interment of his vie-
tim’s remains from his cell window.
Carried too Far.
He glowered fiercely.
“What ?”’ he demanded. 2
“No John,” she repented. *‘I shall
not getup and build the fire in the
morning any more.”
For a minute he ruminuted bitterly.
“Tt strikes me--"’ & s
There was a suggestion of the dulness
of despair 1n his tones,
“This is carrying your blamed man-
nishness too far.”
His Defence.
Wibble. ¢I understand that Breck-
inridge’s defence is to be insanity.”
Wabble. ‘His defence ? The trial
was over long ago.”
Wibble. “I wasan’t talking about
the trial. I meant his defence for pre-
suming to run for Congress.”
—— Bishop John M. Walden, Metho-
dist, began life by working on an Ohio
river flatboat for 50 cents a day.
—— The acreage of crops in the
United States this year is 20,107,247
acres.
interest to assume the
1
: i ren become the bread winners of the |
An interesting synopsis on child family.
re in the cur- | the competition which has forced the |
Alice L. ! youngest children to become breadwin-
|
For and About Women,
It was announced last week that by
| vote of the Board of Trustees of Welles-
ley College, at their recent meeting, the
college will be administered next year
by Mrs. Julia Josephine Irvine, M. A.,
as acting President. Mrs. Irvine was
graduated from Cornell University in
1885, and was for several years a teacher
in New York city. She was afterwards
a student at Leipsic University, and at
Bologna and Athens from 1887 to 1890.
In 1890 she was appointed a Professor
of the Greek Language and Literature
at Wellsley College, and has held this
lace until the present time. Mrs.
rvine has been one of the two Profes-
sors who have discharged the duties of
an executive since the death of Presi-
dent Shaffer in January last.
If you have been badly sunburned,
just as soon as you can procure it, apply
to the burned parts a thick coating of
white vaseline, which let remain for ten
minutes or more ; then rub it off by ap-
plying a soft, dry cloth gently; have a
bowl of very hot water brought to you
and a big linen towel. - Dip the towel
in the water, which must be hot enough
to steam, and almost bury yoar face in.
it ; but do not touch the skin with it for
some time. You should steam your
face this way for fifteen minutes, and
by that time every drop of blood in
your body will seem to be in your face.
Then call for more hot water and apply
it in slow, gentle fashion to the skin for
fifteen minutes. Then put on a coating
of the vaseline and lie down for half an
hour. When you get up you will be
fresh as a daisy and your face will not
trouble you in the least. Of course,the
length of time for treatment will depend
upon how badly you are burned. But
an hour ought to fix you up all right.
“Apply vaseline again on retiring.
Fashions begin to favor a larger waist
line. It is coming to be understood that
the slenderness of a woman’s figure de-
pends more upon the apparent slender-
ness of her hips. If a woman has a
small waist and slender hips, too, that
is very nice, but if she has big hips she
should make every effort to take from
their apparent slenderness of curve, and
one way is to allow her waist to gain in
girth. The tall woman is the one who
has a long line from under her arm to
the floor. A curved line always appears
shorter than it is, therefore, when big
hips make a decided curve from the
waist up and down, the apparent length
of this line is decreased. Straighten the
line by decreasing this curve and the
apparent height is added to, and, as
height suggests slenderness, two things
are thus gained for the figure,each more
important than girth of waist. On the
other hand, an effort to keep the waist
small will prevent these two consider-
ations entirely. The result is a tendency
of women to try to keep the hip line,
rather than as they did a while ago to
sacrifice everything to preserve the waist.
The woman of this season would
not look nearly as well if her waist
was less in girth, and this is so apparent
that is a wonder women have not realiz-
ed it before and done away with the un-
gainly hour-glass figure.
If there are any sashes neatly rolled
away in the chest where old-fashioned
things aie kept, this is the time to brin
them out. Sashes are to be the feature
of the summer gown, and appear even
on the cloth dresses of early spring. A
beavily-crinkled, chocolate brown cre-
pon,made with a narrow gored skirt and
immense sleeves, had a touch of origi-
nality given to it by the way in which
its sash was tied. Instead of being the
continuation of a belt or girdle, the soft,
broad black ribbon was gathered into
the shoulder seams and drawn down the
back to the waist, forming a V. Atthe
waist it was tied into a bow with rather
short loops and very long ends, and was
fastened with a curious Oriental buckle,
in which black, gold, dull reds and blues
mingled in stars on a crescent-shaped
surface.
Ribbon in profusion is seen on every
gown that professes to be at all up to
date, and the more peculiar its arrange-
ment the happier the owner of the frock
thus ay A tone modistes’ at least
a dozen old ways of adding these effec-
tive touches has brought out. On
one gown the yoke of embroidery was
finished on either side by rosettes, the
ribbon passing over the shoulders to the
back, wrere a couple more rosettes were
fastened, from which long single ends
tell from either side to the hem of the
gown.
Another ore had rosettes on either
side of the gown, one at the collar, the
other at the line of the bust ; from these
the ribbon ran down to the edge of the
bodice, where two more rosettes were
fastened, and from these again on the
skirt the ribbon was carried down the
seams,ending just below the hips in two
more rosettes and long, double ends. It
does not follow that because ribbon is
put on a certain way on one side of the
gown that it must ‘be reproduced in
similar fashion on the other. The more
diverse and eccentric the arrangement
the better. Bows at the back of the
neck, giant ones on the bodice in front
ard butterfly decorations to drape the
skirts. All of these are seen on the sum-
mer frock and they are sufficiently noyel
to make them enjoy at least one season’s
run of favor.
Dotted muslin, is just now a fad. In
our mother’s day 1t had a run inexpen-
sive, but assured. Mantilla and frock
appeared in the snowy guise so becom-
ing to women, young and old. The
plainer the modern robe the prettier.
Lace edged frills and lace many in-
ches in depth is,however, given a chance
to enhance the charm of the Swiss frock.
As a rule pin dots are preferred.
Bretelles fold in quaint simplicity
across the front of the waist, while ex-.
tremely pretty cftects are produced by
the broad collar that stylish girls now
affect. It is always made of the rarest
lace and spreads out over the big sleeves,
sometime drooping half way to the el-
bow. :
The dotted muslin is considered capa-
ble of finishing off in correct style the
Eton suit of white duck, and, really, one
could not ask for a more lovely front
piece. It is so thoroughly feminine in
this way, proving a very decided rival
to the mannish waistcoat and shirt front.