Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 14, 1894. — THE MAN THAT '‘OWXS THE FOWX. He loafs around the.corner With airs that make ene tired, And glibly talks of wealth as if By Mammon he’s been sired ; When someone springs -a subject new He's pretty sure to frown; He’d have you knowrthat he’s the man— The man that owns the town. He tells you what “my preacher” said Last Sunday tothe flock And interjects a word about “My fine imported stoek:;” And when he talks about himself He does the thing up brown, And swells ap like a silly toad— The man that owns thetown. He's always hero to himself And ne'er he forget To tell about the things he's done, Or hopes to finish yet; The worthy deeds of others he Is constant crying down, And many a stranger’s wondered how He came to own the town. His wife, she knows him Srevy well For when ghe needs a dress, He's always sure to growl about Financial distress; : But yet he sits, and smokes and spits, And kicks the noble down; He slanders virtue when he can— The man that owns the town. It isn’t hard to size him up, He's easy quite to find; His stillness will point him out, Be you to search inclined, The noble schemes to help the poor, He's always crying down ; He never heads subscription ligts— The man that owns the town. Though puffed with self importance, he Will never take wings and fly; He'll find himself almighty small The day he comes to die. And wnen he knocks at Heaven’s gate, He'll find out with a frown ‘That good 81. Peter never knew “The man that owns the town.” THE CITY EDITOR'S STORY. BY WILLARD HOLCOMB. The hour was about 3 8. m., and we were sitting in the city room, smoking and chatting together before wending our several ways homeward. The shriek of the stereotype planer below stairs betokened that the paper was “up” and the forms almost ready to go to prese ; so with the profound satis: faction which ocaly a night newspaper man kaows, each heaved a sigh of re lief at the realization of another good day’s work done. There was the sporting editor, who had recently returned from a sub rosa rize fight down the river, of which he Pad been both referee and reporter. There was the day police reporter who had been called upon to take care of an unusually thrilling tragedy, although technically he was not on duty that night. Still he had responded readily enough, although, perhaps, secretly re- gretting the loss of a rare evening with his wife and children—for a very do- mestic man was this police reporter, in spite of the fact that he was an ac- no uwicupgeu CA PEI Vi muiuctlio wuu crimes of all degrees. His unexpected presence provoked the discussion. “What the devil are you doing here to-night, Jim ?” inquired the sporting editor, between puffs at his brair- wood. “Working,”” wae the laconic res- ponse. “I was hort of men and called him into take charge ofthat shooting af- fray,” explained the city editor. “And you were fool enough to come,” eaid the eporting editor, still addressing the police reporter. The latter only smiled. The con- sciousness of having turned in a good “story” had already effaced any re- sentment at having been called upon for extra duty. With him, as with most slaves of the press, virtue was its own best reward. “That's right,” continued the sport- ingeditor, in a tone of well-feigned disgust ; “there’s no fool like an old fool, and we're a pair of em. It would have been money in my pocket if I had stayed in that poker game the boys started after the fight, but, just for the sake of getting a ‘scoop’ on the other papers, I threw away a good thing.” In secret he probably felt very proud of thie achievement, but he felt that he had occasion to growl and he growled. “Lock here, you,” turning to a “cub” reporter who was sitting out the dog watch, “the newspaper business is very well to break a young fellow in for some other line of work, but do you get out of it before you are as old as Jim and me, or you will become a regular slave and can’t stop if you want to. Ain't that so, Charlie 2 ap- ealing to the city editor, with whom e was on terms of old companion- ship. “It certainly becomes a strong hab- it,”” responded the city editor, quiet- ¥ «Habit 1” exclaimed the sporting editor, warming up to the subject ; “it’s worse than gambling. Didn't I quit a good game to-night to come up here and write my story ? And there's Jim—he’s too old to be taking orders from anybody, even you Charlie—but you say ‘come,’ and he comes. Think of any other business man calling an employe out at midnight to wait on a customer |" “That's true,” said the city editor, thoughtfully. “I know of no division of the great army of labor where the service is 80 voluntary or the discip- line go strict.” “And it ain’t all money that makes us go,” pursued the sporting editor. “Lots of us could make more in some other busness, but we