Dovri itin
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 10, 1834,
UNAWARES.
Once there was a man without no hairs,
An ’is head was shiny an’ smooth,
Jes’ like an egg that's fresh from the layers,
An’ his mouth on’y had one tooth ;
An’ some wicked, wicked boys met this poor
ol’ man,
An’ they telled him to “go up, bald head,”
But they didn’t see the bears
Coming on em unawares,
So now
the bad boys
is dead.
An’ at a nother time, some Philisteen folks
’At lived where Samson did,
Was haughty an’ was proud an’ was allus
makin’ jokes
‘Bout the Samson fambly’s kid ; :
So what'd Samson do to bring them to time
But hit em with a bone on the head ¢
An’ that was worse than bears
Coming upon them unawares,
So now
the bad folks
is dead.
An’ there was another man call Jonah, fer
short,
’At would do no work fer the Lord,
An’ he tumbled off a boat, ’bout a mile from
An’ got swallowed by a whale fer reward :
An’ he tasted awful bad, an’ It made the
poor whale sick,
So he throwed up ol’ Jonah on his head ;
An’ they wasn’t any bears
Coming on 'em unawares,
But Jonah
an’ the whale
is dead.
So Sian little girls, er any little boys,
Er folk’s that’s growed up big,
Don’t stop a-bein’ bad, an’ a-makin’ so much
noise,
An’ they p'tendin’ they don’t care a fig,
They'll find that after while—jes’ ez like ez
not—
Mebbe when they've jes’ went to bed,
They’ll ‘be some awful bears
Coming on ’em unawares,
An’ then
the bad chiles
’ll be dead.
HEIMWEH.
BY ELSIE 8. NORDHOFF.
Huntingford unsaddled his horse
and led him to the little wooden trough
near the house for water before turn-
ing him out to graze for the night.
He watched with languid interest as
the animal drew "n long draughts with
a sipping sound, wondering idly about
the horses in general.
heavy and his back ached, so that he
was glad when tke horse slipped away
quietly to browse on any dry grass it
could find, aad he could sit down on
the steps of his two-roomed shanty
and rest.
The sun was setting ahead of him in
a glory of crimson and orange. On
every side, as far as his eyes could see.
stretched prairies—dull, brown, life
less prairies—
“Waste endless and boundless and flowerless,”
for though it was April, the time when
there is green if ever there will be, it
hed been a dry year, and everything
was dead. To be sure there were
patches of orange prairie flowers all
about, which struck one as a fever
with which the land had broken out;
but there was no green.
For those who like prairies, prairies
are what they would like; but their
monotony drives some people mad.
Huntiogford eat gazing about him
with a blank, miserable look. He
had been two days riding fifty miles
out from Azure to his rancho, through
arid parched land, always the same
rolling country for miles on every side,
passing herds of lean, half-starved cat-
tle, who gazed at him listlesely with
their large, pathetic eyes, too weak
from want of food and water to be wild
and past many a dead animal, which
had perished from thirst and starva-
tion. “The fever” was in his blood,
although he was unconscious of it, and
this, added the original throes of home-
sickness, which he had fought for the
past year, and the sight of the poor
starved cattle, had used him up. He
sat on his door-step facing the sunset,
his three Lens and a lordly rooster
clueking contentedly at his feet as they
grabbed for their evening meal. He
eard the bark of a coyote, and saw
it, & brown speck in the distance, as it
ran across the country and was out-
lined against the red in the eky.
His thoughts travelled in a circle,
from the lean emaciated cattle and
browa prairies to the rich spring land-
scape of his father’s park in the south
of England, then back to the cattle
and prairies again. This was April.
At home the frogs: would be trilling
and caehunking themselves hoarse.
He could see them as they plunged
sidewise into the ponds—the fat green
creatures, making great silver wakes
in the still water, only to come up on
the other side in the sun. He could
almost smell the spongy turf, and all
the young green things pushing up
through the soft earth, and the pink-
green tips to the hawthorn and oaks.
