Bellefonte, Pa., June 2I, 1895.
O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!
0 sapiain) my captain, our fearful trip is
done;
The ship has weathered every rack; the prize
we sought is won ;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the peo-
ple all exulting.
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel
grim and daring.
But, O heart, heart, heart !
Oh, the bleeding drops of red
Where on the deck ny captain lies,
Fallen cold and|dead.
O captain, my captain, rise up and hear the
bells ;
Rise up, for you the flag is flung, for you the
bugle trills. 3
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for
you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, the eager
faces turning.
Here, captain, dear father,
This arm beneath your head !
It is some dream that on deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My captain does not answer.
pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm. He has no
pulse nor will.
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voy-
age closed and done. :
From a fearful trip the victor ship comes in,
its object won.
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells,
But I with mournful tread
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
— Walt Whitman.
——————
THF PRAIRIE BRIGAND.
His lips are
Reverses come and not all have the
strength to meet them. In this case
Mrs. Pendleton succumbed to them,
and her funeral was added to the
weight of woe so suddenly heaped up-
on the household. This left only
Primrose and her father to dispose of
their luxurious city home and take ref-
uge in the one bit of property left, a
mere hunting box of a shanty out on
the limitless prairie, a mile or more of
which belonged to Mr. Pendleton and
could not be attached for debts.
Primrose had never been there be-
fore. Outdoors she looked about with
keen interest ; indoors she longed to
lay her hands on something that would
make the bare exterior more home-
like and endurable. A few chairs and
a table of the homesteader's type, a
smoking stove, a dozen thick pieces of
ironstone dishes, a picture of “Henry
Clay and His Friends”—this was ail
she found there. She stretched a
breadth from her dimity gown across
the window for a sash curtain, spread
her grandmother's India shawl over
the rudest space of unfinished wall and
gathered a teacupful of prairie posies
to brighten the table when her father
should return from his preposterous at-
tempt to cultivate his wild acres sin-
gle-handed and alone.
A month of this life had gone by
and Primrose told herself she had
grown reconciled and used to it.
There were the prairie birds and Aow-
ers for company, and a hearty meal to
be cooked over the smoking stove
when her father came in from his stol-
id task of field-culture in the broiling
sun. He was growing every day more
rugged and heartier. This was Prim-
rose’s reward.
The morning was glorious out on the
prairie. Though so hot and drying
that the grass stood like wisps of dried
hay and the little birds crawled about
the bowl of water Primrose set out for
them, a few soft clouds, looking like
cotton] batting, floated in the blue of
the sky and a tiny breeze tried to un-
curl the leaves of the vines clambering
over each end of the little prairie
house,
“You poor little things !”” said Prim-
rose to them, as she spilled a bucket
of artesian-well water over their thirsty
roots,
_ “I do hope that strip of dark cloud
in the horizon means rain for you 2"
At noon she went out to study the
weather signs again. The dark cloud-
bank in the horizon was extending ; it
even resolved itself into distinct whirls
of smoke. Primrose put her hand to
her breast. Though a novice in prai-
rie life she knew this horror. The
prairie was on fire,
Her first impulse was to look about
for some place of safety. There was
none. She was completely imprisoned
as if sealed in a Drak oven, the logs
ablaze that heated it. Miles in front
of her, back of her, around her was
prairie, her own little house, the only
shelter, and that but a shelter to feed
the flames. Against the low fence
that surrounded her small house leaned
a scythe, She had never touched one,
but io the emergency her inexperience
counted as nothing. She seized it,
hastened out of the gate and began
mowing off richt and left the dry, tas-
seled grass and the dainty hiding flow-
ers. Beads of perspiration stood on
her face and her hands were blistered,
but she worked desperately, scarcely
daring to breathe till a fire clearing of
several hundred yards was made about
the house; then che stopped. What
was next? The fire was crackling
and the wind came hot and strong,
carrying bits of fire dangerously
near theroof. In a moment she had
caught up the bucket and clambering
up the ladder that leaned against the
side of the house dashed the water
over the roof, here, there and every-
where that the fire might strike.
Riding out of the fire, as it were,
galloping in mad race with the flames
that almost singed his horse's fetlocks,
came a stranger. He was dressed in a
sombrero and rough suiting, adapted |
to life on the plains. With one bound |
he cleared the fence and dismounted
at the same instant. Primrose, in her
surprise and new horror at the appear-
ance of what she considered a brigand
of the prairie, looked down at him
speechless from her ladder perch.
“Please, mies,” and he touched the |
broad brim of his hat, ‘this is a mat. |
ter of life or death for all of us, May
I take shelter with you ?”
Primrose’s bucket fell to the ground |
with a din that was heard above the
roar of the flames. She still answered
nothing. He stooped, coolly eet the
bucket into position, and then, reach-
for several hours,” he replied.
ing up lifted her from the ladder, flung
it tar over the fence into the clearing
she had made at such pains. Then,
pushing open the door, signed her to
enter, then entered himself, leading his
horse after him.
The poor creature, overridden and
panting for breath in the thick and
smoky atmosphere, dropped his head,
and, with feet far separated seemed
about to give up the ghost.
Primrose watched with excited eyes
as his master revived him with water
from a small pail near, then dashed
the rest of with nnerring aim at the
smoking corner of the roof above them.
“Oh! I want my fathor; he is out
in all this! Why doesn’t he come
home ?” exclaimed Primrose, at last,
scarcely knowing what she said in her
terror,
“The worst will soon be over,” and
ber prairie brigand came near the win-
dow where she stood peering out at
the angry fire all about them. “See,
the wind is changing. That will save
your house, and, yes, your fence too.
At the last moment we are treated with
heavenly mercy,” and he stepped
back and threw his arm over his spent
horse. “Look up, old fellow. Look
up, Colonel, the worst is nearly over.”
“But my tather, my father!” cried
Primrose, forgetting everything else as
his danger pressed upon her.
“Do not worry. We will go to look
for him after the fire has passed on,
the Colonel and L"
“No, I will go alone,” she said. “I
will go now,” and she began drawing
on to her feet a pair of sturdy over-
shoes as protection from the hot,
charred ground.
“Pardon me,” he said, but it is too
soon for anyone to go,” and he took a
step nearer the door.
“There is no time to be wasted. I
must know where my father is,” Prim-
rose responded, tucking her straying
blond locks under a close cap and
wrapping a heavy woolen shawl about
her shoulders.
A smile crept into his eyes as he
saw this last piece of fire protection,
and moved &till closer to the door.
“My dear young lady,” he said,
there is no living soul I would willing-
ly let go outintothissea of fire Why
should I let you?’ And he set his
broad shoulders plumply against the
door, looking at her with a pair of
handsome eyes that vainly tried to
hide his admiration of her loveliness
under a simply kind and friendly de-
meanor.
“Sir, I take orders from no one.
Let me go; please let me go!” And
then, feeling the uselessness of her plea
she sank on to a chair, covering her
face with her hands to hide her tears.
There was perfect silence in the
prairie honse, Outside the fire snap-
ped and roared as the wind hurried it
on and farther away from the cottage.
Once more the prairie brigand went to
the window and looked out. Then he
returned, and, throwing open the door,’
led his horse into the little garden.
Primrose sprang forward, panting for
breath in the smothering smoke, yet
longing to hasten to her father’s res-
cue,
“Wait ; please wait, miss. I am go-
ing with you,” said the intruder ; then
as if fearing she would object, added,
hurriedly : “It is the least—the very
least I can do after your hospitality.”
“That is nothing,” she answered,
looking at him as if making some si-
lent calculation, “but if you would
take your horse and ride directly to
the west while I go to the south he
might be found more quickly.” And
she turned deadly pale with the fear
her own words suggested.
“My horse will be worth pobing
‘it
would be folly to try to take him he is
so completely overridden. Please take
me with you ; it will be safer.”
For an instant Primrose seemed to
ponder, then as if the word ‘safer’
had suggested it, she darted into the
cottage, picked up a revolver left every
day by her father for her protection,
and turning immediately, said :
“Yes, we will go. 'I am quite
ready.”
“I will join you in an instant,” said
her escort, and unbuckling his belt
loaded with several hunting weapons,
he laid it on the cottage table and over-
took her comptetely disarmed.
It was evident Primrose breathed
more freely, though she kept her slen-
der hand clasped upon her revolver.
“Father has taught me to be very
careful of any one I meet in this re-
gion,” she said apologetically.
“Your tather was quite right,” he
answered, coloring, “only do not let
your fireams point my way,” and he
moved to the other side of her.
Primrose colored also, and again
conversation was silenced.
Over the crisp, seared prairie they
walked for miles. Now and then a
still, smoldering heap of debris, or a si-
lent mound would set Primrose’s heart
to beating, and forgetful of the revol-
ver she carried, forgetful of everything
but her anxiety for her father, she
would raise her eyes to her escort, be-
seeching his patience and sympathy,
“Is it not poesible,” he said, at last,
“that your father may have gone home
some other way ?"
She shook her head. ;
“He would have signalled me with
the horn. He once did that when I
thought him lost,” ehe replied.
Long ago the rubber bad melted
from her overshoes, and her shoe soles
scorched through from the hot sod.
It was becoming 1m possible for her to
go a step farther, when her escort
stepped forward and examined closely
a long trench.
“This would make a five shelter,”
he called, then he vaulted into it, to re-
appear the next moment with Prim-
rose’s father in his arms, helpless and
inert, but all alive and unburned.
“Mr. Pendleton! Mr. Pendleton !”
he eaid, shaking him, “here's your
daughter and Herbert Vantine to your
rescue, wake up I" and he raised a can-
teen to his lips as Primrose bounded
forward with a cry of joy.
“Ob, father, I was so afraid some-
thing bad happened to you !"* she said.
Mr. Pendleton opened his eyes.
“I am right, quite right now. I
suppose the trench saved my lifs, but
in running from the fire I stumbled in-
to it, and that was the last I knew
clearly of anything until you rescued
me. Herbert.”
- “Herbert I" repeated Primrose, in
amazement. « “And he called you Mr.
Pendleton! Do you, then, know each
other? Are you friends ? Isn't he a
—ah—prairie brigand ?”
Her-father looked at her, puzzled,
not understanding her rapid questions
in the flurry of the moment, and his
weakness,
“T—I believe Herbert it is odd your
being here. Where did you come
from ?”’
“I was driven to the shelter of your
prairie home from the fire. I came
here for some hunting. This is the
result of mv first day's chase. You
must talk no more. We will try to
get you home.”
“Oh, yes, yes, to be sure,” assented
Mr. Pendleton, like one still far from
clear-brained, as he struggled to his
feet and attempted to walk.
The little prairie home was reached
at length, and there Primrose, light-
hearted and happy, forgot her fatigue,
her weary feet, her blistered hands, in
getting supper over the smoking stove.
Late in the autumn the prairie brig-
and returned again to take Primrose
upon her bridal trip.
“Ah, Primrose,” he laughed, I hunt-
ed better than I knew on my first
prairie excursion !”
“And found a wife at the point of a
revolver,” she added.— Chicago Record.
For His Country.
Secretary Carlisle, Though a Splendid Finan-
cier, Is a Poor Man.
At a small town up in the moun:
tains the train stopped. Secretary
Carlisle stepped out upon the platform
and paced up and down. The loiter-
ers eyed him curiously, “Is that Mr,
Carlisle, the great financier ?”’ asked
one of them,
“Yes,” I answered.
“He is one of the greatest financiers
in this hull world, ain't he ?”’
“That is what he is.”
“Gosh, but he must be
man.”
“No, Mr. Carlisle is a poor man.
He isn’t worth £1,000 to his name
above his debts. He is getting poorer
all the time.”
“Say, mister,” retorted the moun-
taineer, ‘do you call that good finan.
ciering,” I replied, “not from Mr. Car-
lisle’s standpoint and his family’s
standpoint. But cannot you conceive
of a man who is big and generous and
patriotic enough to forget himself, to
get into the habit of forgetting him-
self in his desire to serve his country ?
Whether you can understand it or not,
that is the kind of a man Mr, Carlisle
is. He has worked for the country so
long that he feels he can do nothing
else. It is his caeeer, bis life work,
his second nature. You can under-
stand a man who has preached the
gospel for 30 years, getting a bare sub-
sistence out of it, and who is suddenly
offered a good salary to do something
else and refuses it. He feels he must
stay by his work, the work that has
had his brain, his heart and his best
years: Well, that is Mr, Carlisle’s
case. He belongs to the tribe of un-
selfish public servants—professional
public servants, if you like that phrase
better. He is almost incapable of
thinking of his own interests. He is
giving his life to his country, just as
much as any soldier that marched up
and down the Shenandoah valley back
here, and who finally laid himself
down to die by the banks of that
stream.”
This may have been a trifle poetical
but the countryman nettled- me with
his grin when he thought he had
knocked Mr. Carlisle and me out with
one stone. Besides it was true. When
Carlisle was in congress, he had a lit-
tle law practice with which to eke out
his salary. Ithelped him to keep out
of debt. His family wanted him to
stay in the senate, because they knew
he would have to give up his law prac-
tice, small as it was, when he went in-
to the treasury. Ambition, devotion
to public service, or something, drove
him into the cabinet, and he has been
getting deeper into debt ever since. It
1s a curious commentary upon the mis-
erable salaries paid our chief govern.
ment official that the man who coo-
trols the fiscal affairs of the govern-
ment, $500,000.000 a year or there-
about, should have trouble in meeting
his reat. It is also a pretty good cer-
tificate to his honesty, if he needs one,
and Mr. Carlisle doesn’t.— Chicago
Times- Herald.
a rich
Children’s Falsehoods.
They Are Divided into Four Heads, Says a
Chicago Teacher.
A Chicago kindergarten teacher
says that she divides children’s false-
hoods into four classes, The first is
the lie of excessive imagination, and
the treatment is “inculcation of exact-
ness of observation, either by precept
or in play.” The second is the lie of
egotism, the remedy for which is ob-
jective work that will take thought
from self. A ‘third class of lies is
evolved through fear of punishment,
and sympathy is the cure. “In all
such cases,” the kindergarten adds,
“the child must be shown the justice
of his punishment.” The fourth divi-
gion includes children addicted to the
jealous lie—as saying that they have
things which they have not, because
the boy around the corner has them.
The cure is this instance is love and
appreciation, that the child may un-
derstand that he does not need these
coveted possessions to gain or to keep
his friends.
~——+I don’t know what is the mat-
ter with me,” said Blinks. “I don’t
seem able to collect my thoughts:”
“What do you want to collect your
thoughts for ?"’ asked Cander. ‘You'd
jearn more collecting stamps.”
Pomona Grange, No. 13.
Patrons of Centre County in Council.
Pomona Grange No. 13, met in the
hall of Bald Eagle Grange, at Miies-
burg, on the 28th ult. A respectable
number of representative patrons from
different sections of the county were
present. The meeting opened at 10:30
a. m. Worthy-master Hon. I. S. Frain,
presiding. The early session was most-
ly employed in hearing reports from
committees and the usual business.
Some of the reports were on subjects of
general interest, and elicited consider-
able attention.
The report of Bro. Jas. A. Retter,
See. of Fire Insurance Co., P.of H.
was particularly gratifying, and evinced
commendable zeal on the part of the
new officers, by a notable increase dur-
ing the quarter, ending March 81, ’95.
This company is approaching the close
of the second decade of its existence, and
has afforded the cheapest insurance on
record in our State.
The committee to ascertain the senti-
ment of patrons in regard to establish-
ing, a general exhibition department of
cereals, fruits, vegetables and general
garden and farm productions at the an-
nual picnic and exhibition to be held
September 14th, 1895, at Grange park,
reported they had consulted with a num-
bers of patrons on the subject, but were
not prepared to submit a final report.
Considerable interest was manifested in
regard to the matter and commendatory
remarks were made. The report was
accepted, and the committee continued,
with instructions to ascertain the senti-
ment of each subordinate Grange and
report at next meeting which will take
place in August. The committe of ar-
rangement stated they had a permanent
building 20x40 which they would hold
subject to the decision of the Pomona
Grange on the subject.
The committee appointed in 1894 to
inquire into the expediency of estab-
lishing a ‘‘general produce exchange’
in Bellefonte or elsewhere, submitted a
partial report. It was more suggestive
than formative, as no definit eanclusion
had been reached ; but deemed the sub-
ject of sufficient interest to claim the |
best thought of our people. We sub-
mit the following extract from the re-
port for information :
“The committee are satisfied the time
is rapidly approaching when farmers
must assume a larger control in the
marketing of their products, not only
with a view to obtaining better prices,
but with the additional object of sup-
plying the markets with a larger variety
of productions, so as to meet the increas-
ing demands of consumers, instead of
compelling them to send to distant mar-
kets for the same.”
We find it true in numerous instances
that the producer is compelled to sell to
the wholesale dealer, the wholesaler to
the retailer and the retailer to the con-
sumer, the dealers realizing more in,
profits than was originally paid the
tbe producer, in direct contra-
vention of the principles laid down by
the founders of our noble order.
There are numerous methods by
which this unfortunate condition of the
farmer might be remedied. A suitable
market house, in our leading towns,
would doubtless be a great convenience
in bringing the producer and consumer
together. The capitalists of the towns,
as an encouragement for the develop-
ment of its local trade, could provide
suitable buildings, where stalls or privi-
leges could be rented by individuals or
granges, at living rates to the farmers,
ers, where on stated days each
week the producer could sell his pro-
ducts to the consumer, fresh from the
garden and field.
Such an arrangement would not re-
quire a large investment or great risk
and would bring the producer and con-
sumer together without large invest-
ments to either. Accommodations
should be provided for suitable lodging
rooms etc., where farmers could spend
the evening profitably, and the night
in rest and be ready for the morning
market without unnecessary exposure
from night travel, etc. Another sug-
gestion. That Pomona Grange be cap-
italized and the appointment of a suit-
able person or persons to sell the pro-
ductions direct from the farm.
Your committee does not deem that
the time has fully arrived when active
steps can be taken to inaugurate any
particular plan, but rather to investi-
gate the subject, with the expectation
that intelligent thought and discussion
in the subordinate and Pomona granges
will develope a well matured system that
will be of permanent benefit to every
producer and consumer in our country.
The report was received and the com-
mittee continued. The committee of
arrangement reported the annual picnic
and exhibition would be held Sept. 14,
to 21, 1895, on Grange park, Centre
Hall ; that many prelimnary arrange-
ments have already been effected ; that
reduced rates on the railroads (one fare
for the round trip) had been secured,
with special trains from Harrisburg,
Williamsport, Elmira, Altoona, Hunt-
ingdon, Clearfield and intermediate
points ; that applications for privileges
for exhibiting live stock, machinery and
domestic mannfacturers were coming in
already ; that Dr. Warren, State Zoolo-
gist had tendered the state zoological
exhibit that was at the World’s Colum-
bian exposition for the occasion ; the
promise of the State College and Agri-
cuitural Experiment Station exhibit,
which has been so interesting and in-
structive heretofore ; it is believed the
U.S. Weather Service will be repre-
sented ; prominent . Grange speakers of
national reputation have been invited
and other lecturers on scientific and
practical sgriculture and domestic
science. The committee have deter-
mined to place walks in front of tents
and likewise from the station to head
quarters and to the several exhibition
buildings and auditorium to prevent
oy future “stick in the mud.”
ister Isabella Wright of Bald Eagle,
read a beautiful selection descriptive of
“English Rural Life” which was high-
ly interesting and well received, the
basal thought of which being that
beautiful rural homes and surroundings
though unpretentions, were potent fac-
tors in formation of character, refine-
ment and love of country.
The lecturer of Union grange, Bro.’
Edward Drummel, prepared and for-
warded an excellent paper, which was
read by the lecturer of the County
grange, on the “Grange as an Educator’
urging that co-operation and combina-
tion were absolutely necessary among
farmers, that concentration of brains,
backed by capital, were the most for-
midable weapcns in time of peace, and
just as necessary as the spear and javel-
in and modern muriments in time of
war. It was an excellent paper but its
length precludes its insertion in an ordi-
nary communication.
The meeting embraced among its
members some of the best known and
most worthy citizens of the county and
was a success in every particular. The
next meeting will be held in the hall of
of Victor Grange, Oak Hall.
LECTURER.
Quick Divorce in Oklahoma.
4 Colony of More Than 1.000 Persons Said to be
Seeking Its Advantaga.
Dakots issaid tobe fast losing its
laurels as a divorce centre in favor of
the new Territory of Oklahoma. Stories
j have been long afloat intimating that
the most thriving business of the new
Territory was the granting of quick and
easy divorces to all applicants, and the
subject has just been investigated by a
special correspondent of the Pittsburg
Dispatch, who presents a remarkable
picture of social scandal and judicial
jugglery.
According to this writer every facili-
ty is offered in Oklahoma for any one to
procure a divorce, with all the rights in
property and children usually given to
the aggrieved party, without, practical
ly, any one but the divorce seeker and
the court officers knowing anything
about the transaction until it is all over
and the decree granted. There are at
present in the Territory, he says, more
than 1,000 persons from other regions
seeking to establish a legal residence pre-
liminary to applying for divorce: In
the territorial capital there is a colony
of 200 or more such people, quartered in
fashionable boarding houses established
especially for such custom. They are
said to be mostly society folks from the
large cities of the Union, who either
have trivial causes on which to base
their complaints, or who shrink from
the publicity to which a suit in their
own homes would subject them. Many,
maybe most, are living under assumed
names, which they can do under the
law. All sorts of social funtions foreign
to that rough region are maintained for
the amusement of these temporary ex-
iles, and all manner of entertaiment is
arranged for their benefit, They are al-
most all wealthy, they spend money
lavishly, and their custom is appreciated
and sought after.
A resident of ninety days in the terri-
tory is required by the Oklahoma di-
vorce laws. Ninety-one days after first
setting foot in the Territory the appli-
cant may file his application for divorce.
He may do this in any district court. It
is not necessary to begin the suit in the
county in which the applicant is sup-
posed to reside. It is quite possible to
live in Oklahoma City under one name
and file application in some remote
county under the applicant’s real name.
This, it is declared, is largely done.
Publication of notice in the advertising
columns of the local paper is deemed by
the law to be adequate service on the
defendant, and when the case is set for
hearing but one witness is required to
establish the allegations made by the
complainant. The hearing may be had
in the Judge’s private chambers, with
only the Judge, plaintiff, and plaintift’s
attorney present, and there is no diffi-
culty in having all papers in the case
promptly sealed away. It is asserted
that in the case of people living in a
district under an assumed name and
bringing suit in anoter, only the Judge
and attorney know anything about who
the divorce seekers are and what their
mission is,
The complaints are notably brief.
The usual cause tor action is ‘gross neg-
lect duty,” and, under this head,
like the police court charge of ¢‘disorder-
ly conduct,” anything under the sun
can be offered as a ground for action. It
is averred that quite frequently the suit
is filed and the decree taken with an
bour’s time, the papers hidden away,
and the husband or wife proceeded
against know nothing of the matter un-
til he or she is served with a certified
copy of the decree of divorce. The Dis
patch correspondent says that the trouble
is not so much with Oklahoma’s divorce
laws as with the manner in which they
are administered. The looseness of ad-
ministering the laws is, he says, a dis-
grace to the Territory. Until ten days
or two weeks ago the Territorial law per-
mitted action for divorce to be brought
in probate courts, and more than 500 di-
vorces have been granted by these courts.
This law was approved by Congress,
But the Supreme Court held, on an ap-
peal, that the law was contrary to the
organic act, and accordingly all decrees
granted by probate court were invali-
dated, In the mean time many of those
divorced had remarried, and the Legis-
lature had to come to their relief with a
special act legalizing the divorces that
had been granted by the probate courts.
The correspondent gives the names of
many residents of New York, Phila-
‘delphia, Boston, Brooklyn, Pittsburg,
and other Eastern cities. who, he says,
are at present living in Oklahoma City
qualifying in residence preparatory to
getting an easy divorce.
Giving Early Promise,
“That boy,” said Mr. Tupman,
gloomily, as the heir went out of the
room, ‘is going to be a railroad con-
ductor when he grows up.”
“How can you tell ?”’ his wife won-
dered.
“By the way he slams the doors,”
Mr. Tupman explained.
Classified.
Assistant Editor—Here’s an account
of a minister assaulted by a disappoint-
ed lover while in the act of performing
the marriage ceremony.
Chief—Putit in the railway news.
Assistant [astonished ]-- Why ?
Chief—He was burt while making a
coupling.
—— Education lays the foundation ;
self-education er~cts the building.
at ——————————————————————
—In every ill ordered household
there is degeneracy.
For and About Women.
Long brisk walks have a wonderful
ly beautifying effect upon the skin, as
is proved by the brilliant complex-
ions of the English women, who walk
constantly in all weathers. The
rainy, misty day is by no means to be
despised, for the Irish beauties owe
their velvety skin, for which they are
so famous, to the beautifying power of
the mists.
A certain auburn-haired girl appear-
ed at an evening party not long ago in
a simple gown which made her look
like a picture. It was of sheer gray
organdie made over mouse-gray satin,
the outer skirt being very full and
edged with fluttering ruffles, The
blouse was composed of gray satin rib-
bon, three inches wide, alternating
with creamy white lace with a beaut:
fully finished edge, which lapped over
the selvage of the ribbon. About the
neck was worn a dog collar of silver.
The sleeves were immensely gigot, the
tightly-fitting lower arm buttoned with
silver ornaments to match the collar.
Gray silk stockings, gray suede slip-
pers, with a bit ot silver embroidery
and gray suede gloves completed the
picture which any red-haired girl may
duplicate for very little.
When you promise to doa thing a ta
certain time either fulfill or explain.
Several years agoa woman wrote :
“It isn’t the things that you do,
dear. It’s the things you leave un-
done—"'
Truly it is the things that are left
undone that really count. Thought-
lessness is a fault, an almost unforgiv-
able fault. One may say, “O I meant
to do so and so, and I forgot all about
it.” Maybe it was a promise to pay
the laundry woman at a certain time
that was overlooked and the poor wo-
man walked all the way from the out-
skirts of the town to get her money at
a stated time and was met at the door
by the information that you were out
and had left no word for her. She
goes home and the bit of steak she had
promised herself after a hard day's
work remains in the butcher shop,
while she eats her supper of bread and
tea, and she must go to the landlord
with the humiliating information that
she cannot pay him just yet because
she failed to get some money she
needed.
Watch out for the little things and
do not leave them undone ; you can
make 80 many crooked places straight
if you do.
Detachable muslin sailor collars
with frilled edges, are buitoned round
the neck to smarten up plain blouses.
The variety of neck garniture is end-
less, everything that has any pretense
to being fashionable being accentuated
with more or less artificial flowers, ac-
cording to taste. Double ruches or
raffles of chiffon are universally worn.
These are punctuated with bright-col-
ored rosettes or clusters of artificial
flowers, and are finished with one
long-falling end of satin ribbon or lace.
Good taste limits the use of flowers on
such neck garniture tothe smaller
varieties.
There is one fashion in sailor gowns
which remains almost identically the
same year after year. The sleeves are
larger or smaller, as fashion decrees,
but are never exaggerated in size. The
skirt may be somewhat fuller or scan-
tier ; the pattern and hanging do not
vary. On this model are all the smart
English gowns made; indeed, it is
from them that ours have been copied.
The Princess of Wales and her daugh-
ter were the first to make the style
fashionable by giving it their approval
and by ordering any number of such
gowns inserge, flannel and duck to be
made at Cowes,
Sleeves droop lower and lower every
day, until soon it would seem as
though the fullness would slip entirely
off the hand, and we shall have re-
turned to the old days of tight sleeves
and non-circulation ; though certainly
one would hope not for humanity's
sake ; the huge sleeves are a distinct
act of charity (as charity covers a mul-
titude of sins) for they cunningly hide
any defects of the figure, add grace to
the corpulent, the desired breath to the
too slender and are positive blessings
on all sides.
Number of fashionable women sare
wearing their fancy silk blouse waists
with skirts of pique, duck orlinen, and
the effect is a desirable one.
Mohair costumes imported from
Paquin have ehort, jaunty jackets
trimmed with small, duil gilt buttons
and straight bands of the mohair, less
than an inch in width.
The most deluded mortal in the
world is the woman who fancies that
much is gained by scolding or whin-
ing or complaining. She may seem
to gain her ends for awhile (for at first
one will do most anything to avoid
swallowing a bitter dose,) but if she
would stop to consider, she would soon
discover that every day she has great-
er cause for scolding or whining or
complaining, whichever method she
adopts, and that as the months roll
by an ever increasing amount is re-
quired to accomplish the same result.
The ecolding woman never has
things her own way without a vast ex-
penditure of nervous strength—much
more than the object to be gained is
worth, Why cannot she realize that,
and adopt some pleasanter method ?
There is, in this city, a mere little
woman who is never obliged to ask
twice when she wants anything. She
ien’t one of the meek women who nev-
er dare to have on original opinion, or
to indorse one unlees her husband has
first indorsed it. She says what she
thinks, but even if it is a criticism, itis
given with such good nature that no
one can take offense. Very often
things donot go to suit her, but she
has the good sense to realize that
scolding or complaining or whining
will not help matters,
Tall women may wear long capes
with good results, but those who are
short or of medium height should
wear them much shorter.