RE —_——— a
a
Bellefonte, Pa., June 28, 1895.
WERE THEY FALSE OR ONLY
FICKLE.
“Why Bob, you dear old fellow,
Where have you been these years?
In India, Egypt, Khiva,
With the khan’s own volunteer ?
Have you scaled the Alps or Andes,
Sailed to isles of Amazcns ?
What climate, Bob, has wrought to change
Your face from brown to bronze
She placed a dimpled hand in mine,
In the same frank, friendly way,
We stood once more on the dear old beach,
And it seemed but yesterday
Since, Stendingon this same white shore,
She said, with eyelids wet,
“Goodby. You may remember, Bob,
But I shall not forget.”
1 held her hand and whispered low,
‘Madge, darling, what of the years,
The ten long years that have intervened.
Since through the mists of tears
We looked goodby on this same white
beach, :
Here by the murmuring sea ?
You,'Madge, were then just twenty,
And I was twenty-three.”
A crimson blush came to her cheek.
‘‘Hush, Bob,” she quickly said,
“Let's look at the bathers in the surf,
There's Nellie and Cousin Ned.”
“And who's that portly gentleman
On the shady side of life 2”
“Oh, he belongs to our party, too—
In fact, Bob, I'm his wife !
“And I tell you, Bob, it's an awful thing
The way he does behave ; :
Flirts with that girl in steel gray silk.
Bob, why do ycu look go grave ?”
“The fact is, Madge, I, well—ahem !
Oh, nothing at all, my dear,
Except that she ofthe steel gray silk
Is Ah one I married last year.’’
— Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.
«IF.
MRS. M. P. A. CROZIER.
If any little word of mine
May make a life the brighter,
If any little song of mine
May make a heart the lighter,
God help ma speak the little word
And take my bit of singing,
And drop it in some lonely vale,
To set the echoes ringing.
If any little love of mine
May make a life the sweeter,
if any little care of mine
May make a friend’s the fleeter—
If any lift of mine may ease
The burden of another.
God give me love, and care and
strength
To help my toiling brother.
— Morning Star.
MISS MARIA'S VOYAGE.
BY BESSIE CHANDLER.
Miss Maria Horton looked out of the
window and sighed. “How it does
pour!” she ejaculated. “The Perkin-
38’ front yard’s just like a lake, and I
guess the water in their cellar’s worse
than itis in ours. TI tell you what it
is, Ellen,” she continued, energetically,
“I'm a going over to them pertatoes
to-morrow, if I have to swim: The
idea of a cellar with all those good per-
tatoes in it, and we with nothing but
bacon for dinner?”
Her niece made no answer. She was
a timid, pretty girl, with big blue eyes
and yellow hair; an orphan, eating
the bread of charity, and finding it oft-
en seasoned with fault-finding and re-
buke. Her gentle spirit had been cow-
ed and crushed long ago. She had
given up, submitted, and yielded to her
imperious aunt until there was Irttle
will of her own left. She dressed as
Aunt Maria thought best, she went
where she approved, and carefully
avoided those places and people that
had been so unfortunate as to meel
with her aunt's disapprobation. Even
the soft yellow hair, which she would
have loved to curl in little rings upon
her smooth white forehead, was drawn
sternly back and brushed straight and
smooth. Aunt Maria didn’t like curls.
She called them “fummediddles.”
Even her lover she had given up;
but not her love. There was just one
place in this little house where Aunt
Maria had never entered—-it was Ellen’s
heart. Aunt Maria knew this, and it
worried her. She would have liked to
go in and regulate it as if it had been
a kitchen cupboard, putting each emo-
tion in its proper place, and discarding
all annecessary ones.
To-day Ellen was making herself a
dress—it was only a plain print one,
and the girl stifled a sigh as she shook
it out and looked at it. There were
four straight breadthbs, so that it was
just as big at the top as at the bottom.
She had longed to gore it, but Aunt
Miria didn’t approve of gores,
Suddenly, through the splash of the
rain, they heard the far off sound of
music. It drew nearer. It was a pro-
cession coming down the street. Both
women went to the window to watch it.
“It's Uncle Tom's Cabin,” eaid Ellen;
“it’s going to be to the Opera-house to-
night. There's two Marke and two
Topsies, and two little Evas.”
Miss Maria eniffed. “I should
think one was enough in all con-
science,” she said, contemptuously.
“It’s a mighty poor show that don’t
know enough to go in when it rains.”
Down the street came the melan-
choly little procession. The band in its
red uniform was doing its best. The
water trickled down the puffed-out
cheeks of the cornet-playere, and drip-
ped forlornly from their caps. The
man with the drum had given up beat-
ing it, and had carefully covered it
with a piece of tarpaulin, but he .ept
his place in the procession just the
same. Two most amiable-appearing
mastiffs were doing duty as Siberian
blood-hounds, and one sad little don-
key was bringing up the rear. Any-
thing lees exhilarating as a procession
it is impossible to imagine; but the
two women watched it with intense in-
terest.
“I guess it rained too hard for the
little Evas to come out,” said Ellen,
watching it tramp through the mud
down the street.
“Humph !" said Mies Maria; ‘‘they’d
have had croup if they had.”
She turned trom the window and
picked up her work ; but her niece still
stood there, gazing out into the rain.
Aunt Maria eyed her sharply. Some-
thing in the girl's drooping shoulders,
in her head bent forward a little, in
the general listlessness of her whole at- '
titude, struck the elder woman.
“Ellen,” she said, sharply, “did Sam
Johnson ask you to goto this show
with him to-night ?”
“Yes,” said Ellen, sadly, her head
dropping a little farther forward.
“Well, you ain’t going.”
“No, I don’t expect to.” ;
“Tt just beats all,” said Miss Maria,
“the impertinence of some people! If
I've told that fellow once, 1've told him
| a dozen times, not to darken my door
again, and here he is bobbin’ up as
impudent as ever! He'll be wanting to
marry you next, the great good-for-
nothing! It'll be just like him.”
The color flew to the young girl's
cheeks. Something in her heart gave
her tongue courage.
“Girls do marry sometimes, Aunt
Maria,” she said, softly, as if she had
made an important discovery.
“Yes; and so they have small-pox,
if they ain’t vaccinated in time. But I
mean to tend to things in season. I
never was one to let things draggle-tail
along as best they could, and I tell
you now, good and plain, I won’t have
Sam Johnson or any other fellow phil-
andering around this houseso long’s
I’ve got the strength to shove ’em off.
Do you understand ?"
Yes.”
“Well, see that you act accordin’.”
She hustled out into the other room,
while the girl leaned her face against
the window-pane and closed her eyes
wearily.
The rain trickled against the win-
dow, a grocer’s wagon splashed through
the muddy street, and out in the kitch-
en Aunt Maria was rattling the stove
lids. Life was very dreary. Ellen
wished, with the quick despair of youth
that it were over.
The next day, after the morning’s
work was done, her aunt annouced :
“I'm a-going down now to get to
them pertatoes. I've been thinking
about it, and planning it out. I think
I could get over in the big wash-tub,
it I get in real careful, and set real still,
and went awful slow. Anyway, I'm
going to try. You go get my water-
proof and my rubbers.”
“What for?’ asked Ellen, her blue
eyes opening wide.
“To wear, you goose! Like as not
the tub’s wet, and it’s damp down there,
anyway. I don’t want to run no more
risk of rheumatiz than I have to. I’ve
served my time with that.”
So Ellen bought the things, and
Aunt Maria carefully put on her rub-
bers, and buttoned up her water-proof,
which was a long, black, shiny one,
Then they crept down the cellar
stairs together. They had not far to
go, for the water had risen to within
three or four steps of the top. Pieces
of wood were floating around, and a few
small logs. One old copper boiler rode
the waves as triumphantly as if it had
been a Spanish galleon. The rake had
always rested in an angle by the cellar
stairs. The end of its handle rose high
above the encroaching tide. Miss
Maria felt for it, seized it, and pulled
it forth.j
“Now,” she cried, “I guess I can
reach that tub. You hold on to me,
Ellen, while I reach over.’
So Ellen clasped the slippery skirts
of the water-proof in her fragile arms,
and Miss Maria leaned over as far as
she dared, and clutched at the floating
tub. After one or two fallures—for the
rake was heavy and unwieldy held out
at arm’s-length—she hooked it, and
drew it gently to the steps.
“Now, she said, ‘you hold it close
against the stairs while I get in.”
%Qh, Aunt Maria,” aid Ellen, her
face white with fear, ‘“you’ll gink—
you'll surely sink !”
“No, I sha'nt, either; I guess I
know what I’m about. Just you hold
it steady. I guess if this tub can hold
a two weeks’ wash it can hold me.
Now be careful, hold steady there,”
and wrapping her garments around;
she cautiously stepped into the tub, an
with the utmost caresat down in it.
It sank—but not, as Ellen had expect-
ed, to the bottom of the cellar. The
water only rose to within a few inches
of the top, and it really seemed like a
safe and sea-worthy craft.
“Hand me the broom,” said Aunt
Maria, in a low voice. She felt that it
was a critical moment, and was doing
all she could to balance her circular
boat. She modulated her movements,
and even her voice.
Qh, Aunt Maria—"' began Ellen.
“Shut your head,” replied her aunt,
in a low but steady tone. ‘‘Hand me
the broom, I tell you!”
Ellen obeyed.
‘Now p'int me toward the pertataes,
and give me a little shove. Only a
little one, mind, and then you stay
here till I come back.”
Ellen gently pushed the tub off, and
then sat down, her ekirts drawn tight
around her, and watched her aunt as
she started upon her perilous voyage.
It was not a large cellar, but it seem-
ed bigger than it had ever done before,
and the water looked very black and
deep. Miss Maria paddled a little with
her broom, and eat as bolt-upright as
an Indian warrior in his canoe. When
she was about half-way over she began
to gain confidence, and ventured upon
a more daring stroke than she had yet
given, The result was disastrous—the
tub turned completely around, and she
joung herself facing the stairs and El-
en.
“Qh, Auat Maria,” shrieked her
niece, “you’ll never get there! Oh,
come back, come back!”
“Hush up, you great silly I’ said
the intrepid navigator,jhotly. “I guess
I know what I’m about.”
All the same she was a little annoy-
ed and confused by the wayward move.
ments of her craft. She tried to turn
it around again with a vigorous, deter-
mined push. Alas! it was too vigor-
ous. The tub tipped until the water
touched its rim. It camein slowly at
first, then quite like a tidal wave. At
least it seemed 80 to poor Miss Maria.
She clutched at the sides in vain. She
screamed as she saw the impending
catastrophe. Then, in a second, over
went the tub, and disappeared with its
occupant to the bottom of the cellar,
Ellen shrieked from the stairs, *‘Oh,
Aunt Maria, oh—oh—oh !"
Almost instantly Miss Maria emerg-
ed, very wet and indignant, and stag-
gered toward the stairs. But she was
much encumbered with her long coat
and other clothing, and the water was
quite high. Besides, the bottom of the
cellar was covered with various arti-
cles, which lurked, like coral reefs, un-
seen and dangerous. Against one of
these Miss Maria stubbed her toe, and
lell headlong under the water again.
. This time it really might have been
gerious, for the girl on the stairs was
helpless with fright, and the poor old
woman herself was dazed and confused.
But just atthat moment something
darkened the doorway, and Ellen, turn-
ing round to see what had shut off the
light, was surprised to discover the tall
form of Sam Johnson.
She greeted him with a scream.
“Oh, come!” she cried; ‘Aunt
Maria's drowning ! She’s been upset.
Oh, hurry !”
He was on the lowest step in a sec-
ond.
“Where is she ?”’ he asked.
The copper boiler and the treacher-
ous tub, which had risen agaia, seem-
ed to floating off together, but there
was no sign of Miss Maria.
“She went down there,” said Ellen,
pointing to a place where the water
seemed unusually troubled. Then she
began to wring her hands and cry.
“Oh, don’t let her'drown !”’ she said;
“not right here in her own cellar !”’
Sam Johnson went through the water
with a strong, steady stride. In a
second he had the limp form of Miss
Maria in his arms, and was bearing it
up the narrow stairway. She was
coughing and sputtering a good deal,
and her eyes were closed.
- Ellen followed, still tearful and anx-
and happiness, now that Sam was here.
They took off the dripping water-
proof, and laid the gasping form of Miss
Maria upon a wooden bench in the
kitchen. Then, for the first time, she
opened her eyes and fastened them upon
Sam Johnson.
“Get out !”” she said, faintly ; ‘“‘get
right out I” She coughed and choked
as she spoke, but her old determination
was again strong in her face.
“Oh, Aunt Maria,” said Ellen, ‘he
saved your life ; he waded in after you
and carried you up stairs. Don’t send
him away.”
Ellen,” said Miss Maria, in a sort of
emphatic whisper, ‘you ain’t much
better than an idiot. Put on the tea-
kettle and go in and get Mis’ Rug-
gles, and get out the red flannel and the
linyement-bottle. I'm a-going to take
this thing in time.”
Ellen ran over to the next-door neigh-
bor’s, and Sam followed her. He ling-
ered around while, with Mrs. Ruggles’s
help, she got Miss Maria warm and dry
oured hot tea down her throat, did up
er knees in red flannel, and put her to
bed with hot flat-irons at her feet. Then
he watched his chance, and when Ellen
came into the kitchen again, he said,
eagerly.
“How is she ?”
“She's all right, I guess, if she don’t
stiffen up and have rheumatism.”
“Then come out with me, Ellen. I
want to see you, and it’s stopped rain-
ing now.”
“Oh, Sam, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Mrs. Ruggles is in
there with her, and she’s all right. I
came to see if there wasn’t a chance of
your going to Uncle Tom's Cabin
with me to-night, couldn’t make any
one hear, so I walked in. Then I
couldn’t find any one; but the cellar
door was open, and I heard you scream.
I'll give up the show to-night if you’ll
come out with me now.”
“Oh, Sam, I can’t.”
‘Yes, you can ; you’ve got to.”
Her blue eyes fell beneath his intense
look, and the color came and went in
her cheeks. Then, with a few mur-
mured words, she turned away.
“I'll wait,” he said, resolutely. “Go
and put on your things.”
She went into her aunt’s room.
“Mrs. Ruggles,” she began, hesitat-
ingly, “I’ve got to go out. Could you
stay here till I come back ?”’
“Just as well as not, my dear. Your
aunty’s dropped off to sleep as quiet as a
lamb, and I'll stay here and set by her
till you come back. And, say, won’t
you get me a yeast cake? The ‘Ocean
Foam’ is the kind I use.”
A low, persistent whistle sounded
from the kitchen door, warning Ellen
to hurry. She hastened to get her things,
and, with burning checks, slipped out
to join her lover.
Aunt Maria never knew of this es-
capade, and Mrs. Ruggle’s mouth was
stopped with a whole package of Ocean
Foam for which Ellen refused
to take a cent in payment.
But with all her forehandedness, her
ancient foe, the rheumatism, got the
better of Miss Maria, and she was in
bed for three weeks after her remarka-
ble shipwreck.
Sam Johnson came to the house
every day, but if Miss Maria knew of
his visitations, she chose to ignore
them.
One sunny day, after she was able to
sit up, he called out to her:
“I'm a-coming in Miss Horton, and
going to bring you out here by the fire.
You get her ready, Ellen.
And, in spite of most vigorous and
energetic protests, Miss Maria felt her-
self lifted bodily by the great strapping
fellow, and deposited in a comfortable
rocking-chair by her own kitchen fire,
where, to tell the truth, she was very
glad to be.
After that he lifted Miss Maria near-
ly every day. She objected and resisted
at first, and made many abusive and
contemptuous remarks, but he never
aid the slightest attention to them.
hen she used to glare at him stonily,
and finally one day she thanked him.
Ellen was like a changed creature.
She flew about the house with a bright-
er color in her cheeks than she had ever
had. Her eyes seemad bluer, and a
little dimple in her chin, which had
been nearly frightened away, began to
showjitself again. Neither the care of
her aunt nor the work of the house
seemed to weigh on her. She sang to
herself as she went about her daily tasks,
not the subdued little croons that she
had sometimes indulged in, but bits of
jolly, lively songs, as if happiness was
stirring at her heat.
Miss Maria watched her one day as
ious, but with a certain sort of security |
she was putting the bread in sponge,
and said, suddenly :
‘Ellen, if Sam Johnson’s comin’ here
every day a-histin’ me up and down, I
think it would be full as decent if he
belonged to the family. Of course I
know what he comes for—he’d be will-
ing to lift a dromedary for the sake of
seeing you ; and I think, seeing he feels
that way, you’d better marry him, and
cure him of his foolishness.”
The dimple played in Ellen’s chin,
and her cheeks were very pink, as she
stirred the flour in with a reckless
hand.
“I don’t want to,” she said, faintly.
“You don’t to marry Sam Johnson !
Why, Ellen Eliza Horton, are you
stark, staring crazy ?”’
“No,” said Ellen, with a little trem-
ble in her voice ; “I mean I don’t want
to again. You see, I have married
him once.”
She put one flouery hand to her face,
and began to laugh hysterically, while
Miss Maria looked at her for a moment
in speechless amazement. “Well, of
all the ridiculous, indecent performan-
ces that I ever herd of! Idon’t see
anything so awful funny about it.
What did you do it for ?”
“He made me,” said Ellen, meekly.
“He said it was our only chance.”
“He did, did he? He’s terrible
knowing, isn’t he, with his weddings
and his chances ! Perhaps you'll tell
me when this outlandish circus perfor-
mance of yours was ? Did you have a
minister—or a constable ?”’
“We had a minister, and it’s all quite
right, and, oh, Aunt Maria don’t be
angry, butit was the very day you
were drowned in the cellar !”’— Harpers
Bazar.
The Picnic Hamper.
Good Things to Take Along When You Go Out
Jor a Day's Enjoyment.
There should be a large supply of
sandwiches, which are always the piece
de resistance of an outdoor lunch.
Cheese sandwiches, by way of variety,
are excellent. Thin slices of the cheese
should be nlaced between very thin
slices of the oread, and if the cheese is
toasted first the sandwiches will taste
even better. Every one knows how de-
licious are the sandwiches of pate de
foie gras, caviare and the various potted
meats, but comparatively few are aware
that the most tempting sandwiches can
be made by spreading thin slices of Vi-
enna or home-made bread with mayon-
naise and then with chopped lettuce or
water cress. Chopped ham, chicken and
hard-boiled eggs are desirable for these
luncheon goodies. After being made
the sandwiches should be daintily wrap-
ped in buttered paper, which keeps them
fresh and cool.
The usually monotonous picnic menu
is given an agreeable change by adding
deviled eggs. To make this dish, first
boil the eggs hard, afterward removing
the shells. Cut carefully in half with a
silver knife and take out the yokes;
mash these fine with a silver spoon, and
add enough mayonnaise dressing to
form a smooth paste. With these fill
the empty halves, put them evenly to-
gether and fasten with toothpicks.
Wrap each egg in white tissue paper
and keep on ice until you are ready to
pack the hamper.
Cauliflower prepared as a salad is an
excellent dish tor a picnic, and is easily
prepared. Olives and pickles should
find a place in the hamper, so should
plenty of salt and pepper. Only very
necessary dishes—such as cups—should
be taken, and few knives, forks and
spoons. The round or oval wooden
dishes that grocers use for butter, lard,
etc., will be found to be a very good
substitute for china. The camping-out
sensation will be increased and the en-
joyment and hilarity of the party will
be greater if most of the table parapher-
nalia be left at home.
Pineapple or lemon sherbert is al-
ways welcome at these Bohemian par-
ties, and is far preferable to the vile
liquid usually furnished at picnics and
dignified by the name of coffee. Bouil-
lion will be found quite invaluable. It
is now put up in small capsules, which,
when dissolved in boiling water, makes
a very refreshing drink. Take along a
generous supply of Japanese paper nap-
kins, and, above all things, don’t forget
a corkscrew.
The Retort Significant.
I haven’t any patience with women
—or men, either—who go about telling
unkind things of the people whose salt
they have eaten, says a Washington
woman. I heard Mrs. McGuirk—ev-
erybody in Washington knows Mrs.
MecGuirk—say something to a woman
of this sort that filled me with delight.
It was a well dressed woman, too—a
woman who expressed the vulgarity
which was in her in this fashion. We
asked her where she had been.
“Oh,” said she, with an air, *‘I've
been to Mrs. W.'s. There was a mob
there—a lot of the nobodies she bribes
to come to her affairs.”
Mrs. McGuirk’s reply was so quick
it took my breath away.
has did she give you ?’ ghe
said.
Miss X Scores a Point,
Miss X—“I'm going to send this
item about our 5 o’clock tea to the
“Weekly Gossiper.”
Miss Y—*“They won't take it
You've written on both sides of the.
paper.”
iss X—“Dear me, I don’t see why
they need be so stiff about it. They
print on both sides of their own paper,
don’t they 2”
A Distinction With a Difference.
“Yes, daughter is getting along in
her music so well that we are thinking
of sending her to some institution:’’
“I heard one of the neighbors say that
she ought to be sent to an institution of
some kind.”
~—A cold-water woman who made
tea for her husband out of bird seed, in-
stead of flaxseed as the doctor said, is
now huting for an antidote to stop his
singing.
Sm ——
——While you are true to God no-
body can hurt you but yourself.
For Free Silver.
Organization Effected in Philadelphia—Princi-
ples are Declared—A Ringing Paper in Favor
of the White Metal.
The movement calculated to secure
the restoration of silver to its former
Dass in currency was stimulated in
hiladelphia recently by two enthusias-
tic meetings. The first was held in the
office of Wharton Barker in the Forrest
Building which was attended by a rep-
resentative body of gentlemen ; and the
other was convened at Eighth and
Spring Garden streets, the latter being
intended as an educational convention
for those not intelligently acquainted
with the benefits accruing from free sil-
ver.
Mr. Barker called his meeting to or-
der at 4 o'clock and after several gentle-
men had spoken on the need of a more
expended currency, organization was ef-
fected under the title of the Bimetallic
Association. Following a declara-
tion of principles was read, in which it
was asserted that the urgent need for
active work in the education of the peo-
ple as to the principles involved in the
silver question grew out of two circum-
stances which were set forth as follows :
“The first is the intolerable impress-
ion the country is enduring under the
single gold standard and the advantage
this offers to socialistic and anarchistic
factions to work upon the general dis-
tress in the interest of revolutionary de-
struction. If our social order is to con-
tinue it musteprove itself adequate to se-
curing the general prosperity. .
“The second circumstance is the act-
ive and well supported propaganda of
another not less revolutionary party, to
diguise false doctrines and imaginary
‘facts’ about silver and gold, among
those who have no time for economic
and statistical studies. Having sue-
ceeded, under a cloak of false pretenses,
in driving silver from the place it has
held for thousands of years in the
world’s currency, they are now seeking
to create a party in behalf of this mon-
etary revolution. They desire for
their own advantage, to secure the per-
manence of a situation which has de-
ranged commerce, deprived the produc-
ing classes of the just rewards of their
labor and added enormously to the bur-
den of all public and private debts. In
this they have the active support of the
present Administration.
“It is, therefore, in the interests of
in truest conservatism that ‘The Bime-
tallic Association’ has been established
to carry on the work of popular educa-
tion. It has been organized and is sup-
ported by men fully alive to the neces-
sity of supporting public honor in the
adequate payment of debt, and to the
need of a national currency staple in
value, and of equal worth in all its
kinds. They decline, however, to iden-
tify these great objects with the mainte-
nance of the single gold standard, and
that for the following reasons :
“1. The supply of both gold and sil-
ver which is available for the world’s
needs.
“2. The relative amount of silver in
this supply is greatly inferior to what it
was 50 years ago, when the two metals
maintained a staple ratio at 1 to 15.5.
8. The charge in their comparative
values has not been produced by any
excess in the supply of silver, but by
its artificial exclusion from the wants of
the civilized world.
“4, This exclusion has produced an
equal appreciation in the value of gold
by throwing upon it the burden of ef-
fecting the world’s exchange and organ-
izing its productive forces.
“5. The effect of this rise in the val-
ue of gold has been to force down the
nominal values of everything it meas-
ures, thus making it impossible for the
producer to pay his debts at the present
gold prices of his products, and adding
vastly to the general burden of public
indebtedness.
“6. Itis not in the interest of any
class of silver miners, but in those of
the reduce of our country and of the
world, that we urge the prompt restitu-
tion of silver to its place in the money
of the nation.
“7. While it is most desirable to
have this effected by an international
bimetallic agreement, such as once exist-
ed throughout Christiandom, America
cannot afford to wait for this, for delay
threatens to prevent prompt relief of
our producing classes. She must act
for herself, with due regard to the re-
tention of her gold currency alongside
of silver, and with a view to commend-
ing, or even compelling similar action
on the part of other countries.
“On these grounds we declare our
purpose to work for the resumption of
silver into the money of the country on
the same footing as during the first
three quarters of a century of our na-
tional existence. And we invite men
of all parties, who agree with us in this
declaration of principles, whatever their
view as to the best method of effecting
these objects, to give us their aid in se-
curing the general prosperity.’’
The deciaration was unanimously
adopted as a whole.
"The organizers of the movement were
Dr. Robert Ellis Thompson, President
of the Central High School ; James
Dobson, John H. Lorimer and Richard
Campion, members of the Manufactur-
ers’ Club; Messrs. McMenamin,
Thompson and Fry, of the Grocers’ and
Importers’ Exchange, and Dr. William
Carroll.
Just before adjourning, to meet in
the same room on next Thursday the
meeting authorized Wharton Barker,
at his request to send the following tele-
gram to United States Senator Jones,
at the Bimetallic Convention, in session
at Memphis, Tenn.:
“1 want to advise you, and through
you the convention, of very important
action in favor of bimetallism taken
here to-day by an influential body of
citizens, already numbering several
hundred manufacturers, merchants, pro-
fessional men and wage-earners, em-
ployed in mills and factories, to wit: The
organization of the Bimetallic Associa-
tion. The delaration of principles
adopted at meeting to-day Phi be
read before convention and sent by it to
the country with unqualified approval.”
——Ralph Modjeska, the engineer in
charge of the new bridge at Rock Island
in behalf of the Rock Island Road, is a
son of Mme. Modjeska.
SE
——A clock is always an appropriate
weddding gift. It means on its face
that there is no time like the present.
| silk,
For and About Women.
Many persons will be pleased to hear
that polka dot silks have come to us
again. There was never a pattern in
silk for regular and hard wear that
could compare with polkas. The figure
is always the same, only larger or small-
er, closer together or spread wider, just
as it happens. There is white with
dots dark or light blue, some patterns as
big as a dime and others as small as
pinheads, some where the dots are set
closely in regular lines and others where
they are scattered promiscuously all
over. Red on white, white on red, red
on blue, and brown on cream are the
color combinations most often seen, in-
cluding the blue and white. One ef-
fective pattern has pale yellow dots on
a snuff brown ground. There are many
other combinations. The most novel
arrangement is where there is a tan
ground with three dots clustered togeth-
er, one being of wood brown, one green
and the other red. Doubtless the next
two weeks will bring still other fancies.
These silks are of good quality, and
with a very trifle of trimming will
make exceedingly pretty frocks.
Flounces of these silks are cut bias and
shirred onto the bottom of the skirt.
Tacoma claims the only woman cus-
tom house broker on the Northern Pa-
cific coast. She is Miss Florence B.
Moffatt, daughter of a steamboat cap-
tain, and is said to be actively interested
in shipping interests and to know more
on matters of transportation and com-
merce than many men in the business.
A charming frock was made of pale
yellow dimity, it was trimmed with
oceans of fine white lace, the bodice be-
ing particularly lovely, with a yoke
formed of lines of white lace insertion
and narrow bands of dimity, on which
were set double rows of narrow lace to
match. From the yoke depended a
very full ruffle in points, around which
the lace rippled like sea foam. The
sleeves, big and full, but reaching only
to the elbow were composed of lines of
insertion and dimity to match the yoke.
Two little flounces on the skirt were
edged with lace.
If we may believe all we hear, we
are on the verge of a season of many
flounces. I was advised by a letter
from Paris that during the coming win-
ter we would see velvet gowns flounced
to the waist, and silk dresses with as
many as the skirt will hold.
Mrs. Amelia Barr who is probably
the most prolific woman writer of the
first rank in America at present, lives
for the greater part of the year at her
beautiful home near Peekskill. She
has one daughter at home, who relieves
her of all household cares, and another
living in Boston, who is married to Kirk
Munroe, whom all small boys know
and adore, It is rumored that Mrs.
Barr is going to write a novel about
Cambridge. If she gives to it the local
color that is the charm of “The Bow of
Orange Bibbon’’ she will add another
gem to American literature.
Fair Gothamites have taken up] a fine
quality of brilliantine as the material
par excellence for separate skirts to be
worn with blouses and shirt waists.
Crepons, erstwhile so popular, have
been put on fashion’s shelf, to be sought
only by those to whom a reduction in
rice of 50 per cent. is an irresistible in-
ucement. Navy and dark brown are the
shades most favored, and the skirts are
invariably made after plain gored pat-
terns of a bell or circular design. ith
the exception of piping of the material
in self-color or white, there is absolute-
ly no garniture.
The French have begun to divide
their sleeves into partitions and com.
partments, as it were. Most of the di-
visions are longitudinal, being separated
by bands of lace insertion or stripes of
ribbon, running down the arm. A
pink batiste was thus trimmed with
cream-colored lace insertion. The
puffs ran longitudinally from shoulder
to elbow, and the sleeve fitted tight be-
low the elbow.
Other sleeves are divided by means of
flounces of accordion plaiting.
These, however, are the French fan-
cies, and they have not yet reached us.
‘We are still wearing sleeves of one un-
broken puff or at most two.
The sailor hat, that never-to-be-for-
gotten member of the millinery family,
is more prominent than ever this sea-
son. It has a wider front and more
drooping effect than of yore, and is gar-
nitured in a great variety of ways.
The high two-button, turan-over col-
lar is the latest thing for the neck of
the cotton shirt waist.
Pretty, cool-looking hats for midsum-
mer are white, transparent straw,
shaped somewhat like a sailor, except
that the brim narrows toward the back,
and trimmed with rosettes otf white
chiffon, white wings which spread out
at each side, and bright pink roses with
many leaves. White Leghorns, caught
up twice in the back with bows or ros-
ettes of ribbon, and trimmed lavishly
with flowers, are also worn, and more
dainty than all, are the pure white Neo-
politan hats, faced with shirred white
chiffon and decked around the crown
with fine white flowers and a bunch of
green miroir velvet.
Two extremely good models which
can be copied for summer gowns have
been made by one of the leading houses.
One was a black and white lawn over
black silk. The ground of the material
was white, while the dot was black,
and the effect of the black lining was
extremely good. The skirt was perfect-
ly plain. The bodice had very full
ny reachiug to the elbow, and held
there with broad bands of ribbon, and
bows at either side. The collar was a
black ribbon with full rosettes at the
left side, and the bodice was gathered
in full baby style and daintily finished
with belt of black caught here and
there in full loops. It was remarkably
cool and dainty, and will be a great suc-
cess. With it should be worn a large
black hat, picturesque in shape, and
trimmed with waving plumes and knots
of ribbon. Black patent leather shoes,
gilk stockings, long gloves and white
parasol make it perfect for afternoon
summer frock, but if one were at a
fashionable watering place, it could be
worn in the morning with white ties,
white sailor hat and a black parasol.
Another chic article of wearing ap-
parel that is entirely new is the shirt
waist of pale pink or Nile green swivel
with high turn-over collar and
deep cuffs of laundried white linen.