stick to until we are literally kicked out! Why, your newspaper man will go without eating or sleeping, not always without drink- ing, and he will forsake home, family and friends, and go through everything himself merely to eerve his paper.” “Why, the only thing a confirmed newspaper man will not do,” exclaim- ed the sporting editor, warming up to an oratorical climax, “isto write up his own funeral—and that's only be- cauge he can't” “Yet I knew a man once who wrote ! his own death warrant,” said the city editor quietly. All knew that the city editor, al- though comparatively young in years, was old in experience, and, moreover, as he was not giving to drawing the long bow, that a story warraned this strange assertion. It was demanded, and materialized as follows : “It was in a western city some years ago,” remarked the city editor, “that I was holding down the city desk ona daily forthe first time. We had a man on the paper who was simply a crank on homicides ; and he was more than a mere reporter, for he had detec- tive talent of the highest order, He didn’t care for common crimes—burg- lars, larcenies and such—but give him a good, mysterious murder, and he was splendid. Not only did he have the history of all the famous murders at his fingers’ ends, but he delighted in ferretingout the most myslerious crimes thatcame within our province. In every cage except the one I am tell- ing about—and there were many kill- ings in that town—he traced out the murderer before the detectives even | dreamed of his identity. “I have since thought the secret ‘of his success was that he put himself mentally in the place of the murderer and reasoned it out from motives rather than from the clues of the ordinary de- tective. ‘“4There is seldom much method in murder,’ he once said to me, when ina rarely communicative mood. ‘Most men would commit it in about the same way under the same circum- stances. It ie only when a mur- derer goes about it systematically, as do the Thugs of India, thata murder becomes truly mysterious.’ “I once agked him why he did not become a regular detective. “I was born and bred a newspaper man,’ he said, ‘and habit is too strong to break.” That was literally true in his case, otherwise I might not have to tell this story. “One morning the body of a fine- looking man was found in an alley ad- joining the electric light works, in the very heart of the city. The afternoon papers had a chance ou it, but didn’t make much of it,s0 I assigaed it to Jones, as we will call him. Although he did not show up at the usual hour I had no doubt that he was already at work on it, as it was as mysterious a case as even he could desire. “The victim wag identified as a trav- eling man who had just arrived, and as far as known he had no friends or ac- quaintances in the city. It was not a case of robbery, for all bis money and valuables were left on the body. There was a slight contusion on the back of the bead and a small, peedlelike hole directly through the man’s heart. It was especially strange that such a crime could have been committad in a public thoroughfare, while there was absolutely no clue to the murderer or his motive, HRat (levy Atmuulvito veas Tuly SUCH as would ordinarily put Jooes on his mettle, so I did not doubt that he would have a good account of the af- fair. I was therefore somewhat sur- prised when he came sneaking in about 6 o'clock to see what his as sigoment was, He looked worn and haggard, but denied that he was ill, so I gave him the murder assignment. I thought I saw a startled look in his eyes, but he maintained his outward composure, and went out without a word. “I did not see him again that even- ing. About midnight I began to won- der why I bad not beard from him, but only speculated on the possibility of something having happened to him, for the idea never occurred to me that he could possibly fail. Finally, after an hour had gone by, I telephoned to the police station. Word came back that there were no new developments in the case, and that Jones has not been there. Sending two men out to hunt him up, I set to work myself to meke up a story of the murder from the afternoon papers. Just then Jones came in. His step was unsteady and his face flushed. He had evidently been drinking heavily—something T never knew him to .do before—but he was not drunk ; rather he seemed at high nervous tencion, although out wardly as calm as ever, “I decided to let this breach of dis- cipline pass, and merely asked him for his murder story. He replied that he hadn’t written it. “ ‘Well go to work at once,’ I said rather sharply. “Then he really surprised me by saying that he had nothing to write beyond the bare facts already known. The police had developed nothing new, and he supposed that I had worked up the story from the evening pa- pere. “And bas it come to pass that you wait for the police to develop a murder case for you?’ 1 exclaimed, angrily. ‘As for thereports in the evening pa- pers, you can fake a better story than they bad !' “He sat down, in apparent despair, at his desk. Then I relented and ca- joled him a little, begging him not to spoil his great record vy talling down on such an assignment. ‘There's a starter for you,’ eaid I, throwing him the article I had commenced. ‘Now go ahead aud fill that out with a col- umn description of the scene.’ “ ‘T haven't even visited it,’ he re- plied. Nevertheless, be picked vp the pages and read them as if impelled by some hatefal fascination. Then he took up his pen to make a few minor corrections. Then, as if totally obliv- ious of my presence, he began to write, ‘As sheet after sheet fell from under his fingers I snatched them up, read them hurriedly, and shot them down the ‘copy type’ to the composing room. I read rapidly, as an editor will, taking but small account of the matter so long as it run emoothly, while I had too much confidence in him to question the accuracy of his statements, I only realized that he was writing a great story—the greatest he had ever done. He seemed inspired with the very innermost thought of the murder, and under his touch every trivial incident came out with distinct ness and coneerency that made the cause and method of the crime perfect- ly plain. “First he described the scene with accuracy of detail that would have been impossible for one who had not studied it closely. The selection of the spot he explained by the'fact thatthe bright electric light streaming through the windows of the power house made it impossible for the passerby to see into the shadows. Thus while impene- trable darkness screened the assassin, ample light guided his blow, and, moreover, the rattle and roar of the machinery nearby drowned all sound of the stauggle or the falling body. “The blow on the head, he demon- strated, must have been done from a sandbag, while the wound through the heart could only have been made by one of those, fine bladed stilettos of Italian make. Furthermore, the fact that this peculiar weapon was driven home with a firm hand, after the vic- tim had been stunned by a blow on the head, indicated premeditated and de- liberate murder, while the theory of robbery was disproved by the.fact that the man’s valuables had been un- touched. The only tenable theory, therefore, was that the motive of the murder was revenge. An more masterly analysis of a case I never read, but here he branched off into what I at first supposed to be purely imaginary speculations as to the wrong which had led the murderer to seek the life of an unknown man, These seemed purposely vague at first, but gathered in strength and certainty, until I concluded that he must have some good foundation for them, Start- ing with hypotheses, he soon began to state them as fact. He described how the dead man, a once trusted friend, had entered the home ofanother ; how, by subtle wiles and deceit, he had stolen the love of the wife; then tol- lowed an elopement and the breaking up of that once happy home, “He told with the bitterness of truth how the scoundrel had deserted the weak and erring woman and had left her to perish alone ; how the idea of revenge had filled the mind of the wronged husband ; how, himself un- seen he had followed every movement of the intended victim for months and carefully plotted his destruction ; how he had decoyed the doomed man to the city and to the very spot where themurder was committed ; and how he had destroyed the only clues—a couple of letters in the pockets of the dead man—and finally made his own escape, the secret safe in his own heart alone. “As I read this remarkable tale through the conviction forced itself up- on me that this was the absolute truth. If the writer himself had committed the deed he could not have described it more graphically. Suddenly the tnouguv masuca “vve. wmv vould he describe such a crime thus without having, in fact, committed it ? “We were alone in the room. I glanced at Jones apprehensively. He was writing rapidly—fiercely. ~ His eyes were fixed, but he seemed to be looking, through and beyond the paper across which his pen flew, at some- thing fascinating—terrible ! When he finished it was with a start, as if wak- ing from a trance. I glanced at the last page, where was final confirma- tion of my fears. “My God, Jones, managed to say. “ ‘Every word of it’ as I live, he re- plied, firmly, if faintly. “Then you have written the warrant for your own arrest,’ I said. “His head dropped on the deck, but he said not a word. “ ‘Jones,’ said I, finally, ehakiog him by the shoulder to arouse him to an understanding of my meaning, ‘enough to hang you is already in type. Ia ao hour the papers will be on the streets ; in another hour the police will be after you! Go—make the most of your start !’ “It was as I predicted,” said the city editor, after a pause. ‘‘Before daylight a detective called on me to ascertain the source of that story. I simply pointed to Jones’s name on the assign- ment book and they went after him.” “Did they catch him ?"’ asked the cub reporter, eagerly. “They found bim in his room with a stiletto through his heart,” said the city editor.—San Francisco Argonant. is this true ?’ I A Sufficient Reason. The admission of a stranger who had moved into the vicinity but recently bothered DeaconJohnson very much. He disliked the man and felt quite confident he was not worthy to become a member, but he could make no defieite charge againet him. When the church session had the man’s application under consid- eration the deacon protested against the admission. When pressed to give his reasons he said : “Wal, pahson, de fac’ ob de mattah is I feels dat he’s a wolf in sheep's cloth. ing.” “Dat’s a hebby chadge, Brudder Johnsing,” said the parson. “Why do you think 30?” “I dun'no’, but is ’peas to me he don’t bleat jest like de rest ob de flock.”— Harper's Magazine. Filling an Order. From Good News. Newsboy. “Say, d’yeh remember them papers you had printed fer the Washington Centennial 2”? “Clerk. *“Do you mean the fac-similes of a paper of a hundred years ago?” “That's it. Fuaony little paper, with queer letters.” “Ves, Wall? “] want one.” ¢ What for?” ‘A sick lady at the hotel acrost the street wants a newspaper wid no ac- counts of riots and murders and robber- ies in it.” Hood’s Pills cure constipation. They are the best after-dinner pill and family cathartic. 4 the storm,’”’ is more than a Woodland and Floods. There is no truth more incontestable than that a covering of plant life to the earth conserves the water delivered by falling rain and melting snow. The minor conditions are by no means so well understood by the public. Some facts from my 'note-book may have an interest. “Tuesday, April 10, 1894, will long be remembered as the date of the bliz- zard which was phenomenal for this latitude. «April 13th was warm and clear. The mass of snow disappeared so rapidly from the exposed places, that by night the Brandywine was bankfull. A few hours more of this rapid thaw would have meant a disastrous freshet. ‘Whence came this water? Mostly from the open grounds ; because on the morning of the 14th much of the snow remained in the woods, but the fields were almost wholly bare; in other words, it was a pointed argument for the statement that melting snow coming from the woods is less likely to cause freshets than tnat from the open grounds, because its delivery is less rapid.” This is true, but it is a general truth, and like all other such, is liable to spe- cial exceptions. ‘Woodland may be so situated that there will be no melting of snow until the season is well advanced. The whole fall of snow may lie until advanced spring, and in the diftused warmth of a late April or early May day the entire mass may go off in a deluge, long after the open groundshave de- livered their water. Hence in some lands, bordering on the Connecticut river, it is a common saying that there is no security against a flood until the snow has gone. But this is the exception to the rule, in our State. Sod will retain more water than a bar- ren region. But it does not ordinarily conduct water to great depths, nor does it offer any great protection against rapid evaporation. Even the scrub un- der brush which covers so large a portion of our State after the matured forest has been removed, retains much more mois- ture than the sod. This is so, because its roots penetrate deeper than those of the sod, and afford highways along which the water seeks the greater depths. The height of the shaded zone is greater than on the sod, hence evaporation is slower, and there is, besides all this, the matting of leaves on the earth, which alone is as efficient as the sod. The real trouble comes in when such ‘scrub lands” are fired, as they are, at least once in three years throughout our State, burned over, and roots, leaves, branches and humus wholly, or in part, destroyed. Under such conditions the region becomes ultimately but little bet- ter than a desert, though it nominally is torest land, and is usually so reported on our assessor’s lists. The ‘high forest’’—that is the ma- tured timber, is the most efficient con- servator of water. To begin with the leaves ; their agency in breaking the force of the rainfall isseldom sufficiently appreciated. The phrase, “pelting of figure of speeChD, Tuuse woo are mousy Iréguent- ly exposed to it, know best the actual force of impact of the falling rain drop, and will be most likely to properly esti- mate the power of falling water to pro- duce important changes in the surface of the earth. Nothing more clearly re- veals this to the ordinary observer than the effect of a dashing rainstorm on a freshly cultivated field. Within twenty- four hours I have seen such a surface furrowed throughout its entire length and the soil removed to a lower lovel, where it covered the growing corn. Then beneath the living foliage on the trees, and above the decaying veget- able matter on the surface of the soil, there is a belt of moist air which, of it- self, is a reservoir of aqueous vapor. The air there, if not constantly saturated with moisture, at least holds it longer than that of the open ground, and this, also, is a most important factor in re- tarding loss of the water in the’soil by evaporation. Every branch that leads to the main trunk, and this main stem itself, conducts the water to the ground, where along thediverging roots and root- lets the water is distributed through the soil. This distribution is simply as water borrowed from the surface. Absorbed by the roots, it finds its way through the leaves to the air,or percolating along the sloping strata, it reappears as a flowing spring, possibly a hundred miles from where it entered the earth. The important point to be emphasized here is that matured forests, more than any other form of plant life, carry with them the conditions of perpetuation. There is no obvious reason why a forest, once established, should not remain in a perpetual succession of trees forever. It makes its own soil, supplies to a large extent its own food, and maintains the requisite moisture for its own growth. More than this, failure to produce seeds for a single year, or for a score of years, induces no change in its growth and perpetuity. The extremest vicissitudes of any half century in the latitude where it grows, hardly ever threaten its ex- istence. The recent storms (in May), have been full of instruction for me. Along the valleys of the north and west branch- es of the Susquehanna and also of the Juniata the freshets have been of un- usual severity. Open grounds, more or less steep, and on which the drainage is rapid, characterize a large portion of the valleys through which these streams flow. High stages of waler have always been common in them, but it is proba- bly capable of proof that these have be- come more frequent,or at least of greater severity, in recent years. The reason seems obvious. Let ons look at the ab- solutely bare hills back of Beech Creek, or those along the Northern Central | Railroad between Williamsport and Canton, and the explanation will pro- bably suggest itself. The mere stdte- ment that there kas been a cloud-burst ig no explanation of expressing a condition of things which was probably as common in the past as now. At Wilkesbarre the water rose rapi- dly. Oa May 22ad, the water on the Kingston Flats was high enough to cut off communication by the electric cars (on the ordinary route) between the east and west sides of the river. It fell as rapidly as it rose. At the very time the North Branch was at its greatest height, the waters of the Bear Creek It is but a new way | region were but moderately swollen. Two days more of almost constant, heavy rain followed, and still there was no in- ordinate freshet in the latter region. The ground was,in its absorbing capacity one vast sponge. It was well on toward the point of absolute saturation, but there was as yet no excessive discharge of water. Here all the conditions were just what have been expected. It is true that there was hardly more than two million feet of good timber in sight from the highest point, but there was a dense growth of underbrush and beneath this a tangled mass of leaves, ferns or moss as the case happened to be. A re- cent fire had swept over part of the coun- ty and extensive areas were blackened by its visitation. But much of the orig- inal debris remained to retard the flow of water. The next, or a still later flood, may sweep it out of the country and leave an impoverished region on which forest restoration will become increasing- ly difficult. The open valley of the Susquehanna carried the water out of the country in a destructive deluge. The highlands of Bear Creek region absorbed most of its rainfall for future utilities. It is to be hoped that such facts as these will be more frequently noted and commented upon. Letus have them in all their bearings, for upon them some of the most important practical questions of the next decade depend.