sa Bellefonte, Pa., June 29,1894. —-—— GOOD-NIGHT. Pale in the amber-flooded A horned moon dips low:; And soft through silver silenees The rose-winds faintly blow. Yet still the horned moon shall lend A lance of lingering light, To cross the wind to erossithe dusk, And give my love good-nigiet. west, The long lake, rippling through its reeds, Hath filies alla 3 At fall of dew each sleepy “flower Folds up her leaves of snew, Yet one fair lily-bad shallwake, To smile all virgin-white, Across the dark, =eross the dew, And give my lowe goof-night. The light may fall, the ‘lily fade, The Tightn ng's lurid glow Flame in the sky—the rose-winds rise To storms that rudely ‘slow. Yet constant still as roseto June, This Rear 2h take delight, i Across the dark, across'the world, To give the world good-night.— Marthe | Mec Culiook Williams in June*&odey’s, TRAITS ALICE'S MISTAKE. Her Basty Words That Cowezd Months of Mis- | ery. I had thought I loved him had been | very happy ae his affianced bride, and whispered with a strange pride his name, remembering that some day it would be my-own as well. But mine was not the nature to. work control. It was rather an early «date, I thought, when an engagement was 80 new a thing, not quite three months old, to be called to account for my actions. and what had I done wrong ? My be- trothed, Clarence Withers, had been absent for a week, and during his ab- gence Will Maynard had been my es- .cort wherever I had chanced to go. I would not have my engagement an- nounced, although it was currently suspected ; there were many kind friends to whisper the fact of my so-cal- led flirtation to Clarence upon his re- turn. And so my first meeting was not, alas, what [ had painted it to my- self. When I went forward to meet him glad, ob, so glad, to see him home again, and ready to tell him so, if he needed telling other than the story he could read in my eyes and outstretched hands of welcome, he only took my hands in his and held me off rather than drew me to his heart, where my head had so often lain, and said, in cold, strange tones, so unlike the lov- ing words of welcome I was waiting for; “Alice, what is this I hear about my wife 2" . “Your wife, Mr. Withers ? During which of my sleeping moments have I been dignified to that title, or you as- pired to the authority of a husband ?” “To me, Alice, a promise made is a promise kept, and from the day you gave yourself to mel have looked up- on you as my wife as solemnly as though a priest had already blessed our union. You keow full well my opinion of Mr. Maynard. He is 2 man I would not permit:te cross my thres- hold ; yet during my short absence he oat ne an bd e. —— ~bliaalle re yout snrer~1H1ack: 685 Sow Foil, 5 “Mr. Maynard is a particular friend of mine,” I exclaimed, with flashing eyes, slipping my hands from his clasp “and permit me to say I willno longer listen to this haravgue. No right to receive ordinary courteous, attentions from a gentleman!! You strangely for- get the fact that you call yourself such when you dare address me thus. Good morning, Mr. Withers.” “Stay, Alice ! If I spoke quickly, forgive me. Butit was so hard to hear all this just as ¥ arrived home hungry for your welcome. You know dear, there were so many aspirants for this little hand I sometimes can scarce believe in my own rare fortune. Are you not glad to see me Alice?’ “Glad ? No. When I was glad you sent all my happiness ‘back into my own beart, and made your first words words of reproach and blame. I have done nothing to deserve either, and I would do the same again.” “Not if you knew it gave me pain.” ‘“Yes ; because you have no right to feel pain. If you have no trust in me, let us part.” “It is not a question of trust, my Alice. But come, be my own sweet girl again and promise ‘me to announce -our engagement, and thus put a stop to ‘Mr. Maynard's useless devotion.” “No Mr. Withers. {I have seen enough to know that with such a na- ture as I have this ‘morning learned yours to be I never could be happy. I will return you your letters and your gifts, and you will send me my letters and picture, Hereafter we meet sim- ply as friends.” And so we parted. He grew very pale when I said it was all over— white to the very lips with anmger, I ‘suppose. What a fiendish temper he must possess, and what an incorrigible tyrant of a husband he would have made! Well, it is all over now, I thought, I am very glad, although I wished the strange pain would go away from my heart, and could not think what had caused it. It was two weeks since Clarance Withers and I bad met and parted, and I did not see him until the night of Mrs. Strather’s party, He was looking ob, so handsome—evidently not pining in secret, for, as usual he was the life of the party, and devoted himeelf to that pretty Irene Brooks. Well, I did not wear the willow either for that