(ltt STi Bellefonte, Pa., July 27, 1894. SWING HIGH AND SWING LOW. Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow— It’s off for a sailor thy father would go; And it's here on the harbor in sight of the sea He hath left his wee babe with my song and with me ; Swing high and swing low While the breezes they blow! Swing high and swing low while the breezes ey blow— It’s oh for the waiting as weary days go! And it's oh for the heartache that smiteth me when I sing my song over and over again ; “Swing high swing low While the breezes they blow 1” “Swing high and swing low’ '—the sea singeth 80 And it waileth anon in its ebb and its flow ; And a sleeper sleeps on that song of the sea, Nor recketh he ever of mine or of me ! “Swing high and swing low While the bréezes they blow "T'was off for a sailor thy father would go.” — Eugene Field. —— MY MOTHER'S SILK DRESS. BY . ELIZABETH STEWAKT. It was after tea and we were sitting around the fireside, mother, Dick, Kate and myself. Dick sat ona low stool at mother’s feet, with his curly head resting on her knee. Kate and I, with our arms twined about each other, lounged on the old settee, which was drawn close to the old fireplace. We had been very quiet for some time, when Kate broke the silence by say- ing. Muon, do tell us a story ?” Mother laughed a low, sweet laugh as she said : “I should like to oblige you, Katherine.” mother always call- ed her Katherine, “but am afraid Dick might object.” Mamma,” and Dick’s head rose very quickly, “if I am 20 and go to college, do you suppose I will ever tire of listening to the delightful stories you tell,” and having thus delivered him- self Dick’s curly head sank back to its resting place. “Tell us about the crimson silk that we found in the chest, mother,” I coax- ed. “Oh, Dick,” Kate explained, “you ought to have been here the other day. Louise and I were looking through an old chest on the attic and we found: the loveliest old fashioned dress you ever saw. The grandest crimson silk, trimmed in heavy lace. Just my fav- orite color, too. We carried it down to show mother and she almost cried when she saw it, and said there was a story attached to it and that some day we should hear it.” Dick was interested at once, “Yes, tell it, mamma.” he said, “it’s just the night to hear a good story, with the rain falling in torrents as it is.” Mother's face had grown very thoughtful while we talked. but when Dick put in his plea she said : “The story is rather long and if I tell it you must promise not to get tir- ed. Itwas the hardest but at the same time the most valuable lesson I ever learued-” “If you remember,” my mother be- gan, “I have told you that father was a physician in a small but prosperous country town, We had always been in comfortable circumstances, but the year previous to the one’in which my story opens, father, for some reason or other, had been obliged to mortgage his home. In his efforts to pay it oft, we were compelled to live in the strict- est economy. I was attending an academy that was in the town where we lived and, in hopes of being able to assist father, was taking a two years’ coursein one year, so that I could teach in the coming fall.” “Al this time we received a letter from brother Richard, stating that an epidemic was spreading through the college and, 4s most of the boys were leaving for home, he desired to know whether he should go or stay. Father wrote at once that he should come home. We were to have three weeks vacation in March and I was overjoy- ed when they told me Richard was coming home.” The day before Richard came, my mother received a letter from my Aunt Ella begging that mother would let me spend a few weeks in the city with her daughter. Amy, feeling sure that mother would grant the favor, had enclosed a check for the amount that would cover trav- eling expenses. “Mother, surely I can go, can’t I ? Do say yes.” “I would like very much to have you go, dear, but I cannot say yes un- til I see your father,” she said, gently. I knew coaxing would be in vain, for mother would never settle anything like this until she had talked it over with father. But he did not come home until late that night, and as [ was in bed I did not know whether I was to go until the next morning. Before I was up mother came into my room and I could see by the expres- sion of her face that I was to go. She sat down by the side of my bed and, taking my hand in hers, said : “My daughter, after some considera- tion, father and I have decided to let you go on this visit. But I will tell you candidly, dear, had your aunt not kindly offered to bear the expenses, it would have been impossible to have you go. So father wrote that you would leave here Friday morning, as that will be the earliest I can get you ready, and now, while we are here to- gether and have time, I wish to say a few words to you. Your aunt and un- cle are worldly society people and they do not lead the simple life we do. They live in a grand home and have every luxury that money can buy. Amy has fine clothes and handsome orna- ments and plenty of servants lo wait upon her; but, if I for a moment thought that this ease and luxury would make my daughter discontented with her simple home life, I would hesitate long before I could say yes to her going.” “Esther, you have never been very far from home, and that is why we hesitated. You are thoughtless, dear, but remember how father and mother | trust you and let that keep you from | doing anything rash, and, above all things, don't let the gay scenes turn your thoughts from more serious things.” I laughed at what I called her fool- ish fear, but she only kissed me, and I noticed she still looked very grave when she left the room. “That evening Richard came home, and when I saw how glad he was to be with us again, I was for the first time gorry that I was going away. Bat the letter was now beyoana recall, and then I reasoned with myself that this was a grand opportunity for me to see the city and I had better take it. I did not tell Richard until the next morning, but I shall never forget how disappointed he was. “Never mind, Richard,” mother said, “father and I think she had bet- ter go, as she has been studying very hard this winter and needs a rest.” That afternoon, as I was fixing over one of my old dresees, father came in and laid some money in my lap. “That will buy you a new dress, daughter,” he said, ‘and perhaps a few ribbons or a pair of gloves, It is all I can spare, Esther. I am only too sorry it is so little,” and before I had time to thank him he had left he room. By Friday I was ready to start. It happened that a friend of father's was going to see that I arrived safely. I had never been from home farther than the nearest town, so the whole journey was a source of continual wonder to me. At the station I was met by un- cle John I had never seen him before, but as he had eyes like father's and such a quiet expression that I knew I should like him, And I was not mis- taken, for, by the time the carriage stopped before the elegant mansion, we were the best of friends. Aunt Ella gave me a warm welcome and then called a maid to show me to my room. And such a besutiful room ag it was! All blue and white. I stood still on the threshold, feeling al- most as though I were in fairy land, but,seeing how the maid stared, I quickly regained my composure. “I am to unpack the mademoiselle’s truck and assist her to dress for din- ner,” she announced. “Thank you,” I said, “but if you will show me where I can hang my dresses I will not need your assist- ance.” Tt was far from my intention to have this lady’s maid inspect my scanty wardrobe. “Is not the mademoiselle tired after her long journey ? Can I not assist ?”’ “No,” I said, “if you will just tell me where to hang these dresses I will not need your assistance.” Seeing that I was really in earnest. she point- ed out the place and then after a some what prolonged stare. left the room. I locked the door after her and then, sat down on one of the dainty white chairs and cried. “Oh, why had I come here?” I said to myself. Aunt had given me a warm welcome, but at the same time, I knew she had seen my shabby traveling dress and cloak. But I was here now and had to make the best of it, so get- ting up I bathed my swollen eyes and unlocked my trunk. I spread my dresses out on the bed so that I could decide which one to wear for dinner. There was my gray dress, a white cashmere, that mother had washed and done over, with some pretty silk she had found in an old chest, the pretty blue silk I had bought with the money father gave me, a plain, blue wrapper for mornings and a dark red dress that mother said would do nicely for a house dress. After some consideration, I hung up all the dresses except one—the red one Then I put it on, and fastening a little pearl brooch at my throat, I sat down to wait until the dioner bell should ring. But I had not been seated long when there came a gentle tap at the door. I opened it and in stepped my cousin, Amy. Such a picture as she made as she stood in the door way. I can close my eyes now and eee it. Her hair, which was of the color of gold, was piled in heavy masses on the top of her head. Her eyes were of a deep violet color and her complexion a creamy white, with just a delicate tint of pink. She wasclad in a robe of some soft, clinging material, while around the neck and sleeves was lace of the finest texture. Then a soft lan- guid voice said : “Iam so glad you came, cousin Esther, ever since I'v known you were 80 near my age I’ve been half wild to have you visit me.” Then drawing my face down to hers she kissed me and said, “Why, you are real pretty, Esther.” “Ob, Amy,” I said laughing, “you are mistaken for I have always been considered plain.” “No, no,” she cried, “itis you who are mistaken. You have such beau- titul eyes and hair. How could you be otherwise than pretty 2 The din- ner bell rang then, interrupting our conversation. That night as I stood before the mir- ror brushing my hair and wondering if what my cousin said was really true, the door opened and she came in. “Doesn’t it tire you to do that 2’ she said as she watched me, “Why, no, I always considered it good exercise,” I answered. “Dear me, it would tire me nearly to death if I bad to do it myself,” Amy said, “Lisette always does it for me. But there was something I wanted to ask you,” she eaid after a little while. “Why wouldn’t you let Lisette help you to unpack your trunk. “Because I am used to waiting on myself and I like it much better, too,” I eaid a little sharply. “Don’t you keep any servants at all ?” she asked. “We did keep one until just lately,” I said. “For heaven’s sake, Esther,” she said “don’t tell that to any of our friends, for they will be sure to think you are poor.” “You need have no fear,” I answer- ed coldly, “for, though Ido not hap- pen to be a city girl, I never discuss my private affairs with strangers.” Then I shut my lips to keep back the angry words that would rise. There, you needn’t take offense, for I only thought I'd warn you as you are so blunt’ And then, with a “good night,” she went out leaving me in anything but an enviable frame of mind. “I will tell her that I did not come here to be insulted,” was my last thought before going to sleep that night. When Amy met me the next morning at breakfast she acted as though nothing had happened, so I wisely passed it over. Then began a round of pleasure such as I had never thought of, even in my wildest dreams. We went to the opera that night and I wore my blue silk uncle presented me with a lovely bouquet of red roses, and when I had fastened a few of them in my bair, Amy said; ‘Esther, never say again that you are not pretty.” 1 am sorry tosay that Amy’s flat- tery was making me vain, but one night at a party my pride was laid low. I was sitting in the conservatory, waiting until my partaer should come with ices. Suddenly I heard my name mentioned. A little distance from me and almost shut from my view by a couple of tropical plants stood two ladies. “Do you really mean to say she is a relative of the Grahms ?”’ said the tall- er of the two. “Yes, who'd ever have thought that Amy Grahm would own such a dowdy looking cousin, for cousins they are. But I think they must have money or surely Amy wouldn’t have her visit them. Will and I were at the opera the other evening and we saw her in a box with Amy and Fred Le Van. She looked real nice then. In fact Will seemed to think she was pretty, but I don’t believe he would say that it he could see her in that dowdy cashmere dress she has on to night. Amy told Nell that her cousin was wealthy, but they lived in a country town where a fashionable dressmaker could not be had, so she came to the city to have her clothes made. To tell the truth I had my doubts about it when Nell told it.”” Then they walked away and my partner came with the ices. It is needless to say that my pleas. ure for that evening was spoiled. I had decided to wear my white cash- mere as much as possible and to save my silk for Amy's party. But now I would have to wear my silk on all oc- casions, and what I would do for Awmy’s party was a question to be solved. A tew days afterwards Amy asked me to go with her to the store where she intended buying her new party dress. I eagerly assented, for there was nothing I enjoyed more than look- ing at the beautiful things displayed in the stores and watching the crowds of richly dressed shoppers as they stream- ed in and out the doors. While we were examining the silks the clerk laid before our admiring eyes the most beautiful crimson silk I had ever seen. Amy looked at it for a few minutes, and turning to her mother, said : “Wouldun’t this be lovely for Esther, mamma ? You know she has noth- ing to wear but that old blue silk, and if she wears it at my party all my pleasure will be destroyed.” This was not intended for my ears, but I stood 80 near Amy that I could not help but hear every word she said. Aunt made no reply, but walked to the other side ot the store. “Esther,” Amy said, “you would look grand in this silk, you are so dark, dear, that it is just the thing for you.” “Yes,” I assented faintly, “but, of course, Amy, I could not buy it, for I really haven't the money.” “But what will you wear at my par- ty ?”’ she asked anxiously. “My blue si'k, of course,” I answer- ed impatiently. Why did she ask that when she knew it was all I had to wear “Well, Esther, I think you might buy this, if only to please me, at least, Your silk dress is pretty, but you have worn it go often. Why, just the other evening I overheard Nell Fields say ‘she guessed you only owned the one party dress.” During the time Amy was talking a severe struggle was taking place in my mind. “Don’t do it,” conscience said, “re- member how fully your father and mother trust you. Sooner than canse them any sorrow be willing to bear Amy’s taunts. “Nonsense,” my evil spirit answer- ed, “this once will not make the least trouble and you can easily pay the money back to your father when you teach. Your blue dress does look too shabby to wear. Amy cannot help but feel disgraced if you persist in wearing it at her party.” “Have you decided whether you will take it 2’ Amy asked. The clerk says it is a splendid bargain, and you can have the bill sent to your father. He will be given a few days in which to ay it.’ “Yes,” I faltered, “I will take the goods.” Aunt Ella came over to us while the silk was being measured. “I thought you did not want that piece,’ she said to Amy. “Nor do I, mamma ; Esther is tak- ing it.” “Esther,” said my aunt in a surpris- ed tone. “Yes, mamma, won’t she look too lovely in it,”" Amy says. ‘She says she has not enough money with her to pay for it, but at my request they con- sented to send the bill to ber father.” Then Amy selected the material for her dress, and, with our many parcels, we were driven to aunt’s dressmaker, Madame de Longe. By the time we left madame’s I had almost forgotten the bill, in the delightof possessing such a beautiful dress. When the dress was sent to me from madame’s I found a small slip of paper among its folds. Opening it I read an amount written there for the making of the dress that, for a few minutes made me sick with dismay. Just then Amy came in to inform me that the Madame’s servant was wait- ing for the money: Too proud to show my distress, I said as calmly as possible : “Amy do you think she would be willing to send this bill to my father ?”’ “Yes, of course she will. I'll go down stairs at once and have mamma write a note to madame,” she answer- ed readily. Once more I was alone, and not un- til now did I fully realize how far the thoughtlessness that mother warned me against had led me. But I wasde- termined no one should suspect that I had any trouble. So that night, ameng a roomful of guests, none were gayer than I. The time passed rapidly until the night of Amy’s party came. I was to go home the next morning and had my trunks already packed. It was nearly a week since the bills were sent home, and during that time I had re- ceived no letters. Although greatly worried, I tried to lay aside all care and enjoy myeelf thoroughly this last night of my visit. I alloged Lisette to assist me in making my toilet, for I was 80 nervous I could hardly arrange my hair. Amy, looking very elegant in the cream satin she had chosen for herself came into my room while Lisette put the finishing touches to my toilet. She held a small blue box in her hand and, when I was free from Lisette, she came over to where I stood and telling me to close my eyes, clasped something around my neck. When I looked into the mirror I beheld a most beautiful pearl necklace. “A present from mamma,’ she ex- plained, laughing at my surprise. “But don’t stop to say anything about it now, for she sent word that we were to come down at once.” I felt greatly elated over the admir- ing glances castat my rich costume and especially over those from the two young ladies who had so severely criti- cised my white cashmere. The lights, the music and the flattery that were poured into my willing ears made me fairly giddy. “I shall be gay to-night, come what will,” I said thinking of the bills. But I was not prepared for what did come. It was as 1 was coming from supper that I heard a servant say: “Step right in here, sir, and I will call Miss Graham.” I wondered whether “Miss Grahm’ meant Amy or me, bat I had not long to wait until the servant en- tered the room, and, coming directly to me said “There was a youug gentle- man in the library who wished very much to see me.” Excusing myself, [ followed him from the room. When I opened the library door and stepped in I started back, pale with fright, for there sat Richard. What had happen- ad ? I felt sure it was something dread- ful. Then I thought of those wretch- ed bills, “What is the matter?’ I cried, for Richard had started toward me and then stopped. “Esther | Esther!” he said, “then it is true.” I knew what he meant and swing- ing my hands as I said, “yes, it's true, Richard, it is true.” “But what did you do it for especial- ly when you knew how hard father is involved trying to pay off that mort- gage 7" he asked, reproachfully. “I don't know, Richard, I really couldn’t have known what I was doing when I bought it. But what did fath- er and mother say?” I was fairly sobbing by this time and Richard, see- ing how deep my repentance really was, gently drew me on a sofa by his side to wait until I had become calm. Then he told me how father had left home one morning bright and ear- ly and not knowing when he would get back left orders with mother that all the mail should be opeaed,and if there was a letter from a man named Wil- son, it should be answered as he would tell us. Richard went for the mail and brought it into the sitting room, where mother sat sewing, He picked up a book and was reading, when sud- denly mother gave a slight scream, and coming over to him laid a slip of paper in his bands. [It was the bill for my dress. A note was sent with it ex- plaining why the bill had been sent to father and also requesting that the money be sentnot later than three days. Mother would not believe any- thing but what there was some mis- take, When father came home they showed it to him and he wrote to the merchant that night. The next day an answer came that there was no mis- take made, but that the young lady said it was to be sent to her father and gave his address: That day Madame De Long's bill came. Richard said father had no word of blame for me, but he went about the house looking so white and miserable. “Don’t tell me any more,” I said. “Oh, Richard, I can never forgive my- self. TI can’t understand why I was so weak as to buy the dress.” And then, in answer to his questions, I told him bow it was I bought thedress. “Why did you come to the city ?"” I asked, after a pause. ‘To see if these people cannot possibly wait for this money, as father is not able to pay it now,” he answered. I looked at him for a few moments and then asked it that was the only reason why he came, for I fell sure he was keeping something from me. He hesitated, then said: “Perhaps I had better tell you at once. Can you be calm, Esther?” “Yes,” I eaid feeling as though a leaden hand was tearing at my heart. “Tell me anything you choose. I am prepared for the worst.” He took my hands in his as he said : “It hurts me dear, to cause you this extra pain. You know mother was not very strong when you left, so this trouble has ut- terly prostrated her and now she is so low that we tremble for her life.” I did not cry, my sorrow was too deep for tears. I could only pace up and down the room, Richard looked frightened. “Don’t, dear, don’t,” he pleaded. But it was quitea while be- fore I could gain my self control. “Did you say father could not pay this for some time ?”’ I asked at length. * “Yes,” he said, “it may be several weeks before he is able.” “Well, then I must go to Uncle John and ask him for the money, as I know these people will not wait,” I said decidedly. As we passed through the long hall we could hear the merry voices and I wondered with a dull, sort of a pain, if I could ever laugh and be gay again. When I reached the door of uncle's room my courage failed me. How could I tell him that I had betrayed the trust father and mother had repos- ed in me ? But it must be done for father's sake. So I opened the door and we entered. Uncle stared in sur- prise, and it was no wonder. Surely I must have made a strange picture, with my tear stained face, crushed flowers and rich, but rumpled dress. “Why Esther, child, what is wrong ?” he asked. In as few words as possible I told my miserable story. “And, uncle,” I added, “Richard tells me that father cannot possibly pay this now and I hardly think these people will be will- ing to wait. So is it asking too much of you to buy this dress? I feel as if I never wanted to look at it again, so I don’t mind giving it up.” “You will wish to leave here on the earliest morning train,” he said, turn- ing to Richard, when I finished. “So I will pay these bills myself and send the receipts to your father.” “Thank you very much, uncle,” Richard said gratefully, “you have taken such a load off my mind.” Then, laying his hand on my shoul- der, uncle said : “Esther this has been a hard lesson to you, but I hope you gee its value. Remember this, that the little word ‘no,” with only two letters in it, some people find very, very hard to pronounce. But I be- lieve the next time you are called up- on to say it you will be able.” “Then, uncle, I shall regard this as a loan,” I said after I had thanked him, “Just as you please, Esther, about it,” he said kindly, “but you may take your own time in paying it.” I bad no desire to go down to the parlore again that night, so I went to my room, leaving uncle and Richard together. Uncle explained Richard's presence to aunt and Amy by telling them of mother’s illness, thus making no mention of the bills, for which 1 was very grateful. When I left Amy cried and begged me to visit her soon again, When we reached home, we were met at the door by father. “Mother,” I gasped, ‘how is she?’ and then I could endure the strain no longer, but with a little cry fell, senseless, into my father's arms. When I became con- scious I was lying on the sitting room couch, the lamp burned very low, cast- ing a dim shadow over the room. On a chair at the other side of the room, with his head resting wearily on his bands, sat father. I could not but see how much whiter his hair was than on the morning I started for the city. “Father,” I called softly. He came to the couch and laid his hand on wy brow. “What is it, daughter ?”’ he asked. “Can you forgive me?’ I cried, “I know I am not worthy. But, oh, fath. er, I have been so miserable.” “Hush, daughter, you must not worry yourself to-night. But rest as- sured your mother and I have fully forgiven you.” “Will mother die ?”’ I asked, chok- ing back a sob. “No, no, Esther, to-day we had rea- son to hope for the best. But I fear it will be some time before she is well, Now you had better retire, and to- morrow morning we will talk about this,” Then hestooped to kiss me and left the room. The next morning father and I had a long talk. I felt I had never loved or honored my father half enough. He was 80 gentle and so forgiving. Then he took me to mother’s room. But it was not until I had looked on her dear face that I fully realized what a costly bargain my dress had almost proved to be. It was weeks before mother was down stairs again, and oneday I heard her say to father, “The lesson was hard, but it has charged Esther from a thoughtless girl into aa earnest,thought ful woman.” - Here mother leaned back in her chair, and, as she gazed into the fire, there was a far-away, dreamy look in her eyes. Then, awakening from the reverie, she drew out her watch and exclaimed : “Why, it's 11 o'clock. I had not intended keeping you girls up so late.” As we waited for our good-night kiss, she said : “That silk dress caused me more than a little suffering. So, chil- dren, if you are tempted to do some- thing that you feel to be wrong, and, though it seems small don’t do it, for great harm may come from it.” Then Kate and I went up stairs, leaving mother and Dick still sitting before the fire. A Seasonable Disease. Pauline (aged 9) sitting in the shade on the porch with Old Sol making des- perate efforis to accomplish a century run, had been quiet for two consecutive minutes. After some vigorous work with a tan she said seriously : “Papa, do you know what I would like to have ?"’ “No, my dear, like 2” “Well, I'd like to have a real chill, like you get when you are sick.” what would you ——German postoffice employes are not permitted to marry without the special permission of the Govern- ment, ——For the 88 United States Sena- tors at Washington there are 16 pages, and they all thoroughly enjoy their positions. EE ————————_————m—————T EE ——— " For and About Women. Said a saucy little Maple o To her cousin, Willow Tree ; Miss Fir has no new mantle This Spring, like you and me. “She wears the same old garment That she’s worn since I was born ; I should think she'd feel so shabby With no new bonnet on.” As she tossed her head and nodded At the Fir Tree's old-style clothes, Willow laughed—she conldn’t help it— At the turned-up, pea-green nose. The Fir Tree, staid and modest, Answered Maple not a word, Though I'm very sure, yes certain, Everything was overhead: She only softly murmured, As she rearranged her clothes ; “I'm glad my friends don’t leave me With every wind that blows. Methodists throughout Great Britain were surprised to hear that the Central Church, Hastings, elected Miss Dawson, of Redhill, as a district representative to the forthcoming Wesleyan confer- ence at Birmingham. Hitherto no la- dy was allowed to enter the Wesleyan conference and whether this will now be permitted remains to be seen. Skirts are almost universally made plain now. This is the mark of the really smart gown, for any purpose. There may be the contrast of dropping sash ends, or velvet tabs, with