NN
+
* a skimpy print apron.
Bil itn
Bellefonte, Pa., March 27, 1896.
THE LITTLE GIRL WITH A COM-
PANY FACE.
Once ona time, in a far-away place,
Lived a queer little girl with a company face,
And no one outside of the family knew
Of her everyday face, or supposed she had
two, 3
The change she could make with wondrous
celerity,
For practice had lent her surprising dexter-
ity.
But at last it chanced, on an unlucky day
(Or lucky, perhaps, I would much better say),
To her dismal dismay and complete conster- |
nation,
She failed to effect the desired transforma:
tion;
And a caller, her teacher, Mies Agatha Mason.
Surprised her with half of her company face
on,
And half of her every day face peeping out,
Showing one grimy tear track and half a
pout,
Contrasting amazingly with the sweet smile
That shone on her “company” side all the
while.
The caller no sooner had hurried away
‘Then up to her room the girl flew in dismay,
And, after a night spent in solemn reflection
On the folly of features that can’t bear inspec.
tion,
She came down to breakfast, and walked to
her place,
Calm, sweet, and serene, with her company
face. ;
Thenceforward she wore it, day out and day
in,
Till you really might think ’twould be worn
very thin;
Bat, strange to relate, it grew more bright and
gay.
And her relatives thipk 'twas a red letter day
When the greatly astonished Miss Agatha
Mason
Surprised her with half of her company face
on.
— “St. Nicholas.”
rm ——————
LITTLE SQUIRES SCHOOL.
The village, with the school and
everything in it, properly belonged to
the Squire ; but people called the
school the little Squire's school, be-
cause no one took such an interest in
it as did the little Squire. Why, he
would arrive at the school every af-
ternoon for weeks running and leave
his pony standing, with its shaggy head
baltway io the door, while he took. up
his position beside the teacher, and
gravely regarded the boys and girls.
“Well, Charley, how’s your school?’
the Squire would ask, if he happened
to meet his son returning from the
village. “Coming on finely, eh?
Learning readin,’« writtin’ and ‘rith-
metic, and sewing into the bargain ?”
And then the Squire would roar, laugh-
ing ; for he thought it a huge joke the
interest the little Squire took in the
village school. :
Even the schoolmaster, Mr. Finch,
spoke of the school over which he had
presided for fifteen yearsas the little
Squire’s school. But many and many
atime the good man said to himself :
“He's a fine, manly little fellow, the
little Squire ; but I'm feared he'll be
spoiled. 'Tisn’t more’'n human nature
that the little Squire should be spoiled;
with the squire himself willing to
run at the lad’s beck and call, almost,
and the children here at the school
fairly worshiping. A fine, fine lad ;
but tis a pity.” The schoolmaster
said all this, however, before a certain
occurrence and its sequel down at the
the little Squire’s school. ;
This is how it was. The little
Squire stood as straight as a soldier.in
front of a long line of boys and girls.
He held a spelling book in one hand
and a ruler in the other; the litile
Squire was fond of elapping the book
with the ruler. The schoolmaster was
smiling as he sat idle at his desk.
The little Squire turned back the
leaves of the spelling book and gave
out the word “Bowl |”
Seated at the head of the bench,
with her eyes fastened upon the little
Squire, was a itttle flaxen-haired girl
wearing a queer, voluminous frock and
She was an
odd-looking, eager little girl and she
spelled very quickly “B o-1-1.”
“That isn’t right,” said the litle
Squire.
The little girl's face grew red and
white by turns, a bright gleam came
into her blue eyes and she showed one
dimple in her left cheek.
“Ann Elizabeth,” called out Mr.
Finch, in a warning toue.
“Next,” cried the little Squire.
“B-o-w-l, bowl,” said the second
little pupil, emphatically.
“Go heady’ ordered the little Squire.
Then be looked at Ann Elizabeth ; she
was actually muttering that it wasn’t
fair.
“You're a very bad girl, Ann Eliza-
betb,” said the lad. “I think you’ for-
get who is teacher to day.”
Then Ann Elizabeth shocked every
one in the school. She burst into im
pudent laughter.
“You're a common girl, Ann Eliza-
beth,’ cried the little Squire, energet-
ically ; “and I won’t teach this class
any more till Mr. Finch sees that you
mind your manners.”
And with that the lad toesed the
spelling book across to the teacher's
desk, darted out of the echool house,
mounted his pony, looking unconcern-
edly into the room, and rode away in
high dudgeon.
“I'm astonished at you, Aon Eliza-
beth,” said Mr. Finch, sternly. “I was
under the impression that you were a
well-behaved girl.”
The spelling claes was for the most
part dumbfounded ; but still that dan-
gerous dimple showed itself in Ann
Elizabeth's left cheek, aud still ber
eyes gleamed.
“I know I'm a common girl,” said
Ann Elizabeth, as she trudged. home a
quarter of an hour after the other
children ; “but I know it’s worse to
call a person what they is than what
they 18n’t ; and I know tbat word boll
. wasright. I'll be even yet with the
little Squire.”
About a week later the little Squire
Wns bl i a ites A
overtook Ann Elizabeth as she was
walking along the lane. He rode very
slowly as he came up to her, for he
wanted Aon Elizabeth to beg his par-
i don ; he wanted to give out some more
lessons at his school. Then the shaggy
little pony of ite own accord stood still
by the side of Ann Elizabeth.
The little Squire lifted his cap and
: said “*Good-morning.”
i Ann Elizabeth curtesied.
“I know I'm a common girl, Squire
Charley,” she said, suddenly.
Thereupon the little Squire, who was
really of a very generous pature and
who knew nothing of Aon Elizabeth's
dangerous dimple, cried out, impetu-
ously :
“Ob, I shouldn’t have called you
that ; I'm very sorry that I called yon
i that. But I'm glad’ to bear you ac-
knowledge you were wrong, Aun Eliz.
abeth,” be added, in a superior way ;
for at times the little Squire wae ex-
ceeding pompous.
“The word you give out is spelled
two ways,” said Aon Elizabeth, slow-
ly and distinctly, “b-o-11 a d b-o-w-1.”
“That may be, Ann Elizabeth,” re.
turned the little Squire, determined not
to lose his temper ; “but it was only
speiled one way in the spelling book.”
“Then the spelling book’s the dumb-
eat thing I ever heered of,” cried Ann
Elizabeth. :
“That may be, Aon Elizabeth,” ac:
quiesced the little Squire ; ‘but I
scarcely think you and I are called
upon to discuss the question.”
He looked so very little seated up
there upon his pony, and his words
seemed so verv big that for a moment
Ann Elizabeth almost gave up her
idea of getting even ; but she had been
head in the spelling class three months
all but two days, and her grandmother
bad promised her a new calico frock if
she stood head at the end of the third
month ; and although Ann Elizabeth's
frocks were voluminous and came al-
most down to ber heels she was im-
mensely proud of a new one.
“I’m a common girl, I know that,”
repeated Ann Elizabeth ; “and you're
a fine little gentleman, everybody
knows that, and I got a grandmother
and so hev you.”
She was looking over the back of
the shaggy pony, far away from the
little Squire's honest eyes.
The little Squire was going to be
angry, but he smiled instead :
*That’s so, Ann Elizabeth,” he said.
“I've got a grandmother, and eo have
you.”
“My grandmother,” said Ann Eliz
abeth, looking wickedly into the won-
dering face of the little Squire, “helps
with the baby and bakes pies and does
a turn most everywhere ; you can’t go
by the house you don’t hear her sing
in.’ Oact your gracdmother went a
potterin’ ‘round at Farmer Hathaway's,
workin’ hard as anybody ’fore she
married the Squire's father, now you
keep her lack she was a chiny tea-pot
or some’n ; dress her in silk,’and al-
most set her in a chair. She’ do look
lack a chiny doll, sure ’nough, settin’
wishin’ the Lord’d teck her. Little
Square, my grandmother pities your
grandmother ; bear that ?"
The shaggy pony kept its feet plant-
ed in the middle of the lane as the
little Squire’s indignant eyes followed
the figure of Ann Elizabeth going “on
to hie school. :
The trees met overhead in the ave-
nue up which the little Squire galloped
his pony. He had muttered “china
tea-pot”’ and ;‘‘china doll” defiantly,
before he persuaded the pony to leave
that spot in the lane, and his face was
aflame as he galloped up the avenue.
“China teapot! China doll, in-
deed I”
The little Squire was in an irritable
mood as he mounted the hall steps.
Everythiog about him was elegant as
he had always remembered, large,
comfortable and elegant ; ¢rd yet he
never for a moment doubted the words
Abn Elizabeth referring to his grand-
mother “potterin’ round at Farmer
Hathaway’s.” He entered the back
parlor where he knew his grandmothe-
er was sure to be; but he did not
speak to her, he just went to tossing
about the papers on the center table.
Being angry with the commpn little
girl made him angry with the whole
world.
Bat never in his short life had the
little Squire remained angry for a long
time. All at once he raised bis eyes
from the scattered papers and regarded
ois grandmother. She must have seen
him when he first came in, but che
was not thinking of him now ; she was
sitting in her rocking chair at the west
window. No, he was not angry, but
Ann Elizabeth’s ‘words were ringing
in his ears : “Drees her in silk and
a’most set her in a chair, She do look
lack a chiny doll sure 'nough.” Was
his grandmother sitting there wishing
the Lord would take her ? Then the
little Squire hid his face for a moment
in his arms ; for even as be had gal-
loped furiously past Ann Elizabeth's
home-he had heard the useiul old
grandmother laughing and singing to
the baby. And that old grandmother
pitied his grandmother. He walked
softly acroes the room and stooped and
kissed the little old lady, “You don’t
want to go to Heaven yet a while, do
you, Grandmother ?” he asked, anx-
ously.
She started guiltily, her shrunken
little face flushing, “I's very nice
down here, Charley,” she said, smooth-
ing out her gown.
“Is it made of silk?” questioned
the boy, following the movement of his
grandmother’s hand. =
“Yes, dear, it's made of silk—fine
silk,” she murmured.
“But you don’t feel like—like you
Pays china‘doll, do you, Grandmoth.
er
“A china doll,” repeated the old
lady, in a tremulous tone—*a china
doll. Who says that, Charley
But the little Squire hung his head.
He never intended to tell of Aon Eliz
abeth,
As the day went by the lad did not
go again to the village school ; instead
he set diligently to watching his little
china doll grandmother ; for that was
. for over four weeks. The common little
the way she began always to appear | girl, as if she were a great lady or
in his thoughts. He wondered how it’
mould be to grow old and sit still and
bave nothing to do. Some people, of |
couree, might like it, but not a person |
who had once been busy, no a person |
who bad gone ‘‘potterin’” round at!
Farmer - ty His grand:
motber used to take up her knitting !
occasionally ; but she didn’t care for |
knitting ; it cramped ber fingers. Some- |
time—this the little Squire. noticed
with a great sinking of his heart—the
little grandmother eat at the western
window and cried softly to herself.
Oue day the little Squire kissed the
little old grandmother right where the
tears were settling on her cheek, and
cried out, in his impulsive way,
“Grandmother, did you use to hke to
work ?" :
“Like to work, Charley ?’’ she asked,
faintly. And then of a sudden the lit-
tle grandmother was quivering and
crying and laughing all at once, as she
told the little Squire about her past
ueefulness and how she was wont to
“fly around the house.” “And now,”
she added, “I've nothing to do, noth-
ing whatever to do, no more than if I
wasn’t in the world, But it’s all right ;
yes, of course it's all right,” she went
on; “I’m the Squire’s mother, and
I'm proud and bappy ;” and then the
poor little grandmother, from some-
thing she saw in the little Squire’s big
blue eyes, hid ber little old face in ber
little old, useless bands, and fell
to sobbing like a baby. -
Ten minutes later the little Squire
knocked boldly at his father’s study.
“Come in !" roared the Squire.
When the little Squire, thus hid
den, opened the door he found his
mamma idling away the Squire's time
to the Squire's infinite satistaction. The
lad walked resolutely to his father’s
deck, and determination in his blue
eyes, his lips pressed together. “I've
just been with grandmother.” he be.
gan ; ‘she .sn’t happy -here. I say,
grandmother ought to be made awfully
bappy, she's so little aud she’s eo
good.”
Thereupon the Squire was for rush-
ing off to the back parlor to find out
what was the matter ; bul his wife put
her hand on hisand bade him ask the
little Squire to explain.
“Mother unhappy in my house ?"
fumed the Squire. “What do you mean,
Charley 2" :
“She's got to have something to do,”
said the little Squire, boldly. She and
I have got to take care of the parlors
orsome’n ; she mustn't sit still all day
avy longer” Then the lad’s bravery
deserted him, “IVs true, Mother,” ke
sobbed out, “my grandmother’s treated
like she was a china doll, and Ann
Elizabeth's grandmother makes the
whole house chippy.”
The Squire's mouth and eyes were
both open very wide. “Clean the par-
lors I” he gasped. Mother wouldn't
like that; that't- cervant’s work.”
Then, as it he might solve the prob-
lem in another way, he inquired, anx-
iously “Who's Ann Elizabeth ?"
The little Squire's mother answered
for him, with a faint smile. “She's
oue of the childzen down at the little
Squire's school.”
“We'd just dust,” said the little
Squire, perseverirgly ; “I'd dust the
piano legs while Gtandmother dust the
chaire. Sally never half duste, any-
way. And Grandmother and I could
have a flower bed pack of the parlor
windows , that wduldn’t be servant's
work, Father.” The little Squire al-
most stuttered in his eagerness, while
the big Squire's amazement grew and
grew,
But the lad’s mother had her arms
about him. “The little Squire may be
right,” she said eoftly ; ‘‘we must let
bim do what he can to make Grand
mother happy.
It was a happy day for the little, old
grandmother when, enveloped in a
white apron, she dusted the center
table in the front parlor. The little
Squire gat under the piano feasting his
eyes upon her before he vigorously
dusted the legs. And that flower bed
under the back windows ; why, from
the very beginning it brought the
laughter into Grandmother's little
wrinkled face.
The little Squire entered his school
very grayely one morning toward the
close of the third term. It almost
seemed as if he had been neglecting
his duty ; he hadn’t been near there
girl hung down ber head when she
saw him. The little Squire had never
told of her, and she felt ashamed and
repentant. The schoolmaster smiled
in hearty welcome.
“I'd like to hear the spelling class,
Mr. Fineb, it you don’t mind,” said
the little Squire ; and the schoolmas-
ter smiled again and held out the
book.
“I’m going to skip about,” said the
little Squire.
It was a long time before the little
Squire selected a place in the spelling
book. Then he “looked at Ann Eliza-
beth, who stood at the head.
“Boll,” he said. :
“B-0-w-1,”’ answered Ann Elizabeth,
in a low voice.
“There are two ways of spelling that
word,” said the little Squire, looking
far away over Ann Elizabeth’s meek
head ; “I didn’t know it the other
time ; this word's spelled the other
way, but both ways are right. If I'd
kuow I wouldn't have made Ann Eliz-
abeth go down.”
Then the little Squire's eyes fell on
Ann Elizabeth, abject and miserable,
‘He saw the flaxen head bowed away
down over the bib of the funny little
apron. He knew that Ann Ehizshetl
was just as sorry as she could be.
But, somehow, the little Squire was |
just as glad as he could be. “Ann
Elizabeth,” he said, in a friendly fash-
ion, ‘you ought to eee my grandmoth-
er and me dusting the parlor furniture;
you ought to see us ! And we’ve started
a flower bed ; we're going to have
every kind of flower. You must come
up and see if sometimes.”
Then, to the amazement of the spell-
ing class, the little Squire held out his
aristocratic hand to the common little
somebody whom he respected very
much, and Aon Elizabeth took it and
laughed bashtully.
And Mr. Finch locked on affection-
ately fgom his seat at the teacher's
desk dow in the little Squire's school.
— The Iglependent. :
CATER.
Catechism of Crazes.
Q. What is a political issue ? A.
It is a public question arising in a free
country, affecting the happiness, prop-
erty, lives or liberty of large numbers
of people, and as to which there is
some fundamental difference of opin-
ion touching the proper course to be
pursued.
Q. What effect does a political is- i
sue produce on parties in a free coun-
try ? A. Itdivides existing parties,
and sometimes brings new parties into
existance.
Q. How is it settled? A. By
voting.
Q. How does voting decide it ? A.
The course advocated by the majority
18 taken.
Q. Does
does.
Q. What issues are waiting to be
settled ? A. Those of protection and
the currency.
-Q. Are these questions of the most
pressing importance ? A. They are.
Q. Why ? A. Because-one 1n-
volves the cost of subsistence, the
other the solvency of the government.
Q. Why are these questions not
taken up ? A. Because the politicians
are afraid to take them up.
Q. Whatare the politicians occupy-
ing themselves with ? A. Crazes.
Q. How do you define a craze ? A.
A craze is an irrational excitement af-
fecting a large number of people.
Q. How do you distinguish a craze
from a true political issue? A. A
political issue is one about which there
can be an honest difference of opinion
amoog rational people. A craze has
for its object something which on ex-
amination is geen to be senseless, op-
posed to evefy one’s interest, and gen-
erally dishonest.
Q. Does a craze ever arise of itself?
A. Not often.
Q. How does it usually arise? A.
It is usually started by politicians and
fostered by newspapers.
Q. What happens to crazes? A.
They always die ot exposure.
Q. What can a politician’s object
be in starting a craze ? A. To profit
by the ensuing excitement.
Q. How does he expect to profit by
it? A. By making people think that
it presents a new question of import.
ance, of deep public interest, which
will divide parties. By means of keep-
ing it alive and showing that he is on
what he pretends is the popular side
of it, he hopes to increase his political
repute and keep in office.
Q.- How does a newspaper profit
by a craze? A. Any excitement in-
creases its sale, ‘
Q. Have crazes ever become real
political issues ? A. Never.
Q. Why ? A. Because, being bas-
ed on no real public demand or inter-
est, the public before long sees through
them, and they are abandoned by
their authors. They never divide
parties and never produce new ones.
Q. When are they apt to be set on
foot ? A. Within a few months of a
Presidential election.
Q. Is one object of a craze to divert
public attention from real public ques-
tions which politicians are afraid to
take up? A. Itis.
Q. What was tbe labor craze ? A.
A craze got up to set labor against
capital.
Q. What was the object of this
craze? A. To wake laboring men
believe that they were to have more
money and fun than they could earn
by their labor.
Q. Was thie rational? A. No.
it was highly absurd. Labor can
never get more money or fun than it
can earn by work.
J. Who established this rule ? A.
God Almighty.
Q What did the promoters of this
craze effect? A. They produced a
tremendous struggle between capitalist
and laborer, resulting in gigantic and
disastrous strikes, a paralysis of trade
and commerce, wide-spread destitution,
considerable loss of life, and in many
districts ruin and desolation.
this rettle it? A. ' Tt
Q. Mention another craze. A. The |.
silver craze.
Q. What is its object ? A. To en-
able any one who owes a dollar to dis-
charge the debt by paying half-a-dol-
lar. ?
Q. Is this rational ? A. No.
Q. Isit dishonest? A. Yes.
Q. Does it seem likely to be suc
cessful ? = A. No.
Q. To what does it appeal ? A. Dis
honesty and conceit.
Q. Among what classes? A. To
dishonesty among debtors; to conceit
among a small but conspicuous class
known as bimetallists.
Q. What is a bimetallist? A. An
otherwice intelligent man, afflicted
with a form of egotism which leads
him to try to persuade others that he
can eee further than they can intoa
millstone.
Q. What is the latest craze? A.
The Jingo craze.
Q. What is a Jingo? A. Oue
desirous that his country shall play a
bully’s part toward other nations.
Q. Are there many such ? A.
There are a good many in every coun-
try.
a “What is a political Jingo ? A.
A Jingo in office.
Q. What does he do?
others on.
Q. Does he want to fight ? A. No.
He wants to profit by others fighting
or threateniag to fight.
Eggs the
are within “six months of a Presiflen-
tial election.” ‘
Q. How does a Presidential elec-
tion affect the matter? A. They
fancy that defiance of other countries
will “go” with the people in favor of
whoever bullies and swaggers the loud-
est.
Q. Is the Jingo craze connected
with the silver craze? A. It is.
Q. How? A. In case cf war or
even great preparations for defeuse, we
shonld need large sums of money, and
the treasury being bankrupt, we should
resort to silver, of which we have a
large stock on hand, and pass off halt
dollars as dollars.
Q. Would this be honest ? A.
would not.
Q. Does this fact commend ft to
the politicians 2? A. It does.
It
Q. Is the Jingo craze rational ? A.
It is not.
Q. How can this be seen ? A. By
| reading Jingo speeches and hearing
i Jingoes talk.
iQ. On whatdo Jingoes rely to fos-
ter their craze ? A. On boastfulnese,
arrogance, prejudice and quarrelsome-
i nese. ~
| Q. Are these fine motives? A.
: No. :
Q. Do politicians openly appeal to
, bad motives? A, Never.
Q. To what then do the Jingoes
pretend to appeal? A. To patriot.
18m,
Q. What has been said of such an
appeal ? A. It is the last refuge ot a
scoundrel.
Q. Are all Jingoes scoundrels ? A.
No; but nearly all scoundrels are
Jivgoes.—New York Evening Post.
Electric Light Without Heat.
A New Jersey electrician, D. M¢Far-
lan Moore, claims to have discovered
the secret of the firefly. In other words,
that he can make light without heat, in
accordance with a new principle in
molecular vibration. He proposes to
emulate the glowworm, and instead of
having the present red-hot hairpin fila-
ment in the ordinary incandescent
light, he will make the whole surface of
the glass glow with a brilliant illumina-
tion. Mr. Moore's experiments have
been directed along the lines of a new
principle in electricity, which he claims
to have been discovered. He maintains
that, theoretically, there is no more
reason why we cannot have light with-
out heat, than there is why we cannot
strike a chord on the piano without
striking all the chords, in order to have
music. He claims to be able to separate
the several divisions of energy, and em-
ploy only the illuminating elements.
He employs the ordinary current of 110
volts, and from this he gets a light that
compares very favorably with sunshine,
so far as obtaining a good negative is
concgrned. Indeed, he asserts that a
one-volt current is enough to accom-
plish illumination.
He expects one of these days to sell
sticks of light about the size of a stick
of candy that will burn for forty-eight
hours. They will be a sort of a storage
battery, and a man can carry them
around in his waistcoat pocket. At
night all that is necessary to be done is
to press a little button, and you have a
bright light. His laboratory 1s in Har-
rion, N.J., and recently a party of
electrical experts examined his new
apparatus for producing ligkt without
heat. The machinery employed by
bim is said to be very simple, and the
present commercial current of 110 volts
will be enough for nearly a nundred
lamps. Under the present incandescent
lamp lighting the heat amounts to 99
per cent. of the energy; under Mr.
Moore’s system nearly all this is saved,
so that the cost of his lamps is reduced
very much. When the current is turn-
ed on, and the lamps become phos-
phorescent, the bulbs are as cold as if
they had been in an ice box. The whole
surface of the lamp is illuminated, and
not merely the filament of hairpin, as in
the present incandescent lamp. The
effect of the new light is said to be eome-
thing exceedingly brilliant.— Popular
Science News.
For the Eyes.
When the eyes ache close them for
five minutes.
When they burn bathe them in wa-
ter as hot as can be borne, with a dash
of witch hazel in it.
After weeping bathe them in rose
water and lay a towel wet in rose wafer
over them for five minutes.
When they are bloodshot sleep more.
When the whites are yellow and the
pupils dull consult your doctor about
your diet.— World.
Not a Blood Relative.
Mr. Wheeler—‘ Wasn’t that young
Blumer who just bowed to you ?”’
Miss Geering--‘Yes ; he’s a member
of my family now.” ir
‘Mr. Wheeler—“ Why, I never knew
vou were related to him.”’
Miss Geering—‘‘Neither 1 am by
blood ; I’m bis sister by refusal.”
——Hillson—*‘Shall you send your
son to college ?"’
Millson—What’s the use? He
could not achieve any honors.”
Hillson—“Hasn't he gst
enongh 7”
Millson—*‘Brains—brains ? Nonsense;
he has enough for two ; but Le’s fast
losing his hair, and no football team
would have him.”
brains
—— Practically, the end of the Ken-
tucky Senatorial contest was a victory
for tde sound money Democrats. By
their steady and sturdy resistance they
prevented 'he election of either a Re-
publican or a Democratic friend of free
silver coinage at the 16 to 1 ratio.
——1In view of the near approach of
Arbor Day, J. T. Rothrock 18 busy im-
pressing upon the people of the State
Q. What is the explanation of the
Jingo craze ? A. An idea entertain. |
ed by politicians that we are a nation |
of bullies and braggarts, and want lead- |
ers of the same sort, !
Q. Why has this craze broken out
just now ? A. Because politicians are |
atraid of confrontiog the only real |
questions before the country, and we
the beneficial effects of general tree-
planting. What are our Wilkes-Barre
people doing for the good work ?
* ——Bobby ;‘‘Auntie, pass me the
butter.’
Auntie—¢If—, Bobby, if what ?”
Bobby (iu despsration)—*‘‘If you can
reach it.”
For and About Women.
Miss Caroline B. Hendricks, niece of
the late Thomas A. Hendricks, has been
admitted to the practice of law before
the Supreme Court in Indiana.
“Complaint is & confession of failure.
If women would but recognize the
force and truth of that dictum, surely
there would be less jar and fret in this
work-a-day world.
Who would willingly confess defeat ?
And yet the woman who complains
dces go all unwittingly ; she proclaims
aloud that she is overweighted by her
responsibilities ; that she is unable to
meet the calls upon her tact and pa-
tience ; that life’s worries are too many
for ber ; in a word, that she has failed
i —a humiliating confession, indeed !
| The habit of complaining grows, and
| its influence is something to be dread-
{ed ; it reduces everybody to a state of
despondency and depression, unfits one
for the daily battle of life and makes
even the memory of home hateful. And
this vice—for vice it 18—is a boome-
rang ; it notonly acts upon others, but
it reduces ite victim to a pitiable condi-
, tion ; she becomes nervous, fretful and,
i alas, nagging, and there is no sweetness
left in life.
| Somebody has truly said that the real
art of living is making the best of
things ; so, my sisters, let that be the
basis of the philosophy of your daily
life. Cultivate cheerfulness, don’t com-
plain, don’t nag at fortune and fate ;
meet the petty ills that hourly arise
bravely, brightly. So met they are half
defeated, and, be sure, will wholly van-
ish before the twin sorcerers, hope and
patience.
All sorts of fluffy neck things will
atone for the loss of the big sleeve.
She is an unwise woman who hangs
up her jacket by a loop at the back of
the neck. It makes the coat sag where
the strain comes, and gives ita dragged
and droopy appearance. If loops are
used at all, they should be at the arm
holes, and so put on as to stand up-
right, and are not stretched across an
inch or go of space, this obviates the
pulling at the cloth. But the best way
to kesp a coat fresh and in good shape
is to keep it, when not in active service,
on a wooden hanger.
Don’t think a man is fascinated by
your good lcoks if you catch him star-
Ing at you. Your back hair may be
coming down or a black emude on your
nose may be the reason for his concen-
trated gaze.
The old-time stock such as our grand-
fathers wore will be seen on smart shirt
waists this summer.
A charming springlike gown of sil-
very green brilliantine is made in ex-
treme plainness, but is nevertheless
swagger to a8 degree. The wide skirt is
abnormally tull and flaring, and set out
beautifully at the bottom by its stiff lin-
ing of deep green taffeta and its inter-
ling of fibre chamois.
The snug little jacket fits like a glove,
and has a lot of flaring little ripples ov-
er the bustle. A narrow folded belt of
black satin encircles the waist, and is
fastened in front by a huge chou of sa-
tin, with a big emerald button directly
in the centre. The sleeves are immense-
ly full to the wrists, where a deep cuff
of black eatin is finished by big choux
at the top.
The double-breaster front is fastened
by & row of the jeweled buttons. A
natty little cape of green velvet is cut
in deep scallops all around the edge, and
finished with & thick rose ruche of black
satin.
The hat worn with it has a flaring
brim of black satin braid, with a full
bow of flimsy lace at the side, and two
tall burnished green wings standing up-
right. A nosegdy of mignonette and
little pink rosebuds nestles among the
lace at one side.
The high white collar and turned-
back cuffs, which are the distinctive
features of the new shirt-waist, are cal-
culated to increase one’s laundry bill to
an alarming extent.
Spring hats will be worn low over
the eyes, thus enabling the girl with the
tip-tilted nose to look even a trifle
saucier than nature intended.
Ribbons will reign through the com-
ing Summer. No air frock will be
complete without them. They will en-
circle the Summer girl’s slender waist—
alight on her shoulders as butterfly
bows, form little ripple basque to add
breadth to her hips, and dangle from
her girdle with many floating ends. As
rosettes they will be much in evidence,
as frilled epaulettes used to disguise the
shape of the newest sleeve. r
And such ribbons as they are! TItis
no wonder the Summer girl will revel
in them. Showered with blossoms,
powdered with gold and gay with vari-
colored stripes and plaids, they make an
assortment fit for a queen to choose
from. :
The new ribbons are simply so many
floral panoramas, the favorite width,
especially for millinery, being seven
inches. The colorings are vivid, such
as a lovely geranium tone, and many
of them have shot grounds, with chine
flowers scattered over them, says the
New York Sun. Checks blend in and
emphasize the chine patterns ; some of
them entirely cover the ground, and
bave u white satin arabesque design
thrown on their surface. Narrow black
satin stripes and satin borders distin-
guish many of the new ribbons, and
minute checks in two ‘colors, such as
pink and green. Bunches of cornflow-
ers on a moire gown are most effective,
and chine azaleas on checks formed
of diagonal lines. Chine floral ribbons
in black and white, and plain glace rib-
bons with violets meandering over the
ground, or close set apple blossoms,
have a/ grea element of beauty. A
narrow, inch-wide chine ribbon is used
for millinery purposes, and wider ones
show a mixture of black lace designs
with flowers, the shaded effects, hoa
most decided. . Never before have there
been ribbons which areso perfectly ar-
tistic.
So said one of the wise ones of the earth.