matter. Mr. Maynard was very devoted, and my old friends ral- lied to my standard in all their torce. He asked me once to dance with him ~—a square dance—but I declined, and he laughed indifferently relieved and once when I was laughing and talking with Mr. Maynard, I felt his eye on me, and threw additional em- pression into the nothings I was say- ing. Yet I was tired and bored. Why was it Mr. Maynards society had ceas- ed to attract me? icy coldness and a courteous bow of. formal greeting and feel that all was over. 1 don’t think I guite realized it) votil the day Mr. Mayoand told me his engagement to Irene Brooks was a! positive fact: . I did not think he could have forgotten in ‘three short mouths. He always admired her, T knew, and as she is meek and amiable, she is just suited to such a bear. For! my part, [ bate married men and mar- ried life, and thought, with inward congratulations, of the many years ‘ere, I should take the fatal plunge. Y But my congratulations vanished: when I awoke, one morning, with ‘the’ leaden consciousnese that T'had given, the might before, a favorable answer'to Will Maynard's woeing. I did net | mean to say “Yes.” [I did not care tor him when he was away from ‘me:; but he was so earnest so ‘determinet, T | scarcely kuew I had consented until I felt his lips press mine and he has slipped a glittering stonewpon my ‘fin- ger. [twas there, as I awakened, so that I koew it was no dream. Allday I caught ite sparkle; all day it served | as witness to my- folly. But whem, that night, entered irs. Somer’s drawing-rooms, leaning on bis arm, he locking down-on me with a sort of possession-look, TI fancy, II caught Clarence Withers’ eye, full of scorn and full of anger. [I think mine flashed back equal contempt. <I am sure I felt it. Had he not first set me the example? I was only following in his footsteps, carrying out his pet theo- ry, that the man should precede the woman and she bend to his lordly will. At last the summer came. What a long long winter it had been, and how glad I was to see once more the birds aud flowers, I thought as I wandered one lovely morning in June away ‘from the gay party who were spending the day among the woods and trees, revel- ing in a picnic of the good, old-fashion- ed sort. I bate pienies and always did and I was glad to escape them all. So I wandered on, stooping now and then to pluck a wild flower or an exquisite fern, until, on the verge of a steep rock my eye caught sight of a bunch of the loveliest anemones. I sprang forward eager to grasp it—too eager, alas:;—for my foot tripped and I fell forward up- on the sharp stone, cutting an ugly gash in my forhead. Ithink it stun- ned me for the moment. I must have fainted ; but surely, ere I opened my eyes, I caught the sound of breathless tones exclaiming : “My God, my .dar- ling I” and felt bot kisses rain on cheek and lip. : Slowly I unclosed the sealed lids and gazed into the pallid face of Clar- ence Withers. My strength came back with my pride and, drawing myself away, I said: “Do not be alarmed, Mr. Withers, it is all rightnow. Did you imagine you held Miss Brooks? Allow me to re- lieve you.” place of safety. accident was so trivial. ing.” And so he left me. Were those cold indifferent tones the warm, loving ones forve-argtenad too on divining 3 wes; Raat ad fed with my "hand kerchief which still flowed freely, I walked on and soon stumbled on Mr. Maynard, hastening to find me. Oh, how his words of pity and dis- tress grated on my ear. I answered him petulantly, and begged to be taken home: My head ached. He ordered the carriage at once. I would not al- low him to accompany me and, with anxious solicitation, he tenderly gbade me good-by, closed the door upon we and I was again alone. All night I lay and tossed upon my bed, and morning found me feverish and restless, but with a new, undaunt- ed resolution, that ere I slept again I should have returned Will Maynard’s ring, and asked him to give me back my plighted troth. Yet the words came with a hard struggle, and the tell-tale blood crim- soned my cheek and brow as I stood before him and acknowledged I could not marry him. “Do you not love me, Alice 2?” said. “No, Mr. Maynard. You have been very good, very kind, but I cannot love ou. “Why, then, did you consent to be my wife ?”’ His tones were calm now, with the calmness which precedes the moun- tain storm, when all nature is hushed, and not a leaflet stirs, not even a blade of grass trembles, until with a mighty roar heaven discharges Its artillery and the hills quake. “Oh, do not ack me. I do not know. I cannot tell you.” “Do you mean that these few months have been a farce in which you and I were the chief actors 7 Who amongst your friends have been the audience to watch this poor puppet-show, in which your experienced hands have pulled the strings ? Do not look indignant. You have no right to indignation. Have you never loved me 7” “Never, Mr, Maynard, as I should have loved you. You came to me at a time when my heart was hungry. Your words fascinated me, and I hoped and believed I would find the happiness I sought. Oh, forgive me! I know how wrong I have been. Indeed you can- not be more sorry than am I, for you have not the added sting of remorse. Think of me as you will, but forgive Good morn- he forget me.” But no forgiving glance my appeal. Pitilessly and coldly the man spoke, in cutting tones. Doubtless there has been a power be. hind the scenes. Perhaps Mr. With- ers has regained ascendancy over your heart. Heart, did I say ? Excuse me, Miss Ellis I did not mean to do you such injustice as to mention what you do not possess. I wish Mr. Withers every joy.” But yet it seemed so strange to meet “No, Miss Brooks is fortunately in a I am glad to see your: blows; lees, indeed, for it brings re freshing airand fragrance from wmy- riads of flower. I hope never to see his face again, since his name has on ly brought me fresh 10sult, but he at best is a man, and would scorn to strike a womaa to the core who plead- ed to him for forgiveness. = Go, Mr. Maynard. We are quits now. I trust in time. may forgive you.” It was all over then—all over. And for my wicked folly I was punished. Even Clarance, I thought, with curling lip, would have been satisfied. I trust his wooing with Mise Brooks was some what smoother than had been this of mine. 'Why did 1 think of him? ‘What cared I whether it were smooth ‘or rough ?' Qur paths lay widely apart. The world was broad enough for both. ‘Was it’? Ah, tell-tale heart that with -sach strange, choking, throbs, ‘then stood still for a moment, whilst the blood receded from its channels, leaving me icy as death when they told me, two short weeks after, Clar- ence ‘Withers was not expected to hive. He had been stricken with a fever then prevalent in our midst, and on ac- count of which only thatday I was to have gone into purer air. And now ‘the physicians said there was no hope of his recovery. Ill, dying— Well, what did it matter to me ? Did I not gay the world was broad enough for both, and, if our paths diverged so widely, what was death bat the me. dium which severed them still further apart ? ; Ah, no! Atleast I knew he lived. At least] sometimes caught the music of his voice, the sunshine of his smile, but where was his betrothed ? By his side ? No; she had gone, too, leaving a kindly message, That was all. Sure ly she could not have been his promis- ed wife, else she would have stayed. Oh, my poor heart! At last I knew the truth, and scarce knowing what I did I drew a sheet of paper toward me and with blinding tears wrote : “Before you die, Clarance—before you leave me desolate—at least-send me one little word —one token of forgiveness. My pride has all gone dear. I knew how wrong I was with you. Butiyou will forgive me, will you not? And though in Heaven you mustremember anoth- er as your betrothed, you will sometimes think lovingly, if you can think there, of ALICE.” There came no answer to my note, and when I heard Clarence Withers was not going to die, that hopes of his recovery were entertained, and slowly hope gave place to certainty, my first glad immeasurable happiness was suc- ceeded by agony of shame and by the ‘breathless query :: “What have I done? ‘Oh, if I could bury myself anywhere go that I might never see bis look of | withering scorn! Oh, I wish I had died!” was my thought one afternoon afew weeks later as I sat alooe, and, burying my head in my hands, the tears, which had for so long refused to come, burst forth in bitter, chok- ing sobs. I had not heard a sound until a hand was laid upon my shoulder, a tender, pitying voice said : “Poor little girl have you really grieved so, Alice ?” ; 1 ‘ Springing to my feet, I confro=* 2 fi sae of whom T had beep winking if 80d R MF Be oorudears “Have you .come to triumph over my weakness, Mr. Withers? I have suffered sufficiently, I can assure you, over my poor folly, without you adding to my misery. I wish, I wish that you had died. “Listen, Alice ! Be calm, darling !” he said, as he drew me down in the old tender, willful way, which made his very mastery sweet. ‘I wanted to die, too, until, one day, a little, white-wing- ed messenger of peace and hope came and nestled in my breast. I was too ill to answerit, but I kept it there ; and when the fever raged its highest and { almost let go my bold of life, it whispered of the sweetness the fu- ture held for me. Andso I'battled on. And when I grew stronger and knew I should once more look into your eyes, I would not let impatience master me I feared to trust my own great joy, and waited darling, until, face to face, I could tell youthie. All has been a mistake between us. No other woman has ever touched my heart. Ireneand I were only friends, aud I told her of all my troubles in all that dreary time. Alice, have I found my wife at last 7” i could not answer, but be kissed away the tears, and I sobbed out my confession on his breast; but when I had finished he only drew me closer, whispering sweet words of glad, forgiv- ing love, while I was well content to lie nestled in the strong arms of “my bear.'—JeNNY WeEN, in N. Y. ZLed- ger. The Logie of a Lender. The young Detroit man had borrow- ed $10 from the rich old man, promis- ing to bring it back one week from date. The millionaire let him have it, and on time the borrower brought it back, “Now, Mr. Bullion,” said the young man, “I've been square with you in this matter. and I want to borrow $50 for two weeks.” The old man shook his head. “Sorry,” said he, *‘but can’t let you have it.” “Why not?’ aod the young maa was greatly astonished. “Because you have disappointed me, and I don’t want to be disappointed again.” The borrower was more surprised the pain I have caused you and try to than ever. “What do you mean by being disap- answered | pointed 7” he asked. “This,” explained the money man. “I let you have that $10, not expect: “I said we were the chief actors. ing ever to get it back again, but I did. Now, it Ilet you have $50, 1 would expect to get it again, and 1 never would. No, sir,” he added conclusive: ly, “one disappointment is enough. : Good day,” and that ended it.— Clica- go Tribune. —— Chicago’s school census gives the everywhere : to exchange a smile of is no more to we than the wind that safe lead in population. Some National Flowers. Those of European Countries, Japar and Eqypt— Why America Has None. The question of a “national flower” for the United States is being pressed by the Society of the National Floral Em- blem, organized at Chicago during the Fair ; and & good deal of interest has been created in the decision which the society hopes 1n time to obtain. Com- paratively few countries, however, have national flowers ; what are called na- tional flowers in almost every case are floral badges” of sovereigns, adopted without reference to the choice -of the people of the countries. Sometimes, however, these family badges have been | accepted by the people, and thus become | really national flowers. Such, for in- stance, ore the rose of England and the thistle of Scotland. The shamrock of Ireland was never afamily badge, and is probably tbe oldest really national flower in existence. Roses, even apart from their historical significance. have always been popular flowers in England, and when it was proposed by some English Tories to per- petuate the memory of Lord Beacon- field, his favorite flower, the primrose. was adopted as the typical emblem of the Troy or Primrose League, which has spread throughout England, more especially in the eountry districts. Prim- rose day is regularly observed as a po- litical ‘holiday by many thousands of English Tories. Every country has some characteristic preference for some flower which either recalls past memories or isin general favor among the inhabitants. There is, indeed, no nation which is without a typical flower of some kind, though ia countries having extensive territory the preference of the people varies some- what in accordance with the geograph- ical divisions which exist. Under the Bourbon monarchy and later on, under the collateral Bourbons of the house of Orleans, the lily was the typical lower of France and it had a place on the French flag. The original Bourbon flag was of white with three golden flours-de-lis on & blue shield. It was not until the breaking out of the revolution that the tricolor made its appearance, the red and blue represent- ing the colors of the city of Paris and the white the prewious traditions of French government On the aceession of Napoleon, the tricoler was modified by the addition of an eagle and several golden bees, which were simply modified lilies. Under the Second Empire the violet was substitu- ted for the lily, it being the favorite flower of the Empress Eugenie. As a hardy substitute for a national flower, the stalwart Welshmen chose the leek, and those familiar with the lay of “Henry V.” and the character in it of Fluellen, the testy Welsman, do not need to be told how general is the acknowledgement of the leek as an emblematic product of Wales. The leek flower, which every second year under cultivation, is of white streaked with purple. The lotus is the typical flower of Egypt, just as the tulip is the typical flower of Holland. It has long been cultivated in thc X.etherlands, and from Holland and Belgium other are supplied with the varietintsof thify Spscalation in Dutch tulips, and it was deemed nec- essary to limit the price of bulbs by law. Gardening of all kinds flourishes in Hol- land on account of the adaptability of the soil