~~
ard, and I come} away. At first it
- “I never bore ‘em a grudge, either one
ettarralic of ’em, But I was one that took things
~~! h
Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. 22, 1895. b
a
THANKSGIVING HYMN.
sets by own folks like some.
she was well off ; Absalom Pritchard’s
seemed ag if to get away off from every-
ody was the only way I could live,
nd Amandy she wa'n’t the kind that
I knew
We thank Thee, O Father, for all that is | father was the forehandedest man in
bright—
The gleam of the day, and the stars of the
ni
The Sof our youth and the fruits of our |
Orland, and Absalom was an only
child.”
“If I was you I'd start right up and
rime :
. And Ds that march down the pathway | 20 down to Orland, and see my sister
of time.
We thank Thee, O Father, for all that is
dear,—
'n’ her folks,” said old Mrs. Jellison,
empbatically. “There's a comfort in
own folks, and seein’ you don’t bear
The sob of the tempest, the flow of the tear ; ‘em nO grudge—and, land sakes! I
For never in blindness, fand never in vain,
Thy mercy permitted a sorrow or pain. shouldn’t wonder if you hadn’t no
We thank Thee, O Father, for son and for
feast,—~
need to.
what you will.
Men folks is atrial, say
Enoch is a real good
The harvest that glowed out the wealth that | man, a8 men go, and a good provider,
increased ;
For never a hlessing encompassed earth's
child,
But Thou in Thy mercy looked downward and
smiled.
We thank Thee, O Father of all, for the power 2
Of aiding each other in life’s darkest hour ;
The generous heart aad the bountiful hand,
And all the soul-help that sad souls under-
stand.
but what with his gettin’ so het up
about politics that my folks don’t darst
to come near the house, and wantin’
mince pies stiddy, suramer 'n’ winter,
n’ not knowin’ how to save more'n a
baby, and we a-buryin’ every one of
our children, I often think f’d live sin-
gle if I had it to do over again.”
“Married folks are apt vo say that.
We thank Thee, O Father, for days yet to be— I don’t know,” said the old maid, a
For hopes that our future will call us te
little absently.
“I don’t know what
ee,— ;
That all our Eternity, form through Thy Love, | hag get me to fussin’ about Amandy,”
One Thanksgiving Day in the mansions
above.
she added, more cheerfully. “I couldn’t
—Will Carleton. | get down to Orland anyhow ; it’s a
A A EER SABE,
hundred miles
from here, and I
A PELICAN OF THE WILDERNESS. | couldo’t get back to work Monday
A Thanksgiving Story.
BY 60PHIE SWETT.
morning.”
Abby was evidently relieved, on’ the
whole, that she couldn’ go to East
“Hain’t you got no own folks no-| Orland. She sat down to her solitary
wheres ?”’ asked old Mrs. Jellison,
tea with a comfortable sense of having
who lived in the flat above, with her | Settled again into her old groove of life ;
accustomed overflow ot kindliness and
negatives.
the wilderness and an owl of the desert!
Thanksgivin’-time, too. I
‘twa’nt so that we was goin’ out to
Macedony Junction to his folks.”
Abby turned her trim red geranium | said to herself.
Amandy and the faithless lover had
“WeH, you be a pelican of | slipped back under that pall of oblivion
ot Time's merciful, noiseless weav-
wish’t | ing.
“I've enjoyed my tea, and I feel
most as if Thanksgivin’ was over,” she
“I don’t know how I
towards the sun, and wiped off all her | Came to give way and talk so free to
flower-pots for the secoud time. It|Mis’ Jellison. I
I never will again.”
was the day before Thanksgiving, and
she had come home earlier than ueual
from the manufactory, where she was | tric bell
I never did before, and
It was at that moment that the elec-
at the door of her small
a forewoman. She was a small wo- |Buite gave a faint palpitating tinkle.
man, as neat and trim as her red
It was probably old Mrs. Jellison and
geranium ; her features were rugged, Abby reclothed herselt in dignified re-
her black hair was straight and harsh
and there was a faint suspicion of a
mustache above her
teeth ; her eyes were beautiful,
serve before she opened the door.
It was not old Mrs. Jellison# The
strong white | light was dim and, and for one agitat-
ed fanciful moment
Abby thought it
clear, and limpid gray, with yellow | Was the ghost of her youth ; the next
lights, and long-lashed like a child's,
moment she had given herself a little
and in the strong chin there was a | shake, and said ‘Come in” to a hesita-
contradictory dimple.
ting bashtul-looking girl,
evidently
“I've got folke—a married sister— | from the country—a girl with ragged
down to East Orland,” she said, sud. | features and gray eyes, and a tinny
denly, as if with an effort, and keeping | dimple in an uncompromising chin.
her face turned to the window. -
“You don’t say!” exclaimed old
Mrs, Jellison; she was laden with
Thanksgiving budgets, but she paused,
with her hand on the door-knob. “It's
six years come spring that we've lived
right in the same house, with shif’less
movin'-rourders comin’ and goin’, and
I’ve got to feel a real nearness, and yet
you hain’t mentioned to me that you
had a sister |”
voice was thick with reproach.
“I hain’t mentioned her to anybody
“I'm Abby Pritchard,” she said,
hesitatingly. “Mother is sittting on
the stairs with the itwins ; she wants
to know if she ehall come up.”
“Come up? Why, Amandy !
Amandy ! of course!” faltered Abby,
trembling in ever limb.
The girl emiled, with a relieved ex-
pression and more dimples, and called
“Mother,”
Old Mrs. Jellison’s | ters.
joyfully, over the banis-
Abby felt vaguely that there was
some mysterious connection between
for most twenty years,” said Abby. | ber longing for Amanda and her com-
“I don’t know how I come to now. |]
ng; and yet, had she not longed each
There was - circumstances.” Thavkegiving day—-Thanksgiving was
“Oh!” said old Mre. Jellison, and
an especial festival in East Orland—tor
there was a silence which seemed | tWenty years, and she had not come ?
charged with eager anticipation.
But Abby busied herself about her
The only difference was that this year
she had been moved to speak her long.
tlower-pots without any further ex. | ing.
planation. She was not given to con-
fidences ; no one except old Mrs. Jelli-
A gaunt worn woman, painfully ex-
pressive of haying been inadequate to
son had ever “felt a nearness’ to her | the struggle of life, toiled wearily up
since she left East Orland. the stairs; Abby looked beyond her,
After a while Mrs. Jellison shut the
door—a little sharply. In the dark
entry she waited, hoping that Abby's
tardy repentance would open the door ;
that hope failing, she turned and open-
in & bewildered way, but there were
only two boye behind, roughly clad,
but laboriously brushed and patched.
“Amandy! Amandy!” repeated
Abby, still in a state of bewilder-
ed it herself. After all, it was ouly | ment.
Abby Foster, she said to herself, and
she wan't a-goin’ to cut off her nose to | Me,” said the woman, bitterly. :
“D'you say she was | teeth, too !"—she put an ungloved toil
hardened
“Yes ; she—she married real well,” | mouth. :
ones ; that was what I come to the
spite her face.
married ?" she asked.
Abby answered, the more readily that
“I don’t wonder you think ‘taint
“My
hand hastily over her
“I was goin’ to have new
the abrupt shutting of the door had [|-€ity for.”
made her feel as if she had given of-
fence. *I hain’t heard from her but
once since I left home. I hain’t been
in the way of hearing from there.
It was so like Amandy to think only
of ber locks, when they had not met
for twenty years.
pity the little depressing chill it gave
But Abby forgot in
Ive been kind of a crew by myself. [| ber.
expect I'm that way naturally.”
“You ain’t no such a thing!" said
“He went and got drunk again, and
spent the money, but I was bound I'd
the cordial aad expectant Mrs. Jelli- pn after I've got ready, and I
son. id.
“She was real well and prosperous
Abby shrank into herself ; it seemed
then, and had a family ¢ she five years | like a bad dream.
younger'n I am ; she ain’t forty yet,
“Mother ! mother !”” remonstrated
but she’s got grown-up children—if | tbe girl, with a painful blush.
they're livin.” There was a quiver in
Abby’s voice.
“1 should most think you'd want to
‘know, said Mrs, Jellison, tentatively.
“I did—for a spell ; but one day f
after another comin’ and goin’ mono- | bat and shawl.
of the sunken eyes and rolled down the
hollow cheeks.
tonous wears the aidge oft of longin’.
I don’t know whether 'twas that sick
spell I had iast summer, when I didn’t
know as ever I should get well, or Ma-
haly Dowu’s dyid’ so sudden standin’
right next to me at the cutter, or what
the minister preached last Sundsy
“Land sakes! she’s Abby; 'n’ if I
can’t tell my own folks what I have to
stan’--"
Abby put the tired woman in a com-
ortable arm-chair, and took off her
Tears struggled out
“How snug 'n’ comfortable you be !
You're five years older 'n’ I am, Ab.
by, ’n’ you look more'n that younger.
You've got reason to be thankful to
me, Abby Foster ? You can live easy
about Tings reunions—’twas a | ‘0 comfortable, with nobody to do but
i
real movin’
something had set me to thinkin’
more’n.common about Amandy.”
“I don’t see what could a’ kep’ you
apart, two sisters, so—and you was all
there was, wa'n’t you?" asked the
neighbor, with a thinly disgnised cur- | t
losity that was yet not without ite |!
touch of sympathy.
“We was all there was.” Abby's
constrained voice threatesen to break.
“When Uncle Phillups died, Aunt
Lucrestry took Amandy home with
ber aud kep’ her three years.
sconurse—but seem’s if | yourself; 'n’ I expect you've got con-
siderable in the bank.”
Then followed in extreme detail an
account of hardship and poverty ; of
the neglect and abuse of her husband.
Abby looked with a warning gesture at
he boys; it seemed to her horribly
hat they should hear this. But they
eat on the edge of a lounge and gazed
absently and indifferently about them ;
it was evident that many repetitions
had caused the woful tale to fall upon
unheeding ears. The girl interposed
When | ow 4nd then a gentle remonstrance,
she come home she was pink and- | like the chip with which a child tries
white complected and real stylish, and
to stop the course
of a turbulent
could play on the piano. I’d been work- | brook.
in’ hard takin’ care of father asd moth-
“He was over to Taugus, to the Ine-
er and tailorin’ and—and I never was | brit’s Home ; and Reab—he’s my old-
much to look at.
Amandy she-—she | est boy, 'n’ he works a spell here 'n’ a
got married right away ; she married | spell there, wherever he can get work
Absalom Pritchard, that vas keepin’ | —he 'n’ Abby saved up enough for my
company with me,”
“My land! I don’t wonder that vou
couldn't never forgive her,” said
teeth 'n’ the twins some new suits, 'n’
he”—never by any chance had Absa- |
lom Pritchard's wife spoken of him by
was the climax of the doleful story.
“They took him back to the Inebri't’s
Home. There we was, without no
money for the teeth nor the clothes ;
but I'd got ready, 'n’ I was bound to
come!” This too was so like Amandy
that Abby smiled a little, tearfully.
“I said we'd come ’'n’ find Aunt
Abby, seeing t'was Thankgiving time.”
Amandy’s thin harsh voice threatened
for the first time to break. “I thought
if ever you’d had hard feelin’s, you
couldnt help forgettin’ em when you
knew how things had turned out.”
Abby joyfully set forth a feast ;
there were canned goodies on the shelf
of her little pantry which she had
treasured with vague anticipations, and
she always provided Thanksgiving
cheer. “It's real providential that I
always felt twas a religious duty "most
to have a turkey,” she murmured to
herself.
Amaoay grew light-hearted and the
boys hilarious ; the girl had a care
over the boys’ manners, and constant-
ly made thelittle useless effort to check
her mother’s confidences.
“She takes responsibility jest like
me,” thought her aunt, and her heart
warmed toward her.
A mandy followed hersister into her
bedroom that night, caretully closing
the door into the other little bedroom
which she was to share with her
daughter. it was evident that there
were still to-he-further confidences.
“It’s about Abby,” whispered the
girl’s mother. “I'm most worried to
pieces, 'n’ I want you to see what you
can do with ber Frank Gridley’s
been courtin’ her stiddy now for
more’n a year, 'n’ she’s bound she'll
have him. Abby, I can’t stan’ 1t to
have her go through what I have, no-
how.” The mother’s voice rose
strained and high with anxiety.
‘She's real capable, 'n’ she could do
for herself ; 'n’ there ain't no misery
on earth like hein’ tied to an incapable,
shifless man. No Frank don’t drink
vet, but there was his uncle, 'Lias
Gridley, that drank himself onto the
town ; and the Cobbetts, his mother’s
folks, are all shit’less 'n’ good for
nothin’. I want you should talk to
Abby ; she can see how well you've
donefor yourself, 'n’ it'll have an in-
fluence over her.”
“I'll do what [ can,” said Abby,
“but it's dreadful hard to make young
folks see what is best for em.”
“She's got real good sense abwut
most things, Abby has,” said t
mother. ‘She takes more after you'n
she does after me."
Thanksgiving day was almost as
happy as if no carking care lurked be-
neath the surface of things. Amandy
grew as riotously gay as the boys, and
manifested keen interest in the fash-
ions. The old maid and her name
sake took eweet counsel together on
practical and domestic affairs.
“Own folks are a sight of comfort,”
said Abby Foster.
She insisted upon furnishing the
funds for the new teeth and the twine’
clothes. It was not Amandy, but her
daughter who demurred.
“Mother’s pride most worn out, and
no wonder,” said the girl, but mine
isn’t, and I'm going to pay you every
cent.’
Amandy had never had any pride,
and they both knew it, but Abby
loved the girl the more for her loyal
little pretence. :
“Hain’t you never said a word to
her about Frank Gridley, for all you've
had eo much privacy together ?”
asked Amaundy, reproachfully, when
she shut the bedroom door for a little
private interview, when they were
ready to leave for home.
“It has seemed real hard to get
round to it,said Abby, apologetically.
“‘She’s one that kind of keeps herself
to herself, and you don’t like to med-
dle. I thought mebbe I could say it
better in writin'—or mebbe she can
come with you whenlit’s time to have
your teeth in.” She spoke in a ner-
vous and faltering way that was un-
usual with her.
“I guess you'd better write it,” said
the mother, after a moment’s reflec-
tion. “I'm real disappoined that you
hain’t spoke. You see, you hain’t got
a realizin’ sense of the resk ; you can’t
have. But, after all, mebbe writin’
will be better. You can make it real
strong ; you used to be consid’able of
a scholar, 'n’ you'll know how. Make
her see that there ain’t po sense in
throwin’ her life away 1”
Abby sat up night after night trying
to compose the letter ; she thought of
it day after day in the work-room and
while she ate her solitary meals.
When at last it was sent, it was filled
with practical and d--estic affairs,
such as she and her niece had talked
about, with bits of cheery news and
home-spun philosophy. At the very
last Abby wrote :
“Your mother told me about your
heart bein’ set on a young man, and
she wanted me to advise you not to
have him, bein’ afraid you'd havea
sight of trouble, as married folks often
do. I hain’t had the experience of
some, a8 you know, and so I don’t
know as I'm competent to advise. But
I’ve thought things all over, and I’ve
fit and wrastled for leadings, and all
the advice I can find it in my heart to
give you is this : You take the love—
and the resk !—Harpers Bazar.
——The Republicans of Pennsyl-
vania will know wliom they are for
president when Boss Quay imparts the
information as to whom he will sup-
port. Quay and Platt are now bossing
the Republican party in’ Pennsylvania
and New York for fun, and they mean
to have a great deal to say about the
nomination for president next year.
They may even go go far as to ask for
the two positions on the ticket them-
selves.
——Arizona pays the women teach-
ersin her public schools the highest
average monthly wages of any State in
the Union—§74,45. Massachusetts,
on the other hand, pays her men
old Mrs. Jellison, sympathetically, | name—‘he got hold of the money ’n’ teachers an average of $118.07 month.
“I always forgave her,” said Abby. wentoft 'n’ got drunk on it.”
This
lv.
Twenty Persons Were Drowned.
A Car Fell Into the Cuyahoga, River at Cleve-
vand. Forty-Eight People In It.
CLEVELAND O., Nov. 17.—Early
Saturday evening one of the cars of the
Cleveland Electric Railroad company,
ruoning between theesouth side and the
centre of the city, ran through the
drawbridge of the Central viaduct, a
long iron structure, connecting the
businees portion of the city with one of
the haudsomest residence portions of
the city.
It is reported that forty-eight people
were on Lhe car and that twenty of
these were drowned.
At an early hour this morning Au-
gutus Rodgers, the motorman in
charge of the car, was arrested at his
home and brought to the Central sta-
tion, where he was questioned by the
coroner and police officials. He stat-
ed that Conductor Hoffman gave him
the signal to go ahead. Asked as to
how the conductor could have given
the “All right” signal m the face of
the fact that the red light signal, show-
ed that the draw was open, was hung
on the close bridge gates Rodgers replied
that Hoffman probaby thought the
draw was just closing instead of open-
ing. Rodgers was released after giving
bond for $5,000.
A crowd of fully 50,000 spectators
gathered at the scene of the accident
this morning when the search for the
missing bodies was resumed and as
one would be brought up the relatives
of the recovered one would go nearly
mad with grief. Some of the bodies
were horribly mangled.
Brave Little Cuba.
The campaign just closed overshad-
owed an important event in which all
Americans are deeply interested. Some
time ago the Cubans declared their in-
dependence of Spain, just as the original
thirteen American colonies asserted
their right to be frea from their old op-
pressor, Great Britain, more than a
contury ago. Representatives from all
the provinces assembled and formulated
a constitution based on the eternal prin-
cipal of equal rights, elected a president
and vice president and threw off the
yoke placed upon their necks by the
Spanish ruler. Armies were organized,
commanders chosen and battle have
been fought with varying results.
Their generals are men whose courage
and skill have been proven by their ac-
tions upon. the field of battle. The
sympathies and good wishes of all true
Americans are with brave little Cuba
in its efforts to sever the bonds of thrall-
dom. The movements of the handful
of patriots will be eagerly watched here
inthe land of the free and the home of
the brave. When they meet with re-
verses the great American heart will be
filled with sorrow. When they are
successful it will be full of joy. And
when at last they have gained their
freedom there will be general rejoicing.
The Prince Had Come.
And the Landlord Ordered **Rule Brittania” to
Be Played.
An actor’s anecdote from ‘the Mar-
ble Halls.” A certain light comedy
juvenile was a member of a company
snow-bound in the Sierras while en route
from California back to England. Be-
fore their train was pulled out they had
bean reduced to eating the coarse fare of
the railroad laborers, and got little
enough of that; so that they all had a
magnificent hunger on when the train
reached a small station at which there
was a restaurant, and our hero was the
first to find a seat at a table.
“Bring me, in a hurry,” he said to
the landlord, a burly Western man, ‘a
porterhouse steak, some kidneys, a brace
of chops, plenty of vegetables, and two
bottles of Bass’ beer."
The landlord stuck his head out of the
dining room door and yelled to some-
body in the rear apartment .
*‘Say, Bill, tell the band to play ‘Rule
Brittannia.” The Prince of Wales has
come. ”’
——The girl babe that was born to
the Czariva at the famous palace of
Kransnoe Zela on Friday night last
may, if she shall have no brothers, be-
come the absolute ruler over 115,000,
000 human beings and of an empire
which extends over one-sixth of the
solid land of the globe. It is exactly
ninety-nine years ago to-day since the
last female sovereign of all the Russias,
the notorious and imperious Catharine
IT, died, stained, it is believed, with a
husband's blood. The possibilities of
the young life which has just begun,
and the terrible responsibilities to
which it may have been born, are by
no means an enviable heritage.
——Judge Grier, of Butler county,
has had before him a physician who has
been giving prescriptions for whiskey.
At one drug store nine barrels of whis-
key were sold on prescriptions in one
year. Judge Grier has announced that
drunkeness must be stopped, and he
proposes to put an end to running drug
stores as saloons,
——Mrs. Phuannel’s Sister-—Stella,
if I bad a husband that drank as hard
as John does I'd make him buy a
plaster and stick it over his mouth.
Mrs. Phunnel—It wouldn't do any
good, Jennie. He'd buy a porous
plaster.
Della—I believe that old,
Milyuos, in his heart, has a great
weakness for Daisy Peachblow. Do
you think she would marry him ?
Susan—Oh ! yes, if he only explains
about the weakness of hie heart.
——A supposed empty gun, which
was heavily loaded with buckshot, and
being carelessly handled by a small boy
at Irvona, on Saturday, was discharged
and two small children narrowly es-
caped the contents, which tore an entire
window out.
——If you want printing of any dis-
cription the WATCHMAN office is the
place to have it done.
4
The Judicial Contest.
One of the most wholesome signs of
the times as exhibited by the last elec-
tion returns, is the independence with
which the people of every section ot the
State voted for judges. The great Re-
PEblican cyclone that swept over the
tate and country naturally carried in
all the candidates of that party where
there was anything short of 8 sweeping
revolution, but it is notable that in every
district whera there was a contest the
people voted with remarkable indepen-
dence.
The Democrats elected four judges out
of the dozen or so elected on Tuesday
last. They elected Crawford in Greene,
Bailey in Huntingdon and Mifflin, Ste.
wart in York, and Dunn for the Or-
pbans’ Court in Schuylkill. In Wash-
ington, Beaver and Luzerne the Repub-
lican candidates were elected by largely
| reduced majorities, and in both Greens
and York the Democratic judges fell
considerably short of they party vote.
The loss of the Huntingdon-Miflin
district was one of the logical results of
the factional battle of last August. Both
counties of the district were carried for
Quay by decisive majorities, but the
Governor appointed Orlady to the Su-
perior Court and Williamson to the
Common Pleas, and both were candi-
dates for election. Mr. Culbertson car-
ried the primaries of Mifflin county, not
with any reasonable hope of being elec-
ted, but to assure the defeat of William-
son... The result was a triangular con-
test with Two Republican candidates, by
which Bailey, Democrat, was elected by
a large plurality against a majority of
over 2,000 for the State ticket in the
district. Fortunately Mr. Bailey, is
thoroughly equipped for the position
and will make a creditable judge.
Upon the whole a gratifying feature
of the judicial election in Pennsylvania
is that the people are getting more and
more independent each year in the elec-
tion of judicial officers, and that gives
the gratifying assurance of an upright,
competent judiciary in the State.—Phil-
adelphia Times.
The Author of “America” Dead.
Rev. Samuel Francis Smith Dies Suddenly in
Boston.—Stricken With Heart Failure.
Dr. Samuel F. Smith, of Newton, the
venerable author of “America,” died in
Boston on Saturday from heart failure.
He was in the corridor of the New Eng-
land Depot and was awaiting the arrival
of a train when he was seized with a fit.
He sank to the floor in a semi conscious
condition and only spoke a few inarticu-
late words afterwards.
Rev. Samuel Francis Smith, D. D.,
author, poet and linguist, was born
October 21, 1808, at Newton, Mass. He
attended the Elliott school, in Boston,
and won the Franklin scholarship in
1825. He was graduated from Harvard
College in 1829 and immediately began
studying for the ministry at Andover
Theological Seminary.
In 1834 he was ordained & minister of
the Baptist church and became pastor
at Waterville, Maine. He returned to
Boston in 1842 and edited the Christian
Review, a leading Baptist organ. Soon
after this, however, he gave up the edi-
torial chair and for several years was
astor of the First Baptist church at
ewton. Following this he was the
editorial secretary of the Missionary
Union.
From 1875 to 1880 he visited foreign
lands in company with his wife. He
was received everywhere with notable
tokens of regard. The National An.
them, which made him famous, is by
far the most popular of his productions.
Dr. Smith lived for many years in
Newton Centre, Mass., where Mrs.
Smith, now 82 years of age, survives
him. Among the most pleasing events
in the life of Dr. Smith was the grand
testimonial which was tendered him by
the people of New England in Music
Hall, Boston, April 3 last. That was
the last time Dr. Smith appeared on a
public platform, excepting his appear-
ance before the immense Saturday noon-
day meeting of the Christian Endeavor
on Boston Common to read an original
hymn, which was sung to the tune of
‘ America.”
Sweetbreads.
‘‘Sweetbreads are the pancreas of an
animal and valuable for convalescents
because they are a form of partially
digested food, and require but one hour
in the stomach to complete the diges-
tive process. Tripe is valuable for the
same reason, while milk requires two
hours for digestion. Potatoes and cab-
bage should never be eaten by any ex-
cept those engaged in outdoor manual
labor, as the one requires five and the
other seven hours for digestion. No mat-
ter how you serve the sweetbreads they
must first be parboiled in clear water
for twenty minutes.
“Then throw them into cold water
and pick them into small pieces, reject-
ing the membrane. Put a tablespoonful
of butter and one of flour 1n a saucepan
and add half pint of milk, and when
boiling add the sweetbreads and half
teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of
pper, and they are ready to serve. For
roiled sweetbreads, cut in half after
arboiling and broil. Ina pan put a
ittle finely-chopped parsley, some salt
pepper a tablespoonful of butter and a
few drops of lemon juice ; heat and pour
over the broiled sweetbread, which has
been placed on a heated dish.
Obesity.
A new treatment of obesity is pro-
posed, based on a pew theory. One
pound of lean meat and a pound of fish
per day is used, with a pint of hot wa-
ter every two hours. Nothing else in
the way of food or drink is allowed.
The theory. is that, the food being pure-
ly nitrogenous, the needful hydrocar-
bons must be supplied by the absorp-
tion of fat. The large quantity of hot
water is for the purpose of adverting
kidoey disturbances, which often at
tack those who live, to any extent, on
nitrogenous food.
——Some idea of the magnitude of
the bicycle business in the United
States can he learned from the fact
that the cost of these machines maunu-
factured in this country during the pre-
sent year amounted to $37,000,000.
For and About Women .
There are three women clergymen in
Belfast, Me. — Miss Kingsbury,
pastor the Universal church; Miss
King of the church of the Advent
and Miss McIntyre, of the church of
God.
The latest jackets are made slightly
longer than they have been shapad thus
far this season, and they fit smoothly
over the front and hips, with no “rip-
ple’’ in the back, but only a graceful
fullness—just enough to allow the coat
skirt to fall easily over the dress skirt.
Simple styles are fastened across over
the front with a double row of buttons.
Others have a braided vest and revers,
or a shawl-shaped collar of mink, skunk
or otber fur. The sleeves are moderate-
ly full, and fit closely below the elbow.
In all the talk about changes in
sleeves there is little that is imperative,
so don’t despair over those huge puffs
that are yours because of your obedience
to last year’s rules. If the sleeve that
fits the shoulder and puffs below the
round of the shouller-suits your figure,
you way have them ; that is a privi-
lege the present style allows. But most
new dresses are being made with sleeves
pretty much what they were last year,
the gigot and the to-elbow puff prevail-
ing. They are no bigger than last year
because they can’t be, and they are
slashed, looped and draped as much as
the wearer likes. Tbe essential point is
that there should be no rise above the
level of the shoulder. The line is eith-
er straight out, slanting downward or
drooping, as is preferred or as material
permits. Sleeves droop from the shoul-
der and are attached to a jacket bodice
of novel cut that has a short ripple
basque and opens in front over a vest of
black moire, ~Its shaw] collar and its
strap for tie waist are of black moire,
which also gives the turned down col-
lar. Bias folds of the dress goods trim
the skirt, the fold extending down the
centre and dividing there to run around
the sides. The dress was in blue-cloth,
with a touch of bright color from the
bright buttons at the waist strap.
Up to the present time the only wom-
an who has ever dared to set foot in the
cloistered precincts of the Grand Trappe
Monastery, at Soligni, in France, was
Queen Marie Amelie. After her visit
so the story runs, the monks repaved
the cloisters through which she had
passed, considering that there abode
had been desecrated by the feet of even
a royal lady. But now a new church is
about to be dedicated there, and for the
nine days between August 30 and Sep-
tember 8 persons of bojh sexes are to be
permitted to visit the¢/sacred enclosures
of tke monks.
There were plenty of pretty clothes
at the New York horse show, there was
a striking costume of shaggy red-brown
cloth, apparently held together by
leather thongs, for it was leathern-
bound and strapped in all directions.
The wearer was a horsey looking girl,
who discoursed learnedly upou the sub-
ject of “Roadsters in Harness.” Anoth-
er suit seen at the afternoon session of
the show consisted of dark graen velvet
skirt, with a pale green chine bodice,
the latter, with fine impartiality, being
adorned with yellow lace, sable tails,
white chiffon and rhinestone buttons.
The conglomeration was not so inartis-
tic as it sounds, for the chiffon formed
the vest, the lace arranged in lapels and
epaulets, enveloped the upper parts of
the sleeves, and the sable appeared at
the collar and wrists and upon the waist
band. The buttons held the lace in
place on either side of the velvet. :
But it was fn the evening that the sar-
torial side of the horse show appeared to
smartest advantage. Such a stunning
array of gowns and bornets and wraps
es it was. It was purple and fine linen
with a vengeance. It is not unlikely
that it was the most gorgeous display
the show has ever known, as not for
years have fashions in colors and fab-
rics and trimmings been so sumptuous
as at this present moment. There were
several striking things about the array.
One was the ubiquitiusness of the vest.
Such a thing as the old-time snugly
buttoned bodice was not even suggested.
Every frock, of whatever sort, had its
narrow or its wide, its loose or its close-
fitting vest, generally of white, and al-
ways of some color contrasting with the
fundamental fabric of the gown. A
bodice of ribbed velvet emerald-green in
color had a white satin, gold-sown vest
that actually made the passers-by blink,
it was so brilliant. ith this bodice
was worn a toque, the chief ingredients
of which were white satin, gold beading
and sable bands. At one side rose sev-
eral loops of velvet, stein green in color.
GREEN GALORE.
Green was much in evidence. It ran
the entire chromatic gamut as to shade,
every known tint being represented.
In many costumes it boldly took first
place, everything being subordinate to
it, but in many others it was content
merely to play second fiddle, and to ap-
pear in lapels, pipings and other minor
roles. A gown in two shades of olive
had sleeves of the darker tint, the mater-
ial being miroir velvet. The palershade
almost a yellow, formed a narrow vest
line down the bodice front, over which
met a white satin jacket embroidered in
gold. Black and white were a favorite
combination. There were scores upon
scores of the regulation dowager gowns
of black velvet and duchess lace, some
of which were worn by quite youthful
women, and which were effective under
all , circumstances. Black and white
striped silk seemed to be a popolar skirt”
fabric.
Those who suppose that feather boas
have had their day have underrated
their becomingness. The ingenuous
French dealers in feathers now make
the boa extremely full at the back,
slightly smaller where it meets at the
throat, and though they commend
shorter boas than those worn last year,
they add threo little tips, well curled,
as a finish to each end. By all means
keep these fragile neck atcessories at
home on a rainy day. The least sign of
damp in the air straightens each tiny
tendril out so that looks as though you
had held it over the tea kettle for a half
hour. They are not easy to curl, but if
you have happened to be caught in a
shower, take a dull knife and run it
through the feathers shake and hold to
the fire.
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