Beworraic Hater
Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 1, 1895.
A THEORY.
Why do the violins shudder so
When across them is drawn the bow,
Sob for anguish and wild despair ?
Human souls are imprisoned there,
Souls are shut in the violins,
"They are the souls of Philistines,
But the Philistines, row on row,
Soulless sit, and they do not know.
But they brandish their eyeglasses,
Stare at each other’s evening dress,
Secrutinize form or brilliant hue.
Say, “Is it rouge, or isit true 7”
“Some one was flat a semitone,
And how stout the soprano’s grown !
Jsn't the bass a dear ? And, oh,
Do look at Mrs. So-and-so I”
Still the musicians pay serene,
As though Philistines had not been,
But their souls in the violins
Mourn on bitterly for their sins.
Call them wildly and call in pain,
Call them with longing deep and vain,
And with infinite tenderness,
Since they can give them no redress,
Since not one of them is aware
Here is he, and his soul is there
In the music's divinest chord,
Making melody to the Lord.
So how often in life and art
Soul and body must dwell apart.
Great is the Master's soul, no doubt,
Twenty Philistines go without.
Are we body, or are we soul ?
Little matter upon the whole.
Human soul in the violin.
Save me at last, a Philistine !
—“Songs from Dreamland,” May Kendall,
————
THE QUESTIONING VOICE.
BY ISABEL J. ROBERTS.
It was generally conceded that it was
pretty bard on Anna Alden, and that
she had borne it remarkably weil. It
was a year since ghe had first become
engaged to Page Chittick. In that
short space she had broken with him
half a dozen times. At the first rupture
Anna had promptly returned the ring,
and Page as promptly had thrown it
into the fire. Anna did not approve of
such costly exhibitions of feeling, and
foreseeing that there would be many
such scenes before she had succeeded
in properly training her fiance, she
wisely retained the ring which marked
the renewal of the engagement, how-
ever final the quarrel might seem to
be. The last disagreement had risen
from Anna's sitting out a dance with
Dick Van de Veer under the stairway
at Mrs. Arnold’s. Chittick was more
stubborn than usual in admitting that
he was in the wrong—Anna made it a
point that he should always figure as
culprit, whoseoever the fault—aund
three months had gone by since Anna
had taken off her ring and laid it away
for future use.
She was on the point of making it
easy for him to say that he was sorry,
when the catastrophe occurred. She
was at a luncheon given in honor of
Miss Woodward, from Charleston. A
little tide of laughing comment started
at one end of the table, and passed on
until it seemed to break in a flood over
Anna. Miss Woodward was being
congratulated. The hostess had an-
nounced the engagement of her dis-
tinguished guest to some one whom
they all knew very well—Mr. Chittick
—Page Chittick.
The twenty young women seated
round the prettily decorated table turn-
ed brightly toward the bride-elect, and
then covertly toward Anna Alden. But
Anna had had a moment to recover
herself, and smiled as if she was in the
secret and enjoyed the general sur-
prise.
The dainty courses followed each
other, ingeniously carrying out a cer-
tain scheme of color, delighting the
eye as well as the palate. While Anna
ate and talked gayly she kept up a
running fire of mental comment.
“Tt was brutal. I shall make Page
sorry for this. Nota bad-looking girl,’
fine eyes and hair, but slow, dead slow
for Page. Foolish fellow, to convert a
mere lover's quarrel into a tragedy.”
Dinners, dances, receptions, were an-
nounced in honor of Miss Woodward.
Chittick was & geueral favorite, and his
fiancee, tried by the social standard,
was above question. The invitations
came to Anna Alden with unfailing
regularity, for, following her example,
no one took her past relations with
Mr. Chittick seriously. She was seen
everywhere—calm, beautitul, surround-
ed with admirers.
Chittick would have given much to
have gotten out of the round of coa-
gratulatory functions. He saw that
Anna regarded the whole thing as a
farce, and that she was especially
amused by thercole he was playing. He
felt that he had made himeelt ridicu-
lous. His fiancee alone was in earnest,
and the air of good faith with which
ghe went through her part made her
seem pitiable 2s he looked at her
through Anna's eyes.
He had first met Florence Wood-
ward at Old Point, whereshe had been
spending the Lenten season. Her ear-
nestness and well-bred quietness were
a relief to him after Anna’s flippancy
and dash of conscious charm. In
Florence he found a woman absolutely
with no history, and a nature 80 simple
that he could see to its depths as plain-
ly as if it were a glass of clear water
held between his eyes and the light.
After carefully observing all the con:
trasts she presented to Anna, he asked
Florence to marry him. Florence was
so taken by surprige that she unhesi-
tatingly said “no.” He was not in the
least dieconcerted. He helped her to
understand why she had refused him;
she had merely not thought of such a
thing. She had not thought that he
was thinking of such a thing.
“But now that you know that I am
thinking about it, I want you to think
about it too,” said, gently. When he
asked her again at the end of another
week, she said “yes,” very shyly.
Chittickc was glad when ' the brief
nla gerson was over. Miss
oodward and ‘Her aunt, “Mrs, ' Arm-
strong, went to the mountains, and
Page accompanied them, He hoped
for better things both from Florence
and himeelf away from Anna's blight- “quietly, looking at him without sur-
ing influence. He was so used to ac- |
cepting Anna's opinion on everything
that insensibly be had adopted it about |
Florence—for he divined her thoughts
concerning his hasty choice. He was
disappointed in Florenca. The ability
to see to the depths of her clear soul
bad not afforded him the pleasure that
he had anticipated. He was forced to
admit that a glass of water, however
crystalline its character, has its limi-
tations, and he longed for the strength,
the vastnees, the mystery, of the ocean-
like nature which had so baffeted, so
overwhelmed, and almost wrecked his
poor soul.
Florence looked particularly pretty
and happy as she sat opposite to him
at the hotel table on the first evening
of their arrival. A faint but sweet hope
that he would yet find in her all that
he desired made him more attentive to
her than usual. Mrs. Armstrong glanc-
ed up from her paper and eaid :
“One never gets very far from one's
friends. I see that Mrs. Alden and her
daughter are at the Claymore. That
is one of the hotels on the same side of
the lake as we are. You remember
we passed it in the stage.”
“In that case we shall probably see
as much of the Aldens as if we were
in the city,” Chittick said, io a tone of
vexation. “It is such a confoundedly
small lake that you cannot escape
meeting every one here.”
Knowing as she did their past rela
tions, Florence was not surprised that
Chittick should be annoyed by the
proximity of his archenemy.
“It Aopa Alden favors me with a
call, I shall not return it,” she said,
decisively.
“For Heaven's sake, don’t make a
mistake of that kind,” Chittick said,
impatiently. “Treat ber asan ordinary
acquaintance. If you show any feeling,
ghe will think you are jealous of her.”
Florence looked at him in surprise.
She did not understand how such a
misconception of her real feelings could
be possible.
Anna duly paid the objectionable
call, and after the proper interval Flor-
ence returned it. Under the influence
of a foregone conclusion their misuo-
derstanding concerning each other's
true character only increased with
these opportunities of getting better
acquainted.
After the discovery of Anna's prox-
imity, the motive which actuated
Chittick, and necessarily governed the
disposition of his and Florence's time,
was the avoidance of his quondam love.
He knew that Dick Van de Veer was
always at her side, and that the few
men who found their way to the al
most inaccessible mountain resort were
making her still more marked by their
attentions. He would not afford her
the satisfaction of having him as a
spectator of her triumphs—in fact, he
did not feel equal to being such on his
on account. He was so absorbed in car-
rving out his defensive methods that
Florence became only a secondary con-
sideration, and he entirely lost sight of
his intention to give her a fair trial to
win his heart.
Anna spent most of the beautiful
days on the water, rowing or sailing. It
was a small lake bounded by wooded
shores, not more than three or four
miles ‘apart at the widest. It was to
avoid the sight of the perfect head,
with its smooth, thick, light brown
braids, and the fair face which neither
sun nor wind could tan or roughen,
that kept Chittick so much of his time
inland.
Anna took her boat out on a calm
August afternoon. She pulled herself
far out on the lake, and making fast
her oars, seated herself on the cushions
in the bottom of the boat. It was a
nice bit of balancing before she was
seated. The air was clear and warm,
the lake covered with tiny ripples and
the broken shadows of passing clouds.
The soothing wash of the water against
the boat lulled Anna into drowsiness.
A distant whistle attracted her atten-
tion to the small steamboat making its
rounds to and from the hotel landings.
She lazily watched its passage from
place to place. It began to make its
noisy way toward her. Soon the
obstacle 1n its course was sighted, and
the shrill whistle blew peremptorily.
“The Starling is getting excited,”
Anna commented, readjusting the
cushion at her back. “I suppose it
thinks it is frightening me to death.
Fancy my crawling back tomy seat
before all the passengers ! Since I have
my choice, I prefer to be drowned.”
The Starling was now blowing her
whistle continuously, headed straight
for the row-boat in its path. The small
craft stolidly kept its place, making no
sign of being aware of the proximity of
the self-important little vessel. The
splash of the paddle-wheel was almost
at Anna's ear; she seemed on the
point of being run down, when the
Starling, recognizing that all its feints
were in vain, yielded to the audacity of
the trim row-boat, and with a parting
shriek of the shrill whistle abruptly
turned out of its course. The wash of
the waves rocked the boat roughly as
the Starling passed on. Anna laughed
and raised her eyes. Among those that
had crowded to the near side to see the
intrepid boats-woman Anna recognized
several acquaintances. They gave her
a cheer, and she waved her hand in re-
turn. Chittick was among the number
who had pressed forward, and was in:
cluded in her general smile of recogni
tion. He got out at the next landing.
By that time the boat bad disappeared.
He rightly guessed that Anna had
pulled into shore somewhere under the
low-growing trees. Acting under the
spell of a sudden impulse, he hastily
forced his way through the thick grow-
ing laurel and mountain-ash which
grew close to the water's edge. He
came upon the boat moored to a low-
bending branch. ‘Anna’ was lying
amoag the cushions with her book, her
lovely face ‘shining ‘like a lily in the
green shadow, .
© “Annal” he said. Tt was-the first
time he had so addressed her since their
last estrangement.
“Oh, is it you, Page?" she said,
prise.
“May I have a seat in_your boat?"
“Yes, if you don’t capsize me.”
“Anna, do you love me ordo you
hate me, that you act as you do?”
“I Jove you, Page. Why should I
deny it? You area silly boy, making
all this row about nothing. You have
gotten yourself intoa pretty fix. What
puzzles me is how you are to get out
of it.”
“It you love me I don’t see that
there will be much difficulty.”
“Qh, you don’t! What about Flor-
ence | She may not take a broken en-
gagement as easily as we do. Some
women don’t, you know. Does she
love you, Page ?”
“I'don’t know—I never asked her,”
he said, bluntly.
“Qf course that proves nothing. She
may be ione of those patient women
who ‘wait like a ghost that is speech-
less, till some questioning voice die-
solves the spell of its silence.” That's
Longtellow for you,” she said, appar-
ently intent upon securing a cluster of
scarlet berries as it floated by. Anna
had a puzzling way of saying wise
things with an inconsequential air, as
if she were merely babbling the last
thought that happened to come into
ber head.
“This 18 Florence's first love-affair—
any one can see that,” she went on,
shaking the water from the berries. “A
woman, when she first loves, follows the
man step by step, timidly. She never
takes the initiative. Of course that is
not interesting to a man like you. You
do not see any charm in this subtlest
of human poetry. Men of your type are
dependent upon the mood, the temper,
of the woman. You like to be surpris-
ed, carried away, subjected to electric
shocks of emotion. To quote Captain
Cuttle, you like ‘to be weighed, meas
ured, magnified, electrified, polarized,
played the very devil with, and never
know how. As the old eailor said
about his instruments, it is a fine thing
to understand women, and yet it's a
fine thing not to understand them—a
little finer, in your estimation. What
right had you to think you would love
a woman like Florence Woodward ?
You might as well choose an unvary-
ing menu of locusts and wild boney
and spring water ; but, my dear, you
are no John Baptist. Nothing short
of the art of a chef will satisfy an epi-
curean such as you. Nothing short of
a woman with a thousand coquetries,
a thousand resources to surprice and
captivate, and consequently a woman
of wide experience in affairs of the
heart, can hold you—and thérefore
you love me.”
Her cleverness, her charm, her un-
attainableness, made him mad with
desire and despair. She looked at
him innocently, as if she had said
nothing in particular, and waved him
off when he bent over to seize her
hands.
“Page, I too have my requirements.
You are a man more to my taste than
any one else I know, probably because
you afford scope to my special talents.
But if Florence loves you I simply
won't have you, I will not pardon
you the stupidity of winning a heart
that you do not want, and don’t know
what to do with. Iam going to settle
this question for myself. I never take
information ot this kind at second
hand. Please go away now. You
may come to me this evening. I am
going to call on Miss Woodward.”
He looked at her miserably, as if he
feared hie fate, and then without a
word stepped out of the boat. With
the precision of a skilled oar she
worked her way through the tangle of
gnarled roots which bound the shore,
and shot out on the smooth, deep
water, her fair uncovered head shining
against its background of sky and
lake.
Anna found Florence seated in her
cool drawing-room. She rose form-
ally when Anna was announced, and
put aside her needle work. As usual,
Anna did not allow herself to be af-
fected by Florence's manner which she
get down as unfortunate, and begged
her to resume her work, as it would
make her feel less like an interrup-
tion.
“One can always tell an engaged
girl,” Anna said, as Florence took up
some fine hem-stitching. “She is al-
ways making something for her linen-
chest. Fortunately I never began that
kind of laying up of treasures. The
moths would have had a royal feast
by this time. But then they don’t eat
linen, do they?” she added, inconse-
quently.
Florence regarded any allusion to
her engagement from Anna as indeli-
cate, and showed her disapprobation
by a cold silence.
“You Southern women are very dif-
ferent from us Northerners,”” Anba
went on, garrulously. “You always
expect to marry the man to whom you
are engaged. It is generally con:
sidered a matter of doubt with us, and
we always keep more or less of a hold
upon our feelings. We stand in less
danger of heart-break than you do.”
Florence smiled ironically. ¢Brok-
en engagements are not entirely un-
known in the South, or women who
have survived them. One cannot gen-
eralize concerning love-affairs.”
“Well, a broken engagement is bet
ter any day than a marriage without
love,” Anna said, tentatively.
“There could hardly be two opin-
ions about that,’ Florence said, put-
ting in her stitches with care.
“I know a person who held another
opinion—and to her cost. It was my
aunt,” Anna said. “She was a women
whose sense of honor was abnormally
developed, and for whom anything
like self-sacrifice had a positive fasci-
nation. She found uerself loving a
man who, without her knowledge, was
engaged to another girl at the same
time. He told her all about it, expect:
ing her to have the good sense to help
him out of the difficulty. But, true to
her absurd ideas, -she-forced him _ to
marry the other girlj and the lives of
all three were made miserable. Now
I call that a mistaken sense of honor
—don’t you?”
© “Certainly it was want of judg
ment, Florence said, “but it was the
mistake of a generous nature.” Then
she added : “I have not much of an
opinion of a woman who would take a
man on these terms. I would rather
be in your aunt's place.”
“Oh, she knew nothing about it.”
“It seems to me that it would have
been more fair to her to have con-
sulted her in the matter. She might
have had a strong objection to marry-
inga man who loved someone else,
and your aunt might have had the
man of her choice without opposition.”
When Anna ended her call, she felt
that Florence herself had prescribed
for her a definite line of action. She
got into her boat, and pulled out vigor-
ously. It was quite plain that Flor
ence would not want Chittick under
the circumstances. But no elation
came with the thought. She did not
particularly admire Florence — these
earnest, one-ideaed woman were never
attractive to her—but she was sorry for
her. The further out she rowed, the more
distinctly sorry she became, until at
last she said, as if she had made an
important discovery : “I am very un-
happy. How fuony if I should be
like'my aunt, whom I have always re-
garded as the most sentimental of
women! These things may run in
the blood.”
She seemed to be shut up with the
thought of Florence’s pain when she
ghould know the cruel truth, and, row
as hard as she might, she could not
get away from it. Her arms dropped
to her sides from sheer exhaustion.
She felt incapable of another effort.
She wondered how ehe should get
across the shining expanse of water
that stretched between her and the dis-
tant shore. She grew impatient of in-
action. She felt the fury of a caged
animal. The sky barred with yellow
clouds, and the water that reflected the
golden bars, seemed to hold her cap-
tive.
It was almost night when at last
she got her boat in to shore. She
wasn't sarprised to find Chittick wait.
ing for her at the landing. He helped
her out and made her boat secure.
They seated themselves on a- rustic
bench, and gazed silently out on the
lake, tast enveloping iteelf in a twilight
haze.
“Page,” she said, in a voice that
surprised him in its gentleness, “does
Florence love you—really love you ?”
He hesitated, and then said : “I saw
her after you left. I asked her a sim-
ple question—but one I had not
thought of before. I asked her if she
loved me.” He paused, and then con-
tinued, in a tone of exquisitely gratified
and I doa’t know anything about a
love like that. I am sorry for her.
It will be very hard for her to know
the truth.”
“You have been a fool, Page,” An-
na said, and rose abruptly.
“How did I know that I was going
to be eo confoundedly attractive ?”’ he
said, flippantly. “I never seemed to
make much impression on you.”
She compressed her lips, and went
up to the house, Chittick keeping at
her side in sullen silence.
The next morning Chittick found a
note at his plate. It was from Flor-
ence. She apologized for having been
go slow to grasp his meaning yesterday.
She appreciated, though tardily, the
delicacy with which he and Mies Ald-
en had acted in breaking to her the
difficult matter that Page wished to be
released from his engagement. Fortu-
nately, however, she could remember
that she had made it quite plain to
Miss Alden that she had a positive
opinion in favor of marrying a man
who loved her and not somebody else.
Now that they had taken the trouble
to make themselves acquainted with
her ideas on the subject, and the true
state of her feelings, she hoped that
they would feel free to follow the dic-
tates of their own hearts.
Chittick would have have been glad
to take Florence at her words, but un-
der their smooth sarcasm he saw her
heart. She rose before him as he had
geen her last—her soft dark eyes fast-
ened upon him, her lips trembling
with her answer to his question, which
had come to him as mere afterthought.
It made him uncomfortable to feel that
he had hurt her. Though he was de-
termined to accept his freedom at her
hands, he wished to soften the blow.
He hastily scribbled a line asking
Florence to see him, and sent it to her
room. It was returned to him with
the information that Miss Woodward
and Mrs. Armstrong had gone away
by the early morning stage. Chittick
was undoubtedly free, and yet he hesi-
tated to go to Anna. Florence's note
made him ashamed of himself. He
seemed a poor sort of fellow for any
woman to wish to marry. = Fortu-
nately Anna had never made him feel
that her preference for him was based
on any particularly high estimation of
his virtues. He hung about the house
all day, smoking one cigar after anoth-
er. He hoped that Anna would send
for him, and thus make it easier, but
no message came. After dinner he
felt in better spirits. Anna would sim-
ply bave to take him now. The rising
moon threw a yellow mist over lake
and shore. What a jolly moon it was,
he thought, as he tramped through
the narrow woodland path leading to
her hotel. He would ask Anna to go
on the water. She liked nothing bet-
ter than a moonlight sail. Not find-
ing Anna on the broad veranda, where
she usually held court, he sent up his
name. In another moment there
would be the sound of Anna's silken
skirts on the stairway. The man re-
turned with Chittick’s card and a
small package. Miss Alden and her
mother had gone away by the after-
noon stage. The package was to be
delivered to Mr. Chittick when he
called. :
Chittick found himseltin possession
of a scented note and a tiny box. The
angular hand, read :
vanity : “She does—that is all. You
note, written in Anna's usual hasty.|
My pear Pace.—I" don’t know
what you are goingto do about Flor-
ence. I am tired of thinking what is
TE EA TPT ETE A
the proper thing todo. In my inability
to cope with the subject I have forsak-
en the field to give you a chance to
think for yourself. I don’t know
whether it will simplify matters or not
it Florence should know that I am en-
gaged to Dick Vau de Veer. You
may tell her if you like.
“Yours faithfully,
ANNA ALDEN.”
The box contained the ring which
Anna had retained so long for the pos-
gible future use. The rush of angry
blood through his veins made Chittick
tremble. He went out under the trees.
All the occasions when Anna had
caused him pain grouped themselves
before him, distinct, vital, still possess
ing the power to hurt and humble
‘him. He ground his teeth when he
thought of her fertility in expedients
to wound and anger him. The same
impulse which had made him turn to
Florence impelled him toward her
again. Her repose, her sympathy,
her tenderness, came to him like a
breath of fresh, pure air in the heated
atmospherr into which thought of An-
na had plunged bim,
And Florence loved him.
He went back to his hotel and asked
for a telegraph blank. He wrote, ‘‘It
is all a mistake. Will start for Charles-
ton to-morrow,” and addressed it to
“Mies Florence Woodward, Charles-
ton, South Carolina."— Harper's Bazar.
Gubernatorial Terms.
[Pittsburg Post.]
The first three governors of Penn:
gylvania under the constitution of 1790
—Thomas Mifflin, Thomas McKean
and Simon Snyder—were each elected
for three terms, and served the state
nine years. Mifflin took office in Dec-
ember, 1790, and Snyder gave way to
William Findlay in December, 1817.
The other governors, under the first
constitution, were Heister, Schultze
Wolf and Ritner. Their names indi
cate they were of good old Pennsyl-
vania German stock. Governors Sch-
ultze and Wolf served two terms, and
the others one. Simon Snyder was &
candidate for governor four times. His
first contest, in 1805, as a regular Dem-
ocrat resulted in the election of Thomas
McKean. an independent Democrat,
but Snyder was elected for the three
ensuing terms.
Under the constitution of 1838, the
first governor was David R. Porter,
who defeated his predecessor, Joseph
Ritoer, the last of the “Penusylvania
Dutchmen.” He was succeeded by
Shunk, Johnston, Bigler, Pollock,
Packer, Curtin, Geary and Hartranft.
The constitution of 1873 found Gov-
ernor Hartranft in office. He beld the
office for two terms of three years.
Then the new constitution became
operative, and the governor was elec:
ted for four years, being ineligible to
successive re-election. The governors
under this new term have been Hoyt,
Pattison, Beaver. then Pattison again,
and now Hastings.
With the exception of the flrst three
governors— Mifflin, McKean and Sny-
der, who held office for nine succeesiye
years—Governor Pattison has served,
by two years, a longer term in the
executive office than any of his pre-
decessors. He has held the office for
eight years.
Of the 20 persons who have been
elected governor of the commonwealth
in the last 115 years, 10 have been
Democrats, commencing with Mifflin
and ending with Pattison; one was a
Federalist, one an anti-Mason, two
were Whigs and six Republicans, the
latter commencing with Curtin and
ending with Hastings. The Democrats
have controlled the executive depart-
ment 65 years in the period from 1790,
1895. There is promise in this for the
fucure.
A ST
Queer Things in Poland.
Superstition Plays a Leading Role With Young
Men and Maidens.
It is customary in Polish villages to
strew straw over the Christmas eve
gupper tables, and for the young peo-
ple, blindfolded or in the dark, to pick
out each a straw therefrom. Should
the straw be green the lucky maiden
expects to wear a bridal wreath or the
youth to lead a blushing bride to the
altar during the approaching year, but
a dried straw foretells to either long
waiting, possibly even until death.
In other rural Polish districts on the
“Christ's eve’ wine, beer and water are
placed by a girl between two candles
on a table. She then retires into a
corner or an adjoining room to watch
the result reflected in a mirror hung
for this purpose. If as the clock strikes
midnight a man enters and drinks the
wine, she is happy, for her wooer will
be rich. Should he drink the beer, she
may be content, for the wooer will be
well to do. If the water be chosen, her
husband will be very poor. But if as
the clock strikes no man comes to her
table the anxious maiden shivers with
more than midnight terror, believing
that she is doomed to be early the bride
of death.
Poland is peculiarly rich in these ob-
servances, spreading themselves
throughout the year, both sexes being
equally superstitions in this respect. On
‘New Year's eve the young unmarried
men place themselves before a fire, and
bending down look beneath their legs.
Should a woman appear in the back-
ground it is the one they will marry,
but if they see a shape as of a coffin it
forebodes for them death during the
year close at hand.
ECT ——————
«I never told a fib but once,” said
little Madge, “and that was yesterday.”
«What ? You told a fib?” “Yes;
my teacher asked me what c-a-t spelled,
and I said ’'dorg.’ ''—Harper's Young
People.
Ee —
An Italian 22 years of age is a
student ina primary room of the Jersey
Shore schools. The Herald says he is
determined to learn, and by persistent
work is making rapid progress.
a. ., Ss —
Valentine's are coming to the
front.
For and About Women.
Miss Frances E. Willard is the third
woman to have the right to write doc-
tor of laws after her name. Maria
Mitchell, the astronomer, and Amelia
B, Kava, the Egyptologist, were the
others.
Outdoor capes cannot be worn full
enough. They are much shorter than
they were and in many cases adorned
with three equidistant rows of fur. A
showy and attractive coat that can be
worn by persons little and large alike is
of cloth with: bear fur and some em-
broidered elaboration of yoke sleeves
and pockets. The smaller the person
the tinier and finer should be the design
of the embroidery ; and if the shoulders
be narrow I do not advocate too wide &
fur at the neck. Diminutive girls and
colossal ones affect a boa of equal puffi-
ness. Naturally the pocket venus thus
makes herselt look like a dwarf sans
chin, sans neck, sans shoulders, sans
everything but boa.
No CRINOLINE AS YET.—In spite of
all predictions, we are still very far from
the crinoline. A few steel circlets tim-
idly introduced have been decidedly re-
jected by ladies of taste, and even stiff
muslin is only allowed round the foot
of the skirt. Dresses of light material
are worn over stiff silk petticoats, or else
lined throughout with silk and hollow
plaits, are made to stand out by an in-
genious system of ribbons sewed on
the inside.
The short jacket is still in favor, but
renovated by a trimmiug of jet or gui-
pure, rounded off under the arm in the
shape of bolero fronts. Thus we have
noticed a black ribbed silk jacket, trim-
med with ochre guipure, the effect of
which was extremely pretty ; it was
worn over a blouse vest of mandarin
surah. It is surprising how much in
favor cream aud ochre gnipure remain,
even with winter toilettes. It is very
prettily combined with narrow bands of
fur in the trimming of waved berthes,
fichus, epaulettes and draperies for the
sleeves and bodice. Something more
novel, however, than the combination
of lace and fur is that of fur with flow-
ers. The last bit of elegance is to wear
a wreath of flowers over a fur collar.
thus with one of the fashionable sable
collars which come up to the ears, and
are finished in waved bands falling over
the shoulders, a full wreath of pansies
and wood violets is placed just under
the standing-up collar, and over the
waved collarette of fur. The contrast
between the fresh coloring of the blos-
soms and the dark sable is veay effec-
tive.
Velvet shoulder-pieces are a special
fad of the moment. They are in every
imaginable shape, some of them resting
fiat over the shoulders and looking like
the tire of 8 wide wheel; others are
curved and others are made full and
tremmed in every conceivable fashion.
SHE'S AN INDICATOR.—Every girl
and women is a walking indicator.
If she wants to know what she says
to other people read this, and then look
in the glass ;
Sloping shoulders indicate insensibili-
ty, weakness and prostration.
The elbow, thrust out from the side,
while the wrist is toward the body, indi-
cates coarseness, boldness audacity and
love of self.
When the forearm goes out with the
elbow it signifies love for the object to-
wards which it moves.
The elbows pressed against the sides
indicate humility, timidity and self-sup-
pression
The wrist, when straight, expresses
vital energy in reserve ; when nearly
straight, a normal state—a condition of
calm.
A street toilet has a blouse of dark
blue velvet above a plain skirt of blue
serge. The velvet 1s all in side plaits,
turning toward the centre, and falls
over the belt behind as well as in front,
with square effect that is a part of the
style. Sable epaulettes are over the
shoulders, and the tippet and muff are
sable. The whole is shadowed with an
enormous black hat, trimmed with
plumes.
Mrs. Harriet Duterte, a colored wom-
an, is one of the most successful under-
takers in Philadelphia. She has car-
ried on the business for about fifteen
years. She furnishes hearses, carriages
and all requisites for funerals.
Women are so keen, as a rule, to ac-
cept any foreign fashion, says a writer
in the illustrated American. I could
never understand why they have al-
ways set their faces so obdurately
against going hatless to the play. Hs-
pecially when it is so much more be-
coming and so vastly economical—tor it
mean reducing one’s milliner’s bill at
least half. Every man advocates it.
Comfort clamors for it, and yet woman
—that erratic creation—turns a deaf ear
and a blind eye to its advantages.
Advices from Paris say that crushed
collars, with ear loops, are fast coming
to the end of their tether.
Short coats, with the ripple back, are
fast becoming the fashion, and pushing
the long coats into the shade, but we
may give thanks to Madame le Mode
that this cannot happen in a day ; it
must take time. It is very likely,
though, that next spring we shall be re-
garding any one wearing long coats
with a sort of superior smile wondering
how she likes to wear such an old time
garment.
Mrs. Lucretia M. B. Mitchell has
prepared a statement showing that the
women of Philadelphia County, Pa.,
are assessed on real estate $1,537,575.66,
and personal estate and money at jinter-
est at $35,734,188.68. This covers thir-
ty-seven wards, and is an average of
twenty ‘per cent. She points to this as
an argument for equal sufferage.
For the theatre a blouse of red mous-
seline de soie, all accordeon plaited, the
front covered with black lace and sewed
in the front of each armhole a black
lace tab, that falls out over the sleeves
and gives a wide effect to the front.