Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 15, 1895.
FATE.
R. K. MUNKITTRICK IN “PUCK”
A Western railroad through a farm
Saw fit to cut its way;
But for a fence, to shield from harm
The cows, it wouldn't pay.
The farmer saw the iron horse
His pasture flying through :
“If they shall kill a cow, of course,
The company I'll sue?”
And so he smoked his pipe in peace,
And watched the cars go by ;
The railroad men would never cease
To chaff iim on the fly.
One day a freight train slowly curved
Around the mountain’s brow ;
Upon the track the men observed
His ancient, useless cow.
The engineer athrill with glee,
Took in the scene full soon,
And then remarked : “Oh, now we'll see
The cow jump o’er the moon.”
He blew no whistle, while he let
The steam have greater sway,
And so the cow and engine met
By chance—the'usual way.
She sped not to the moon and stars;
Beneath the wheels she sank ;
Sent engine, engineer and cars
Demolished dcwn the bank.
By thousands, lost upon the spot,
The railroad’s poorer now.
The farmer sued the road and got
Ten dollars for the cow.
A PRESIDENTIAL OFFICE.
LAVINIA H. EGAN.
[t was a pleasant February morning,
the twittering of birds on the pave-
ment and in the big cottonwood trees
making it seem quite gladsome with-
out, and, by and by, the Judge began
to feel the general stuffiness of the
close office, and pulled his chair a lit-
tle jerkily acroes the floor to the open
window. He had a book in his hand,
and held its pages open with one long
white finger til! he was seated. It
was the “Blue Book,” containing the
list of Presidential appointments
which he/seemed to be perusing so earn-
estly holding it well off at arm’s, length
and running his finger along to note the
salary attached to each office, now
and then, perhaps a little uncoanscious-
ly, marking one with his thumb nail.
He paused a moment to turn over a
leaf, and glanced out through the open
window, peering over his glasses
for a distant view. The street below
was a quiet one, and the figure ofa
tall, spare man in a closely buttoned
cutaway coat, with a high silk hat and
dangling cane. was a conspicuous one
in comparison to the few leisurely
going passersby in eimple morning at-
tire.
‘Yes, it’s Everett,” said the Judge to
himself as the well-dressed man drew
nearer, and he shut tbe book a little
hastily and went across the room to
put it on the table. He was still
standing when the white silk hat ap-
peared up his stairway, aud he called
out quite cheerily :
“Good morning, Everett,”
“Ah, as busy as ever I see, Judge,”
aid the man, ehaking hande a little
obsequiously. “I hardly hoped to find
you down so early.”
“Why, it's 9 o'clock,” said the
Jadge, pulling out his watch. “I've
been down for an hour. I think you
are the early bird; a thriving young
Congressman like you has no need to
look out for the proverbial worm.
You ought to leave that for us old fel-
lows who are being laid on the
shelf.”
“0, well now, that is an idea,” said
the Congressman cheerfully, “but I
think Ishould know how little likeli-
hood there is of your being laid on the
shelf,”
The Judge laughed a little nervous-
ly at this kindly disclaimer, and the
Congressman went on :
“Yes, I came out a little early this
morning. I have only afew more
days at bome, and there’s a good deal
to be done. Thank you fortaking care
of this for me,” and he picked up the
book the Judge had put down so hast-
ily. “Quite a number of my kindly
constituents are to call on me this
morning, and I'm afraid I shall have a
difficulty in placing some of them.”
He seemed quite elated at his own
mild joke, and the Judge joined in the
laugh tentatively.
“Yes, sir,” the Congressman contin-
ued, “when a man with absolutely no
political record, a man who has been of
no more uee to the party than the gamin
is to the procession which he follows
thro’ the streets—when such a man, I
say, comes and asks for a fat office, it
is nothing more nor less than unadul-
terated gall, and shows us the mighty
wrong side ofa campaign victory.”
He was not looking at the Judge as
he spoke, and seemed quite carried
away by his own enthusiasm. “Now,
there are men, deserving, honorable
men, who have upheld the party and
kept its standard waving above the
slime of degradation, men whom we
should be glad to reward”’—he spoke
quite naturally—*‘and glad to have to
the front now, for, I tell you, we want
to keep our forces well mustered, we
want to keep our posts well guarded.
This is our deal now, fair and square,
and we don’t want to play a losing
game.” He was not on “the floor”
and seemed a little reckless of his
metaphors. “The President is a
mighty long-headed man, but the new
bills are going to prove hard nuts to
crack.”
Everett spoke rapidly, but his quick
eye bad been glancing round the room
meanwhile taking in all its details.
There were holes in the matting on the
floor, and dust on the books and the
shelves and the tables. It had not
been 80 once ; it had not been so when
he, a poor clerk in a grocer’s store, had
come at odd momentejto borrow books
of the Judge and to get him to explain
difficult passages of Blackstone. He
thought of it all now, and how pros-
perous and thriving the Judge was
then, and how kindly and gracious
withal, He thought of his own first
case, which the Judge had given him,
and of his maiden speech which the
Judge had coached him for; he re-
membered how he had brought down
the laughter of the Court by beginning
“Mr. Speaker,” instead of ‘Gentlemen
of the Jury,” and how the Judge had
patted him on the back when it was
over and told him his lapsus linguse
was a good sign, and that he would
some day be saying “Mr Speaker” in
earnest from the floor. Yes, he re-
membered it all now, and it had come
true for him—but the Judge? He
felt sorry he had not kept up with him
during the years he had been in
Washington ; perhaps he was being
laid on the shelf. To be sure, he look-
ed old and worn.
The Congressman was thinking of
all this while he had been speaking,
and his finger kept running over the
leaves of the book which he held in
his hand. He snapped the covers to-
gether nervously.
“1 tell you what, Judge,” he said, I
wish you wanted an appointment and
you'd let me get one for you. I'd like
to wipe out some old scores with you
in that way.”
The Judge's eyes fell and he flecked
a speck of dust from his worn coat-
sleeve before he replied. There was a
little nervousness in his manner, but
his words were quite direct.
“Thank you, Everett,” he gaid sim-
ply, “I have been thinking I should
like a good quiet place.”
I am sure the Congressman’s inten-
tions were the best, but for a moment
the Judge's reply seemed to stagger
him. He pressed his lips together,
hardening his pleasant face, but his
words were kindly.
“Well, now, I'm sure I'm glad to
bear it, Judge.” he said, “and I think
we'll have no difficulty in arranging
it.” .
He sat down on the straight office
chair pressing his thin knees close to-
gether, and leaning his slender body
is resting his elbows on the ta-
le.
“If you'll just go through this list
with me.” he went on, and there was
a business like brusqueness in his
tone, “we might sce what there is
left.”
He turned to the list of first-class ap-
pointments, running his bony finger
down the line telling off names as he
went.
“There's England now, that’s for
Massachusetts, of course, and France,
Illinois will get that,and so on. No,
there’s nothing there. Let me see,
how'd you like a consulate? some
pretty good places, light work, enough
salary, you know, Here, how’s this ?
That’s not bad. Got any choice of
place Judge ?
“Well, I don’t know, I don’t know ;
it just came into my head a moment
ago before you came up. I think, on
a venture, I should say I wanted a
mild climate,” said the Judge, a little
vaguely.
“Yes, of course,” continued the
Congressman, still following the route
of his finger. **Now there's Mexico,
or Peru, or Bolivia—let me see, some
good places on the other side, in Italy,
perhaps, or Ireland—that’s pretty
good. I wish I'd known about this
thing sooner ; I've promised so many
of the places. But here, now,” hold-
ing the book to the Judge, “how's
this ? Right smart salary, ain’t it?
Suppose we see what we can do with
that.”
He arose as he spoke, taking the
Judge's assent for granted, but his
graciousness returned as he got upon
his feet and looked at the old man be-
side him.
He gave a very hearty hand-shake,
saying: ‘Now, Judge, I want you to
count upon my doing everything pos.
sible in this matter, and believe me, it:
We'll
will give me great pleasure.
gend in a perfect reveille of letters and
so on. Of course, everything will
have to pass through the senior Sena-
tor’s hands, but you know him, don’t
you? Yes; I thought so. Well, I
think we may count upon him in this
imavier, and at any rate, you may upon
me.
The Congressman had seemed will-
ing and sincere enough, but the thing
had not passed off just according to
the Judge's desire. Accustomed as he
wae to granting favors he was new to
the business of asking them and the
unwonted effort galled him. He hoped
the thing would not be talked about
until it was quite settled, and it made
bim wince a few mornings later when
the paper contained the announcement
that “Judge Acton, of Louisiana, was
prominently spoken of for an impor-
tant foreign post.”
His friends were enthusiastic; the
several local papers were exuberant
in their laudation. One interesting
thing about it, they said, was that the
Judge's record did not have to be look-
ed up. This was because evervbody
knew his private character to be one
of unparalleled purity, his private life
to be one! of unostentatious philan-
thropy. His public career was unim-
peachable ; everyone who knew any-
thing of the political history of Louis-
iana was tamiliar with the Judge's
staunch adherence to party lines and
party principles. So the community
discussed it, were elated, and felt that
the matter was settled. The Board of
Trade, it is true, sent a testimonial in
the Judge's bebalf, not that they felt
that it was needed at all, but just by
way of ehowing their appreciation of
the choice which they felt assured
would be made. Thus summarily are
many weighty matters settled by those
who have no finger in the governmen-
tal pie. Numerous friends in other
States wrote to the Judge, giving him
hearty and previous congratulations,
telling him they had written to their
various Senators, each one of whom,
it was always said, “had the ear of the
President,” giving the Judge what they
usually called “a rouser.” Thus it
seemed that eo far as might be seen all
was done that could be, and there was
nothing left but to await the grinding
of the mill of the gods.
The person who said least and doubt.
less thought most about the Judge's
appointment was Ruth.
When Mrs. Acton looked up from
her knitting to say: ‘Ruth since your
father has asked for the appointment I
want him to get it,” that worthy lady
bad, then and there, as she would have
expressed it, ‘said her say,” Mrs. Ac-
ton was one who always spoke with
reserves ; reserves which grew by har-
boring and were, invariably, ready for
emergencies. So Ruth had not dis.
cussed the matter with her mother.
She simply awaited an emergency,
hoping one would come to break from
her reserves. She aporeciated the sens:
itiveness her father might feel while
the matter was still in doubt, and
went out of her way to respect it. Bat,
as I have intimated, she did a deal of
thinking, for Ruth was a young woman
possessed of aspirations of that peculiar
kind of restlessness which usually
passes muster under the name of ambi-
tion, and one of her innermost desires
had been to get away from the narrow
confines of the small city wherein she
had passed almost her whole life, and,
added to this, was an over-weening de-
sire to go abroad. Now that there was
a probability of it she was forced to
contend herself with only thinking of
her desire, and strengthened her hope
with her mother’s decision that, since
her father had asked for a place, she
wanted him to have it.
Singularly enough, the only person
whom she felt inclined to talk
to about it was Jobn—John Hume—
and now he was gone, she knew not
where, and it did not make things
easier for her to reflect that she had
herself been the cause of his going,
But with all of her reflections she
could not bring herself to think it was
anything but stupid of John to go oft
as he had done. Hadn't he been ask-
ing her to marry him once a year ever
since she could remember, and hadn’t
she always given him the same answer?
And now, it did seem too utterly stupid
of him to say that since she wag older,
he supposed she knew her own mind
and that he would go away and not
trouble her any wore. Just as tho’
she hadn’t known her own mind all
along! John was a deal too master-
full and, to be sure, she was not sorry
she had said “no” to him, but she
couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t gotton
in a huff and gone oft like that to no-
body knew where, just at a time when
she most wanted him. Ruth kept
thinking of this after she had looked
up her Meisterschaff and set to study-
ing in case she did have to go abroad;
perhaps that's the reason she made so
little progress with her grammar.
II
It was one of those blustering, windy
nights toward the middle ot March
when John Hume got home. Just
why John had decided to shut up his
Washington apartments sooner than
was necessary and to ran down home
for a brief visit he did not quite ac-
knowledge to himself, but merely said
he felt that he would like a last
glimpse of the old place to carry away
with him—to remember when he was
so far away and so long gone. There
was no one to say good-bye to—no one
except Ruth, and he should not see
her, probably.
He was thinking of all this the night
he got home and was walking up from
the station to his old quarters. He
calculated that none of the boys would
have come in at that hour, and that he
could look up a few papers that he
wanted, and have a good, quiet, cosy
time of it. He knew that Jessup, his
old room-mate, would have left plenty
of coals in the grate, and he felt quite
gratified that a comfortable glow stole
out beneath the door to greet him' as
he mounted the dusty stairway.
Everything was just as he had ex-
pected to find it; even his individual
post box on the door was full of the
things Jessup had neglected to send.
He took them out, the bundles of news-
papers and a few letters, carrying them
in with him and dumping them down
on the table along with his grip.
Within, too, all seemed quite as of old,
but somehow he couldn’t help feeling
sorry, after all, that he hadn’t wired
Jessup he was coming. The; little fel-
low’s cheerfulness would have made
his home-coming happier, his last
glimpse of the old place brighter. He
had a passing thought of going out to
look the boys up, but his trip had been
a fatiguing one, so he emptied Jessup’s
tea kettle and got the cinders and dust
from his face and hands, found his own
big slippers in their accustomed cor-
ner and drew up a chair close to the
table, stretching his long limbs to the
fire's cheerful warmth.
It was nice to be at home, and he
fell to wondering if, after all, he should
see Ruth. Perhaps he would meet her
in the street, asa thousand times he
had thought of meeting her while he
was gone, with the wind rumpling her
loose curls, and the dear look in her
bright eyes, and the smile on her sweet
lips. He had thought of her so often,
and the pain of it all was still in his
heart ; what would it be when he was
gone so far away ?
¢
He brushed his hand across his eyes
ag if to shut out a vision, and, picking
up one of the dusty papers he had
brought in, began to open it listlessly.
The first that caught his eye was Judge
Acton’s name at the head of a column,
and, like one awakening from a dream,
he read os his probable appointment.
He had heard nothing of it, and he
read the whole thing twice over before
he seemed to understand, then, blowing
a long, low whistle he threw the paper
down beside him on the floor.
Jessup’s step was heard mounting
the stair, and in a moment the little
fellow burst in, fairly kissing Hume in
he exuberance of his delight at seeing
im,
“Why didn’t you let a man know
‘you were coming,” he said, frisking
about the room in his nervous little
way. “I'd bave had the boys in to
glorify. Why didn’t you write to a
fellow, anyhow ? Why, you had me
here pining my young life away, be-
lieving you had gone to that nether
region you casually mentioned that
night you flew off like a shot out of a
shovel to the Lord knows where. Say,
why didn’t you write me?
“Write ?”’ said Hume. “You are a
great one to talk about writing; why
in the mischief didn’t you write 2"
“I 2? Why I had nothing to write,”
said Jessup helplessly.
“Oh, you didn’t? Well, why didn’t
you send the papers?’ said Hume,
picking up the one at his feet.
“0, come now, but that is a good
one,” said Jessup, going off into a fit
of laughter. “Where out of the world
have you been that you wanted to see
our papers? Did you want to know
what we thought of the Toronto ques-
tion? Did you want to see us settle
the free art bill with one stroke of our
mighty pen? Or did you want to know
that Bill Jones was adding a new coat
of paint to his palatial residence, that
the honorable Mayor was out again
after a protracted epr—beg pardon—
illness, that our old friend, John
Smith, from Hog Thief Point, was in
town yesterday, and, last but not least,
that there are no files on—"'
“Hush, Jessup can’t you?” said
Hume, breaking in a little sharply. “I
think you mightthave written me about
—Judge Acton’s appointment, for in-
stance.”
“Phew !” said Jessup, ‘sits the wind
in that quarter yet? I didn’t know
you would feel interested, as all was
over twixt you and Ruth.” Hume
winced. ‘‘Besides,”” Jessup went on
“he hasn’t got it yet and, probable
never will. Kissing goes by favor, and
things seem to be moving slowly in
Washington.”
“Do you suppose such a man as
Judge Acton wouldn't get what he
asked for 2’ demanded Hume.
“I’ve seen as good, men as he refused
what they asked for,” said the little
tellow significantly-
“Stop that Jessup,” said Hume dog-
gedly. “You know I wasn’t even
worthy to fasten her shoe-latchet.”
“0, I know,” answered the loyal lit-
tle man, looking up at his big friend,
“you're not worth wiping up the floor
with. If you were I'd do it, sir, I'd
do it.”
“Well, well, we shall make it all
right, Jessie old boy,” said Hume
slipping off his slipper and throwing
one arm caressingly about the little fel-
low’s shoulders. “Would you mind
sitting up for me a bit? I shall not
be gone long, and I'll get you to call
me early in the morning, please, Jess ;
I've got to go to Washington.” .
“You have, have you? What did
you come for—"'
“To see you, Jessup, of course,”
broke in Hume softly ; but the httle
fellow didn’t feign to notice the inter-
ruption.
“What did you come for? A chunk
of fire? Well, I'll ‘fire’ you early
enough in the morning, be sure.”
Hume ran down stairs and hurried
up the street to the telegraph office in
a vague kind of way, feeling that he
could thus help along on its journey
the message he was going to send. He
picked up a blank, addressed it to his
senior Senator at Washington, filling it
in without counting the words.
When he got back home he was
very gentle with little Jessup, who
had refilled the cup of tea for him in
the old way.
111
It had been arranged that the Con-
gressman was to give a reception in
honor of their departure when they
stopped in Washington on their way
to New York. It was a very swell af-
fair, of course, when it came off, and
next to the Congressman’s beautiful
i wife" Ruth was quite the prettiest thing
there, and she was having a perfectly
lovely time.
At least she kept telling herself over
and over again that she was enjoying
all the cram and rush, the meeting so
many charming people, but she was
haunted by the dreadful thought that
she was going to break down in the
midst of it and ery. There was a man
standing with his back to her just be-
hind a group of palms; he had been
there a long time, and he reminded
her of John. If only it were John she
would feel better ; then, after a while,
she could see him and tell him good-
bye.
The Congressman himself was talk-
ing to her, and when he stopped she
thought she had better thank him for
having gotten the appointment for her
father. Somehow the echo of her
words sounded very insincere, and
looking up at him a little pleadingly,
she said :
“Indeed, Tam very grateful to you,
and I know it is all owing to you that
the place was given father, the Sena-
tor was very lagging.”
The Congressman began to say
something in reply, but she did not
hear what it was. The man behind
the palms had moved, and—yes—it
was John, and he was coming to her ;
it had been so long since shesaw him,
and she wanted to tell him good-bye.
No, he was going the other way ; but
surely he had seen her. What could,
it mean ? For John Hume's kind,
gray eyes looked full into hers for a
brief second, he bent his head a little
stiffly and was gone.
The Congressman stopped short in
what he was saying, glanced over his
shoulder at Hume's retreating figure,
and wondered if Ruth were quite the’
flirt she seemed. When he turned to
look at her again something in the
girl’s downcast face struck him.
“There seems to be a little lull just
now,” he said, bending to offer his
arm, “and I'm afraid I shall not have
another opportunity of showing you
my orchids. Will you let me take
you now ?'’
The girl slipped her hand through
hie arm gratefully, glad to escape the
glare of lights upon her burning face,
and sank back well into the shadow of
the vines in the quiet corner where he
found her a seat.
“Well, Miss Acton,” he said after a
little, “I'm afraid I can’t legitimately
lay claim to all the thanks you were
80 gracious as to offer me a while ago.
Of course, you know, I wanted to do
what I could for your father, but, when
I put the matter to the Senator, he
told me he had already promised the
place to—'" the Congressman paused a
moment, ‘‘to—er—someone else. This
particular someone else happened to be
a young fellow who was anxious to go
to the antipodes, if possible. on some
pretext or another, just then, and the
Senator was going to give him all his
influence. Had known the young
man’s father, you know, that sort of
thing, and was disposed to let the fel-
low have anything he wanted, and he
had settled upon the very place the
Judge had thought of. So that’s the
state of affairs I found when I got
here. Well—perhaps. I don’t know
exactly where the hitch was, but at
the last minute—the very day before
the appointment wasto be made, in
fact—the young fellow called off, said
he didn’t want it and it was given to
your father. So you see, itis to him,
the young man, that your thanks are
due.”
“Who is he ? What is his name ?’
asked Ruth breathlessly.
“Hume, you know, John Hume,”
said the the Congressman, feeling that
his plot had wound up a little tamely,
perhaps, after all.
Oh! Oh |” said Ruth, covering her
face with ber bands, and bowing her
head upon the flower-decked stand be-
fore her.
She did not lcok up when the Con-
gressman went out, closing the door
softly behind him. A moment later,
with an ice in his band, he met Hume
in the hall.
“Would you mind taking this into
the conservatory and doing the gallant
in my stead. 1'm busy,” he said, hur-
rying on as he put the plate into the
young man’s hand.
Perhaps John didn’t suspect any-
thing, perhaps he hoped everything.
At all events, when he opened the door
and found Ruth, with her head still
bowed upon the table, he put one of
his big palms over her little hand and
called to her gently.
“Oh, John I” she cried, epringing
up, ‘to think of your having done
that! Of your having given up your
place to father, and then letting us go
on and never have a chance to say a
word to you and about it! Never
mind now, I know it all, the Congress-
man has told me part and I guessed
the rest. And you were going to let us
go away without saying good-bye to
you. Oh, John |”
“Good-bye,” said John. “Is that
all you wanted to say, Ruth ?”
The tears were still standing in her
gladsome eyes, and she hung her head
80 low that her words came only ina
whisper, but he heard.
“No, that isn’t quite all, for I love
you, John.” — Phila. Times.
No Flowers on the Astor Grave.
The Whole Story of the **Blanket of Flowers a
Florist’s Invention.
Many women have visited Trinity
cemetery 155th street and Amsterdam
avenue, in the past few days to see the
marvellous “blanket of flowers,” which
was said to “cover the casket” of Mrs,
Wm. Waldorf Astor, and which was to
be “renewed every morning for a year”
by Mr. Astor’s order. Mrs. Astor was
buried on Jan. 9, not in & vault, but in
a grave, in the northwestern corner of
the Astor plot. On the day of the fu-
neral the mound of earth was covered
with pine boughs. The evergreens have
not been removed, and except at one
corner, which has been uncovered by
inquisitive visitors, the grass is covered
with snow. The laborers in the ceme-
tery have swepta path through the
burial plot, and about the grave a path
has been trodden by men and women.
The cemetery employees have grown
very tired of having their word doubted
by women who inquire the way to the
Astor vault and the blanket ot flowers
on the coffin. No flowers at all have
been placed on the grave, and they can
see for themselves that none can bo put
on the casket. Sothe women insist that
the coffin is not in the grave, but in the
vault of John Jacob Astor, and they
ask to have the vault opened so that
they can see this wonderful covering.
Although the man explains to them
how impossible and useless it would be
to comply with their requests, they de-
part unsatisfied and doubting his word.
The old gatekeeper, who has been
employed about the cemetery twenty-
two years, has to bear the brunt of their
inquiries and disappointments, He said
that the other evening, just as he was
closing the gates, two women begged
for admittance, saying that they had
come all the way from East New York
to see the flowers and would not go
home unsatisfied. Some come from
other States, and two came from what
seemed to him the antipodes—Staten
Island.
All this annoyance and disappoint-
ment is due to Joseph Fleischman, a
florist, of 1,111 and 1,269 Broadway.
On the morning of the funeral he told
the reporters that he had the contract
to supply fresh flowers every day for a
year for the grave. For this he was to
receive $100 a day, he said, and in all
he would receive $40.000 from Mr. As-
tor. On the day after the funeral Mr.
Fleischman sent to the newspaper of-
fices a typewritten story of the alleged
contract given to him by Mr. Astor. He
was, he said, to furnish 4,000 fresh lilies
of the valley and 4,000 violets each day.
He repeated this statement to a
reporter of the Sun, and then, being
confronted with the facts, admitted that
he had invented the whole story.
Superintendent Otto Meurer of the
cemetery and his brother Albert, who
is sexton of Trinity church chapel and
had charge of the funeral, says that no
such order for flowers was given by Mr. |
Astor to anybody.
Correct.
The longest pole won’t knock the per-
simmons unless the right kind of a man
has hold of it.
For and About Women.
Jules Forest charges that woman’s
love of feathers in her hat calls for the
sacrifice of $1,450,000 swallows each
year.
Easy flowing lines have replaced the’
stiff and narrow ones in vogue several
seasons ago. The outer garment must
also conform as to its general contour
with the dress, so we have the full
sweep capes, four and five yards wide,
or the jackets with skirts which hang
in generous folds; as to the sleeve it
makes or mars the style of a costume,
its picturesque cut relieving the severity
of even the plainest costume.
Mrs. Joseph M. White has built a
home at Kensico for the waifs of New
York, at a cost of about $40,000.
Lace collars are no longer regarded
as luxuries—theyare considered econom-
ical investments. One lace collar, if
ingeniously treated, is capable ot vary-
ing the effect of half a dozen different
waists.
Every woman knows that if the
bodice of her gown appears like new
her entire costume is stamped as such.
Therefore, great is the value of a lace
collar. It must be a large collar of
some heavy lace like Russian thread,
and should fall well over the corsage
and form epaulettes over the sleeves.
When it is purchased it should be
worn untrimmed over a dark waist and
will give a stylish effect to the whole
costume. On its next appearance it
may be joined to a gay little stock of
chiffon or velvet ; again it may appear
lined with any of the new shades of
silk. It may also be made effective by
turning it with ribbons, having the
loops stand up high on the shoulders
and the longest ends reaching below the
waist line. These ribbons should ap-
pear to be fastened to the collar by small
bunches of flowers. Imagine a cream
white lace collar trimmed with helio-
trope ribbons in this manner and fas-
tened with dainty clusters of forget-me-
nots. This collar crowned with a forget-
me-not blue chiffon stock would be an
addition to any costume.
One-piece gowns, thestraight breadths
falling from a yoke after the ‘Mother
Hubbard” and “Kate Greenaway’
fashion, is the favorite style tor girls
from 6 to 12 years. These are made
from soft shades in wool materials. For
dress occasion the same style is observed,
in black satin, gros grain silk or a fine
quality of India silk, with a simple fall
of wide white lace gathered full at the
shoulders and finishing the sleeves, or a
cap of delicate shade of velvet over the
shoulder, to suit the wearer. Skirts are
of medium length and sleeves large,
nn
The new dress skirt is rounded in a
manner so as to fall in long, straight
folds, with little or no fullness on the
hips, Those with graceful figures favor
short bodices, cut but little longer than
to the waist line, but figures like Lady
Jane's, in “Patience’’—‘not beautiful,
but ample’’—look better when the cor-
sage is cut in the semi-tight-fitting style
of tailor-made coats so fashionable at the
present time.
Garcon jackets with pointed fronts
and sailor collar will be in vogue for
midsummer costumes. Sleeves will re-
main large, but will droop more from
the shoulders.
Some of the handsomest imported
.gowns show sleeves noticeably smaller
than have been worn during the past
two seasons, but others again have
sleeves quite as large as they ever have
been, if not larger. This argues that
women are at least to be allowed a
choice in the matter. Sunday Isaw a
young lady coming from church who
wore a handsome tailor-made gown of
dark green cloth. There was a snug
jacket of the same, with enormous vel-
vet sleeves of the same shade of dark
green. Each sleeve was larger by near-
ly a third than the body of the wearer.
There was on the next block a suit of
modest brown cheviot, but of the finest
and most excellent quality, make and
finish, and the sleeves were so much
reduced in size that had not the wearor
been known as one of the best dressers
in the city one might have imagined
that an old gown bad been resurrected
for the occasion. The skirt, however,
was of the most approved godet and the
trimming marked by its extremely fin
de siecle simplicity, and by the “whole
together,” as the French say, we all
knew the gown for the latest. There
is no real criterion for the size of the
sleeve but that of the good taste that
would not lead anyone to extremes.
Dr. Anna Williams, only 25 years of
age, has been appointed an expert bac-
terlogist in Dr. Herman Biggs’ anti-
toxin laboratory, New York. She is a
medical graduate and thoroughly equip-
ped for the work.
‘When the eyebrows and eyelashes are
too thin wash them with warm water
before going to bed and apply with a
soft, narrow brush some pure olive oil.
They should be gently rubbed, too, with
an infusion of white wine and mint
leaves.
The union of violets, fur and lace, in
dainty collarettes is as popularas it is
becoming. I saw a charmingly pretty
woman wearing a thickly rib-
bed black silk skirt, a blouse of finely
checked black and white silk, and
around her throat was a quaint little
collar of chinchilla, with a fall of lace
in front, and a huge rosette of pale blue
satin on one side, and & bunch of vio-
lets on the other. The effect was charm-
ing, and so chic.
A pretty idea for a colored crepon or
plain wool goods is to arrange bows of
black satin ribbons five inches wide,
with steel buckles in the center, at in-
tervals all around the bottom of the
skirt. The bodice should be of silk the
same shade as the skirt, studded all over
with iridescent jet, and across the front
in the form of a yoke two bands of
narrower ribbon. The belt, of black,
must have a bow and long ends at either
side of the front. Rose color, in all its
shades, is still popular, and a new tone
resembles the damask rose, with a sha-
dow of black about it which makes it
very rich, especially in velvet.