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.