He drew in a long breath of pleasure,
started with a jerk and looked behind
him. His hound, standing ou the step
behind him, had stuck his cold wet
nose against his eheek. Huntingford
put his arm around the dog's neck,
while his heavy eyes wandered off
again to the brown, the monotoaocas
brown roll of the prairies ; not a tree,
not a hill, to break the view of the
horizon ; only the burnt land every-
where ; and the cattle! wherever he
looked he saw their pitiful eyes; and
he, too, was starving fer a sight of
water and something green. As he
thought his yellow head went down on
the hound’s back, and he choked back
a great sob that rose in his throat.
The fever was getting a firmer hold
on him. After a moment he raised
his head again. The glow in the west
was subsiding into silvery robin’s egg
blue, and just where the last reflection
of pink lingered, the evening star
shone out with almost a bold vigor.
There was not a cloud in the sky.
Everlasting blue above—and miles and
miles of brown below !
Ae Huntingford gazed blankly ahead
of him the land seemed suddenly to
rise towards him—he swayed, lost his
balance, and fell, face downwards, on
the ground by his door-step, frighten-
ing the hens, who broke the eilence by
loud hysterical squawks of terror as
they fled.
Hig hound watched him fall, then
His eyes felt |
rose, stretched his tired legs, and
moved down by his master, whom he
sniffed over very carefully, and at last,
finding an ear, licked it lovingly.
When there was no response given he
sat down upon his haunches, and rais-
ing his pointed nose to the sky, gave
one long, mournful howl.
At noon the following day Cow-
puncher Dick hove in sight. He was
whistling right merrily, and made a
fine appearance in his loose gray
trousers, high boots, and large sombre-
ro—a scarlet tie finishing the effect.
“The boys” had called after him as
he rode away, ‘Goin’ to pay attention
somewhars ? You look so slick.”
“Naw,” Dick had drawied back
with a good natured chuckle ; “I'm
just off to see that blue-eyed Britisher,
aud cheer him up a bit. I seen him
yesterday in Azure, looking a bit down
in the mouth. Guess he’s homesick
again ; and, somehow, when I geen
bim, I thought of the fever, and I
ain't felt comfortable sence. So I'm
ridin’ down to his place just to ease
my mind.”
“The boys” looked half solemn
when Dick mentioned ‘‘the fever.”
They knew it, and stood in awe of it.
“Guess yon're scared,” one of them
said, encouragingly.
“Hope the parsons all right,
though.”
Huntingtord had been twelve
months in his shanty on the prairies.
His youth, clear blue eyes, and a cer-
tain open-heartedness had won their
way among the cow-boye. They ad-
mired his grit in trying to live down
his homesickness, and not giying way.
At first they had pooh-poohed his no-
tion of “Sarvice reg’lar on Sunday,”
which had been propounded modestly
to Dick, always his staunchest admir-
er. Dick had gone the first Sunday,
taking back to the others glowing ac-
counts. He loved music, and was
considered quite an expert in camp,
where he sang lovelorn ballads in a
bass voice like a young bull’s, and he
found Huntingford sang like an angel.
“The sarvice’’ had consisted of mora-
ing prayer, and as many hymns as
they chose, after which there had been
dinner for Dick and himself and the
two hounds. Such was the fame
Huntingford won through Dick that
the following Sunday eight horsemen
appeared to hear “the parson” sing.
They looked rather like sheepish ban-
dits when, after dismounting and tying
their horses in the shade, Dick mar-
shalled them up to shake hands with
his friend. “Guess I ’ain’t shook
hands for the Lord knows how long,”
one of them mumbled. There were
only two chairs in the shanty, but by
pulling a trunk and a kerosene box
into the front room every one was pro-
vided with a seat. “The boys” fidget-
ed, they felt self-conscious and out of
place, and broke into nervous giggles
when Dick presented them with two
hymuals, and told them to be “d
quick and find the number.” But
Hunvingford’s easy unconsciousness
made them feel less shy presently.
He was doing as well as possible what
he had done every Sunday of his life at
home. As he sang, one by one of the
men stopped gazing about the shanty
and pinned their eyes on him. Dick
was ‘‘doing himselt proud,” roaring
out the hymn at the top of his power-
ful voice, but above it, beyond it, lead-
ing it by the force ot clear sweetness,
rose Huntingford’s, and “soared away
to realms unknown,” but with so much
maguetism in it that he drew his list-
eners with him until they forgot that
they were sitting on wooden boxes in
a prairie shanty.
At the end of the first verse Dick
wag requested soffo voce} “to shut up,
and let’s hear the little parson alone”
— he “shut up” willingly. Hunting-
ford was his “claim,” and he wanted
to prove it a good one. So ‘the par-
son” began the second verse alone,
and sang half-way through it; then he
stopped, looked at Dick amiably but
firmly, and said, “You aren't singing.
You'd better ali sing.” he added ; “it's
good for your lungs.” He began the
verse over again, and one by one the
men joined in, shyly at first, but to-
wards the end with a volume of sound
bewildering to any one more conscious
than “the parson”
So ‘‘sarvice at the parson’s’” became
a regular institution, and the boys
learnt hymns in plenty, and to roar
out the “tug of war” till it rolled away
over the prairies, amazing the rabbits
aud coyotes. Once a clergyman, hear-
ing ot Huntingford’s “meetings,” had
spent Sunday with him, but “the
boys’ heard of it, and fought shy, on-
ly Dick turning up at the appointed
time, in rather a surly frame of mind,
to the amusement of both “the parson”
and his guest, who counted the visit a
holiday in his hard-worked lite. The
Sunday following they all came again,
rather sheepish, when Huntingford
chaffed them on their non-attendance.
Dick rode up to the back of the
shanty, where the shed was, hallooed,
but got mo response. His heart sank
a little, but he dismounted, tied his
horse out of the blinding sun, patted
“the parsen’s” hound, who met him
with friendly wags of his tail. and
went around to the door, followed by
the dog, who watched him curiously
88 he bent over his master, and, pick-
ing him up, earried him into the shanty
and put him to bed. Where Hunting:
ford had dropped the night before he
had lain ever since, for nothing rouses
a man the first day of ‘the fever.”
Dick knew from much experience with
fever patients that the exposure was
the worst thing that could have hap-
pened. “Guess it ain’t much use, but
I'll try fur it,” he said to himself, as
he hunted up Huuntingford’s brandy,
and poured it raw down the boy's
throat. It was of no use, and he lay
uncongcioue until evening, when the
fever set in. He opened bis eyes and
began to talk in a high unnatural
voice, and to toes about restlessly, his
cheeks flaming and his eyes brilliant.
Of course he did not recognize the cow-
puncher.
Dick bad once seen a physician rub
alcohol on a patient's and wrists when
ill with “the fever” ; and although he
had not fathomed the reason for it, he
hunted up the bottle he knew “the
parson’ kept, and bathed his head
with it until it was all used up. The
fever was horrible. Huntingford’s
rambling excited talk worse. It was
sometimes about a meadow with a
pond near it, when he begged invisible
people to be quiet a moment and let
him listen to the frogs, saying, with a
break in his voice : “It is so long since
I have heard them. It you could only
be quiet just one moment.” Then he
would break in with a moan, and “Oh!
if the cattle would only not look at me
go! To think that it was I who kept
the rain away! O Lord, I did not
mean to.” He had caught the idea
that the drought was a punishment for
him, and that the cattle knew and re-
proached him with it,
Dick nursed him ag carefully as he
knew how for, the next two days. It
was impossible to leave him long
enough to go the fifty miles into Azure
for a physician.
The third day the sun rose clear
and hot again; no sign of rain in the
sky, or of the fever abating. But to-
wards afternoon Huntingford fell into
a doze and woke to recognize Dick,
whose heart rose a degree, though he
hardly dared to hope. One never does
with “the fever.” The first question
he asked was, “Has it rained ?’ and
when Dick shook his head, burst into
a fit of weeping, far too weak to con-
trol himself. “It's those poor cattle,
Dick. I rode through a herd the oth-
er day, too weak for want of food and
water to be afraid of me, and their
eyes—oh God! their eyes! If you
would only make it rain,” he added,
half to himeelf, as he turned his face
to the wall.
Dick turned with a jerk to look out
of the window ; the lump in his throat
was growing too large to be swallowed,
but he intended to master it.
Through the window he saw the
prairies, all brown but for the patches
ot gaudv orange, which looked thirsti-
er than the brown, and had a greedy
look as well. The sun was so hot
that the atmosphere was reeling, and
swayed to and fro with such a ryth-
mical motion that it seemed to the
cowboy’s tired fancy to be dancing a
deyil’'s dance. When he looked to-
wards the south he saw a pool of blue
water, and cattle in it kuee-deep.
He knew it was only a mirage.
He turned at a little sound from the
cot. Huntingford was sitting up, lean:
ing on one elbow, and listening.
Dick saw that the fever had re-
turned, and gave up the fight.
As he looked at him “the parson’
tured to him with a radiant smile.
“That’s rain, old fellow. Hear it?”
he said. “And the frogs, too, trilling
until they are hoarse. The wetter the
better, the wetter the better—that's
what they say.” His cheeks were
flaming, and his eyes bright. He sat
listening for a few moments, breathing
heavily in the hot, dry atmosphere.
Dick turned to the window again.
He could not stand the sight of Hunt.
ingford ; even the devil's dance of the
atmosphere was better. Presently
Huntingford began in a low voice:
“There it is, just the same old gray
church, as though I hadn’t been away
a day. Come along, old Dick, they
are at the processional, and as sure as
I’m alive they’re singing my hymn.”
His voice rose with excitement. “For
all the saints who from their labor
rest” was one of the first hymns he
had taught “the boys.”
“Come on, let's help them,” he
cried, and broke in on the fifth verse :
“And when the strife is fierce the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are
strong,
Alleluia! Alleluia!”
His voice rose high and clear,
stronger than Dick had ever heard it
before. He turned to look at him,
then walked over to a group of ama-
teurish water-colors tacked to the wall
and looked at one of an old church
covered with ivy. Huntingford
paused in his singing, then went on
with the sixth verse.
The devils in the atmosphere were
diminishing, and red and purple be:
ginning to show in the west. A little
breeze had sprung up, and came in the
shanty windows refreshingly. Max
whined at the door, attracted by his
master’s voice, and was let in, when
he sat down by the bed and watched
Huntingford with a great desire to un-
derstand in his faithful dog eyes.
When “the parson’s voice rang out
in the last
Alleluia! Alleluia!”
Max howled in sympathy, but was
comforted when his master put his
hand on his head and said, “Poor old
dog,” emiling at him,
The silence ot the room grew intense,
Dick felt it, and turned towards the
bed wearily, prepared for what he saw.
Huntiogford had dropped back on
his pillow, and was dead.
“The fever” takes its patients that
way.
The next day Dick rode back to
camp. It was sundown when he got
there, and “the boys” were gathered
around a big wood fire watching the
cook get supper, their figures silhouet-
ted against the flames. They shouted
to him to know if it was he, and got
but a gruff response. Some one asked,
“How's the parson ?"’ and they waited
patiently for an answer, while Dick
dropped off his horse, unsaddled her
and as he strode off towards bis tent
said, savagely, “Dead, of that thar fe-
ver |” .
There was absolute silence for a few
moments, and no one moved.
Then one of the men rose and went
fora pail of water for Dick’s horse,
whistling as he went in a reminiscing
way the All-Saints’ day hymn, which
the night wind carried back to the
men in the firelight. and on towards
the fading red in the west.
The cook's great stirring-spoon, sus-
pended over the kettle for the past few
moments, dropped into it, and the
broth within was sent spinning round
and round, Then the life of the cam
went on. — Harper's Monthly Mag-
azine.
The Corean Uprising,
The Meaning of the Trouble in the Little Pen-
insula Which Involves Three Nations.
The American people may not be
deeply interested in the ordinary inter-
nal troubles of Corea. The present
grave disturbance, however, threatens
to reopen the question of the far East on
Corean soil. We are likely to hear
much about Corea in the next few
months, and it may be worth while to
shed a passing light upon the scene and
the actors engaged in the drama.
Itis not very difficult to get at the
gist of the trouble, though the cable
and mails have given little information
on the subject. The same general
causes and complications, however, have
produced all the uprisings in Corea
withing the past fifteen years. The on-
ly difference is that the present insurrec-
tion is likely to result in far-reaching
consequences of world-wide interest.
There are some elements in the situa-
tion that look like the plot in an opera
bouffe, and if Corea were not a land of
surprising anomalies most people would
rub thrir eyes when they read of some
recent doings. There has been an up-
ricing of the peasantry of Corea, a most
patient and long-suffering people, often
cut to the quick by the onerous exac-
tions of the ruling classes, and explod-
ing occasionally, when they eannot
stand the pressure any longer. As us
ual, they have worsted the government
troops in several engagements, and this
is not surprising, for Corean soldiers do
not shine in the military art. As usual,
too, the King, who likes to pose as an
independent ruler, and who makes
treaties with foreign nations in which
there is not the slightest intimation that
he is really a vassal of China. sends:
post-haste, as he has done several times
before, to Li Hung Chang, the great
viceroy, imploring him to send Chinese
troops to his relief, Almost simultan-
eously Japan, who has large interests in
the country, though she has not as
much to do with the country as we
have had through the American advis-
ers of the King, lands about 10,000 sol-
diers in Corea, practically takes posses-
sion of Seoul, the capital, and its seaport
Chemulpo, badly scaring the King and
disturbing the composure of Russia and
China, who make haste to tell Japan
that she had better mind her own busi-
ness and, at any rate, she must keep her
hands off of Corea. We may briefly des-
cribe the primal causes of all this tur-
moil and then the relations to it of the
various parties who are taking a hand.
This mountain peninsula, jutting out
into the sea until it almost overshadows
Japan, occupies strategically a most
pregnant and important position, and
thisis one reason why Russia has a con-
suming desire to get hold of it. Its
80,000 square miles support about 8,000, -
000 people who are closely allied to the
Chinese in blood, language laws and re-
ligion. The soil is fertile, though only
a small part of it has been turned to ac-
count. The mineral resources are large,
but still lie almost untouched in the riv-
er valleys and on the mountain sides,
The people outside the governing class,
are wretchedly poor and the whole
country is a conspicuous object lesson,
proving that a naturally rich land may
be kept almost a howling wilderness by
evil and corrupt government. The
great burden under which the country
staggers is that it is taxed to death
to support a vicious official
class.
In theory the officers are the meed of
those who have won literary distinction
in competive examinations. In prac-
tice the examinations are a farce, and
the officers go to those who pay most
for them. There are officials without
number, from the King’s ccuncilors to
the governors of provinces and the mag-
nates of the villages and hamlets, and
their chief business in life is to wring
from commen people all the taxes they
can pay. A large part of this money
clings to their own fingers, as the re-
ward of offices that are purchased, and
though the country groans under taxa-
tion, the government is notorfously im-
pecunious.
This genteel office-holding class, while
agreeing that the common people must
suppbrt them without work, are divided
into the fiercest ot factions on some other
questions. There happen to be more
genteel people than there are offices,
and the party of the outs have for along
time been led by the father of the King,
an unamiable old gentleman, who ruled
the country as regent during the minor-
‘ity of his son and was guilty of all sorts
of atrocities. His persecution of the
Christians and of all foreigners at last
brought the warships into Corean har-
bors and resulted in the treaties that
opened Corean ports to commerce.
Discontented politicians of the ex-re-
gent’s party stirred up the recent insur-
rection.
Hating all foreigners and particularly
the Japanese, who are the predomina-
ting foreign element, the secret agitators
employed the double shibboleth of
“Down with the tax-gathers who op-
press the people,” and “Turn out the
foreigners, who make all the money,
while we remsin poor.” The Corean
peasant, through long suffering is quick
tempered and 13 apt to explode at short
notice when adroit politicians inflame
his mind with the contemplation of his
wrongs. This has occurred three times
within the past fifteen years. This time
the uprising occurred in the region
around the capital itself, and of course
most of the interests of the foreign ele-
ment and the government of the King
were directly menaced. Then came the
King’s appeal to China for troops and
Japan's uninvited occupany of the cap-
ital and the port of Chemulpo with suf-
ficient force to make her master of the
situation at the heart of Corea.
She did the same thing in 1882 and in
1884, and exacted the most complete re-
paration for injuries inflicted upon her
subjects and their property in Corea.
For centuries she has repeatedly invad-
ed the peninsula. Theonly excuse that
she can give for such proceedings is that
her people have large financial interests
in the country. To be sure, Japan
claimed, centuries ago, that Corea was
her vassal, but she has done nothing for
ages to make the claim valid and for
hundreds of years Corea has actually
been one of the vassal states of China,
attempt to revolutionize the traditional
state of things in Corea that may very
easily give rise to complications of a for-
midable kind.
Japan bas come forward with entirely
new demands. Shesays she is tired of
sending armies into Corea for the pur-
pose of protecting her large interests
there. What are her interests ? Her
people engaged there in trade far out-
number all the other foreigners put to-
gether. They have absorbed nearly the
entire export trade of the country.
They control the Mint, though it does
not appear that they have done much
to improve Corea’s circulating medium.
They have established a banking busi-
ness atthe capital and the amiable
King in a large borrower. Very likely
he has forgotten the time when he and
his government were free from fin-
ancial obligations to Japanese money-
lenders. . With all their active and
prominent participation in the business
of the country, the Japanese are most
unpopular. They treat the Coreans as
their inferiors and are cordially bated
for their supercilious and arrogant air.
But it cannot be denied that though
China collects the customs, is recogniz-
ed by King Li Hsi as his suzerain, re-
ceives the tribute that annually wends
its way from Seoul to Pekin, main-
tains a resident at the capital whose
word is practically law, and always re-
sponds with soldiers to Corea’s appeals
for aid, Japan has valid and important
interests in the country and nobody can
blame her for trying to safeguard
them.
Japan demanded that China join her
in imposing fiscal reform upon the
country and the correction of political
abusesso as to do away with the period-
ical insurrections that completely upset
the land and inflict great annoyance
and damage upon all foreigners engaged
there. This seems to be a progressive
and laudable idea, but conservative and
suspicious China has declined the pro-
posal with thanks. Her answer was
that it was her traditional policy not to
interfere forcibly in the internal affairs
of a vassal State. Thereupon Japan
replied that if China would not help
her reform the country she would under-
take the task herself. It is this new
phase of Corean affairs that may lead to
ugly complications and make the Pa-
cific border of Asia an object of interest
for awhile, to all the nations.
At this point Russia has made a few
marks. She has warned Japan that she
will not be permitted to acquire terri-
torial rights in Corea. There is no
doubt that China and Japan would long
ago have been at odds over Corea if it
had not been for their mutual fear that
Russia would seize upon any interna-
tional disturbance as a pretext for oc-
cupying Corea. Next to India, Russia
would like to include this fine peninsula
in her Asiatic domain. It would give
her the strategical and commercial posi-
tion on the Pacific which her ice-bound
northern coast does not afford. The
Coreans, in very considerable numbers,
are already living in her Amur province
of Ussuri, and Russia finds them a hard-
working people, who are helping to
make the province a field of fruitfulness.
There are a number of the finest harbors
in the world along the Corean coasts,
and Russia, with only Vladivostock,
ice-bound half the year, looks with
longing eyes at the splendid harbors of
Gensan and Fou-san, where her war-
ships might ride safely at anchor in the
most furious gales, with no danger of
being held captive by an ice blockade.
For years Russian officers and agents
have been pushing their surveys far and
wide in Corean territory, and the only
decent man we have of the country
emanates from Russian sources. They
have never lost an opportunity to culti-
vate the friendliest relations with their
rather unsocial neighbors on the south
and have cordially invited them to
move over the border and live in the
Russian villages, an invitation which
not a few Cureans have accepted. We
do not lose sight of the fact that eight
years ago China obtained from the Rus-
sian Government a distinct official
pledge that she would not occupy Corea.
China and Japan, however, are} not de-
ceived as to the value of such an engage-
ment, and their fear that Russia would
improve the first opportunity to seize
Port Lazareff and Fou-san had the effect
until now to moderate their ardor over
Corean questions, so that no possible ex-
cuse for over action might be supplied
to the Czar’s government.
Russia, at least, does not propose to
see Corea recede further from her grasp
by letting Japan acquire territorial
rights. It is not at all unlikely that
China and Japan will, after all, settle
their trouble without going to war over
it, for they know very well
that while they were quarreling Russia
would probably try to run off with the
bone of contention. In that case the
Chinese resident at Seoul will doubtless
continue to be the real master at the
Court of Corea.
Almost Incredible.
The Hams Were so Good that the Lady Bought
the Whole Lot.
Mrs. Bill Plumbbottle is one of the
wealthiest ladies in Dallas, but she
hasen’t got a particle of sense, although
she graduated at a fashionable seminary
One day last week she drove to the
store door of a prominent grocer. He
came out bowing and asked what he
could do for her.
“Have you any more hams like that
one I got last week ?’’ she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Plumbbottle, we have six
wore just like them.”
“If they are not the same kind I
don’t want ’em.”’
“Why, madam, I assure you they are
all from the same animal,’’ said the gro-
cer taking advantage of her ignorance.
“Well, if the whole six are from the
same hog you may send them to my
house,” responded Mrs. Plumbbottle,
A Case.
Clara—*Did you ever see a case of
suspended animation, doctor?”
Doctor--4Oh, yes ; It was a young
lady in a hammock, who was trying to
keep a June bug from getting down her
back.”
——A gigantic fir tree felled near
and though Japan pretends to ignore | Whatcomb, in the State of Washing.
knows
this relationship she
It is her present
enough that it exists.
lumber.
well | ton, recently, contained 20,000 feet of |
For and About Women.
Here lies a poor woman who was always tired,
For she lived in a house where help was not
hired.
Her very last words were : “My friends, I am
goin
To a place where there's nothing of washing
or sewing.
Oh, everything there wiil be just to my
wishes ;
For where they don’t eat, there’s no washing
of dishes !
The courts with sweet anthems are constantly
ringing ;
But having no voice I shall get clear of sing-
ing.
She folded her hands with her latest endeavor
And whispered: “Oh, nothing, sweet nothing,
forever.
There are now three women physi-
cians on the sanitary corps of the New
York board of health— Drs. Alice Mitch-
ell, Helen Knight and Frances G.
Deane. They are under the same rules
and are required to do the same amount
of hard work as their masculine asso-
ciates.
The very latest word--in fashions,
there never was a last one—is simplic-
ity. Simplicity of skirt at any rate.
It is admissible to beruffle and bewitch
light and cheap materials, but things of
worth must be displayed in masses
nearly unbroken. In bodies the wildest
extravagance of cut and color are per-
missible. This severity of cut in the
skirt tends to encourage brocades,
sprigged and striped goods which show
a pattern in the material. But one
doesn’t hear so much about moire.
“I want to say,” said a woman of
spirit plus sense, ‘‘that the very next
person who shakes hands with me after
| the new style of handshake will never
live to make a fool of himself or me
again. I shan’t kill him because I
really want to, but just because I have
to. Constant dropping may not really
wear away stone, but constant trial of
our nerves will wear away reason. I
shall go mad just as surely as you stand
there the next time an idiot palms off
socinty’s latest wrinkle upon me.”
It is surprising to how great an ex-
tent both tulle and net are being used
as trimming, and mousseline de soie is
even more popular. In scarfs and
rosettes for hats; in puffy, gathered
bodice fronts ; in sleeve puffs and in
trimmings for evening dresses—these
materials come universally into play.
The tulle is very perishable, but the
mousseline and net repay one for their
using, so dainty and fresh do they look
and remain. One of the prettiest
of the summer hats is a deep
fashionable maize color, of that rough
straw that is yet so frail looking that
vou can crush it with your fingers. A
tiny shape, slanting up to a modest point
in the centre of the crown, was draped
with a soft scarf of white mousseline,
knotted closely at intervals. At the left
side it was bunched 1n fuller tolds,
among which nestled a graceful, white-
plumaged bird, and at the back the ends
of the scarf fell down. My lady would
wear this at eventide, and when the
breezes began to blow and her hair
would get ruffled in the winds, she
would draw the ends of her scarf for-
ward and knot them in a charming bow
beneath her dimpled decided chin.
Oatmeal bags used in the bath give a
velvety softness and whiteness to the
skin. Take five pounds of oatmeal,
ground fine, a half pound of pure cas-
tile soap reduced to powder, and a
pound of powered Italian orris root.
Cut a yard of thin cheese cloth into
bags about four inches square, sewing
then on the machine, and taking care
not to leave any untied threads, where
a break may let the contents ooze out.
Mix the soap, oatmeal and orris root
thoroughly and fill the bags loosely.
Sew up the opening in each, and lay
them away to use as required. They
are used as a sponge, dipped in warm
water, making a thick, velvety lather
and wonderfully softening the skin,
while the orris imparts a Jasting fra-
grance,
The recent manificent gift of Miss
Mary Garrett to the Medical School at
John Hopkins, by the terms of the en-
dowment, opens wide to wom ankind the
doors of this particular part of the uni-
versity. ‘
The reign of white petticoats pre-
dicted for several months approaches
slowly. The lifted dress skirt still
shows the dainty silk and lace trimmed
petticoats in a more bewildering variety
than ever. For wear under white and
delicately tinted lawns, mousseline de
soies and other gauzy materials nothing
is so satisfactory as silk, imparting a
finish and effect that is impalable, yet
missed without it, and except under
gingham gowns of the plainest variety
the muslin or cambric petticoats has no
sphere.
———
The prettiest kind of a sun hat for a
round-faced girl of the dimpled variety
is a big white leghorn, with the wide
brim left to droop as it will. A twist
of soft white mull or wash blond tied
loosely around the low crown, and fast-
ened with a big fluffy rosette in front, or
at the side, makes all the trimming
necessary, with wide strings of the same,
but a maiden who wishes to be especial-
ly fascinating will stick a few drooping
blossoms through the twist atone of
both sides, or all around, and tie a bud
in the string just where it will be under
her chin. A gown made of white mull,
made with a full-gathered skirt, and a
waist gathered to a round yoke, out-
lined with a ruffle needs only a sash of
blue silk to transform the wearerinto a
veritable picture of innocence. With
such a gown, white Oxford ties are a
necessity, and the whole outfit may
cost $5, or $500, as the wearer chooses.
In dress Mrs. Cleveland still adheres
to gray as her favorite color, and even
her home is gray and called Gray
Gables.
Hats are not in favor with the fash-
ionable small girl. She scorns them.
Only sun bonnets find favor in her eyes.
She wears one in the morning, at noon,
and on full dress occasions as well,
With her morning gowns the sun bon-
net is of gingham or dimity, with a very
much frilled poke. Sometimes she owns
one to match every morning frock.
They are inexpensive and shade well the
baby face.