big but- tons or buckles, but thereshould be no ir- terruption of the downward line of the cloth. Flounces may hide bad cutting. In a dozen gowns of faultless workman- ship you shall not see more than one with ruffles about it. And the menace of the overskirt is removed. We are a good deal nearer the panier than the overskirt now, though last Spring we were groping timidly toward the useless draperies. Paniers, by the way, are equally useless. But when we get hold of the wrong thing it’s best to drop it quick, isn’t it ? Miss Samantha King, a pretty school teacher at Inland, Ohio, with a wagon and team recently worked out the poll tax which had been levied upon her. Even the plan of using fancy pins to hold the skirt and belt together at the back, does not work always satisfac- torily. A very pretty woman has a number of belts that completely over- come the skirt difficulty. The belts do not always match the skirts by any means. She usually has a stock and belt to match, however. The belts are made either of muslin, linen, silk or ribbon, and in the middle of the back a piece of the belt ribbon is ruffled on to the lower edge of the belt for about three inches each side of the point exactly marking the centre of the back of the belt. This can be caught to the skirt at the corners with a couple of pins, and not only conceals the entire strip where the skirt sags and shows the dress belt under that of ribbon, but it was rather ornamental as well, and the woman hasn’t any patent on theidea which orig- inated in her own brain. Every botanist knows that Spring be- gins while yet ’tis Autumn, and surely every costumer knows that Autumn begins upon the hither verge of Spring. It is never safe 1n fashions to prophesy more than one month ahead. Two months is a guess, three a conjecture, all beyond that the limbo of the un- knowable. The wise in such matters say that we shall have the sleeve for the present nearly stationary in size, and unhidden by cape or collarette ; that waists will shorter grow and skirts more ° scant, and that you must buy right away two little side combs and one high one, to assist in training the hair low over both ears and high in the back after the manner of long ago. This is pleas- ant news enough, for no more lovely manner of coiffure was ever devised. Further, Napoleonic features of the 1805 period will be less agreeable to short and dumpy women. Not every one can wear the garb of the Empress Josephine with equal advantage. Mme Carnot, widow of the mur- dered French President, is not only giv- en to deeds of philanthropy, but she 1s a model housewife. There is no work in her home which she is not as competent as her own servants to do. A tall, brown jar with a slender neck, filled with long stemmed daisies and set ° on an oak table, makes a study in color which may well delight the eye of an artist, and the golden hearted blossoms will make a speck of beauty in a dull room which is worth 10 times the ex- pense and trouble of arranging them, Most women overdress themselves. They wear too much clothing. The symmetry of the figure is destroyed by the collection of bands, bones and gath- ers nbout the waist ; grace of movement is destroyed by the overlapping and ill- draped skirts, and not only comfort but Tr is destroyed by their weight. Corsets of clumsy construction and ri- diculous length make caricatures of the women who wear them, and the average woman stands accused. With the big sleeves, the full skirts, the coats and shirt waists, the underskirts and petti- coats the little women suggest rag bags and the big women are monstrous. Mrs. Elizabeth A. Haines went to Washington D. C., 12 years ago, a widow, with about $1000, and started a small notion store. She now has $40,- 000 invested in a stock of general mer- chandise, and keeps about 60 clerks em- ployed. She owns the building in which her store is located, known as the Haines block, the third story of which is used as a city hell. Tailor-made shirt waists of silk Mad- ras are worn with duck or linen skirts in the morning in the country, or in town when one is belated there for a day or two, says Harper's Bazar. A white duck skirt with a pale blue shirt of the glossy Madras is ccol and youth- ful looking. A pink Madras waist is especially pretty with brown or gray linen skirts. This material is very simi- lar to silk gingham, and is preferred in solid colors than in stripes, It is made upin French blouses that droop over the belt in front, and in thesimple yoke shirt. Instead of a turned over collar there is usually a crush collar of the Madras, and sometimes a wide ruffle is added down the front.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers