Democrat Waid Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 13, 1895. HOW SHORT THE SPACE. How short the space, how much to do, { How few and brief the days of men ! So much to learn of false and true— And only threescore years and ten ! So little time to do things well, So inuch—so very much to know : And while we labor in our cell The years do not forget to go. So many things that we might learn If only Time would stay its tide, And once again our youth return To keep the shadow from our side. But, ah ! what cannot be cannot, We'll do the little that we may, And in some time-ignoring spot Perhaps find what we leave to-day. —Frank H. Swect, in N. Y. Observer. A MEXICAN SWEETHEART. Far out in the wilds of the Mexican Sierras, about one day’s travel west of Guadalupely Calvo, the trail leading from Morales leaves the ridge along which it climbs and plunges down into the depths of the Canyon de Muerto, there windiug in and out of the pines and bowlders until it reaches the ford of a stream, the Rio Chico, whic rushes through the gorge and on its wild flight for the sea. Down this trail, late in the afternoon of a day some few years ago, rode a young wan, Jack Rawlston, the new manager of the Alta Mining company. then on his way to take charge of their mines near Morales. He was wrap- ped cloge in an oilskin slicker, for the rain was falling as it falls only in the mountains of Mexico. Reaching the ford he drew his mule in under the shelter of an overhanging bluff and impatiently awaited the coming of his men, whose shouts and curses could be heard in the canyonside above as they urged to greater speed some half a doz en pack animale, slowly picking their way down the slippery trail. As they drew near, one of the men, Pancho. who acted as a guide, hurried to Rawlston’s side and, pointing to the stream, now a rushing torrent, cried : “Valgame Dios. the little river is very great this day !| There is much water, senor, and deep. We notcan cross ; not until to-morrow, when it will be well, Si, senor, en lo manana ’sta’- ueno.” “Yes, but to-night, man! We can’t camp here ; there is not enough level ground to raise a tent on, Get us out of this!” exclaimed Rawlston. “Senor,” replied the man, as he drew his wet serape closer about him, “a little rancho lies down the riyer a short way, where lives Juan Montano. Will the senor go there ?” “Will the senor go there I" shouted Rawlston. “Yes confound you, bom- bre, the senor will. Move on!” With a cry of ¢“Ad-elan-te! Vamonos!” and swearing great mouth filling Mexican oaths at his assistants as well as at the mules, Pancho started the train down the canyon on its way to a little valley of just a few hundred acres, nestled there where the gorge widened out as either wall spread away in great broken ridges, sweeping grandly off to the south. It was hardly a rancho, this place of Juan Montano’s only a few patches of growing maize and frijoles, amid which, in a grove of pines, rested a house of logs with a wide portico roughly thatched with bundles of corn- etalke, while a jacal—a roofed palisade of poles chinked and covered with adobe mud—adjoined ‘the house on one eide, serving as a kitchen. As Rawlston, leading the way, ap- proached from the valley, a dog gave the alarm, and an elderly man, muf- fled in a serape and slowly puffing a ci- garrito, came out into the portico, while at the low door of the jacal, amid the whiffs of emoke within, appear- ed a brown-faced woman, and behind her three girls, shyly peeping forth at the stranger as he drew up and asked for accommodation for the night. “Si, eenor,"” replied Juan in response to his request. “Dismount and come in from the rain. My house is at your service ; entrar, senor, entrar,” and he took the Winchester that Rawlston handed him, giving it a lingering glance as he placed it carefully against the wall. ‘*And supper, senor,” he continued, “Will you have supper? Si? 'Sta’ueno,”” and, reaching up, he seized one of a number of chickens perched beneath the roof, wrung its neck, toss- ed it over to the woman, saying : “For the genor ; and coffee and milk, proa- tol, And give to the mozos of tortillas and frijoles a plenty !" Turning, and with : “Permit me, eenor,” to Rawlston, who was engaged in removing his wet slicker, Juan drew the Winchester from its scabbard and critically examined it, exclaiming as he did so: “Muy bonito carbino, senor. Once I possessed one; not like this, senor—a carbine—but car- ambal an Indian stole it—may the devil take his soul—and I am too poor to buy another. I miss it much, senor, for it furnished me meat. Why, only yesterday morning two deer stood just over there eating the corn, but—'' He paused for an instant, then called “Chonita, mia, come here.” A girl clad in a simple garment of rough material passed from the jacal, a girl whose supple, rounded form possessed perfect grace, and as she came forward Rawlston started as he gazed on her Latin-Indian beauty. “My daughter, Chonita, senor,” said Juan. The girl raised her dark eyes to meet his, and her clear olive-brown ~kin became suddenly tinged with her southern blood. ‘She can shoot,” continued Juan, as he handed her the rifle; “gi, senor, even better—"’ A flock of chattering parrots passing overhead caught his eye. Glancing at them, then at Rawlston: “One =hot, eenor, permit her.” Rawlston nodded, then watched the girl as she raised the gun, saying: “See! the one in the lead”—a report, and the bird fell, a mangled mass of flesh and feathers. She handed the rifle to Rawlston, her [ips parted and her bosom slightly heaving with the momentary excite: ment. Again their eyés met, then she turned and hurried back to the jacal. His gaze followed her, and half un- consciously he was dreamingly com- paring her with another, a blue-eyed, fair-haired woman of the nprth, when suddenly he noticed she was barefoot- ed. ° He seated himeelf on a bench near the doorway. vaguely watching his men ag they unpacked and removed the saddles from the Steaming mules, and gazing even beyond, out over the mountains to where rested a dense bank of clouds, from which darted oc- casional flashes of lightning followed by low, bellowing peals of thunder that rolled with great hollow echoes across the heavens. The rain fell on the thatched roof above him with a mufiled, pattering sound, and he rest- ed there lost in reverie, dreaming of her who awaited him in a distant city —his promised wife. After awhile Chonita came to the door and told him that his supper was ready. Dreamily he heard her voice and raised his head. She stood with her dark hair falling in a disordered mass over her shoulders, one bare arm half raised and resting on the doorsill, her body partly turned, showing the beautiful lines of her figure as she hes- itated, as though fascinated by his look, and gazed into his eyes as a little child might, and yet not, for there was to her a strange attraction about this Americano, this man of fhe Saxon race who was 80 unlike tHe men of her own, that caused her heart to flutter wildly. He looked at her for a long while, and then arose. She drew aside to allow him to pass into the house, and, as he did so, a gust of wind blew ber hair across his face. During the months that followed Rawlston became a frequent visitor at the little rancho, stopping- over night while traveling between the mines and Guadalupe Calvo. One afternoon, as the glory of the sunset spread slowly acroes the valley, Rawlston rode up to the rancho, where finding no one at home, he left his mule and climbed the trail that led to a little spring in a gulch back of the house. Chonita was there filling an olla, but ehe did not hear him as he approached, nor until he stood at her side. Then she started, and as she arose she slipped on the wet clay and would have fallen had he mot caught berlin his arms. He felt her tremble as he held her, and drew her closer to him, asking : “Are you hurt, Chonita ?”’ “No, senor,” she replied. He saw her lips quiver and, as she raised her face to his, he read from the depths of her eyes her secret, and he bent and kissed her, murmuring “Sweetheart !"”” Then he released her and sto~d leaning against a tree, watchin 1er as she descended the trail. He had not been totally unconscious of her love, though at first it seemed to him but the admiration of a mere child ; but now he understood and it wrought a strange influence over him. He knew that his love was strong and true for the woman who alone bound him to the life he bad left be- hind, yet he felt how easy it would be, were it not for her, to drift into the customs and adopt the modes and morals of the people of that fair Mexi- can land, for there was a certain charm in their easy-going, languorous life, with its beauty and its restfulnees, that had appealed to him from the very first. In some strange way that he could not understand,” and yet which seemed perfectly natural to him, he longed to remain there, away from the world, as it were, until the end; and he pictured her, his affianced wife, there with him, and—he laughed. His reverie was not broken; the wo man alone changed, and he wondered how life would be with Chonita—just for a time. And Chonita !—she reached the house and hurried to her room, where she dropped on her knees before a lit- tle shrine. “Oh, Dios!” she said, “I am so glad! “What have 1 done that I should be so happy! Thank you, God. Slowly night came on. Supper was over, and the room was but dimly lighted by a sputtering tallow dip and the faintly flickering blaze of the open fire in the jacal adjoining. Rawlston leaned back ia his chair, slowly smok- ing and watching Chonita, as she moved about putting away the supper things, and he became dully conscious of a desire to take her in his arms i to hold her and to feel her trem- e. After awhile she brought him a cup of coffee and took from his saddlebag a flash of cognac that he always car- ried there and placed it on the the ta- ble at his side. He touched her hand, and into her eyes came a look of long- ing almost passionate, and her lips parted as thongh to speak, but her father entering the room she turned away and sank in a huddled heap on the floor at the kitchen door. Juan had been cleaning the rifle which Rawlston had allowed him to use for a week past, and seating. him- self at the table, giving the gun a few finishing touches with a greasy rag, he exclaimed : ‘Ab, senor, it is a grand gun. Madre de Dios, but the shots I made! I would give my soul for such a one !” “Not being the devil, Juan, I cannot take your soul, but what else will yon give 2 gaid Rawlston. “Senor, I have nothing but my two burrors and a cow—I might spare a little maze and frijoles, too, perhaps.” Rawlston laughed, then poured some cognac into the coffee drank it, and, leaning back against the wall, said’: ‘Juan, I'll give you the rifle, if you will give me—" “What ?" cried Juan. “Chonita."’ Juan sprang to his feet and Rawlston reached for his revolver, but he had no need. The father turned to the girl and led her to Rawlston, placing her hand in his saying : “It is well, senor; ’si’sta’ueno. Your are rich and will be good to her. Yes, it is well,” and the mother, com- ing from the kitchen, nodded her head, smiled and echoed : “Yes, itis well.” And Chonita, she was very happy, for she was but a child of na- ture. The home to which - Rawlston took her, his quarters at the mines, seemed, with their meager, yet comfortable sur- roundings, a perfect palace to Chonita, and the clothing that came from Guad- adalupe amazed the girl. She could not understand that she wasto wear slippers and stockings every day, neither why she to dress her hair. At first it grew irksome to her to remain dressed as he would have ber, and at times coming home, he would find her as he first saw her—the one loose gar- ment, her hair in disorder and bare- footed. When he would remonstrate she would laugh and throw her arms about his neck and kiss him, but after . awhile she grew accustomed to her new wmode of dress. The days passed away into months, but they did not bring to Rawlston the ease of life he had hoped for when he brought Chonita to his home, and he wondered why the ideal was always more beautiful than the real. After all, it had only been an experiment, and it had failed ; yet even had it not, he realized that eventually he would have returned to the old life for the sake of her who awaited him there, Then he thought of what wonld come to Chonita, the child who loved him 80, after he was gone ; for leave her he must, and his soul cried out within him against, not so much what : e had done, as what he was about to co. One evening he sat before the fire in his quarters, engaged in looking over the weekly mail, while Chonita rested at his feet, cuddled in a little heap in the warmth, and with her head pil- lowed against his knee. “Chonita, dear, I must leave you. I am going to my home.” She started and sprung to her feet, Her heart beat wildly, and into her great dark eyes came a strange, wild look. “You are going to—to her!” she cried, throwing her arm violently toward the photograph. “You are going to the woman who wrote you this —no?"”’ and she tore the letter and threw it from her. “No!” but you shall not go I” she continued. She has no right to you. You are mine— mine!” Majestically she stood gazing at him for an instant ; thentthe little figure forgot its queenly- bearing and drooped wearily—fell at his feet—sob- bing out tenderly : ‘Ah, say it is not so—you are all the one I have to love —all I have!” He touched one little hand that rest. ed on his knee, “Poor little thing!” he said. “Poor little thing !” She lay at his feet, her whole body quivering, He could not bear to see her suffer so... He pitied her, and he thought: Why not lie to her ; why not let her believe that he would return? Yes, why not ? It would make it easy for her now, and in time she would learn to forget. He lifted her gently up and folded her in his arms. ‘Chonita,” he said. “I will come back to vou, dear. I mustgo, but it is only fora ltttle while, a tew months. You can wait for me with your father at the rancho—only for a few months, sweet- heart.” She drew herself frcm his arms and sat on his knee, her dark eyes watch- ing the fire very softly: Suedenly she turned and gazed at him for a long while, then said slowly ; “You are not going to her, and you will return to me ?” He said, “I am not geing to her, and I'will return to you.” She looked him in the eyes, and seemed to doubt. After awhile she arose, and taking the photograph from the shelf, she brought it to him eay- ing : “Tear it and throw it inj the fire— no?’ He hesitated an instant, then arose. The hot blood came to his face ; then, because he pittied her, he made the sacrifice—and she believed. A few days later he left the mine, and, sending his servants on with the pack-train toward Guadalupe y Calvo, he took Chonita to her father’s home. With Juan he made his peace with more pesos than the old man had ever hoped to possess. but he told him, as he had Chonita, that he would re. turn, The following morning, when all wag ready for his departure, and at the last moment, he went to where Cho- nita sat weeping in the doorway and took her hands and drew her up to him. “Pobrecito,” he said, ‘‘poor little thing, you are only a child. Would to God we had never met! Poor little heart!" She turned her face to his shoulder aod buried it against his neck, sobbing geotly. He wound his arms about her and held her close to him. He let her cry for awhile, then he drew her face close to his. He kissed it and put it back in its resting place, pressing his lips to her hair. After awhile he put her gently from him, slowly passed to where his mule awaited, slowly mounted—she ran after him, stretched out her arms, a cry was on her lips— Some one caught her by the arm and said : “No use running after him, girl. He's gone for good. You will have to find another lover.” Through her tears she saw at her gide a tall, lank Texan, who had ar- rived early that morning from the mines with a message for Rawlston. “Gone for good !"’ she echoed. “No! He is coming back to me !” “The new boss says he is going north to marry another girl. You won't see him again,” and the Texan turned toward the corral to get his mule, “Gone!” she cried. “Lied to me and gone to marry—no! God in Heaven, she shall not have him, he is mine!” and with her eyes flashing with rage she caught up her father’s | rifle, which rested against the house— ! the one with which she had been | bought—and burried after him. | It was only a little way ; then she | paused and threw the rifle to her! shoulder calling: “Jack! Jack!! mio!” and then with all the tender- ness of her soul : “Sweetheart !’’ He turned in his saddle. There was a flash, a report; he swayed from side to side for an instant, lunged forward and fell to the ground dead.—San Francisco Argonant. Plenty of Oysters. Supply Larger Than in Preceding Years— Quality Good and Prices Lower. The oyster season opened on the 1st with a larger supply than ever before known. Many of the oysters come from Long Island Sound, where there are something like 50,000 acres of well cultivated beds, Keyport is also a favor- ite place for the oysjer man, Ten million bushels of oysters come up the bay to the floating village at the foot of West Tenth street every year. Of these 4,000,000 bushels are shipped inland, while the other 6,000,000 bush- els aie consumed here. Each bushel contains from 250 to 300 oysters. James W. Boyle who is one of the largest oyster dealers in the city, said : “The prospects for this oyster season are brighter than for many years. The stock will be much larger and the quali- ty of the oysters will be better, and a lively trade is anticipated. Oysters are a luxury to the poor.” Prices will be about tiia same as last year. Blue points will cost from $6 to $7 a barrel ; Rockaways, $8 a box and $4 a thousand ;Great Kills, $7.50 a box and $4 a thousand ; Keyports, $7 a box and $3.75 a thousand ; East river kills, $8 a box and $4 a thousand ; Lonsbury, $9 a box and $4.50 a thousand ; Saddle Rocks, $20 a box, and Prince’s Buys, $7 a box and $3.50 a thousand. It is esti- mated that at least 2,000,000 Blue Points and Rockaways alone will be un- loaded in New York Monday. A Just Assertion. A daily paper in Nebraska tells the story of a county superintendent of schools recently asking every teacher at a county institute who subscribed to a local newspaper to hold up his or her hand, and out of about 100 teachers present, six responded. Thereupon the superintendent made the following forci- ble remarks : “You don’t spend one dollar a year with these papers, yet you expect them to print, free of charge, notices of in- stitutes, insert long programs of same full reports of what yousay and do on these occasions, and thus expect them to advertise you and your abilities in your chosen profession, thus assisting you to climb the ladder tu higher posi- tions and better salaries without a cent’s postage in return. Your condition in this matter would lead me, wgre I an editor of one of these papers, to/prompt- ly throw into the waste basket any com- munication sent in by any society, the members of which were too proud or too stingy to take a paper, or, if I inserted it, to demand full advertising rates for every line published.” That county superintendent, it is safe to assert, will be re-elected by a larger majority than ever, if the papers in his county are worthy of the position they should occupy. The Smoke of Death. "A careful chemist recently made an analysis of an ordinary ,eigarette. This is the result . “The tobacco was found to beetrongly impregnated with opium, while the wrapper, which was warrant- ed to be rice paper, was proved to be the most ordinary quality of paper whitened with arsenic. The two poisons com- bined were present in sufficient quanti- ties to create in the smoker the habit of using opium without his being aware of it, his craving for which could only be satisfied by an incessant consumption of cigarettes.”, These facts ought to be sufficient to stop the manufacture of the deadly thing, and all men who are vic- tims of the cigarette should be filled with alarm. But manufacturers will continue to turn out the poisonous little roll by the ton, and the smokers by the thousands will smoke—smoke until they are dead. — Pittsburg Bdqocate. ——An old gentleman gave good ad- vice to a young lady who complained of sleeplessness. He said ; “Learn how to breathe and darken your room com- pletely and you won't need any doctor- ing. Not one in ten adults knows how to breathe. To breathe perfectly is to draw the breath in long, deep inhala- tions, slowly and regularly, so as to re- lieve the lower lungs of all noxious ac- cumulations. Shallow breathing won’t do this. I have overcome nausea, head- ache, sleeplessness, seasickness, and even more serious threatenings by simply go- ing through a breathing exercise— pumping from my lower lungs, as it were, all the malarial inhalations of the day by long, slow, ample breaths. Try it before going to bed, making sure of standing where yon can inhale pure air, and then darken your room completely. We live too much in an electric glare by night. If you still suffer from sleep- leseness after this experiment is fairly tried, I shall be surprised.” ——Next summer says the Pittsburg Post the beauties of the famous horse- shoe curve on the Pennsylvania rail- road will be greatly enhanced by an im- mense artificial lake, which is now be- ing built by means of a large impound- ing dam. The objeet is to secure for Altoona a permanent water supply, but the effect that tho glimmering body of water will have on the scenery of Kit- tanning Point was taken into considera- tion. It will be the largest storage ba- gin in the state, having the enormous capacity of 370.000,000 gallons of water. Over 41 acres of ground will be covered end the water will have an average depth of 26 feet. © m— ——1It costs the daughter of Bonanza Mackay $12,000 a year to get the custo- dy of her children. The father of the children — Prince Colonna—gets the money. She gets rid of the prince, how- ever. Coffee Crops Near Home, —_ | 4 Visitor to Mexico Says Fine Coffee Can be | Grown in that Country —Southern Mexican | to be in Matt Quay’s tid Soil and Climate Favor the Plan.—A Paradise | ¢ for Lazy Folks. i Mr. George Marr, an experienced cof- : fee planter of Ceylon, India, has return- ed from a five months’ tour of Mexico, having visited every coffee-growing sec- tion in that country. On the Isthmus of Tehuantepec he purchased 10,000 acres of land, which he proposes, with the aid of a company he has just organized in Chicago, te develop for the cultivation of coffee. He says the climate and soil of that section of Mexico are better adapt- ed to coffee culture than those of In- dia and Brazil, and that with proper cuttivation a coffee with delicate flavor can be produced. Considerable coffee is raised now in Mexico, but the methods of culture are of the rudest form, which, with the natural indolence of the na- tives, gives the weeds the mastery, the field is not large or the quality especial- ly good. Mr. Marr says there is as much difference between the wild and culti- vated coffee of Mexico as between the wild or sour orange of Florida and that produced by cultivation. He left last night for Milwaukes to purchase a steam sawmill for his new plantation, which he will take down in sections. At Chi- cago he purchased a small boat, also to be taken to Mexico. “How soon do you expect to produce coffee ?”” was asked of Mr. Marr. “Within two years at the least. I bave seen coffee trees 18 months old give a good yield, which can not be done in any other country. Ordinarily a coffee tree begins to bear at two years, but the yield does not amount to much until the tree is five years old. From that time the tree becomes a heavy bear- er for years. I have seen coffee trees 90 years old bear beans.” ‘Is there much timber in Mexico ?” “In the district where I have located there is fine mahogany, cedar, and lig- num-vitate. There are no railroads near, though a line is projected, so that the forests have never been - touched. But Mexieo is being developed fast. In the southern part the vanilla can be grown to good advantage ; so also rub- ber trees, corn, cocoa and pineapples. In a few years, when the country has railroads, the products it will send fresh to northern markets will be astonish- ing.” “Does tho sweet potato thrive ?”’ “Thrive ? It has become a horrible weed. People dare not plant the sweet potato, forit spreads so far and fast that it chokes everything else.” “Are there many Americans in Mex- ico 2 “Lots of them, and they all are in the saloon business. Mexicans prefer their simple home drinks, and do not fre- quent the saloons, but other people, no- tably the English, who are very numer- ous, and who are engaged in mining and other business, prefer something fancy, just what a Yankee can fix up for him. Thatis why the Americans run the saloons.” “What do the Mexicans drink ?”’ “Juices from native plaats. There is one popular drink called ‘pulka,’ which ranks there as root beer does here: It is taken from plants very much as map- les are tapped for their juices here. This is done every day, and in cities in the upper part where there are railroads the drink is brought in on trains morning like milk. hen fermented the juice becomes intoxicating, and when dis- tilled a very fine liquor results. Their other drinks are, as a rule, quite strong, and, to a visitor, anything but palat- able.” “Is Mexico a good place for the hun- ter 77 “There is game in abundance, such as partridges and birds of that kind, and a little deer as big as a dog is nu- merous. The rivers are alive with fish. Dynamite is used for killing them. To sit down and fish with hook and line, which a Pittsburger would consider fun, the native Mexicans regard too bard work.” : “Do they know that they are lazy ?” “They laughingly admit it, but they say they can see no reason why they should work. ‘They don’t want many clothes, and fruit and fish and game are at their doors, to be gotten regularly without any effoii worth mentioning. Besides, a day’s work is worth only 15 to 20 cents in our money, which is not much of an inducement. I heard of a man ‘who refused to take stock in a projected railway because it took him seven days to ride to the City of Mex- ico, and if the railroad would take him there in one day he wouldn't know what to do with the other six.” Opera House Aitractions, Manager Al. S. Garman has kindly furnished us with a list of the attrac- tions he has thus far booked for the coming season, and the same is as fol- lows : September 16, “The Money Order.” October 1, “The Stowaway.” October 9, “The Burglar.” October 16, Al. G. Field’s “Darkest America.” October 28, Charles B. Hanford, in “The Merchant of Venice.” Nov. 12, “The Baggage Check.” Nov. 20, The great Powell, the Ma- gician, ; Nov. 25. —for one week, “The R. Crowley Sisters.” Dec. 41, “Tim the Tinker.” April 17, “Carter’s Tornado.” ———— ——The despoilers of trees do not have it all their own way, as William D. Palmer, of Mamaroneck, N. Y., the other day obtained judgment for $150 against the Larchmont Electric Company without any trouble. Mr. Palmer had in front of his residence a number of handsome shade trees. The electric company in stringing their wires cut away portions of branches of these trees, The suit was based on the allegation that they cut the trees maliciously. The jury heard the evi- dence and then viewed the multilated trees. They made the award after very little discussion. ——An Oklahoma Wedding.—Rev. Mr. Harps (solemnly)—‘‘Do you take this woman for better or for worse ?” Tarantula Jack (peevishly)—‘“How kin I tell ? I hain’t known her but a ' week !”’ = For and About Women . The key to the Keystone state ceerus sers pocket. — Columbia Independent. Tailor made suits of wonderful varie- ty are being displayed in the New York shop windows. These are of new shades and principally of tweed, whipcord or cheviot. The short jackets of the suits he worn this summer are very natty, same buttoning almost to the collar with a nd others opening in front, and finished on each side with a large point- ed raver. ~-—> The latest hats are not perched on the extreme back of the head as they have been all summer, with an effect of being about to glide off backward. On the contrary, in the present headgear the pendulum has swung to the opposite ex- treme, and the dainty little confections of lace and jet are tipped down over the eyes. Miss Julia E. Underwood has been teaching in the public schools of Quincy, Mass., for forty years. She began at the age of sixteen, and has kept at the front in the progress of educational methods. As a model teacher in a mod- el school town, she has received offers from nearly every state in the union, and from the famous school for the blind in London. . Miss Frances E. Willard says. Nig- gardly waists and niggardly brains go together.” A prominent physician has declared that hot water is woman’s best friend. It will cure dyspepsia if taken before breakfast, and will ward off chill when she comes in from the cold. It will stop a cold if taken early in the stage. It will relieve nervous headache and give instant relief to tired and inflamed eyes. It is most efficacious for sprains and bruises and will frequently stop the flow of blood from a wound. It is a sovereign remedy for sleeplessness, and, in conclusion, the doctor asserts, ‘““wrink- les flee from it and blackheads varish before its constant use.” A small coat of soft dove gray melton is cut after the English box fashion, and has huge bone buttons as trimming. A feature of this coat is the loose doub- le-breasted front, with its smart little breast pocket. The collar is another de- cidedly new affair, cutin a slope to fit the neck, and ornamented by two small buttons to match the large ones. A frock of sage green crepon intensi- fies the softness of the gray tone in the coat. It is severely plain as to skirt, but very much decorated as to bodice. Pale turquoise blue velvet and yellow lace is a heavy pattern from the garni- ture extending in graduated bands from the shoulders to the belt, which is ought into a sharp point both back and front. Miss Frances Willard will sail for this country on September 28, on the steamship Paris. She will go to Evan- ston in October for a short visit before her tour around the world. She was a thrifty little girl and she wanted to go away, but when she thought how she was going to replenish her wardrobe she shuddered. !Necessity, we are told, is the mother of invention, and so it proved in her case. In the first place she wanted a fancy waist, and to this end she took an old Roman sash ribbon. The sash was wide enough to make back and front of two lengths, with a vest of pale blue chiffon in front. Of course, the stripes were horizontal, but as she was slender it proved to be all the more becoming. It took all the best parts of the sash for the waist part, so the sleeves were made of faille fran- caise, as that seemed the best match for the stripe in the sash. A crush collar and belt of the faille complated the waist. An old-fashioned apple-green silk gown, which had belonged to an old aunt, furnished the foundation for an- other waist. The two best breadths were laid aside for the leg-o’-mutton sleeves and the other parts, which were slightly faded and showed marks of sewing, were made up as a full waist over a fitted lining. This part was cov- ered with a full drapery of black net, (all that was left of a black net dress which had been dipped in alcohol and water and pressed on newspapers to dry), and with collar and sleeves, as well as girdle of the plain green, she had another fetching silk waist. She bad, of course, seen the little pointed collars and cuffs they are wear- ing now, but realizing that they were too expensive, she purchased a pretty embroidered handkerchief with a neat scalloped border. It cost 18 cents, and: a yard of narrow Valenciennes lace was 4 cents, and that is all the set cost. She- cut off the four corners of the handker-. chief, sewed the lace under the scalloped: edge, slightly fulling it, then stitched: the raw edges on bands of muslin, and: when they fell over the collar and cuffs. they presented a dainty effect. Two points for the coliar and one for the. centre of each cuff. Some of the newest capes are finished: with a sailor collar ending in pointed revers down the front. Others, shaped with seams that are covered with red gimp, have rolling Stuart collar. Some - of the capes are made of silk seal plush the collars trimmed with astrakan; leav- ing a narrow border of the plush, about one inch wide. Brown, by the way, is quite the thing and combined with chinchilla, the popu- lar fur is very striking. To supersede the summer sailor there comes a stiff English walking hat, which will be in the best form for cycling, driving, or, as its name implies, autumn promenades in city streets or country roads. Every day new beauties are coming to light. Children’s dresses are made almost in- variably in two styles. The younger element wear frocks gathered on to % round, square or pointed yoke. Those a little older may wear these with the addition of a belt, or they may wear one piece dresses gathered at the neck and at the waist, so as to give a blouse effect. Sometimes a separate skirt and bodice are used, but the bodice is then always a blouse or shirt waist, and the skirt buttons on to it. tf
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers