the tiny clock on the shelt above.
Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 6, 1895.
NOW.
Feller what shirks an is lazy
Ain't no use livin, I vow!
But I tell yer who is the daisy—
The felier unat does things now.
He's never procrastinatin
An tellin ye “why’ an “how,”
When the doin on’t’s what he’s hatin,
He jest goes an does it now.
Ef the cordwood calis fer a tussle
TLet'll bring the sweat ter his brow,
He gits cut his saw with a hustle,
An tackles the job right now.
The chap that talks of termorrer
Is crooked somewheres, I'llow,
In payin what he may borrer,
e never gits round ter now.
But the feller thet starts on the minute—
The crows don’t roost on his plow—
Ef ’t rains he ain’t work in'out in it,
‘Cause he gits his hay in now.
Ef yer lookin fer what'll suit yer.
Yer kin take off yer hat an bow
Ter the chap thet's short on the future
An ekerly long on now. 2
—Life.
A LITTLE STORE.
An anxious ‘‘committee on ways
and meaas” met in Mies Beesley’s lit-
tle sitting room. A cheerful fire of
pine-cones was burning on the small,
neat hearth;it flickered and sparkled in
joyous fashion, and helped decidedly to
drive away the dampness without, and
the depression that threatened within.
It was the usual etory : A young girl,
suddenly orphaned, without capital or
special training, and with a younger
brother and sister depending on her for
support. They had come south for
the sake of the delicate mother ; here
she had died, and they were almost
among strangers. A temporary home
had been offered them by Mies Beesley
their eccentric maiden neighbor, and
here, while little Effie was cozily sleep-
ing, the older ones were talking over
the situation.
“What can I do?” sighed poor Lou-
ise Hunter. “I have said that over
and over to myeelf so much, that the
words don’t mean anything any more ;
can either of you two help me out ?”’
turning to her brother Fred and to
Miss Beesley. both of whom were star-
ing thoughtfully into the fire.
A loug silence followed, broken only
by the snapping fire and the ticking of
“If only I could keep on with my
studies at Kelsey college,” broke out
Fred, “I wouldn’t so much mind the
rest. I'd be willing to chop wood or
baul muck, if I needn’t give that up.”
“My dear girl,” said the little old
maid, with an air of business, “I've a
question to ask you. Your mother
was a woman of ability, and you are
much like her in many ways; among
all the things she taught you, what
can you do the best ?”’
Louise considered a few moments
and then answered with a faint smile.
“Don’t laugh, Miss Beesley, please,
but I really do believe my answer
must be ’darning and patching.’
Mamma used to say that fine mending
was one of the ‘lost arts,’-and gave me
careful instructions, saying that I
learned so readily she was quite proud
of me.”
“Good! what else can yon do?”
eaid Miss Beesley, with emphasis.
Louise answered slowly : “I hardly
know what else ; I used to enjoy cook-
ing little delicate dishes for mamma,
to tempt her; and [ dearly love to
make candy !”
“You'd just better believe she can,
too!” broke in Fred, now thoroughly
interested. “She’s made all our
Christmas and birthday candies ever
since we've been here, for the grocery
candy isn’t ‘much but glucose and
chalk. I wish I had some of her ‘co-
coanut bar this very minute!” And
the young collegian paused,” now thor-
oughly out of breath.
“Item No. 2,” said Mies Beesley,
cheerily. “Is there anything else I”
“No I think not,” responded Lou-
ise, vaguely encouraged by her friend’s
pleasant words. ‘Mamma had a real
knack with flowers, and I used to en-
joy helping her so much; but af-
ter all, I know very little about them.
Dear Miss Beesley, I don’t know much
of anything. I'm afraid, I can’t sing
or play or write, or teach. I'm only a
humdrum nobody, and yet everybody
depends on me; and the brown eyes
grew troubled and misty once more.
“Don’t fret,” said Mies Beesley,
kindly, stroking the soft, slim fingers,
“but just listen to me, you two young
things, for I’ve got a plan. Fred wish-
es most of all to go to Kelsey. Right
he is, and go he shall. But as we are
out here in the country, and Kelsey is
over there at Woodbridge, a change
must be made. You, my dear Louise,
must move to Woodbridge, rent a tiny
cottage, put out a plain little sign,
‘Darning and Patching Done with
Skill’ (“I'll make the sign!” shouted
Fred), put a little notice in the local
paper, and with good management,
work will come. In two or three
months the great hotels will begin to
fill up with winter visitors, the ‘St.
James’ at Woodbridge among them.
Then is the time for candy making.
Have everything exquisitely good, put
up in attractive shape, labeled “Home-
made,’ land displayed at the neatest
store in the village. Let ho‘el people
alone for flading anything new! Per.
haps a few pots of flowers will help out
aleo; but you will know best about
that. Now what do you say?” con-
cluded the little old maid, poking the
fire vigorously..
Louise's eyes had gradually been
growing bigger as the plan unfolded.
“It sounds beautiful!” she said,
tremuloualy ; “do you think I could do
it?
“I think you will do it, my child,”
said her friend, with decision, “for the
sake of the dear ones who love you."
As for Fred, he could scarcely con-
tain his feelings.
“Mies Beesley, you area trump!”
he cried in his healthy ringing tones ;
“I'll weed all your flower beds to-mor-
row."
The next:week was a busy time for
all; a careful inventory was made of
their glendér possessions, some things
sold, and others kept for the new
home. One day Miss Beesley and
Louise made a trip to Woodbridge
and returned at nightfall, tired, but
triumphant, having found a house suit-
ed to their needs ; and early the next
week the transfer was made.
“Good-by, my dears, and may Heav
en bless you,” said Miss Beesley, with
one or two suspicious sniifs and wink-
ing her black eyes very hard as the
train steamed up to the platform.
“Let me know if anything goes
wrong.”
Reaching Woodbridge they walked
up to their new home, leaving the
freight to be sent up later. Such a
tiny little home. Three rooms with a
small “lean-to” kitchen, and a patch
of garden in the rear : all situated just
at the outskirts of the town, not far
from the college buildings, and with
the flagstaff of the “St James” in plain
sight. The house seemed to have
been built for a small shop, as the
front room, which was good-sized and
airy, and two large, projecting win-
dows with wide ledges, facing the
street, and a small row of shelves on
one side. But there was plenty of dust
and cobwebs, and work for everybody.
Such a trotting as the three pair of
feet kept up all day. and such a tired
trio as they were when night came!
A week’s time found them yery nicely
gettled.
“This front room,’ said Louise, ‘is
to be parlor, office and reception room
so we must make it look its prettiest.”
Meanwhile Fred had not been idle ;
a very creditable httle sign had been
made and painted, a notice had been
put in the local paper, a few circulars
describing the new business of ‘Patch-
ing and Darning,” and giving prices
for work, had been distributed by this
same enterprising boy. The absurd
little garden in the rear of the house,
had been spaded and put in nice order,
awaiting some seed packets that were
even now on the way; and
next week college would begin, and
the lighthearted, helpful boy would be
busy with his books. But Effie would
be left ; and a jolly little helper she
was, full of dimples and good nature.
Now and then a small bit of work
came in, Only ten cents a pair for
stockings, but so beautifully done
were they that others followed soon.
First one bachelor and then another
rescued his mending from the colored
“Aunty” who did his washing (who
sewed on white buttons with black
thread and “vice versa’), and sending
it down to the tiny store at the street’s
end found everything put in order ‘as
mother used to do it.” But the col-
lege boys were a wonderful help to the
business, Of course they got dread-
fully “torn up,” as boys always will,
and as most of them were away from
home, they were glad enough to find a
pair of deft fingers so near.
By and by the great hotel began to
show signs of life. Then the hacks
and street cars began making their
frequent trips, and great piles of “Sara-
togas’ cumbered the platforms at the
station.
While all this hubbub was going on
half a mile away, there were also ex-
citing times at the Hunters, A mys-
terious box had arrived from the north
and certain delicious odors hung
around the various packages. A halt
barrel of sparkling sugar was deposit-
ed in one corner ; the oil stove and sev-
eral smal kettles and pansreceived an
extra scouring. A busy trio of young
folks sat around the lamp after supper,
cracking nuts, stoning raisins and
dates, chopping citron and figs. All
her resting moments Louise spent in
the “big rocker,” studying receipts
and inventing new combinations. She
decided that her first candy venture
should consist of ouly a few varieties,
and those the most familiar to her.
Chocolate creams, of course; but
there are are creams and creams.
Louise's all looked about the same out-
side, a rich dull brown, but you were
never sure into what delicious inner
compound your teeth would sink;
some were white and vanilla flavored ;
some with cocoanut with lemon add-
ed; some pink, with a trace of bitter
almond ; some a dainty fruit paste ;
and the last one was always the best.
Cream dates, pink and white, rolled in
granulated sugar; cocoanut cones,
baked in her little oven with just the
right golden brown tinge on the top ;
walnut and maple creams, and lastly,
a delightful combination invented by
Louise herself, and irreverently dubbed
“hash balls” by the irrepressible Fred.
In due time all were made, tasteful-
ly arranged in an amber glass bowl,
and left it at “Brown’s” the one drug
store of the village. It was a pretty,
and attractive store, where soda water
and other things besides the usual
stock could be obtained, so the hotel
people were quite sure to be frequent
customers. A little card was tastened
to the bowl of glittering sweets, which
read: “Homemade ; belp yourself;
for Louise had declared that the first
two or three consignments must be
given away freely, in order to establish
a reputation. Mr. Brown availed
himself ot the invitation speedily, and,
being a great friend of Fred's, spread
praises of the sweets and drew every-
one’s attention to them. In a few
days Louise sent another lot, simply
varying flavors somewbat, and by the
time that was gone purchasers became
a reality.
There was always to be found in the
showcase a bowl of fresh, tempting
candies, but the placard had changed
to: “Homemade, 50 cts. a pound ;”
and near by lay a little pile of empty
folding boxes.
Meanwhile the mending and darn-
ing was not ‘neglected : the mornings
were devoted to the sweets, the after-
noons to the needle. Carefully tended
by Effie, and by Fred after school
hours, the flower and vegetable seeds
were doing finely ; and for recreation,
there were eccasional moonlight walks
or 4 pleasant row on the lake.
Two weeks before Christmas the or-
ders for confectionery poured in so
about the work. Louice was in the
thick and fast that Louise was obliged
to announce : “No patching and darn-
ing till after the holidays,” and work
early and late to meet all requirements.
This was her harvest ; but though she
coined money rapidly she used it spar-
ingly, knowing that after a time dull
days would come. 4
Christmas came, and with it a pres-
ent from Mies Beesley—a barrel of
nuts from her loved New England ;
black walnuts, “shellbarks,” butter-
nuts, chestnuts, hazelnuts, plump,
sound and fresh, enough to last the
“geason’’ through, and infinitely better
than the stale ones at the stores. And
80 one heavy expense was lifted, and
the dear old maid again proved herself
a friend indeed.
One pleasant afternoon in January
a handsome, portly lady from the “St.
James” opened the door ot the “Patch-
ing and Darning Establishment.” She
had a light package in her hand, and
said to Louise rather doubtfully :
“Young woman, do you suppose
you could mend my lace shawl so that
it will be presentable? I have torn it
on one of the abomingple wire fences
with which this country is infested.”
And she opened the package, bringing
to view a very rugged and discourag-
ing rent.
“Mother taught me several lace
stitches,” said Louise, quietly, “and I
will do my best for you.”
Giving her name as Mrs.” Walling-
ford, and with a pleasant comment on
the blooming flowers in the window,
the lady departed.
There was rather a “lull” just now
in the “candy business,” private or-
ders coming in more seldom, so the
next morning Louise began the lace
work ; it took all the spare time of
that week, but when completed it was
a beautiful piece of repairing.
On Monday, early in the morning,
Mrs. Wallingford, accompanied by
two other ladies, called to inquire
midst of her candy-making ; a pan of
cocoanut cones was just out of the oy-
en, a kettle of fondent had just reached
the proper consistency, the air was la-
den with sweet odors, and Louise was
in a big apron up to her chin. Hasti-
ly turning down the lamps and setting
the “cream” iu a pan of hot water, she
went behind the counter and produced
the work. Everyone exclaimed over
its beauty, the owner being particular-
ly pleased.
“I don’t know how much it ought
to be,” said Louise, ingenuously ;
“this is the first work of the kind I
have ever done for pay.”
“But I know how much it is worth
to me,” said Mrs. Wallingford, and
ave in return a bill of such generous
Ron: die that Louise was quite over-
whelmed. :
The next day quite a bundle of work
came down from the “St, James ;”’ a
lace tie and fichu, some dainty lisle-
thread bose and silk underwear, and
until the hotel closed Louise always
had work of that kind on hand.
Moreover, as one after another the
vigitors, began packing trunks for a
northern flight, pretty boxes of confec-
tionery were stowed away among their
belongings.
April came and the vast hotel was
silent once more ; only six weeks long-
er and the college would close, and
most of Louise’s merry and boyish pat-
rons would be gone. Even now it was
growing eo warm that “sweeties” were
not so much desired. She had time
for her garden and household work,
time also for making a‘few friends,
and among them Mrs. Singleton, mat-
ron at the college. Many a pleasant
afternoon did she and Effie spend in
that lady’s sunny parlor ; and it was a
little odd, that as often as not Prof.
Allen would come in with Fred about
five o'clock, and all four would walk
down to the “P. and D. Establish-
ment” together. Later on he brought
Mre. Singleton for an evening call,
and noting the brave-quiet simplicity
in which Louise lived lost his heart
more and more surely.
When July came with its heat and
heavy rainfall, Louise lost all her roses.
Miss Beesley had gone to the Adi-
rondacks a month before, and now a
letter came from her saying, so kindly:
“Dear child. I need you; come and
spend the summer with me and we
will do each other good.”
How Louise longed to go! Mrs.
Singleton’s advice was to the point :
“Now just you go! Don’t worry
about Fred one mite ; I'll board him,
and welcome, for the company and
help he'll be.” And so in short time
Louise and her merry little sister were
gone. Prof. Allen spent a rather dole-
ful summer ; there seemed to be other
things besides his socks that needed
“patching and darning”—his heart,
for instance, and his temper, and he
learned, to his great surprise, how
empty one’s world may be when only
one small person is out of it.
Among the « sol and quiet hills Lou-
ise gained strength and spirits rapidly,
and spent long, cool mornings prepar-
ing and crystallizing fruit for her win-
ter trade, strengthened and cheered by
Miss Beesley’s kindly, practical com-
mon sense.
“Child,” said the latter one day,
suddenly coming out of a *‘hrown
study,” “I believe when you go back
I'll spend the winter with you.
You've no idea how lonesome it was
last year, especially when the lumba-
go got 80 bad ; and if I won't be in the
way—""
A soft hand was laid over her
mouth just here, and a sweet, glad
voice called out:
“You'll just make the ‘way’ all
bright and shining and clear it you
are in it. Oh, dear Miss Beesley ! do
come I” And so it was settled.
“And you woun’t mind fifty pounds
extra baggage, will you ?” said the lit-
tle old maid, “when it happens to be
the best Vermont maple sugar? The
nuts will be along about Christmas.” |
Two weeks later andthe party were |
safely domiciled at Woodbridge. |
Among the first to call was Prof, Al-|
|
' len. |
“Any kin to the Allens, of Ports-
mouth ?’’ queried: Miss Beesley.
“My grandparents live there,” eaid
the professor, smiling indulgently.
“Was your father’s name Jeremiah,
and is yours Thomas?’ questioned
Miss Beesley, with as much directness
as a census taker.
“Exactly,” said the professor, now
thoroughly interested.
“Well, it beats my time !"” said Miss
Beesley, fairly gasping. “When I
was a girl, your father’s back yard in
Portsmouth joined ours ; and many’s
the time I’ve seen you, sir, barefooted,
and with your face molasses from ear
to ear!”
“And I haven’t lost my taste for
sweet things yet.” eaid the professor,
with a meaning look at Louise. “Do
please, Miss Hunter, start up the can»
dy factory soon. I haven't had even
a passable chocolate cream since last
winter.”
Well, the “factory” soon began op-
erations, and the details ot a year be-
fore were repeated, with several pleas-
ing variations.
I am not writing a love story, only
a practical paper for girls; but per-
haps you will care to know that one
gray December day, when the evening
shadows were falling, Louise drew a
hassock to Miss Beesley’s feet, and,
hiding her face against the friendly
arm, whispered a precious secret.
And the little old maid, nodding sage-
ly to herself in the twilight, said con-
cisely :
“Felt itin my bones! Best family in
Portsmouth. ‘Child, you couldn't do
better.” ,—Demorest’s Magazine.
Stanford’s Only Son.
The Child in Whose Honor the University Was
Built, -«
No prince or potentate, no fonder of a
nation or emancipator of a race, was
ever honored with so magnificent a
monument as that erected to perpetuate
the memory ofa 13-year-old boy at
Palo Alto, about 30 miles south of San
Francisco, on the coast division of the
Southern Pacific railroad. This child
the son of Leland and Jane Lathrop
Stanford, died some years ago in Rome
while he was making a tour of Europe
with his tutor. His father and mother
almost deified him and dedicated ore of
the largest fortunes that man has ever
accumulated entirely to the education
of other people’s children, who from
this time on forever are to render hom-
age to his name,
Everything is preserved as he left it.
The room hae occupied in the great villa,
which has sheltered so much wealth
and luxury and gayety, has never been
disturbed. His play-things lie as he
placed them when he started away for a
few months of pleasure. A toy rail-
road that was laid across the lawn and
through the shrubbery to amuse him
and give him a practical knowledge of
the occupation of his father, and that
which he was expected to follow, still
lies there. Its rusty rails are pathetic
witnesses to a memory that must not be
erased, and a shed is pointed out in
which the tiny cars and locomotives,
which cost thousands of dollars, are
preserved.
His crude cabinet of curios, marked
with his boyish. hand, is the nucleus of
2 $1,000,000 museum , 8,500 acres of
the best farming land in America, the
finest stock farm in the world, with 17
or 18 high bred horses, 8,000 acres of
vines, valuable real estate in the city of
San Francisco, thousands of thorough-
bred cattle and personal property, which
has been inventoried at $18,000,000 for
taxation, but is believed to be worth
much more, were placed in the hands of
a board of trustees, who were to erect a
university, to be called by his name and
the influence of the child in shaping
the character and developing the man-
hood and the womanhood of genera-
tions that are to come.
His bones lie in a stately mausoleum
erected in a conspicuous place upon the
campus, and those of his father were
lately placed beside them with great
ceremony and sorrow. A niche remains
for the mother’s casket, when the death
angel calls her name. Then the great
bronze doors are to be sealed, the key is
to be melted, and the dust that is shelt-
ered by the massive walls is to lie undis-
turbed until the last trumpet sounds, for
the Stanford family will be extinct.—
San Francisco Letter in Qhicago Record.
The Berks County Fair.
Berks county has always been noted
for its large and successful agricul-
tural exhibitions. The 40th annual
exhibition, to be held in the city of
Reading, on the 10th, 11th, 12th and
13th of September, judging by the prep-
arations in progress, will eclipse all
previous efforts in that direction. New
attractions of all kinds have been pro-
vided, and the display in every depart-
ment will be very fine. The race-
course has been greatly improved, and
the stables recently destroyed by fire
have been rebuilt. The trotting, run-
ning and pacing races will be exciting
and diversified by a special program
of amusements in front of the grand
stand, given between the heats. The
railroad companies have granted liber-
al concessions and will run excursions
at a single rate of fare for the round
trip- Cars run direct to the grounds.
Reading is one of the most attractive
cities to visit, and is seen at its best
during the week of the county fair.
——The Boston Herald estimates
that “a corn crop of 2,400,000 busk-
els at only twenty-five cents a bushel
would mean $600,000,000 in the pock-
ets of those who raise it and bring it to
market.” To which the New York
World replies by sayipg that this is
good aritbmetic, but when it takes all
the twenty-five cents to “bring it to
market” the people who raise it refuse
to be comforted by good arithmetic.
——The compensation of store keep-
ers and gaugers at Uncle Sam's regis-
tered distilleries will hereafter be $2.00
per diem when less than 25,000 gal-
lous of spirits are stored in the bonded
warehouses and the distilleries are un-
der suspension. This order, recently
promulgated, will have the effect of re-
ducing the per diem wages of a num-
ber of the storekeepers.
«Remember the Alamo.”
The Heroic Defense of the Texans Against the
Mexican Forces.
Soon Santa Anna approached with Juice and salt.
his army, took possession of the town, !
and invested the fort. The defenders !
knew there was scarcely a chance of !
rescue, and that it was hopeless to ex- |
pect that 150 men behind defenses so |
weak, could beat off 4000 trained sol- |
diers well armed and provided with
heavy artillery; but they had no |
thought of flinching, and made a des- |
perate defense. The days went by and |
no help came, while Santa Anna got
ready his lines and began a furious can- |
ponade. His gunners were uuskilled,
however, and he had to serve the guns !
from a distance, for when they were !
posted nearer the American rifie-men |
crept forward under cover and picked |
off the artillerymen. Old Crockett |
thus killed five men at one gun. Bat
by degrees the bombardment told. The
walls of the Alamo were battered: and
riddled ; and when they bad been
breached so as to afford no obstacle to
the rush of his soldiers, Santa Anna
commanded that they be stormed:
The storming took place on March
6, 1836. The Mexican troops came on
well and steadily, breaking through
the outer defenses at every point, for
the lines were too long to be manned
by the few Americans. The frontiers-
men then retreated to the inner build-
ing, and a desperate hand to-hand con-
flict followed, the Mexicans thronging
in, shooting at the Americans with their
mugkets, and thrusting at them with
lance and bayonet ; while the Ameri-
cane, after firing their long rifles, club-
bad them and fought desperately, one
against many; aod they also used their
bowie knives and revolvers with dead-
ly effect. The fight reeled to and fro
between the shattered walls, each
American the centre of a group of foes;
but for all their strength and their wild
fighting courage the defenders were too
few and the struggle could have but
one end.
One by one the tall riflemen suc-
cumbed, after repeated thrusts with
bayonet and lance, until but three or
four were left. Then inese fell, too,
and the last man stood at bay. It was
old Davy Crockett. Wounded in a
dozen places, he faced his foes with his
back to the wall, ringed around by the
bodies of the men he had slain. So
desperate was the fight he waged that
the Mexicans who thronged round
about him were beaten back for the
moment, and no one dared to run in
upon him. Acccordingly, while the
lancers held him where he was, for,
weakened by wounds and loss of blood,
he could not break out through them,
the musketeers loaded their carbines
and shot him down ; for Santa Anna
declined to show him mercy: Some
say that when Crockett fell from his
wounds he was taken alive and was
then shot by Santa Anna’s orders ¢ but
his fate cannot be told with certainty,
for not a single American was left
alive. At any rate, after Crockett fell
the fight was over. Every one of the
hardy men who had held the Alamo
lay still in death. Yet they die well
avenged, for four times their number of
foes fell at their hands in the battle.
Santa Anna had but a short while
in which to exult over his bloody and
hard-won victory. Already a rider
from the rolling Texas plains, going
north through the Indian Territory,
had told Huston that the Texans were
up and were striving for their liberty.
At once in Houston’s mind there was
kindled a longing to return to the men
of bis race in the time of their need.
Mounting his horse, he rode by night
and day, and was hailed by the Texans
as a heaven-sent leader. He took
command of their forces, 1,100 stark
riflemen, and at the battle of San
Jacinto he and his men charged the -
Mexican hosts with the cry of “Re-
member the Alamo!” Almost imme-
diately the Mexicans were overthrown
with terrible slaughter. Santa Anna
himself was captured, and the freedom
of Taxas was won at ablow.—by Teo.
dore Roosevelt, in September St. Nicholas.
Pittsburg Recognized.
The governing body of the Knights
Templars in Boston last week, with
great unanimity selected Pittsburg at
the place of meeting of the triennial
conclave in 1898. Although some
western cities put in their claims, the
selection of Pittsburg was made by a
unanimious vote.
The Boston gathering drew to that
city some 30,000 knights with 10,000
ladies accompanying them. This indi-
cates what may be in store for three
years hence.
Survey of County Line.
W. P. Mitchell, of Lock Haven J.
Simpson Africa of Huntingdon and Ed-
ward Chambers are the surveyors ap-
pointed to survey and locate the bound-
ary line between Centre and Hunting-
don counties. The distance the line
will have to be located is twenty miles
at least, one month will be required to
do the work.
Pennsylvania Third in the List.
Ohio stands at the head of the States
in clay manufacture, its product being
valued at $10,668,000, or over 16 per
cent. of that of the whole country.
Illinois comes next with 18 per cent and
Pennsylvania stands third, with 11 per
cent.
——The home of Mr. Charles A.
Dana, tha editor of the New York Sun,
is a palace. His office is a workshop,
and contains only a desk, two chairs, a
small table and a rug. He commences
work at 6 in the morning and seldom
leaves until 5.
——-Willis—Hello old man! Have
you much luck on your vacation ? Did
the bass rise to the flies all right?
Wallace—No, the bass didn’t; but I
did—every morning at daylight.
I . ————— -
head she has the advantage of a man.
She can let her hair down and wear the
same Lat.
For and About Women .
To remove peach stains soak in milk
for forty-eight hours or rub with lemon
In noveltiesand imported goods there
is a great deal of variety. Plenty of
braid is used. In all jackets the sleeves
are very full and the buttons are very
large, two immense ones in front being
de rigeur in novelties. The seams are
generally covered. A few patterns tak-
en from the stocks of some of the lead-
ing jobbers will serve to indicate the way
things are going. A reefer jacket about
26 inches long in black boucle with rip-
ple back and balloon sleeves is selling
| well, while tight jackets buttoning up
to the neck in beaver as well as boucle
and kersey are not behind.
The number of collars, collarettes and
fichus that are offered this seasons is al-
most past computation, but among
theém none are more becoming or unique
than this. It is of mull, both embroid-
ered and plain, and is in the popular
throat fichu shape, with square epaulett
es attached. Full frills of mull finish
the edge. This may be made in crepe de
chine with ruffles of chiffon, and is a-
very pretty addition to the toilette,mak-
ing ‘an-elgborate costume out of a very
simple gown.
The value of & becoming bonnet can-
not be calculated, writes Isabel A. Mal-
lon in an attractive article on “The Ear-
ly Winter Bonnets,” in the September
Ladies’ Home Journal. One's gown
: may be simple, may have been made
over a number of times, may, indeed,
be almost shabby, but if the bonnet is
becoming all else is forgotten.
One’s bonnet has much todo with
bringing out the virtues or otherwise,
not only of one’s eyes and hair, but of
one’s skin and the shape of one’s head.
The round-faced, plump beauty must
give up her ties unless they are of the
narrowest and looped with much care
that the idea of framing the full moon
is not suggested. She whose face is
slender (politeness gives that name to
thinness), then there must be a soft, full
framing and broad loops that will tone
down all angles. She who is sallow must
admire rose, pale blue and heliotrope on
other women, choosing golden brown,
that most charitable of tones, deep crim-
son, and if a light evening color is re-
quired, a delicate shrimp to make the
yellow of her skin white. The pale wo-
man chooses rose, dark blue, all reds,
dark green, glowing purple and black
to gain color, while she of the rosy
cheeks selects pale blue, heliotrope,
olive, cream white and crimson, if she
‘wishes them not to look like roses. If
your eyes are gan do not make them
seem more so utting sparkling j
or brilliant Re them, i
Some of the fall hats have set among
their ribbon bows bunches of bright col-
ored berries, which appear at this season
of the year. A spray of barberries, a
cluster of crimson partridge berries, a
bunch of the red seed pods which come
upon wild rose bushes in the fall, or a
few bits of bitter-sweet berries are re-
garded as appropriate, as well as pretty
adornments.
A hat suitable for early fall wear is a
combination of brown and white. The
shape is 8 somewhat widerbrimmed low-
crowned alpine and the material brown
felt. The trimming consists of a low bow
of brown ribbon placed exactly in the
centre of the front, with two white
wings and a white osprey rizing from it:
The rim is edged with brown silk cord.
. A low, rouad-cornered walking hat
in brown, trimmed with brown ribbon,
close balls of brownish-red ostrich feath-
er and a brownish-red osprey is a pretty
piece of & fall headgear. Brown and
yellow and brown and red are, by the
way, two of the favorite fall combina-
tions. A brown hat ablaze with nas-
turtiums ranging from pale lemon color
through glowing reds and into rich
brown is & triumph of the milliner’s
skill.
Miss May Simpson is & Deputy Sheriff
in San Frangisco. She is described as a
young woman quietly dressed, with a
pleasant face, unobtrusive manners, and
nerves of steel. Her work consists main-
ly in escorting women, who have been
adjudged insane, to their asylums. She
treats insane persons with kindness and
firmness combined, and is very success-
ful in dealing with them. The men
about the Sheriffs office treat her cour-
teously as they would another man
whom they respected. Her pay is small,
$2.60 for each trip. If no women are
committed there iz no pay, and the
Deputy Sheriff goes home and awaits
the next session of court. The most che
has ever received is $40 in one month,
and sometimes there are as few as six
cases in a month.
‘While there seems to be no diminu-
tion in the size of skirts, every finger
post points to the narrower road on
sleeves. Doucet is making them decid-
edly drooping and another leader is
apologizing for his revolution by fast-
ening large puffs to a decently fitting
under-sleeve.
Susan B. Anthony is fitting up the
attic of her house in Rochester as a
study, and has engaged a stenographer.
Miss Anthony intends to collect and
assort her valuable autograph letters,
memoirs, ete. She has intact her cor-
respondence with Elizabeth Cady Stan-
ton during their forty years of acquain-
tance.
Miss Anthony announces that here-
after she intends to remain more at
home and-direct her business by cor-
respondence. She will give up much of
the traveling and speaking that have
occupied her for so many years, and
leave it to the younger women, who,
she says, are better able to endure the
wear and strain of travel and public
life. She has not as yet fully recover-
ed from her recent illness.
A French jacket suit of brown Fayet-
ta has a five-yard skirt, large leg.’o-
mutton sleeves and a round waist, hav-
ing bolero fronts over a full drooping
blouse vest of green and brown taffeta
overlaid with bands of insertion. The
neck of the jacket is cut round, showing
the silk in front and the crush collar,
and is finished with three frills that re-
semble a collarette. A crush belt of
silk, scarcely shows, as itis very nar-
row and is sewed to the skirt.