Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, September 06, 1895, Image 2
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.