to cultivation, but no flower has superseded the tulip in popular regard either in Holland or in any of the Dutch colonies. The national flower of Greece is the violet and the chief favorite of Germany the cornflower. The cornflower of Germany is blue with small purple streaks, and is one of the prettiest of flowers. It was the favorite flower of the Old Kaiser. In no country is the affection for flowers and flowering plants, and more especially those of a simple character, more general than in Germany, and in any portion of an American city where Germans are nu- merous the fact is revealed by the profu- sion of flowers on window sills, roofs, curbs or in gardens. Another favorite flower among the Germans is the gera- ninm, The national flower of Finland, and indeed of all that part of northwestern Russia and Prussia where German cus- toms or traditions prevail, is the cream colored linden. The typical flower of Saxony is the mignonette, and of Spain the pomegranate. Japan has a real national flower, the chrysanthemum, and at successive flow- ershows there has been a constant in- creuse in the popularity of this beautiful product of the Mikado’s dominions. The national flower of Italy is the lily, which appears on certain Italian coins and gains acceptance too, as significant of royalty, there baving been an Italian branch of the Bourbon family, and the lily having been taken up as a favorite in Italy when it was abandoned in France at the overthrow of the Bourbon monarch in 1830. The national flower of Switzerland 1s the edel weiss. There is no national flower in the Uni- ted States, and the diversity of land and climate is such thatin all probability there never will be one, each State hav- ing its own favorite. In New York a determination of the relative popularity of the various flowers grown was had on Arbor Day, 1890, the children at tending the public schools voting under the direction of the Department of Pub- lic Instruction. The golden rod stood at the head of the popular flowers with a total of 81,000 votes. And then fol- lowed the varieties of roses with 79,000 | the daisy with 38,000, the violet with 81,000, the pansy with 22,000, and the lily with 16.000 votes. Following came the buttercup, lilac, forget-me-not, sun- flower, pink, snowball, morning-glory and helivtrope. | ——There are more working days in | the year of the American workman than i of any other save the Hungarian. The latter works 811 days in the year, and thus has almost no holiday save Sunday. { The number of working days in the American year is 308, This is the same as the Dutch : it 18 30 days more than the HKnglish. 41 days more than the ! Russian, and from 6 to 18 days more , than the working year of any other Eu- “Stop | You are unjust, indeed--nay! city a population of 1,562,769. New | ropean country. It is noteworthy that more— cruel, unmanly | Mr, Withers * York will have to hustle to maintain 8 ' even newly arrived immigrants keep American holidays, The Black Death in China. Fears That It Will Sweep Over Eastern Asia Before It Disappears. —— «Black death,’’ that mysterious dis- seas which has been creating such havoe among the natives at Canton, seems destined to sweap -over Eastern Asia. Hong Kong has been attacked by this insidious and fatal enemy, and already hundreds have succumbed to it. The colony is almost shut off from com- munication, save by telegraph with other Asiatic ports, add every effort is being made to check thespread have been made and outgoing steamers on Oriental lines carry neither freight nor passengers, But the germs of the disease seem to be in the air, for latest news is that death by the plague have already oc- curred in Japan. The natives are panic- stricken. The plague made its appearance in Hong Kong about May 10, when many dead rats were found in the streets. This is the first sign the disease makes. Usually other animals are stricken be- tore human beings are affected. The spread of the disease was most rapid. In a few days the victims claimed number- ed nearly fifty daily. It was even more fatal there than in Canton, fully 60 per cent. of those seized dying in about forty-eight hours. One cause that led to this result was that there had been no rainfall for a long period and all streams and sources of drainage were foul. Vigorous steps were taken to secure artificial flushing of all drains and a thorough cleansing of the ectire city was had, but there was no decrease until about the 20th, when several heavy rain storms oc- curred. Health officers made a house to house canvass of the district of the city where the disease seemed to centre, and all sick persons were removed to the Hygeia the hospital ship in the harbor. The dead were taken in charge by thesame officials and buried at once in a place especially selected. When the disease was at its worst the deaths in the hospitals numbered about thirty daily. In some cases whole fam- ilies were exterminated in a few days. Eurpoeans seem to be almost proof against the disease, although in some cases their surroundings were the same as those of the Chinese. An exception to this is the death of several Portuguese in Hong Kong. The cause of the strange malady is a mystery, but it is undoubtedly a filth disease. experience with the black plague in Pakhol some years ago said in an inter- view that it was dueto foul smells. The plague’s symptoms, as described already are as follows : With or with- out premonition, warning in the shape of chill, there is a sudden fever rising to 105 degrees or over. There is much headache and cerebral disturbance, ac- companied by stupor. to twenty-four hours a glandular swell- ing occurs in the neck, armpit, or groin, rapidly enlarging to the size of a fowl’s egg ; it is hard and exceedingly tender. With or without a decline of the fever, the patient sinks deeper into a condition of coma and dies usually at the end of He declar- LER tgs Bt the grou nd. forty-eight hours or sooner. adhd oi mn Senet EE nid Cause the germs were near Native reports from Canton say that the epidemic is somewhat decreasing there, but many new cases are still re- ported. It is said that flsh are also stricken, and fishermen in some districts have been forced to cease operations. The Egyptian Styles of Writing. The Egyptians had four separate and distinct styles or forms of writing —the hieroglyphic, the hieratic, the enchorial and the Coptic. The hiero- plyphic was probably in use as early as the year 4000 B, C. and at first was made up entirely of pictures. About the year 2000 B. C. the hieratic form or style was introduced. In this the picture hierogly phics were greatly sim- plified, finally developing into forms purely linear. The eachorial form of writing was in use among the Egyp- tians from about the year 700 B. C. until about the year 200 A. D., and was still a further simplification of the earlier forms, which finally developed into the alphabetic form known as the Coptic.— St. Louis Republic. Soap Stilled the Stormy Seas. During the storm in the Adriatic Captain Gall ot the steamship Senegal Messageries Francaises, made an ex- periment of the effect of soapy water in arresting the fury of the waves, He dissolved «ix pounds of soap in T0 quarts of water and poured the mix- tare on some uaraveled ropes, down which it ran slowly into the sea. In this way a zone of smooth soapy water was formed around the steamer of about 40, feetin extent, against which the waves broke without being able to reach the steamer. This was while the vessel was lying to, but when she began to move the zoue of quiet water moved with her until the engines had made 45 revolations.-— London News. The Chinese Pink. The Chinese pink was first sent from China to Paris by missionaries in 1705. The double ones were first noted among seedlings in 1719 in Paris gar- dens, Of late years the improvement has been rapid, and today there are few more satisfactory or beautiful plants in garden borders than the im- proved China pink.— Meechar's Month- ly. THE WAY OF IT. This was the way her youth went: Care and lcve for a motherless brood Drained her heart of its fiery blood ; Small denials, unfinished things, Blunted ardor and clipped her wings. That is the way her youth went. This is the way her love went: Then came the hope which maidens prize, A woman's longing for closer ties Than love adopted, though close it be; Bui duty spoke, and she made no plea. That is the way her love went, After a season of pain, 'twas done, The calm, pale face in its coffin lay ; But far and wide in the realms of day The angels shouted to greet her home, And Heaven was happier now she had come. That is the way her life went. — Florence E. Prattin Good Housekeeping. A physician who bad large In from twelve ? For and About Women. No woman in America, whether beauty or belle, enjoys more distinction or widespread popularity than Miss Frances E. Willard, who, after a resi- dence of two years abroad, is now on the ocean and expected to arrive in a few days in New York, where she will be given a reception. Not only in the religious world, but wherever interests is taken in the ad- vancement and elevation of woman, Miss Willard is recognized as one of the foremost leaders and champions of her sex, Vests of duck, moires satin and chif- fon accompany ladies’ Prince Albert and tailor-made suits. ; The saucy little empire knot is deemed by the American woman the most fash- ! ionable style of coiffure. It is worn ! quite low or in the middle of the head during the day, and hich on the head during the evening. Where the hair is naturally wavy, this knotis exceedingly becoming. However, curling irons are here to perform their important mission and the maiden with obstinately straight strands of hair can manipulate the irons until her locks are as curly and wavy as those bestowed by nature on her more fortunate sister. The hair should be waved and parted before mak- ing the knot. Only the sides are waved the rest being drawn up closely to the centre of the head. There itis firmly grasped by the right band, while the left winds it into a coil straight out from the ead. This rope, when tight, is brought forward and twisted into an up- standing loop. At this point the first hairpin is put in, to secure the loop at the top. While the left hand still holds the strand in place, two pins are put in to secure the bottom of the loop. Then the rope of hair is wound the entire length about the loop. If there be short hair on the side and back, it is waved and brought up loosely into the knot, its ends being pinned away out of sight. All this accomplished, a long comb, pin or dagger is then lightly run through. The gown that is worn for traveling and for general outing, is of course, a tailor-made costume. One of the pretti- est models is of fine black serge, and shows a four yard gored skirt with three rows of stitching four inches above the edge. To the round waist is added a circular coat piece. Then there are col- lar and sleeves of black moire, with wide revers of the same. A masculine cut vest of white duck with tiny black pin dots, a white linen collar and chimisette and a broche four-in-hand tie complete this toilet. A very dressy tailor gown is a golden brown vignone. The skirt has a nar- row panel of white novelty moire, with each edge covered with a narrow band of jet spangles. The frock coat has a full back, and the front is added on with seams, like a man’s frock coat. It is double-breasted, with jet buttons, spangled wrist-bands reveres and turn- over collar of the material, and a chemi- vvo ravi wewotr -COIlar of moire. The skirt of this gown pan be ~vew tu suo house with a waist of white accordion pleted chiffon, trimmed with jet spang- led bands or with a blouse of golden brown and old rose taffeta; with belt and collar of jet and epaulet ruffles of white guipure lace. For afternoon wear on a warm day, however, nothing exceeds in beauty or comfort the dainty cotton frock, srimmed with lace and ribbon. India muslin, plumetis, organdies, dimities embroidered batistes, lace mulls, ete., are lovely materials for the afternoon seashore frock. Beautiful effects, how- ever. can be obtained with fine ging- hams, especially with the small checked designs, and with the swivel and satin- - striped zephyr ginghams in delicate shades. : - An exquisite gown, is of pale green zepbry gingham with an embroidery in white lace effects haltway up the skirt, gathered to a deep yoke nearly covered with round rows of inch-wide white lace insertion. The round waist of the gingham has epaulet frills which end as bretelles at the waist line, where they are edged with insertion. The wrists of the leg-o-mutton sleeves (which, like the waist, are unlined) are trimmed with three rows of insertion. On the belt and shoulders are bows of green satin ribbon. The girls are all wearing “dickies,” or “dickeys,” I'm sure I don’t know which isright. Itis a caution which wears the insidious seeming of economy, to mask quite other qualities. Over a plain bodice or over—well, over next to nothing, if the day is warm—one wears a simple front of China silk, belted down at the bottom: to the skirt and fit- ted at the top with a collar fastening in the back. Such a dickey, of course, in- volves demands a long jacket which you can’t shake off. On the whole, the complete waist or blouse has every ad- vantage over the dickey, except econo- my. The dotted Swiss fronts are fresh and lovely, finished with gathered col-- lar, and a full Swiss bow at tke- front of the neck. An entire bodice of this material is the most delightful thing imaginable on a warm day, and makes those about you even cooler than you feel yourself. One of them worn with a crisp mobair skirt, and belted in with one of the dainty white moire belts, is a neat and faultless toilet. The belts have beautiful silver and enamel clasps. A pretty summer dress that has been much admired is a pale beliotrope and - white striped muslin made with im- mense shoulder rufiies that narrowed down over a tucked front beautified with lace insertion. The ruflles were edged with narrow lace and the collar and sash were of white satin. These features were distinctly novel. The col- - lar was gathered into two full knots on either side of the front and back and the sash went around the waist from two rosettes set in front and terminated in two rosettes and ends in the back. A pretty idea was in having the ruffle pieces elongated so that the tabs are tied in a bow knot in front.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers