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.
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