nv Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 2, 1895. OLD FASHION ROSES. They ain't no style about 'em, And they're sort 0’ pale and faded ; Yit the doorway here, without em, Would be lonesomer, and shaded With a good’eal blacker shadder Then the mornin’ glories makes, And the sunshine would look sadder For their good old-fashion’s sakes. I like em ’cause they kind o’ Sort 0’ make a feller like 'm ; And Itell you,when I find a Bunch out whur the sun kin strike 'em It allus sets me thinkin’ 0’ the ones that used to grow And peek in thro’ the chinkin’ O’ the cabin, don't you know ? And then I think o’ mother, And how she used to love em. When they wuzn’t any other, ’Less she found eh up above ’em; And her eyes, afore she shut em, Whispered with a smile and said We must pick a bunch and put ’em In her hand when she was dead. But, as I wuz a sayin’, They ain’t no style about ‘em, Very gaudy or displayin’, But I wouldn't be without 'em, Cause I'm happier in these posies, And the hollyhawks and sich, Than the hummin’ bird that noses - + Inthe roses of the rich. James Whitcomb Riley, I ———————— 8 OLD DRIVER'S STORY. Yee, I can tell some strange stories, and they are true one’s too. A good many of the taies to which you listen are made up expressly for the occa- gion, and originate from the imagin- ation aloue. Dut ,mine are facts, and not overdrawn in the least. A man who is constantly carrying money, and often large sums generally has some adventures in the space of a score of years—just the time I drove the stage from New Brunswick to Mountain Creek, a distance ot fifteen miles. It was then as wild and lonely a road as is often found, though since that time it has been wonderfully improved ; the woodlands have been cleared, and substantial farmhouses erected along the highway. But I suppose you want me to get down to the story, instead of giving general decsriptions of the old stage route. Ido not like to tellit, for it may seem to some like casting unjust suspicions upon a man against whom nothing definite was ever proven, Yet Iam convinced in my own mind of his intentions, although he did not succeed in carrying them out. There came a stranger to the village of New Brunswick by the name of Ed- ward Marston, a very slick appearing fellow who made friends with nearly everybody. It was never quite just known where he came from, and no one geemed ow where he went to when he left for he disappeared as suddenly as he came. He Eo a wife and one child, as sweet a little girl as ever lived, and whom everybody loved. His wife was a pale,sad looking woman, who seldom was seen outside- her home ; she seemed to love nothing inthe world save little Netta, the child. Just how Marston obtained his liv- ing was a mystery, for he had no visi- ble means of support. He claimed to be doing business for some insurance firm, yet it was quite certain that he did not receive sufficient compensation from this alone to obtain a livelihood. He sometime left town for a few days at a time, and rometimes received let- ters from other localities; but these facts were not sufficient to prove that his statements were true, although, but few doubted them at the time. His glib tongue and familiar way of addressing people gained him many admirers, while they repelled a few who were more discerning and cau- tious. I was among the latter class, _~and this fact alone, I believe, saved me from being robbed and perhaps mur- dered. The fellow lived very near to my own residence—so near that he could keep watch of all my “movements ; while I in turn kept my eyes upon him. I thiuk he mistrusted how mat- ters stood, and so tried in a variety of ways to win my confidence. But he never succeeded, for I had come in con- tact too much with humanity to be easily deceived. Yet I treated my neighbor as kindly as I did any one else. Thus matters went on for some time. He occasionally rode to Mountain Creek with me, although for what pur- pose I never knew positively. There was a bank in both New Brunswick and Mountain Creek, and it frequently happened that large sums of money were sent from one to the other in my care. I did not hesitate to-take these packages, being gencial- ly well paid forit; Iwas then young aud strong, with an unlimited amount of confidence in my own stength and shrewdness in emergencies. It was well that I did have this egotism, if it may be thus called, for it saved me a vast amount of fret and worry. I drove two strong horses that I had under perfect control ; I could govern them by words alone when necessary. It did not need the touch of a whip to increase their pace, or a pull at the reine to stop them or check their speed; a word from me would do this at all times. I could start them into a lively trot by merely stamping my feet upon the step of the wagon seat. I believe those horses understood me and my moods as well as human beings under- stand each other. About the village of Mountain Creek there were large tracts of fine woodland covered with pine, hemlock, and chestnut ; and as a railroad was to be built up the valley, many farmers, and others who had money to spare, bought up the land. expecting to dou- ble their money in the near future, There were a few wealthy men in New Brunswick, as it was an older town than Monntain Creek, and several of these purchased lots in the “other val- ley,” as it was often called. This of | course necessitated a transfer of large | sums of money from my own town to 7 Mountain Creek, and I nearly always did this responsible business. I have forgotten to mention that I owned a large bull dog that often ac- companied me upon my trips over the mountains and he too was under per- fect control. He never molested peo- ple unless they were upon forbidden ground, and then he was a terror. He did notlike’Marston; I am of the opin- ion that the fellow often sneaked abont my premises when he should have been somewhere else. Of course this is only guess work ; but for some reason old Bruce disliked our smooth- tongued neighbor, although Marston tried repeatedly to make friends with him. When I was carrying more money than usual I took old Bruce with me every trip, and he generally rode by my side upon the outside of the coach. It was toward the end of December, and aslittle snow had fallen, I still used the large old summer coach, which was pretty heavy to be drawn over the rough, hilly roads. °*But my horses were sufficient for all ordinary occa- sions, as we remained over night in Mountain Creek, and returned to New- Brunswick the next afternoon. Three trips of fifteen miles and back each week were not hard unless the going was very bad or the loads were usual. ly heavy. Several of the payments of the unus- ually purchased land became due about the first of January, and I think Mars- ton knew this. About the first of December a stranger suddenly appear- ed in town, and everybody at once be- came suspicious of him. He was a rough looking fellow—one that would not shrink from any deed, if general appearances indicated anything, He was only seen three times in as many weeks ; all knew that his headquarters were not far oft, but no one could find out where he stayed. I only saw him once, yet I should have known him again had I met him a thousand miles from New Brunswick. One night about the middle of De: cember, I was awakened from my sleep by the howling of old Bruce. I arose and dressed myself, and went to the woodshed where he slept, and found him in a dying condition. He had been poisoned. He died a few minutes alter I reached him. I kept perfectly still, and remained in the dark, watching for further de- velopments. In an hour or two after his howling had ceased I heard stealthy footsteps outside the shed. and through a small knot-hole I saw the form of a man. He crept close to the small op- en window at the end and apparently listened. It flashed into my mind that he was trying to ascertain whether or not the dog was dead. My first im- pulse was toshoot the dark, crouching form, for I had my trusty revolver ready for service. Then I concluded to watch the fellow when he went away, which I did. He walked directly to the back door of Edward Marston's house, and some- how I conceived the idea that he was the evil-eyed stranger. There was a dim light burning in Marston’s kitch- en, and when the door opened to ad- mit the man I was sure I sawthe form of a second man within. It came to me very plainly that something was about to occur, and that I might possible figure in some unpleasantness. I kept the fact of old Bruce's death a secret, and prepared myself for any emergency that might arise, On the 29th of December I.had two packages of money to carry to Moun- tain Creek and deposit in the bank. One of them contained a thousand dol- lars and the other about six hundred. I went, as was my custom, into the bank, and there deposited the money in an inside pocket ; it was impossible to obtain it without removing my outer coat. : I was not much surprised, that day, to find Edward Marston upon the ho- tel steps, waiting to ride with me to Mouuntain Creek. There were no oth- er passengers, and the coach was emp- ty save for a light trunk. that I was carrying to a lumber man who had re- cently gone to Mountain Creek to work. Marston asked the privilege of rid- ing upon the driver's seat, as thers was no one inside the coach. I consented, but told him it would be much more comfortable inside. He answered laughingly that he would rather stand the cold than the confounded lone- somenees. I said nothing more, and we proceeded at once upon our jour- ney. My companion talked constantly, it was somewhat difficult for me to reply to his incessant chatter, so I gave up the attempt and let him rattle on, But somehow [ did not enjoy his talk. I felt sure the fellow was ner- vous, in spite of his efforts to conceal it. I caught him saying the same things over and over again. Several times I saw him thrust his hand in his pocket, and withdraw it very sud- denly. Once I was sure I saw the gleam of a revolver. There arose in my mind the thought that matters would soon come to a crisis, and I began to watch the fellow more closely. 1 gathered the reinsin my left hand and slipped my right into my overcoat pocket in which I had placed my revolver. I told him my hand was cold. Only one thing trou- bled me ; I could not imagine where I might be attacked, as there was a score of wild, lonely places where a man might be murdered and his body hid- den. There were many long stretches of woodland, lonely marshes, and swamps, and if my companion medita- ted any harm to me, he would be safe from observation almost anywhere, Onward we went, I constantly on the alert, and Maraton’s tongue going at full speed. As we were descending a steep hill where thick clumps of hemlock bushes grew upon both sides of the narrow road, Marston endeavor- ed to draw my attention to a point on the right by asking if I observed the bushes stirred as if by some animal. Instead of looking in the direction he indicated, I glanced at the clump upon the opposite side’ and saw a man very distinctly, I at once recognized the evil looking stranger. He held a revolver, hut as Marston sat between me and him, it occurred to me that he would not shoot. Suddenly Marston seized the lines from my left hand and dropped from the high seat. The horses stopped and then I heard a bullet whiz past my head. I had my revolver pointed toward the fellow, and I shot three times rapidly in succession. I heard a groan and saw his left arm fall, but in his right hand he still held the gleam- ing weapon. Marston was clutching the reins, and the horses had come to a complete stand still. I tapped the footboard sharply and they went up the opposite hill with lightning like speed. I heard the fellow cry out for help, and I knew that I had wounded him severely. Marston ‘was still holding the reins and crouching down, trying to appear very much frightened. I took the lines from him, cooly observing that [ was fully prepared for another high- wayman, as I had several charges left in my revolver. He knew that I sus- pected him of complicity with the vil- lain I had wounded, and in a confused manaer tried to explain his actions. “I saw the fellow also,” he said, “and jumped down from the seat to es- cape the bullets.” “But why did you take the reins and stop the horses ?”” I asked in a tone that implied a good deal more than the words expressed. “I hardly knew what I did. I was too much excited to know anything.” Silence fell between us, and thus the matter ended. The man I had wounded found his way to Marston's, and was obliged to call a physicion to dress his wounds He claimed that he was a cousin of Marston's, and that this was his first attempt at robbery. Marston acknowledged that he was a relative, but denied having any com- plicity with him. He said that he had been ashamed to own him, and per- suaded him to remain out ot sight for the three weeks previous to the at. tempted robbery. As the fellow did not deny these statements, he alone was arrested. He paid dearly for his crime, for blood |poisoning set in and he died before the law had the privi- lege of administering justice. Edward Marston suddenly lost his popularity ; people suspected him of devising the whole plan. I am sure of it. He had his own revolver in readi- ness to finish me if I was wounded by his confederate, but as I got in the first effectual shot he concluded to take another part in the little drama. Doubtless the two men designed to murder me outright. He left the village of New Bruns: wick very soon after thie. Every ore felt a sense of relief when he went away, although much sympathy was expressed for the careworn wife and sweet little girl. As I said before, no one knew just where he went, and but few cared. Thisis my story, just as it occurred.— Waverly Magazine. The Vanishing Red Man. At the Present Rale of Decrease the Full- Blooded Indian Will Soon Disappear. Lo, the poor Indian, is growing scarcer and scarcer as time advances, and will probably disappear altogether, asa full-blooded Indian before the end of another century. The total inmates made by the official of the Indian Bureau. In 1829, before the annexation ot Texas and Mexico, the estimated Indian population of the country was 400,000, In 1855 the number was eaid to be 350,000, and the same esti- mate is made for 1871. The most rapid decline in numbers has been in the last quarter of this century. The fact that the Cherokees and Chippewas, both comparatively powerful tribes, have actually increased in numbers makes the decrease in the other tribes all'the more remarkable. It is-believed that the principal loss has been among the Sioux and other tribes of the Northwest. More than two-thirds of the total number, or 237,- 478, in 1871 were on the reservations. At the beginning of this year the num ber on the reservations had been de- creased to 133,417 or about one- third of the total number. Less than 30,000 of these are self supporting, the Federal Goyern ment issuing supplies to most of them. If the rate of decrease which has been maintained for the last quarter of a century or so be contined, there will not be a single full-blooded Indian in the country, except possibly in dime museums, by the end of the twentieth century. ? ———The news of the uprising of the Bannocks in Wyoming, now officially confirmed, is an unpleasant reminis- cence of times which had been sup- posed to be forever past. It is the old, old story of white aggression and venge- ful reprisal by the Indians. The Ban- nocks’ hunting party, some of whom were shot down Fike dogs by Caucasian ruffians, appear to have been engaged in the chase upon grounds on which they had a perfect right to be in accor- dance with their treaty with the United States ; but, unfortunately, there is a conflict between the provisions of the treaty and the game laws of Wyoming. While it may be the duty of the Feder- al authorities to capture the Bannock waeriors and confine them to their re- servation, the State of Wyoming can- not be absolved from the charbe of remissness in permitting its ruffianly element to take the law into their own bands and incite hostilities which im- peril the lives and homes of innocent and peaceful settlers. ——“Willie,—Mrs. Dawson tells me that you behaved very nicely at lunch. eon at her house yesterday. Why can’t you do that when you’re at home ?’ ‘‘Because, Mamma, if I behaved bad- ly there Mrs. Dawson would send mé home, but you havn't any place to send me.’’ Typical of Blaine. Is the Blasted Hickory That Marks the State. man's Grave.—This is His only Monument. — Like the Great Tree, His Life was Blighted in a Single Flash.—Symbol of His Physical Ei- perience. Of all the many places of mournful interest in and about Washington, the spot to which the most visitors resort from all parts of the country is the grave of James G. Blaine, of Maine, in Oak Hill cemetery, on Georgetown Heights. It is not adorned with any sculptured monument or ambitious marble shaft. In fact it is marked by no headstone at all, however modest, but merely by an insigrificant tablet at the foot, and a blasted hickory tree, riven by light. ning, at the head—in token of the strange fatality that blighted his high career. Save for this, there is no sign that one of the Nation's greatest dead lies there. Not even a mound or mouldering heap of earth breaks the level of the god. and nothing whatever, except the inadequate suggestion of the foot-tablet, indicates the identity of the sleeper be- low. Thisis not the result of neglect or indifference ; it is rather in strict ac- cordance and loyal compliance with the passed statesman’s own expressed wish. TIE GOAL OF MANY PILGRIMAGES. Such is the tomb of him who, in his day and generation, was a leading fig- ure in American statecraft ; the fore- most champion and exponent of modern advanced Americanism, the great apos- tle of industrial patriotism, the founder of reciprocity, the magnetic orator, the gifted parliamentary historian, the com- manding political chieftain under whose glittering banner five millions of intel- ligent American voters rallied and fought with almost idolatrous enthu- siasm ; who was Speaker of the House of Representatives in three Congresses ; who was a recognized oracle in both | House and Senate, and premier in the Cabinets of two Presidents ; and who, like Clay and Webster, through hisown gitts and by his own exertions, scaled step by step the dizzy heigh®s of popu- larity, only to be denied the crowning -consummation of his childhood ambi- tion to win the highest pinnacle of all. Naturally his grave would be, under any circumstances, tho goal of countless devoted pilgrimages through the coming years ; but its unique peculiarity and the sad significance attaching to it are likely to render it a still more fascina- ting object of interest. THE INITIALS THE ONLY INSCRIPTION. The sacred spot is at the southeast end of the cemetery, near the front of the terrace below the vine-clad chapel, overlooking Rock Creek, flowing through a deep ravine, and Belair Heights beyond, traversed by Massa- chusetts avenue extended. Here rests all that is mortal of James G. Blaine, side by side with the remains of his eld- est son, Walker Blaine, and of his eld- est daughter, Mrs. Coppinger. The green sod above all three graves is leveled off perfectly flat, according to a recent fashion. The grave at the left is James G, Blaine’s, with a simple marble footstone, four inches high, bearing merely the three initials in em- bossed letters— G. B In lieu of any imposing pillar or or- namental mausoleum, such as .one might expect to see, or stately figures of stone or bronze, or even an unpre- tentious headboard, stands the gnarled hickory tree. It was once a promising growth, but three years before Mr. Blaine’s death it was struck by light- ning during a thunder storm and blast- ed at the top. The splintered crown was then sawed off horizontally and the damaged branches carefully trimmed, whereupon the tree revived, and now it bips fair to attain a green old age. MRS. BLAINE REQUESTED IT BE LEFT. Next to this grave is that of Walker Blaine, marked by a headpiece and foot- stone. The headpiece is a simple round- topped slab, of white marble, three feet high. Its legend reads: WALKER BLAINE, Born At Augusta, Maine, May 8, 1855. Died At Washington, January 15, 1890. At the right of this is the grave of Mrs. oppihee marked by a hand- sume Celtic cross of pale gray marble, four feet high inscribed thus : To the memory of ALICE STANWOOD, Daughter of JAMES G. BLAINE, And wife of COL. J. J. COPPINGER, U. S. A Born at Aagnsta, Maine, March 18, 1860, Died at Washington, February 2, 1890. This Cross Is Erected by Her Sorrowing Hus- band. At the time the lot was purchased, when Walter Blaine died, Mr. Blaine was impressed by the sight of the blast- ed hickory tree, and personally request- ed Superintendent J. T. Motter, in charge of the cemetery to let it remain, saying that upon his own death he de- sired to be buried beneath it. IT TYPIFIED PERFECTLY HIS LIFE. - “Mr. Blaine pointed out the wrecked tree,”’ said Mr. Motter yesterday, rela- ting the incident, ‘‘and asked me to see to it that it was not destroyed or remov- ed, as he wanted it to stand for his on- ly monument.” This expressed wish was conscientiously respected by the family and carried out by the cemetery managers, and now the tree, whether it lives or dies, is destined to remain, to denote the last resting place of James G. Blaine. Mr. Blaine’s idea was that nothing could so fitly mark his own grave as this tree. The fancy was altogether his, and to his mind the blasted shaft, with its withered top, typified perfectly his own life. ‘ In this the philosopher and student of political history may find pathetic and melancholy material for specula- tion and reflection. Was it his personal ambition only that was blasted and i lik ? i iti ! blighted, like the tree? Or in addition, Helin did the statesman see in it a symbol of his physical experience as well, and also an emblem of his heart’s affections ? | Possibly all three. WAS STRICKEN LIKE THE TREE. It is well known that he actually did receive a sunstroke or paralytic shock in Washington on the threshold of the Congregational church, just on the eve of the Republican National Convention of 1876, which felled bim prone as sud- denly and completely, for the time be- ing, as a bolt of lightning would have done. And from that fatal day, too, his brilliant fortunes began to decline, and with them his darling hope of becoming President. Three times was he doomed to defeat for the Presidential nomination—the first time, a few days thereafter, in 1876, and again in 1880 and 1892—and once, in 1884, to defeat in the election, under exasperating circumstances, after win- ning the nomination. Then came his failing health, and close upon that hur- ried a host of family sorrows and losses that broke his heart. The death of his favorite son, Walk- er, was a stunning blow; likewise the death of his daughter, Mrs. Coppinger. His sudden resignation from the Harri- son Cabinet and the representation of his name to the Minneapolis convention have since come to be regarded general- ly as the unconsidered lapses of a very sick man, loose from his moorings. Then the quick illness and death of his son Emmons Blaine, from the effects of over-exertion in his interest at that con- vention, capped the climax of his heart’s woes. THIS MARKED HIS STEADY DECLINE. After that, except for his public ap- pearance in support of the Harrison ticket in a speech.at Ophir Farm, in October following, his retirement as a broken invalid was complete. A cruel, thwarting fate seemed to pursue him with remoreless enmity. He was indeed one of those “whom unmerciful disaster followed fast and followed faster,” until in his hopeless misery, all unspoken, his existence ap- peared to himself exactly like that of the tree in Oak Hill—blasted and bligh- ted by a bolt from the sky. The Cabinet officials buried there are Edwin M. Stanton, Lincoln’s famous Secretary of War, who died in 1869 ; John Henry Eaton, Jackson’s Secretary of War, who died in 1856, and William H. Hunt, Secretary of the Navy under Garfield. Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase’s body was interred there at his death in 1878 and remained until 1887, when it was removed to Ohio. INTEREST IN BLAINE'S GRAVE. Among the Rear Admirals is the re- doubtable Charles Wilkes, who as Cap- tain of the Union warship, San Ja- cinto, early in the Civil War, forcibly removed Messrs. Mason and Slidell, the Confederate commissiofiers to England and France, from the British mail steamer Trent, crossing the Atlantic. Besides these are the graves and statues of W. W. Corcoran, the noted financier and philanthropist, ‘who founded the cemetery in 1847 ; his friend, John Howard Payne, author of. ‘Home, Sweet Home ;”” Bishop Pinkney, the eminent Episcopalian prelate, and Lo- renzo Dow, the eccentric Evangelist of early Washington history. All these graves and monuments com- mand attention, but interest in them is completely overshadowed by the greater interest manifested in the grave of Blaine. THE GREAT MAN'S LAST ILLNESS. How soon we forgot | It is only 81 months since the man from Maine died in Washington, and yet the time of that event has already become hazy and indistinct in the popular memory. Although suffering from serious infirmi- ties for several years previous, Mr. Blaine’s last 1llness can be reckoned from the day when he finally took to his bed, November 15, 1892,at his home, 11 Madison Place, facing Lafayette Square—now demolished to give place to a theater. Through December the patient lin- gered in a critical condition, and far on in the month following, after General Butler, ex-President Hayes and Justice Lamar had been suddenly carried off by the Grim Reaper, his end came, January 27, 1893 —just 63 years, lack ing 3 days, from the date of his birth, January 31, 1830. SILENT SENTINELS GUARD THE SPOT. For 4 month subsequent the grave was guarded by a detail of special watch- men, at the urgent request of Mrs. Blaine, through her solicitude lest a robbery or other profanation of the dead should be attempted. A few weeks af- terward the little marble footstone was set up, and the spot has remained un- changed ever since. But the worn sleeper rests well be- neath the hickory tree. Close beside him are two hearts of his own flesh and blood. Near him repose the bones of men worthily distinguished in arms, letters, religion and philanthropy. At this season the suwoundings are particularly attractive. The greenest grass covers him, and fresh flowers are cast on the spot daily by those who most loved him. The grand old oaks, whence the cemetery takes its name, too wave their giant arms above him in the passing breeze, and stand like animate sentinels guarding the place of his sep- ulture. : Far off to the southeast, in full view, gleams the white dome of the Capitol, the scene of many of his triumphs, and down in the ravine below, the gurgling waters of Rock Creek moan for him. — Pittsburg Dispatch Jo D. C. GREATEST ——Salt ‘horse was aforetime sup- posed to be fo'cas’l’ fare exclusively, and Jack’s junk figured in song and story as the staple of his diet, relieved on high days and holidays by lobscouse and plum-duff. To-day, however, we are changing all that. Horsebeef is be- coming a regular article of general con- sumption, if market reports are to be trusted, and is, apparently, destined to find its way far beyond the range of the ships galley, where itsuse is supposed to have originated. By current advices from Oregon we are informoPiska, large canning establishment has entered upon the business of putting up horse- meat in sealed tin packages for the gen- As the furnishing of sup- plies of this character does not usually run far ahead of the demand, itis rea- sonable to presume that the canning of horse-beef implies a considerable coan- sumption of the article already known and likely to increase. It would be in- teresting-to-inquire where this consump- tion exists, and how tho canning cou- cern finds customers. Who eats horse beef ? For and About Women . Piques are not so hard to iron if one only knows how. They should be iron- ed while evenly damp over flannel up- on the wrong side, as should all em- broideries. The cords of’ the pique and the raised work of the trimming sink into the pile of the flannel, giving the irons a chance to smooth out all the spaces between. The result is that the right sides comes up like new with the pique corded, not flat and shiny, and the wrought work standing up in relief, as it was’'meant to do. Though a vast majority of skirts are untrimmed, not a few of the newest creations show signs of alteration in this respect. Flounces appear on many smartly-made gowns brought from Eu- rope, and itis said that when trimmed skirts again prevail, flounces will pro- vide the leading garniture. At present two narrow flounces, hardly more than frills, are used. Three or five rows of satin ribbon, black, white or colored— which ever the gown calls for—always impart a dainty finish to skirts of suit- able material. = Collars and cuffs of batiste, or India lawn, edged with narrow ruffles of yel- lowed valencienes lace, are much in favor and freshen a costume wonder- fully. The majority of the new bodices seem to have the opening under the arm, with the fullness of the material plaited into the waist in front—a most becom- ing fashion to a slender figure. Another popular way of cutting the waist lately is to have a very square pouch-like ef- fect in front, the folds turned up an even line, and showing a deep waist- band. This style gives a still more slender look to the hips ; in fact, every- thing is done to make the bodice broad and fluffy as possible and the hips and waist small. Amateur dressmakers will do well toramember these rules—shoul- der sloping, sleeves very wide and short, bodice full and a great deal trimmed, waist well defined and hips fitted per- fectly smooth. Whatever the design or cut of a fashionable gown of the season, these should be the characteristics. Once there was a foolish woman who continually mistook brass and other in- ferior articles for gold. She derived much innocent satisfaction from her credulity. And once there was a wise woman who knew that of all things that glittered very few were gold. And because of her scepticism she let much precious metal escape her. Fashion has done strange things in ber time, butthe strangest effects are generally due to incongruity between dress and its wearer. If a little judg- ment were exercised, and short women would not wear hats and gowns which need the stature and carriage of ‘‘daugh - ters of the gods,” and the grandmothers would not adopt the skittish styles of sweet sevonteen, we should hear far less complaints of “vagaries” and ‘‘eccen- tricities,”” the extravagance: of the much maligned Dame, who telis us what to wear, and who ought to tell some of us also what not to wear. The woman who permits her laun- dress to put an atom of starch in any of the baby’s clothes is now looked upon as a provincial from wayback. The following hints may be useful : Constant use of rouge makes the skin both thick and yellow, and the skin, once injured, is almost impossible to cure. A red nose is not an- agreeable addition to any face. Tight lacing and cold feet are too often the cause. If the eyes are strained and inflamed with sleeplessness or fine work, apply to the lids soft linen wrung out in boilin water: Apply this as hot as can be borze, and relief will be feltin half an hour. Warts on the face are specially disagreeable to have. ‘Rub them with raw potato, or steep fresh beef in vine- gar for 24 hours, and then apply at night. Miss Burta Grace Boyd is known as the Grace Darling of the St. Croix. She has charge of the Ledge Light, located about six miles below St. Stephen, N. B. She won her title twelve years ago by saving, alone and unaided, two sai- lors from certain death, a deed of bra- . very recognized by the Dominion Gov- ernment, which presented her with a lifeboat and a gold watch. Every woman should be taught at an early age the difference between dignity and sullenness, reserve and rudeness. She will find the distinctions valuable in later life, not only in shaping her own conduct, but in rightly gauging the characters of her acquaintances. Fashion is not often kind to the pov- erty-stricken ones in her domain, but this season she has made a decided move in our favor, by smiling upon the old- fashioned alpaca gowns. For this ma- terial means much to us. It has that soft, shimmering effect sought after these days, and is very serviceable, also, since it does not crush or wear rough. In fact, it is an ideal material for one who must look well to the wherewith she will be clothed. If you wish a charming gown get one of white alpaca, with perfectly plain skirt and tight-fitting waist. Have it made with a plain stock collar. Have made, also, a jacket, of blue serge. “The jacket is shorter than’ those worn last {| year, and is godeted below the waist line. It has.peculiar square revers— the upper ones of the white alpaca— which are slashed and edged with braid. The hat worn with this costume is of rough blue straw. Into the trimming is introduced that combination of blue and green which is so fashionable. If, however, you wish to wear the gown on a dressy indoor occasion, you may cross the bodice with a Marie An- toinette fichu of some delicately colored chiffon, or you may wear a broad sailor collar, and with it a front of soft, lacey material, and so on. Given such a good foundation, it is unnecessary for me to tell the ingenious American girl what she may do with her gown. ——The contemplated erection of ‘a monument to the memory of General Hancock by the people of the South is one of the most graceful and magnani- mous incidents in the history of the country since the civil war. It- leads us away from our prejudices, and re- minds us-that Lincoln’s “malice toward none and charity for all” has struck deep in the Southern heart.