--J. L. Roth- rock in Forest Leaves. When She Shoutd Say No. Advice to the Girl Who Has Received or Eu- pects a Proposal. She should refuse him when she knows his habits to be intemperate, says the New York Advertiser, for there can be no unhappier fate than marriage with a drunkard. She should refuse him when there is any hereditary disease in the family, such as consumption or in- sanity, which would in all probability show itself and cause infinite misery in after years. She should refuse him when she sees he is in the habit of asso- ciating with bad companions, who may lead him into gambling, drinking and card playing. She should refuse him when she knows him to be that despic- able thing, a male flirt; she should re- flect that as he has treated other girls so he may treat her and no woman cares to lay herself open to such treatment. She should refuse him when she feels she has no love to give him, and not marry as many girls do, for a home. No mar- riage can be truly happy without love to sweeten the bonds. She should re- fuse him when he is proposing to her for her money or from pique. A girl can generally distinguish real love from feigned, and even it she cares for him should not accept him until convinced his motives are disinterested. She should not refuse him when she really cares for him, and knows him to be a steady, faithful man, who will make her happy and not cause heartbreaks, which, per- haps, one of her most brilliant lovers might have done. A Big Dress Order. ‘‘Women piay odd tricks on one an- other sometimes,” sald a smart Ameri- can woman the other day, ‘but the queerest I ever heard of was perpetrated by one social leader in a western city upon another. They were rivals and hated each other accordingly, though outwardly they preserved the semblance of pleasant relations. Every chance that either got to give a dig at the other was eagerly seized. “But the final and most effective stroke, after which no calls were ex- changed, was deliveaed by Mrs. L—. She sent out cards for a grand entertain- ment and then took pains to find out what Mrs. F——, her competitor, was goin to wear. A gorgeous pink brocaded satin was the material of Mrs. F —’s gown, it was ascertained. ‘Accordingly Mrs. L-——, whose husband was in the dry goods business, obtained several hundred yards of the same identical stuff and draped the walls of all the rooms on the lower floor of ber house with it. You may imagine the feelings of Mrs. F—— on arriving in her superb new frock, which she expected to make a sensation. Nat. urally she ordered her carriage and ye away in tears.”’—London 7%d- its. Editor Dana Short on Wheat. ‘Any great fall of the price of wheat is no longer possible, as the consump- tion increases faster than the produc- tion.” Mr. Dana is wrong, however, in stat- ing that ‘the consumption increases faster than the production.” There was a surplus of wheat stocks throughout the world larger by 52,000,000 bushels July 1,1804, than on the same date two years ago, larger by 65,000,000 bushels than three years ago, larger by 80,000,- 000 bushels than four years ago and larger by 86,000,000 bushels than five years ago, when the area planted to wheat was 5,000,000 acres greater than last season’s area. Mr. Dana snould not be led away by wheat statistical theorists. He should study facts. Abolish the Company Store. The Omaha Bee, in an editorial de- nouncing the ‘“pluck-me’’ stores says : Such a state of things ought not to exist anywhere in the country. Itis a reproach to any community or state that tolerates it. A movement has been started in Pennsylvania, originating with “The Philadelphia Record,” the purpose of which is to bring about such a general enforcement of the law as will result in the abolishing the company store evil, and it should meet with hearty encouragement. The great state | of Pennsylvania ought to promptly and | thoroughly remove this blotch on her ! reputation as & Commonwealth that ac- cords justice to all classes of her people. Spanish Sandwich. Vi o's Spanish sandwich is made with two slices of rye bread, cut very thin, Take one and spread first with made mustard, then with cottage cheese, but- ter the other slice, and when the two are laid together the sand wich is evolv- ed. Olives stoned and spread lightly with mayonnaise, made a good filling for another sandwich, which is accepta- bly offered at luncheon or tea. ————— For and About Women. Miss Sadie Monroe Swift, of Massa- chusetts, has won distinction in two ways. She is the official reporter of the Middlesex and Barnstable terms of the Supreme Court, being the first “woman officially recognized as a Court stenogra- pher ; and this summer she made a bi- cycle record of less than ten hours over the route from Yarmouth to Boston 88} miles. She is said to be the first wo- man to make the run. The full ruflis basque has become too common to be any longer accepted by elegant women ; coats of medium length and with back exactly like those of a man’s will be worn ; the corners are cut like those of a frock coat or a cutaway, similar to a business suit; masculine effects are the aim of the lady’s tailor, and waistcoats of figured vesting of ribbed silk or of cloths in plain colors will be used; a plastron of cloth like the suit