TE A MORTZFWING MISTAKE, I studied my tables over and over, and back- ward and forward, too, But I couldn’t remember six times nine, and 1 didn’t know what to do. Till sister told me to play with my doll, and not to bothersmy head. “If you call her ‘Fifty-four’ for a while, you'll learn it by heart,” she said. So I took my favorite, Mary Ann (though I thought twas :a dreadful shame To give such a perfectly lovely child such a perfectly hovrid name), 2 And I called her my dear little “Fifty:four”.a hundred times, till I knew The answer of six times nine as well asthe an- swer of two times two. Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, whealways acts so proud, Said, “Six times nine is fifty-two,” andl near- ly laughed aloud! . But 1 wished I hadn’t when teacher said, **Now, Dorothy, teil if you can” For I thought of my doll, and—sakes alive'!—I answered, “Mary Ann”. —St. Nickelas. AN EVERYDAY LOVE STORY. “When Mrs. Booth introduced Car- oline to him she might have known it would make a match,” remarked Miss Cornelia Barrett, whom the entire vil- lage familiarly called “Aunt Corney,” as she spread out the numerous sheets of thin note paper on her lap and began again the reading of the letter that had thrown the whole family into incipient hysterics upon its arrival in the early morning's mail. “Mrs. Booth always was a match-maker, and it never seem- ed to enter ber busy brain that a pov- erty-stricken minister was not the hus- band for a girl like Caroline. All she thought was that it was pleasant to watch their billing and cooing, and this—"' she emphasized, patting the letter on her lap as though it were gome noxious reptile—*this is the re- sult.” “Cornelia always was down on Mrs. Booth since she said her biscuits were heavy the night of the oyster supper,” put in Cornelia’s sister, a gray-haired widow, whose eyes and lips smiled in continual harmony. “I could have forgiven her that, Sue, but to go and ask Caroline out to that lonely farm- house just at the time when a young divinity student was lying in the spare room getting over some shilly-shally disease they call nervous prostration, looks to me like premeditated mis- chief and I'll never forgive her—nev- er. Look atthe result. I knew just how it would end—nothing more than I expected,” and she placed her gold- bowed spectacles in position and began again the perusal of the letter that had 80 disturbed the peaceful calm of the little home. “Just listen, Sue,” she commenced : - My Dear AvuNts: Every day I have been hoping against hope, think- ing that I might be able to send you some cheering word of our life out here, but I find that each day only makes matters worse, and so I write while I have the strength to do eo. ‘The climate, as you know has com- wletely broken poor William down. He tried 80 hard, for my sake and the baby’s, to keep up a brave heart, but you can’t imagine what the life of a poor minister in this unsettled section means. Since baby came I have not been very strong ; we can’t afford any help and every day I feel myself get. ting more and more down-hearted. Do not think that I regret my mar- riage—on the contrary, even knowing as I do all the hardships that fall to the lot of a poor minister, I would do just as I did, fora better, nobler hus- band never lived, and no woman ever had quite such a sweet, dear baby as mine, but oh !— “That blot shows where she dropped a tear onthe page,” sententiously re- marked Aunt Corney. ‘‘She needn’t try to hood-wink me.” “Go on, sister,” interposed Sue, whose eyes were filled with tears. But oh, sometimes { do long so hard for just one night's rest in the old sweet-scented bed that used to be mine, and my eyes ache as I try to imagine just how the lilac bushes look and what you are doing. Do you miss me a little? Write and tell me what you do, for sometimes'all the dear old times when I was a girl seem go misty and far away that I think maybe it wae all a happy dream and the hard present all that ever was to my life. I am afraid that I have made you think I am unhappy—but I'm not, only just a wee bit lonely at times, a little home: sick, perhaps. I will watch so anx- iously for your letter. Do not disap- point me. Your loving niece. CAROLINE GRAHAM. “When Caroline writes that sort of a letter she’s in trouble. Sue for she was always a plucky little thing, and though she glosses over the hard times Ican read between the lines and I know things are in a very bad way out there.” “What do you intend to do, Corne- lia 7’ queried the sweet-voiced Sue, who knew that Aunt Corney expected some such question. “Do! I'm going out there and if things are as bad as I think I'll bring home that family of three ever though we have to wear made-over frocks and ride in Gene Brewster's rickety wagon at twenty-five cents a trip for the rest of our lives, Caroline is Mary’s only child, you know, Sue, and it’s our duty to go to look out for her, even though she did go against us when she mar- ried William Graham.” “But Corney,”’ gently expostulated the plump little widow, “you do not really mean that you who never in all your life was in a sleeping car will un- dertake a trip of such magnitude. Why, you will have to be on the cars three or four days, and its specially trying traveling in the winter. All the commercial men that stopin the vil lage say so, and they ought to know, for it appears to me as though they are on the road all the time.” “Sister Sue, you needn't try to talk to me out of it. You know me well enough to understand that once I make up my mind to do a thing I'lldo itif I break my neck. “But you don't know the way.” “With a tongue in my head and a number of extra dollars in my pocket, I'll get along, never fear, for what peo- ple won’t tell me for the asking with- out getting paid for it, they will tell me when I show them the color of my money.” Thus it was decided that simple, whole-souled, innocent Aunt Coruey should start out into the wilds of that far Western country, where her niece and her husband were struggling against poverty, sickness and utter helplessness. Such a trip had been taken by but few in the village, and when her intention was announced Aunt Corney was regarded asa heroine, and friends from far and near dropped in to pay a parting call, their conduct being a cross ‘between wondering ad- miration and a sort of solemn bewilder- ment such a8 marks the demeanor of friends bidding farewell to a prisoner about to be hung. Such an array of supposed-to-be-necessary articles for the journey as kept pouring in | Foot and pulse-warmers by the dozens, knitted caps and slippers, shawls and mittens, to say nothing of edibles, ac- accompanied by the suggestion that the donor thought they might be slipped into ithe carpet-bag without crowding the other contents, and may- be they would eome in quite ‘‘comtort- in’ like” for a snack between meals. By tho time every arrangement had been made even staid Miss Corney had lost a shade of her usual imper- turbable calm, and it is a question whether, knowing the excitement her project would create, she would have ventured upon so rash an undertaking. To her simple mind togo and bring back Caroline was the easiest thing in the world, despite the spite fact that she had never been more than five miles away trom home in all her life. The love that prompted the trip served to blind her to its possible dangers and extraordinary incidents, but when she saw the flurry she had created and bad to come into personal dealings with officials who reveled in red tape by the yard she began to weaken inwardly, though no one would have guessed it, and if she could have sent a substitute in her place she would have gladly done so. “I am not going to send Caroline a word,” she announced at the farewell meeting of the Ladies’ Aid Society, a meeting that had turned out to be a sort of digified tea party, not one single garment being cut out for undressed heathen or suitable re- solutions passed advising action to be taken in the matter of sending them out divided skirts and sailor hats. Gossip was the order of the day and Caroline’s affairs were the principal topic of discussion. “Ne, indeed, I'm not going to send her one single word, forit I did, womanlike, she’d go and put the best foot foremost and I wouldn't be able to tell accurately just how things are. As soon as I get there I'll write to Sister Sue and she can read it to you all at the next meet- ing. I'm not much on making up fancy sentences, but I'll give you an idea of what's going on out there, and if itis as I think I’ll bring the whole kit and boodle of them home whether they want to come or not.” When the day arrived for Miss Cor- ney’s departure half the village turned out to wave good-bye, and the passen- gers who were already on the train be- came quite excited over the demonstra- tion, expecting. of course, to see at least a bride and groom as the incen- tive for all the cheering and hand shaking, but only a tall, angular old woman, with a very knobby carpet- bag, got on, a plainly-dressed denizen of the country town, who smiled and kept giving farewell directions until the train had gone too far to render her voice any longer audible, and who then collapse into the soft seat of the drawing room car and cried long and quietly behind the the fine linen hand- kerchief sister Sue had ironed so care fully just the day before. As the clatter and rumble of the train kept up Aunt Corney’s tears grew gradually fewer and the novelty of her position obtruding itself upon her grief, after a while she straightened up and began to arrange her belongings as she could in the small space that she would be obliged to occupy for the next four days. She took oft the village- made bonnet, tying it up carefully ina paper which had brought along for that purpose, and donned a little knit- ted cap which had been one of the parting gifts. She slipped off her wrap, put on easier shoes aud settled herself with the Kingston Freeman, trying to look as though she had been used to traveling all her life, and quite oblivious to the fact that several stylish city-bred women and girls were very much amused by herself and her funny little belongings. This, how- ever, did not escape the notice of a keen- eyed elderly man whose section was opposite that of Aunt Corney’s and for a time he was strangely troubled by it- He need not bave given himselt any uneasiness, however, for the new scenes through which the quaint old lady was moving made her completely lost to everything else about her. By and by, when the colored dignitary who officiates as porter in these mov- ing palaces announced dinner Aunt Corney looked a little dazed, and the old gentleman offered a few words of Sina meant information concerning the location of the dinning car, but his remarks were met with an uncom- promising and stony silence. Aunt Corney hado’t read the newspapers for nothing. She had heard of confidence men, 80 she sailed past him in stately hauteur, thinking that there were | many things liable to occur on such a trip that she had not bargained for. As night settled down upon the trav. elers the loneliness and novelty of her | position so forced itself upon the dear old home body that she had to take! out Caroline’s letter from her satchel and read it over once or twice in order to fortify herself against the irresistible longing to ery. “Cry she would not,” she argued, while that horrid old man gat pear ber looking likea white owl. She knew he was a wicked character, for she had seen him take sundry long swallows out of a suspicious brown bottle, and she was perfectly certain that it was neither cold tea nor coffee that flushed his face after each liba- tion. ‘Dear me!” she thought as the wine corks popped at dinner and she saw old about men and women drink- ing insidious decoctions that she had been warned against since infancy. “The world is a sinful place. If Sister Sue had known the sort of people I would have been forced to dwell with four days she would have argued hard- er than she did against my leaving home. But the climax came when the hour arrived to go to bed. Poor old Corney, accustomed to retiring when the birds went to their nests, had fan- ned and looked wistfully about her two full hours before anyone had shown any signs of getting settled for the night. The first to make the move was the old gentleman, who called the porter in, and who despite Aunt Cor- ney’s former coldness, instructed him to make up the lady’s berth also. In her heart Miss Cornelia thanked him sincerely and mentally dubbed him “much more sensible than I would have supposed after his performances with that black bottle.” If she had known it, the stranger had noted the fatigue io her eyes and it was out of the kindest interest that he had made a move to retire early, for, if the truth must be told, after Aunt Corney was far away in dreamland he stole out in- to the smoker, where a little game kept him actively employed until far into the night. No one will ever know Aunt Corney’s exact sensations when she found that she must undress in the very limited space the section allowed for such noc- turnal preparations, nor will it ever be truthfully learned just how she stored away all her clothes and belongings, for she would as soon have dreamed of flying as to settle herself for the night without taking off all her outer gar- ments and donning night-dress and night-cap in regulation go-to-bed-at- home tashion. To dress up again in the morning was another sore trial and when, after eundry little feminine shrieks and ineffectual rushes out into the aisle and back again to the shelter of her curtains, she at last managed to get her gray hair settled to her satisfac: tion and her gown adjusted properly, she gave a righ of relief and thanked her stars that one trying night of the long journey was at last safely over. But during the second day she made the acquaintance of a young mother traveling West with a restless little baby a couple of years old and, bring- ing all her general village aunt knowl- edge to Bear upon the subject, reduced the fractious youngster to a semblance of calm and earned thereby ithe ever- lasting gratitude of the tired mother. The old gentleman occasionally ven- tured a remark and along about dusk his incidental mention of his destina- tion tore down the barrier of reserve Aunt Corney had until then maintain- ed, for he said that he was going to that same God-forsaken section toward which she was bound—the abode of Caroline and her sick husband and baby. Little by little these two grew more friendly, gentle, unsophisticated Aunt Corney telling in her homely way of the worry and sorrow that were in her heart for that beloved niece, the child of her dead sister. The elderly man did not speak often, but evinced such a kindly interest in the little household at Mountain Creek that Aunt Corney even forgave the boldness that prompt- ed him to offer her some of the con- tents of the black bottle, when on the third day the cold and fatigue made her look pale and wan and a shadow of homesickness settled on the kindly face as she thought of the cosy farm house she had left and the unknown misery she was entering upon. When the train slowed up at the tumble- down combination dwelling that did duty for a station at the edge of the great forest, though which a narrow wagon track spread out, only two pas- seogers alighted—the old gentleman and Aunt Corney—and desperately glad and thankful was the latter when she looked about her at the barren, cold, uncompromising settlement and thought how much worse she would have felt if she had stood there watch- ing the rapidly disappearing train alone. A man came out the store, who dofled his hat very respectfully, eay- ing: “Your team’s all ready, Mr. Cooper. It’s been standing ready harnessed for most a week back. We've been ex- pectin’ you every day.” “Thanks, John,” replied the old gentleman. “Have you got another conveyance that'll take this lady to Parson Graham's?” : “No, sir. Teams at this season is all up to the clearin’. So you're goin’ to the parsou’s ma'am?” “Yes,” replied Aunt Corney more helpless than at any ti the whole trip, “that j eit. “Things is orful bad up to the par son’s.”” went on John, ‘Parson he's down sick, the missis ain't much better and I hearn thie mornin’ that the kid'll die 'fore long ef its par and mar don’t git no better.” Poor Aunt Corney’s eyes filled with tears as she listened to this recital, and with an appealing glance toward the little old gentleman who was at that moment very busy with some portion of the team’s harness, she said : “Mr. Cooper, won't you give me a lift out my niece's way ?’ glad to do eo, but somehow I was afraid to offer, you treated me eo cool on the train.” “Let bygones be bygones,” she re- plied, the while a dainty pink flush stole up over the soft cheeks, seeing which John changed his burden of to- bacco to the other side of his mouth, slapped his hands into his trousers pockets and ejaculated under his breath, “wouldn't it be ridikerlous.” Whatever he thought would be “too ridikerlous'’ never transpired, but when Aunt Corney brought back to Roseton the three shadows from a Western land an old gentleman accompanied them, and even before the baby show- ed any signs of a desire to articulate a gray-haired preceptor did his best to teach it to say “uncle.” Nor was this all, for it transpired that the little man was a person of influence, and despite the fact of his sundry calls on a cer- tain black bottle, could secure for the young parson a lucrative charge on East not a hundred miles from the two old ladies, whosoon discovered that they could not be separated for any great length of time from that precious baby. Did Aunt Corney marry? Per- haps another letter, this time to and not from Caroline, will answer that question. My Dear Nick : Your uncle and I have just returned from our winter trip to Twinkle Gap. Thank the Lord, my dear, that you got away from there before you buried your husband and child. It is very profitable in a business way, as your uncle has just made another deal that will bring him in enough to buy the Gaines property on the bluff. I have always wished I was rich enough to live in such a place, but never thought my desire would be granted. Some- times when I think, child, of the awful forebodings I had concerning that first trip I took, I have to laugh, for it turned out to be the greatest blessing of our’ lives after all, and even your marriage with William, that I opposed 80 at the time, I now rejoice in, for if it kad not been for that I would never have been able to sign myself Your affectionate aunt, CorNELfA CoOPER. — Phila. Times. ‘He Could Wait. He Wanted a Vest, But Was In No Particular Hurry About It. Six months ago a clothing dealer on Jefferson avenue put a lot of summer vests in the front window and marked each at 75 cents. They had been on display but a day or two when a young farmer entered and looked them over and said : “] wan’t one of them, but 75 cents is too much. I'll give you 60.” His offer wae refused and he walked out. In about a week he returned, but the market was still firm. Regularly every week since then he has appeared and renewed his offer. Along the end of August he dropped in to observe : “It’s only a few days to September now.” y ves? “They all say we are going to have an early winter. “Yes.” “Shouldn’t wonder if we would have snow by the middle of Septem- ber.” “f pee.” “There won't be any sale for sum- mer vests after the lst. “No.” “Give you 60 cents for that striped one with smoked buttons.” “Couldn’t do it.” “Give you the cash right down on the vail.” “No, sir.” “All right for you—all right ! There is no great hurry about it, and I'm a great hand to wait. Feller wanted to ask me $3.50 for a pair of yalller shoes about two years ago, but I waited and got 'em the other day for 10 shillings. There's a gal up our was who has bin expecting me to ask her to marry me for the last four years. I may some day, but there's no great rush. Won't take 60 cents to-day, eh ?”’ “No.” “All right. That my limit. I'll call about once a week from now on, and along next winter mebbe you'll come to timer I've got the yaller shoes and a red necktie, and I ain't suffering the least mite. I shall be drawing sand by here all winter, and it won’t be no trouble for me to step in occasionally. If you happen to be looking out of the window as I drive up, I'll bold up six fingers for 60 cents. Itit's 8 go, nod your head: if not shake. Good-day.” Yesterday he got the vest.— Detroit Free Press. Sex and Salary. There are reported to be 185 male teachers in the public schools of Bos- ton and 1,372 women. The average salary of the men per month is $246.06 and Yhe average sal- ary per mouth of the women is $70.69. To what extent the larger salary is a pure bonus to the male sex is an inter- esting question. Doubtless the fact that many of i vel Pos a men accounts for more or ess of this disparity, but it by no means accounts for all. f So far as a man receives higher re- muneration than a woman can secure for the same labor this excess is a pure bonus, handed over on accounts of sex. Of course old (but not venerable) custom sanctions the payment to wo: men of less for the same labor and ser- vice than is paid to men, but this is an age when equal rights are supposed to be maintained and fair play to all is supposed to rule. Why are women still paid less for the same work than meu receive? Who knows ?—Boston Globe. The absorbing tariff question And the problem of hard times, And the price of coal next winter, And New York policemen’s crimes, And a hundred other topics, Some quite old, and others new, Have to make way for the question— “Of course I will, Miss Barrett, and “Is it hot enough for you?” ~-Brooklyn Eagle. President Casimir-Perier. The president of the French Republic occupies a position nearly unique in the political systems of the civilized world, for while at various points it has its analogies with the positions of other rulers, there is no other land in which, as a whole, its counterpart is to be found. The French President may be described, in general terms, as a constitutional monarch, elected for a limited term by the representatives of the peopleas they exist in the two Chambers. His nomi- nal power is very great. He is the chief Executive of the nation. He is the fountain of honors. Itis in his name that the force of the nation is exerted, treaties made, laws administered policies carried out. But while all this is done in his name it is not done by him, be- cause no act of his it valid that is not countersigned by the Minister within whose province itis by law included, and no member of a Ministry can hold office unless the Ministry can command a majority in the Chamber of Deputies, in the branch of the Legislature of France which corresponds to the House of Commons in England, and though less exactly, to the House of Represen- tatives in the United States. The French President is, therefore, responsi- ble and his power limited by his respon- sibility in a manner and to a degree un- known in the United States, while, on the other hand, he differs from a consti- tutional monarch from the fact that his term of office is fixed, and, as was shown in the case of Grevy and in that of Mac- Mahon, may be cut short before its con- stitutional termination. In spite of these peculiar conditions, the Presidency of the French Republic is one of great splendor and influence and of power which is not lessened because itis un- defined and indirectly exerted. The statesman who has just been elected to high office made vacant by the terrible fate of M. Carnot is one who, if we may judge by his past, is likely to use the great powers and op- portunities of the place wisely and well. The three problems that are most press- ing for the Government of France are order at home, peace and dignity in its foreign relations, and a wise colonial policy. In all these the character of the President must count for much. If he can do nothing without the co-opera- tion of a responsible Minister, it is equally true that no Minister can, in large matters, act without his general upproval. While in any open rupture with the Chamber the President must give way if the Chamber be firm, ina thousand cases, short of such a decision, his views will prevail, and if his views are wise and just, based on a fair knowl- edge of public opinion, and held at once with candor and firmness, both the Chamber and the Ministry will yield to the President. This unquestionably happened not infrequently under M. Carnot, and it is still more likely to hap- pen under a President of Lhe experience, skill, and energy of M. Casimir-Perier. As to tne first of the great problems, order at home, there is no doubt of the spirit in which it will be met by the new President. He not only understands the necessity of enforcing order, but he is sure to command that active sympa- thy and that confidence which proved fidelity and courage command. Though he is not a military man by profession, the highly prized crimson knot of the Legion of Honor which he wears was conferred for deeds of gallantry in the face of a foreign foe, and every veteran or son of a veteran of the war, scarcely more than a score of years in the past, will recognize the title to respect. In addition to this, he is known, on the one hand, as a Republican by descent and by conviction, and, on the other, asa man who steadily held the fame and dignity of France as a nation above all claims of party. He has put down resistance to law where his duty called him to do so, and he has had the courage to vote against the exclusion of members of former reigning families from the National Legislature on the ground that France was entitled to the services of all Frenchmen who, in seeking a share in its present government, recognized its validity. Then he enjoys the confidence of that large class in France who hold that religious freedom does not mdan freedom from all religion, but equal rights for all who respect and obey the law. Itwasin his Ministry that M. Spuller avowed the intention to apply a “new spirit” to religious questions and to cease hostilities®gainst the Church, because the Churcfi,by its highest authority, had declared pgace with the Republic. It is ressona fig think that with this peculiar combfnigi influences in bis favor M. Ci Perier will hava the support great body of the nation for that of firm enforcement of law and which his own convictions will reduire., 2 What will be th general polidy of the new President in f8reign affairg itis not easy to say definitely, since he has had little occasion to formulate it, but it is safe to assume that it will not be reck- less of policy or adventure.” It will doubtless be guided by the spirit shown when he was Prime Minister in the matter of the colonies. Then he insist- ed that the Government should have distinct control of all that was done in that direction, and for this purpose he con: pelled the Senate to reassemble after adjournment to act on the bill creating a responsible Ministry for the colonies. It does not follow that he is without sympathy for the spirit of colonial ex- pansion, by which some of tke strong- est and best minds of France are anima- ted. On the contrary, he may very pro- bably see in the policy a rational oppor- tunity for restoring and extending the prestige of France. But he is likely to be wise enough to direct the efforts of the Government in channels free from extraordinary risks, and to seek the co- operation rather than excite the jealousy and opposition of other Governments— a line of action by no means visionary. But whatever the wisdom or capacity of the new President of France, the task before him is one of great difficulty and uncertainty. His efforts in its per. formance will be watched with the keenest and most sympathetic interest by all friends of free government, and by none with more kindly feeling than by Americans. ——Joseph Pulitzer, editor of the World, whose eyes are better, is back from Europe and is now at Bar Harbor, | where he will spend most of the sum- | mer. For and About Women. “She measured out the butter with a very sol- _emn air; The milk and sugar also ; and she took the greatest care To nour fhe eggs cor_ectly and to add a little Of baking powder, which you know beginners oft omit, Then she stirred it all together and she baked it full an hour— y But she never quite forgave herself for leaving out the flour!” Mrs French Sheldon the explorer, has application from 8,000 men who want to join her expedition to Africa. Pinhead dotted Swiss in pure white shades is trimmed with deep yellow lace and is quite effective as well as distinet- ly modish. Serge, which has been popular so many years, has had its day, and glossy satin-finished cloth and tweeds are in great demand. Parasols of swivel ginghams will be much used during the summer. In white they are very dainty. This is to be a “white summer.” Every woman’s wardrobe this sum- mer will have to contain, if she wishes to be at all in the fashion, at least one India silk dress. The darker shades are worn on the street, but the lighter col- ors, heavily trimmed with lace, will be most used for afternoon wear in the country. These dresses are the most useful things for summer wear. They are thin and cool, and repel the dust in a way no other material that has yet been introduced has ever done. Black and white, dark blue and the new shade of amethyst combined with white are all much in demand. Indolence is the mother of ugliness. Nineteen out of twenty people are too lazy to breath properly. The rarity of beauty is not to be wondered at consid- ering the absolute necessity to health of abundant fresh air. Habitual deep breathing produces health and beauty, not only by exercising the muscles of the chest, but by throwing back the head and compelling the whole body to assume a straight and majestic attitude. Have you bought a ruffled jabot ? If not get one at once. They are made with a cross-cut neck band in geranium, or any other pretty tint of velvet, with a diamond buckle shaped to the throat, and from it, put on sufficiently wide to cover the entire front of the bodice, a deep flounce of gathered lace. These smarten up all sorts of gowns. pe In choosing curtains it is well to re- member that a bright yellow fabric will light up a north room as nothing else can. Curtains in a dull shade of light green are most suitable for a room fur- pished in rose color or yellow, as a green light will soften the bright tint- ings and is always pleasant to the eye. Curtains for bookeases add much to the appearance of a room, and are an abso- lute necessity on a low bookcase contain- ing volumes with unattractive bindings. Inexpensive curtains may be made of the heavy, repped cretonne which is now offered in such beautiful colorings. Blue denim, which is made softer than the old-fashioned blue jean, and is, therefore, more suitable for embroider- ing, is also an excellent material for this purpose, provided the other farnishings of the room will permit its use. To be well dressed in these days is no easy matter, for a pretty gown is only the beginning. Petticgdts, stockings, hat, must all ther nik or must car- ry out in some wx¥ the scheme of color. A grey crepg# gown, for instance, has the skirt lined with blue silk, and the petticoat is also of blue silk, with silk stockings of the same cerulean tint, the note of blue being repeated in the collar and trimmings of the bodice. Another pretty frock belonging to a trousseau is of black, with yellow sleeves covered with black chiffon, and a touch of mauve in collar and petticoat, with black silk stockings striped with mauve. To own silk stockings to go with every dress is very expensive, and therein lies the difficulty of being really well dress- ed. Many a woman sighs for the days of the clean starched skirts that were put into the wash tub and scrubbed. The present fashion of using the one or two silk petticoats week in and week out is certainly not a commendable one. The rich-looking moires that have been so popular are being fairly driven off the field by the display of cheap. goods, which are flooding the market under that name. These goods are loaded’ aud look fairly well at first, t anything more depressed and miser- Rjlelueking than a tumbled, crushed argd dingy moire sleeve made of the chgaper quality it impossible to imag- ine} % A “goman’s periodical has been having a prizé®%ompetition in don’t in dress. One of she ‘‘honorable mentions’ is rather clevyr : Don’t ado; the latest mode, Don’t trail yay dress upon the road, Don't ever ncsgur waist too tigthly, Don’t wear a bool'Qr glove unsightly, Don’t wear a thing thaWgeeds repair, Don’t, please, forget to brush your hair, Don’t ever wear too large a check, Don’t show too much of snowy neck. em Pretty summer gowns. are made of prints which ought to delight the heart of the most exacting man. The bodice is drawn full on a trim lining and is slightly pointed front and back, just a little point that is so becoming to almost any figure. About the edge of the bodice is drawn a silk sash of a color to match the figure of the print. The sash ties in a dainty bow just to the left of the point in front and the ends hang, one to the knee and the other a little lower. A very high folded collar of the silk is finished by a flaring bow, the loops of which spread so wide that the pretty face above is framed in the but- terfly effect. Nothing could be simpler than such a gown, and half a dozen of them will not use up very much of the summer allowance that is always so much less than it is wished to be.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers