Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 23, 1895.
THE ONLY UTOPIA.
There's many 2 man in the quiet old place,
And there's many a woman too ; :
Some old and some young; some married
some not ;
And the children are not a few.
A doctor is there, but he never is called.
To go out in sunshine or rain,
To visit a patient, for no one is sick,
And there's no one who suffers pain.
A lawyer is there, but his books are laid by,
He neither disputes nor debates ;
He's never consulted on matters of law,
For nobody litigates.
The preacher is out of his pulvit, tco;
No longer he turns the page
Of the sacred book ; and he has not made
A pastoral call for an age.
The youth and maid are there, side by side.
The roses of June fill the place; :
But no word is said that will kindle his eye,
Nor bring the sweet blush to her face.
The women who're there never gossip or
scold :
Nor wish for new gowns in their pride ;
And they never are older than when they first
came .
And none are dissatisfied.
The wives are as placid as mornings in May,
And they never complain of their state ;
The tempers of husbands are always serene,
And never a man is out late,
And so many children are found in the place!
But no baby frets or cries;
And every small boy is still as a mouse,
And each little girl is likewise.
The soldier is there, but his fighting is done,
The sailor remains on the shore,
The laborer rests every day in the week,
The merchant has shut up his store.
There sickness and sorrow and pain are un-
known ;
There all men are equal ; there rest
Has come to the weary, and no other place
In all the wide earth is so blest.
Would you know what this place of all places
a? -
Where discords of life find sure rest
Then go to the graveyard, and there you may
wal
In the streets of this City of Peace.—New
York Sun. 5
THE DEACON'S REVENGE.
ins
I first met the deacon under rather
odd circumstances. A persistent touch
of rheumatism under my left shoulder
which defied liniments and plasters,
sent me to the celebrated Hot Springs,
seven miles north of Boom polis, South-
ern Calitornia. The mud baths at
these springs are justly celebrated for
killing or curing all the ills that flesh
inherits.
The long, low, narrow bath-house
was not an inviting place. It smelled
too much like an Inferno, and it was
not clean. But rheumatism will take
a man almost anywhere, and I did not
shrink when I entered those dingy por-
tals, The place was full of steam,
through which I caught glimpses of
muscular men in their shirt sleeves,
the sweat pouring from their faces and
their brawny arms as they handled
long shovels. They were preparing
the mud baths for the victims. A
long trough ran the whole length of
the building, filled with black, silky
mud, over which steaming water,
which emitted a sulphurous odor, was
running. When I stooped and put my
fingers into the uncanny liquid, I
quickly lifted it out again and said
“ouch.”
At right angles with this main
trough are smaller ones. At the head
of each of these is a tub for a water
bath, and beyond that is a dressing
room Theee divisions ‘are separated
by half partitions. A quantity of mud
is taken from the big trough and
stirred up in one of the little ones.
When it has reached a proper consist-
ency and temperature, the patient,
who in the meantime has prepared
himselt for the ordeal in the adjoining’
dressing-room, stretches himself at
length upon the steaming mass and is
covered by an attendant with more of
the same material. A few gunny
sacks, neatly arranged. on the top to
confine the heat, make an artistic fin-
ish, and the patient’s head alone pro-
trudes. The mineral waters, heated
by nature come constantly boiling and
bubbling through the ground, and the
baths are seven times hotter than
Nebuchadoezzer’s furnace, if desired.
If the patient survives, fire baths get
the glory ; if he dies, his case was
hopeless from the start. Deacon
Hardwicke would remain in one of
these baths an hour, enduring an ex-
perience which might have killed a
man of less phlegmatic temperament.
Then he would try to persuade others
to follow his example, greatly. to the
diegust of the managers, who were
afraid that somebody would die in a
bath, and so ruin the reputation of
their establishment, For similar rea-
cons he was unpopular with the attend-
ants,
Thus it happened that the deacon
seemed to be deserted, when balancing
myeelf on the plank that edged the
steaming pool, I halted at the foot of
his grave and gazed, half in alarm at
‘his closed eyes and heavy immobile
teatures, down which trickled little
rivulets of perspiration.
“Will you kindly tell me what time
itis 2” he asked, in a sepulchral tone,
which added to the horrors of the
situations.
“Ten o'clock” I said. “Want to
get out? I'll call the attendant.”
“Time isn't up for fifteen minutes
yet,” replied the deacon.
I picked up a sponge that was at
hand, in a basin of cool water, and for
the next fifteen minutes I bathed the
deacon’s perspiring forehead with the.
grateful fluid. Then the attendant
came, prepared to lift the little gate at
the deacon’s feet, to slide the slippery
coverlet of mud off from him and back
into the trough ‘from which it came,
and to help him cut of the tenacious,
plastic cast that he had made in his
sticky bed into the water-bath, and
thence into the dressing-room, where
he would receive a thorough grooming
and be put to bed between a couple of
blankets, there to doze and sweat for
an hour or two longer. "At this stage
of the proceedings I fled the scene.
The spectacle of the deacon’s long,
lank, loose-jointed figure, clothed only
in a thin, clinging coat of jet-black
mud, would have been too horribly
ludicrous.
“Don’t want ga mudbath ? They
are great things,” asked the deacon, as
I turned to go.
“Not to-day,” I replied. “To-mor-
row, maybe, or next day, perhaps I’ll
indulge.”
“Take th8m about a hundred and
ten and stay in three quarters of an
hour, and they will cure your rheuma-
tiem," responded the deacon, reassur-
ingly.
Two hours later the deacon joined
the other guests at the hotel, profess-
ing to be greatly refreshed by his bath.
His appearance was striking. He was
tall, awkward and angular, yet digni-
fied. His upper lip was smooth shav-
en, but on his chin was a heavy, griz-
zled growth of beard. His way of
speech was 50 slow and solemn as’ to
seem afflicted. I was told he was a
“40ers” that his title of deacon was
only honorary, having originglly been
bestowed by his al in the
mines and clinging to him through
many changes of fortune ; and that his
business was real estate. He was said
to be very clever in working off acre-
ages of cactus bed, sage brush and hill
side upon newcomers. His ungainly,
honest appearance favored him, and
he could look the prospective purchas-
er in the eye and weave the most re-
‘markable romances without a quiver
of his clerical features.
We became fast friends, and I found
him an interesting study. It was the
deacon’s custom to make frequent
trips to Boompolis on business, re-
turning to the hotel for more of his
beloved baths, To reach the Hot
Springs the traveler crosses five miles
of desert country, where the cactus
flourishes like the green bay tree and
the coyote shrills at night his peculiar
lay. Then he climbs “the grade,” a
rise of a thousand feet in two miles.
This part of the way is over a mouan-
tain road which skirts precipices and
winds in and out among canons in a
way that makes timid people dizzy.
At this time the great boom in
Southern California had just collapsed
and numbers of men who had lost all
their money found themselves in a
strange land, penniless and friendless.
As a result crime, particularly rob-
bery, was rampant.
One bright, beautiful winter after-
noon, Deacon Hardwicke started for
the hotel. That morning he had pro-
cured at Boompolis a lively team and
a driver, and had been taken to differ-
ent points about the valley, looking at
lands which were offered for sale.
Having completed his inspection he
was driven to the foot of the grade.
and there he dismissed the team. No
one elee would have done this after a
hard day’s ride; but the deacon
thought that the horses were tired,
and also that the exercise of climbing
the grade afoot would do him good.
He bad in his hands a little black
leather wallet containing deeds, and,
as he walked along, in his slow and
dignified fashion, his eyes bent on the
ground, he looked like a gentleman of
leisure, perhaps a wealthy eastern
tourist out for an airing.
At the foot of the grade is a little
ranch house, and, just beyond, the
road makes a turn almost at right an-
gles and skirts the edge of a canon,
where the traveler is hidden from view
from either direction. In this angle of
the way a man was waiting for the af.
ternoon stage, which was about due.
It carried the mail for the hotel, and
sometimes considerable express mat-
ter, to say nothing of the passengers.
But the deacon happened to come first
and, as he turned the corner, plodding
slowly along, he heard a smooth, clear
firm, but not impatient voice, say :
“Wait a moment, sir. - And kindly
‘hand over that gripsack and your
money.”
Glancing up, the deacon beheld a
big revolver pointed at his head.
Deacon Hardwicke was snrprised
and grieved. He was not a coward.
He had come across the plains in 49.
He had lived in many a lawless com-
munity, had seen men lynched, bad
himself been a target for bullets more
than once. If he had been armed he
would have fought—as he afterward
assured me. But the appalling fact
flashed over him that he had no
“gun,” and that the gentlemanly
stranger ‘had the drop’ on him. The
politeness of the latter's address was
not a balm for his wounded feelings.
“Come, said the highwayman, in a
more threatening tone. “I mean busi-
ness. Drop your wallet. Give me
your money, or I'll let daylight
through you.”
The deacon halted and shook his
fist at the man. What he said is not
material to this recital. Then he
turned and ran down the grade. His
hat bobbed off and his long coat tails
fluttered out behind. It was an un-
dignified and risky proceeding, but
there seemed no help for it, except to
give up his money and the deacon did
not consider that for a moment.
The highwayman fired twice, and
the deacon afterward stated that the
balls whistled in close proximity to his
head. The shots flus‘ered him, He stum-
bled, tripped and fell. He bruised his
shins and tore the skin from his wrists.
The wallet flew from his hand and he
lay in the road, bowling with rage and
al,
> The marauder advanced leisurely
and picked up the wallet. Just then
the stage, which was a trifle late, as
usual, rolled slowly around the tura in
the road. The deacon’s assailant
leaped down the steep bank of the can-
on and rolled headlong among the
chaparral. He regained his feet,
crossed the rocky bed of the stream at
the bottom of the canon, and disap-
peared among the bushes on the other
side. The deacon
bleeding arms towards heaven as he
watched his foe depart beyond the
reach of effective pursuit, and fairly
screamed with impotent fury. The re-
marks of the passengers on the stage
which picked him up and brought
him to the hotel, did not tend to make
lifted his long,
him better natured, ‘Guess it was all
a fake.” “I didn’t hear any shots.”
“More scared than hurt,” These
were some of the whispered comments
that came to the deacon’s ears. But
be sat glum, indignant and silent un.
til they reached the house.
Then he drew me aside, and I
helped him put court plaster on his
wounded wrists. “If I only had a gan
that fellow would never have got out
of there alive. I don’t mind the pain.
It’s the disgrace that hurts. I don’t
see how I was careless enough to
leave my gun at home, these times,”
he said, with tears in his eyes.
“Still,” I suggested, ‘““as I under-
stand it, he had the drop on you be-
fore you saw him, Perhapsit is just
as well you did not have your gun.
He might have killed you.
“Possibly,” said the deacon : “but I
would have fired as long as I could
have crooked a finger. Now. I shall
be a laughing stock as longas I live.
The boys will think it rich—simply
rich,’ :
“Do you think you would know the ,
fellow should you see him again 2" I!
asked.
“I should know him anywhere.
He is short and wiry, dark hair, mus-
tache, no beard, black eyes. Aud
there is a great, red, flaming scar
across his cheek—Lknife wound, I
reckon.”
“I'll tell you what we'll do,” I said,
“Let us go to Boomopolis and find
him. He will soon see that there is
no pursuit and will certainly go there.
Perhaps we can arrest him yet.”
~ The deacon grasped my hand in
both his, and wrung it until it ached.
“How can I thank you?’ he ex-
claimed. “We'll go to-night. And if
we catch him you will see the prettiest
fight of your life.”
I prepared myeelf for the expedi-
tion by donning an old suit of clothes
and leaving my valuables at home. I
had a perpetual winding Waterbury
watch which I used when on hunting
expeditions, and took it with me, also
$10 in silver and a small, plain, but
serviceable revolver. We procured
horses at the hotel stables and rode in-
to town in the early evening.
Boomopolis at that time was only
an infant among the cities of Southern
California- There were huge gaps
among its business houses, now filled
with stately edifices. There were no
pavements, and where a hundred
globes of electric fire now glare at
night upon the passerby, there was
then only the dim and fitful gleam of
lamps from the windows of the scat
tered stores.
After an elaborate supper at the
Transcontinental, prepared by a
French chef from Dublin and served
by retired cowboys from Arizona, we
sallied forth to visit the saloons and
gambling places in search of our rob.
ber. We made three or four circuits
of the town without success, and final-
ly found ourselves in the “Magnolia
Club Rooms.” The establishment
was really only a single room .on the
ground floor back of 8 cigar store, ar-
ranged for faro and other games of
chance. It was lighted by a solitary,
mammoth . lamp, which was sus-
pended from the ceiling over a
long, green covered table, upon
which were scattered cards and gold
coins. Around it were perhaps a doz-
en men, of various sorts and coadi-
tions, all intent upon ‘the game.”
As many more, including ourselves,
were interested onlookers. The room
was blue with tobacco smoke, and the
door at the farther end, which afford-
ed communication with an adjoining
bar, was perpetually on the swing.
I was enjoying the character of a
detective hugely. So far there was a
pleasant tinge of excitement—or rath-
er, an expectation of excitement—and
very little danger. But as we scanned
the (aces of the company without see-
ing our man, the deacon’s brow grew
black with disappointment. It was
now after midnight. The cigar store
was closed, but the bar was kept open
all night. Disappointed in our search
we became absorbed in watching the
game. There was something of the
gambler in every man, and as I looked
upon the tense excited faces of the
players, the contagion of their exam-
ple seized me, and I felt in my pocket
for a coin. Finding wvothing but sil-
ver, which I did not like to stake, as
there was none on the table, I was on
the point of borrowing a deuble eagle
from the deacon, when I heard a qui-
et but distant voice, at the end of the
room, say : : :
“Hands up, * gentlemen, if
please.”
Glancing around, I saw a man
standing at the door leading to the
bar, with a revolver in each hand
pointed at us. He was a short, slight
man, with dark hair and a flaming
scar across bis face.
There was no confusion. Oae of
the loungers quietly placed his back
against the door leading to the cigar
store and drew two revolvers, which
he pointed along the table. Two oth-
ers, evidently confederates also, stood
at ease awaiting the next order. The
rest of us lifted our hands simulta-
neously. Any one could see that it
was the only thing to do. The dea-
con's face was white as snow and his
jaws were set like a steel trap.
“The gents that are seated will
kindly rise,” said the voice near the
door.
The gamblers rose as one man,
“Now then. Everybody right about
and face the wall,” was the next com-
mand,
We faced about.
“March,” said the cool, emphatic
voice. “Two feet from the wall stop.”
We advanced in two rows to the op-
posite sides of the room and stood, as
directed, ranged against the walls,
Then the two confederates stepped
leisurely to the table, and scooped the
gold into a couple of little eacks which
they produced from their pockets.
“Keep your hands up, everybody,”
came a quick and sharp warning from
the door, as some one inadvertently
you
lowered his arms a trifle. “We're not
through with you yet,” the voice ad-
ded.
Having secured the money on the
table, the brigands proceeded to rob
our persons. With a great show of
politeness they requested us to give up
our watches, money and weapons I
was one of the first to comply. The
fellow tossed my revolver aod my few
silver dollars into his sack, and grab-
bed at my watch.
Just then there was a crashing, ex-
plosive sound, deafening in the narrow
confines of the room—then another—
another and another. Then came
darkness, a quick rush of feet, a tu-
mult of shouts and groans.
It was the deacon, of course. I
knew it before the welcome, hurried
arrival of men from the outside, with
lanterns. He bad “turned loose” at
the leader. They had exchanged
three or four shots before the light
went out, quickly and mysteriously.
The men with the sacks and the mon-
ey were gone, but the deacon was
bending over a form that was stretched
upon the floor. There was an eager
wolf light in his eye; one hand still
held the revolver, and the fingers of
the other worked spasmodically back-
ward and forward, as if he longed to
clutch the fallen man bv the throat.
The fellow tried to lift himself upon
his elbow. :
“I know you, pard,”’ he aid.
“You're the man I stood up this after-
noon. You've held over me this time.
I'm gone.
The deacon’s eye softened. He
dropped his revolver, put his long arm
under his head, and tried to turn him
into a more comfortable position.
“I am sorry for you,” he said, slow-
ly and simply.
“OQh—it's—all—right,” gasped the
wounded man, evidently speaking with
great difficulty. “I came—into—the
—game <“on—a bluff, but you've—
—called—me—sure.”’
“Is there anything that I can do for
you?" asked the deacon. ‘Any mes-
sage—any —’
“Bend down here,” said the man.
The deacon lowered his head, and
the other whispered something to him.
“I'll do it,” said the deacon, “I'll do
it, 80 help me God !”
That was all. The crowd of people,
attracted by the firing and the news of
the robbery, gradually went away.
The physicians summoned to attend
the wounded outlaw explained that
nothing could be done for him, ex-
cept to make him a trifle easier for an
houror two. The hours of the night
passed quickly, but long before morn-
ing the useless, crime stained life was
at an end.
The next day in the afternoon, the
deacon and I sat on the veranda of the
hotel at the Hot Springs enjoying a
sunbath and admiring the diversified
landscape before us.
“Nature is a lavish giver, a profli-
gate,” said the deacon, in his solemn
way. “See what an immense expanse
of useless mountain lies before us,
what a small area, coinparatively, of
cultivated land. It's a great waste.
Don’t you think so 2?”
“I suppose it is,” I replied, ‘from
the point of view of real estate. But
it makes magnificent scenery.”
“It’s the same with human life,”
resumed the deacon. “For one who
makes life a brilliant success there are
millions who make a failure.”
I know that the deacon was moral-
izing upon our recent adventure.
“Now there was that young fellow
yesterday.” he said. “Had he told
me who he was I would have lent him
a hundred to go East, and there he
might have amounted to ‘something.
He simply threw his life away.”
“He wasn’t much of a marksman,”
I eaid, or he might have succeeded bet-
ter here.
“No,” replied the deacon, “he was
no good with a gus. That chap with
him, though was very clever in shoot-
ing out the light. Now if he had been
at the other decor, the thing might
have been different.” -
“What did that young fellow say to
you ?” I asked. .
“Told me his pame. You would
kuow the family if I shonld mention it.
Wanted me to see that he was decent-
ly buried, and to write to his father
and mother.”
“And you will do it, of course,” I
said.
“I have given orders for the funeral.
That's easy enough. But to write to
the old folks is quite another thing.
Martyrs of Kucheng.
Rev. W. A. Stewart's Graphic Account of Their
Critical Condition in April Last. A Mixed
British and American Commission to Investi-
gate the Recent Outrades—Cholera at Tien-
Tsin and Che-Foo. Navy Department Very
Careful.
One of the last communications in de-
tail received in England from the mis-
sionaries who have just been butchered
at Ku-Cheng, China, was a long letter
from the Rev. R. W. Stewart to the
church Missionary society. Tt was
dated April8 and gave an ominous
account of the situation. “We have,”
said Mr. Stewart, ‘been having some
rather exciting times here lately. Ten
days ago I was called up at 4 o'clock in
the morning by our native clergyman
and other Christians, who had crossed
the river to our house to bring the start-
ling news that the Vegetarian rebels
were expected at daylight to storm Ku-
Cheng, and that the gateways of the
city were being blocked with timber
and stone as fast as possible.
“We have for a considerable time
been aware that the Vegetarians had
been recruiting in large numbers, and
the expectation that something of this
kind might happen led the better class
of people to subscribe large sums for the
rebuilding of the city wall, which in
many places had fallen down ; the gates,
too, had been either broken or were
gone,
“At the time when the alarm was
given we had, with women, girls and
children, nearly 100 sleeping in our
compound. The rebels expected in an
hour! What was to be done ?
“As we talked and prayed and plan-
ned the dawn began to break ; then came
the rain in torrents. What part this
' meal all left, in a long, sad procession,
played inthe master I de not know ;
put as we saw it falling heavily, and re-
membered the Chinese fear of getting
wet, we said to one another. ‘That rain
will be our protection.” At daylight
we roused the schools, and after a hasty
'
|
|
i
to make their way across the river in a
small ferryboat which came backward
and forward for them until at last the
whole party had reached the other side.
It was a long business, all in the rain,
and then the wall had to be climbed by
a ladder, for by this time the blocking of
the gateways was complete. Near our
chapel the wall had not been rebuilt to
its full height, and the chapel ladder—
the only one to be obtained—just reach-
ed tothe top. This was one of the
many incidents that showed us that the
hand of God was controling everything.
The next day that part of the wall was 1:
built to is proper height, and the lad-
der would have then been several feet
too short, and we could never have got
the women, with their cramped feet,
and the children over the wall. .
“For the next three days the wall
wes guarded by bands of citizens, post-
ed at short intervals from one another,
and armed with the best weapons they
could find ;_ but, indeed, they poor
things—old three pronged forks, centur-
ies old, to judge by their appearance,
with movable rings on the handles to
shake, and so strike terror to the foe.
Rusty, too, were their swords, and
rarely to be seen; we watched the
proud possessors washing them in a
pool and scraping them with a brick ;
the majority had no scabbards, not
that the ‘braves’ had thrown them
away, but they had lost them. One I
examined had a useful sort of scabbard ,
it - covered all but the last couple of
inches of the blade, so you could stick
your enemy without the bother of pull-
ing it out—a good thing if you were in
a hurry. Those three days while the
city was strictly shut up were anxious
ones. Then the gates were opened.
‘What took place between the Mandarin
and the Vegétarian leaders we do not
know ; but no one believes that we have
seen the end of the matter. Such a ser-
ious affair cannot be easily patched up ;
probably we have as yet had but the
beginning. Much depends upon the
course that the war takes. If a treaty
is arranged during the present armistice
of three weeks I think perhaps all will
be quiet. Soldiers canbe spared from
Foo Chow, and some arrests of the ring
leaders can be effected, and that will
quell it, but if not, the rebels will have
recruited in sufficient numbers to make
a rising a success.
“Qur girls’ and women’s schools have,
of course, been disbanded, and your
ladies have left for Foo-Chow, I need |
hardly say against their will. It was
hard for them to leave their loved work
and their many friends among the
Chinese ; but they saw clearly it was
best, forthey could not help them in
the event of a disturbance, and might
rather hinder their fight and make con-
cealment more difficult. Our consul
wrote, strongly urging that this
step should be taken, and the American
consul wrote to his people in the same ;
so the ladies have gone very obediently,
but very sadly, all of them wishing
they were men, and so not be obliged
to retreat. But I think they see in all
that is happening the finger of God
pointing to & cessation of their work for
a time, perhaps that they may leave
him to work alcne.”
© INVESTIGATION AT KU-CHENG.
WASHINGTON, August 15.--A cable
dispatch received at the state départ-
ment yesterday from J. Courtney Hix-
son, United States consul at Foo-Chow,
reports the departure from that place of
the mixed British and American com-
mission to investigate the Kuncheng
massacre. Mr. Hixson is a member of
the commission and is accompanied by
Ensign Waldow Evans, of the Detroit,
as the other American representative.
The recognition of the joint commis-
sion as an official body whose conclu-
sion shall be binding has not been ac-
corded by the United States. Such
authority could not be given by Minister
Denby, but by the secretary of state or
the president only. It issaid at thestate
department that Mr. Denby has the en-
tire matter in charge, and made all
arrangements respecting the commission
without explicit directions from Acting-
Secretary Adee. As to how far the
commissioners will act conjointly the
state department has no knowledge, and
will leave it tothe discretion of the
American representatives whether they
will join with the British officials in
making the same report to both govern-
ments. As the “conclusions reached
and the recommendations made by the
commissions will not be binding on this
government, itis not a matter of con-
cern whether the commissioners agree
or not. Whatever they report, whether
jointly or separately, will not interfere
with negotiations between Great Britain
and the United States as to what course
shall be pursued, if both nations think
it desirable to make a joint protest or
demand. As matters stand at present
the Washington government is free to
do a3 it pleases.
Consul Reed, at Tien-Tsin, sent a
dispatch to the state department to-day
stating that there was cholera at Tien-
Tsin and Chee-Foo. This information
may have a bearing on the Chinese
trouble, because the United States flag-
ship Baltimore has gone to Che-Foo in
order that Admiral Carpenter may be
in close telephone communication with
Minister Denby. The navy department
is exceedingly careful about allowing
any naval vessel to remain at an un-
healthy port, and the Baltimore and
the gunboat Machias, which is also at
Che-Foo, may be compelled to go else-
where.
St. . PETERSBURG, August 14.—The
Novosti recommends that Russia, France
and Germany act jointly with Great
Britain and the United States to obtain
satisfaction for the Chinese outrages on
missionaries. i
An Odd Sandwich.
An odd little sandwich to be tucked
away in the picnic hamper is made of ;
peanuts, It is really as delicious as it
odd. Buy a quart of fresh roasted pea-
nuts. Remove the shells and red skins
and chop them very fine. Mix with a
little mayonnaise dressing and spread
between thin cut slices of bread.
For and About Women .
A stylish gown for the autumn is
made of golden-brown English mobair,
with a gored and pleated skirt five yards
wide around the bem, full mutton-leg
sleeves draped slightly on the outside of
the arm and around the waist a little
pointed front and back, three simulated
boxpleats, narrowing as they near the
waist line, are lined with crinoline and
and edged with very narrow bronze and
gold bead gimp. Loops of velvet trim
the shoulders and the same material
forms the soft belt and folded stock col-
lar. Large bronze and gold buttons are
placed on the upper half of the box-
pleats, and a clasp to match fastens the
girdle. The waist is hooked in the back
under the velvet pleat. A very small
shoulder-cape of brown velvet, very full
at the edge is lined with gold and brown
shot taffeta, and the long cape is edged
with Vandyke points of bronze and
gold bead passementerie. The skirt is
untrimmed.
Small boys when leaving off white
for play dresses, says Harper’s Bazar,
wear gray holland linen, just as girls
do. They have kilt skirts, waist of the
same, ova sailor blouse, or if rather
large, a box-plaited Norfolk waist, The
suit is more useful than preity, and in
consideration of the fact that these little
men must so soon don sombre colors
their mothers delight in dressing them
in pale pink and blue Galatea and other
twilled cotton suits even for everyday
wear. These are worn with a white
sailor blouse, the colored material form-
ing a cunning little short jacket with
sleaves and the kilt skirt. White pique
remains the favorite choice for the small
boy’s best kilt suit. It is made up with
a great deal of embroidery on the square
collar and the turned-over cuffs. It is
also considered stylish wien quite plain,
with merely rows of stitching, or else
some bands of pique braid on the large
collar and the little jacket. In every
case the kilt skirt is quite plain.
When trousers are put on they are
-very shor, or else very long in true
sailor fashion. Indeed, the sailor styles
still go on for little fellows, because
nothing so picturesque can be found to
rival them, The full knickerbockers
banded below the knee are adopted for
larger boys, especially by mothers who
take their children abroad. Caps with
very deep visors and sailor-hats worn
far back are the favorite headwear.
Black and tan shoes cut low, with
stockings to match, are worn by boys as
well as by girls.
For a bride’s traveling dress in Sep-
tember get covert suiting of tan brown
if the color is becoming, but if not try
greyish-blue. Make it with a short
open jacket that can be lapped double-
breasted on a silk waist of changeable
taffeta, either blue and black together, or
else brown and blue.
Brown-eyed women should wear
brown for the very same reason that the
blue-eyed woman should wear blue.
Not necessarily entire brown costumes,
but brown placed near enough the face
to have the desired effect. In almost
every eye there is & touch of green ; in
some cases it is the predominant color,
and when that is the case green
should be worn. Artists say there
is a shade of green in every one’s
coloring, and if it can be carried
out in the gown the woman who wears
it is certain to look well. But this same
green is, above all things, the most dif-
ficult for the ordinary individual to dis-
cover, and it requires time, cara and pa-
tience, as well as a certain artistic train-
ing to find it. However, when once
found it is & sure road to belleship, and
well worth the trouble taken.
The woman with the large mouth,
says an exchange, need not be so un-
happy over it, because the girl with the
wee button of a rosebud for a mouth is
not to be relied upon once in five times,
and all the odds are in favor of the
good sense, trustworthiness and even
brilliancy of her who owns the large
mouth. Besides, it"is the large tongue
and not the size of the mouth
that men are afraid of.
A sensible headrest is one covered
with white or pale-tinted duck. Itis
sensible because it is cool and firm and
will bear repeated visits to the laundry
and be none the worse. An interlining
is imperative, whether the headrest is
filled with down, curled hair or clipped
paper, that the cover may be easily re-
moved. Finish with buttons and but-
tonholes at one side ; a rufile of torchon
lace may be added if it is desired, ora
frill of the covering material. Upon
one side embroider with black Roman
floss a design of poppies or of hop blos-
soms in etchings stitch or in ‘long and
short.”
A Mrs. Richard King is the owner of
landed estate in Texas which occupies
nearly 2000 square miles. She employs
a small army of men on her property,
which is also a Congressional district,
and her power is so great among her
employes that she can readily dictate. it
is said, who shall be the next representa-
tive from that section at Washing-
ton.
. Throughout the season the chief trim-
ming has been of lace ; it remains the
favor still. So many new varieties have
appeared among the imitation laces that
there is something for every taste. It
has become the fashion to introduce
bands of black lace -insertion in dotted
white swiss gowns. The skirts are un-
lined and are straight at the bottom, so
that the insertion may run seamless
around the whole width. When this
style of trimming is used on the skirt,
the waist, it made with a blouse, is
trimmed with row upon row of narrow
gathered black valenciennes, or if a
yoke waist be used, only the yoke is thus
trimmed. The vogue of lace has given
a plausible excuse for trimrhing the
skirts, and on the handsomest summer
toilets there are dozens of small lace
edged ruffles or panels of lace.
Stiff skirt linings are practically abol-
ished. This is probably due to the fact
that they were unsuited to the trans-
parent materials of summer frocks, in
addition to the insupportable weight
which they would give to hot weather
gowns. Foundation muslin is much
used instead of stiffer fabrics for an 1n-
terlining. - There is also a tendency to
making a foundation lining of light
gilk.
er —————
When prices fall they are
—— Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
o
bound to knock down somebody under
them.