or a linen shirt is worn with them. Lapped and stiched seams and cutin pockets are the thing on strictly tailor suits. Buttons, as was predicted, have come to the fore, and they are here to stay. With the exception, naturally, of boas, muffs, etc., fur will not be in great de- mand. It is to be a button season. For both useful and ornamental purposes the botton will be lorgely employed. Three-quarter “golf capes’ are lovely for traveling. These are made of dou- ble-faced cloth or homespun mixtures, and are lined with taffeta or Scotch plaid silks. The cross straps that hold the cape on are of the material. Of course broadcloth capes with over- lapped seams are all the rage, but tashion declares jackets will be much more in vogue this season than capes despite the cyclone of the lattar that is now sweeping the market. It is well enough for some one has said {truthfully no woman ought to masquerade in a cape until after she is fifty. The tight-fitting jacket, single or double-breasted, is to be ¢‘the’’ stylish garment of the day. These jjackets are from 34 inches to 50 inches in length, and are very jaunty. Jersey cloths and covert mixtures are exceedingly service- able, and make up prettily. A single-breasted jacket of gray mix- ed covert cloth has broad revers and rolls collar, and fastens with three large smoked-pearl buttons of a handsome de- sign and finish. The neck of the gar- ment is fllled in by a collarette of brown broadcloth. The figure which is at present the correct thing has a small round waist and a pronounced ‘‘spring” from the waist under the arms. This is rather a tax on the girls who for some years have been training up the straight figure that showed curve only and suddenly at the bust. The French woman still encour- ages thig shape, but the American wo- men ape the English now. How foolish it is when just as Americans they are better than either. The tendency for draped or double skirts is gaining quite a hold, especially in evening gowns, as a natural conse- quence the combinations of two ma- terials in the double skirt or drapery. The simplest form of the new skirt is the bell skirt slashed to open on a tab- lier or panel that simulates an under- skirt. For this panel mousseline de sole plaited is a favorite material. Many of the more elaborate toilets are made with a drapped overskirt of some soft ma- terial like crepe du chine over a plain underskirt of moire or satin in a darker shade than the crepe. The corsage is usually of the same material as the up- per skirt and gracefully draped with knots of satin ribbon for the decora- tion. The first autumn dresses brought over from Paris and London have fuller skirts and even larger sleeves than those now worn. The skirts are gored rather closely about the hips, but are very full in the back and wide at the foot. They are lined and interlined, bat fortunately are of light weight woollens, and are very little trimmed. A bias satin fold an inch wide headed with a narrow band of jet is around the foot of very handsome cloth gowns. Others have merely a fold of the wool, camel’s-hair, or basket- cloth below the edge, between the out- side and lining, and held there by three or four rows of stitching, which give a neat finish. Three back gores, pointed at the top and spreading out in fan pleats to the foot, are on many skirts, some of them completed by the little projecting basque introduced in the spring with silk gowns. Bias puffed sleeves are enormously wide at the top, and are caught up or draped by chouz or bows. They taper to the wrist, but are often left rather large below the elbow and wrinkled around the arm, which adds to the ef- fect of great size. Round waists re-appesr in many ways—box pleated, slashed, with a yoke, or with a guimpe of contrasting material, the lower part carried up above the bust in vandyke points and edged with jet gallon. Pleated waists have {two box pleats down the back, starting from the shoulders, where they are two inches and a half wide, and tapering an inch narrower at the waist- line. They are folded in one piece, with the middle space between plain. A side form begins under the pleats, so that the only seams shown are those under the arm. The fronts are much fuller than the back, having two simi- lar pleats and a full gathered plastron. The slashing of waists is confined to the front, like those described in the sum- mer. The latest law of fashion is to have the skirt and sleeves of the same ma- terial, with the bodice of another color altogether. For instance, a very stylish combination is a black and white check silk skirt and sleeves, with a magenta silk bodice entirely covered with open- work embroidery on ecru muslin, and the belt and collar of green velvet--di- rect contrasts in the latter being quite permissible.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers