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.