Pp
Bellefonte,
WEAVING.
FLORENCE MARYATT.
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me ;
I may but choose the colors—
He worketh steadily.
For oft He weaveth sorrow ;
And I, in foolish prétle,
Forget he seems the upper,
And I the ander side,
I choose my strands all golden,
And watch for woven stars ;
I murmur when the pattern
Is set in blurs and mars,
I cannot yet remember
Whose hands the shuttles guide ;
And that my stars are shining
Upon the upper side.
I choose my threads all erimson,
And wait for flowers to bloom,
For warp and woof to blossom
Upon that mighty loom.
Full oft I seek them vainly ;
And fret for them denied—
Though flow’ring wreaths and garlands
May deck the upper side.
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me ;
I see the seams, the tangles—
The fair designs sees He,
Then let me wait in patience
And blindness ; satisfied
To make the pattern lovely
Upon the upper side.
A MORAVIAN BRIDE.
It was the 1st of August, that brightest,
sunniest month of all the year, when the |
bleak northern coast of Labrador takes on |
a fleeting garb of emerald green, when the !
boisterous winds subside to gentle zephyrs, |
and the tumultuous ocean seemingly en- |
tranced, rests from its labors and lovingly |
laps the shore.
In one of the broad channels between the
thousand rocky isles which gird the main |
a large brig lay becalmed. Her sails hung
idly from the yellow yards, and the helms- |
man no longer maintained a pretense of di-
recting her.
In the vessel’s waist the captain, a bach- |
elor of 40 years, promenaded back and |
forth with a young woman, who lightly |
rested a gloved hand on his arm.
‘So you have never seen his photo- |
graph ?’’ he asked.
“No ; not even that,’
sently.
“You know no more of him than merely
this :
ing as keeper of the mission store ; that he
is 24 and wants a wife and is willing to ac- !
cept the bishop’s choice. Yet you come |
across the sea to share his lot ; to sacrifice |
your inclinations and desires ; to bury |
yourself for life in this wild land.”
‘A sacrifice it may be, sir,’ she said.
“How great I did not feel when we set
sail.”
A wave of hope and passionate longing
flooded the captain’s heart. It shone from
his clear brown eyes as he turned to face
her. :
‘It is too great a sacrific.,’ he said, with
warmth. “The pity of it, and there is one
who would give—’
She looked at him strangely and with-
drew her hand.
“You forget, sir!” she
“It is the bishop’s will.
promise made before the church. I did
not know then all it meant to me, but I
had time for thought and was not urged.
It is my duty and my work in life.”
“The sense of such a duty is absurd—"’
‘No, no!” she broke in hurriedly.
“You are a valued servant of our church.
Your Christian duty is to help me.’
‘My duty as a man—"’
But she disappeared within the compan-
ion way, and, vexed, he turned impatient-
ly to the lounging helmsman, severely re-
calling him to his neglected post.
* * * * *
interrupted.
He holds my
*
In the solitude of her cabin she flung |
herself upon the cushioned locker, the cap-
tain’s words still ringing in her ears. He
loved her ! Of that she felt assured.
she—But, no! She must not, dare not
think of that.
Could it be a mistaken sense of duty ?
She was the daughter of missionaries, gen-
eration upon generation, and following in
the very footsteps her mother had traced a
score of years before, Although she had
lived at home but till the age of 7, she re-
membered as though it were but yesterday
the story of her mother’s early life, as she
had told it, and narrowly the girl compared |
that life with what her own had been,
seeking to find some jot of difference.
She knew the harmony of her parents’
lives, each kind and thoughtful of the oth-
er's weal, their only sorrow the parting
from their child, and this they both agreed
was wise and best. How else could child-
ren of the wilderness be fitted for useful
lives? It was a rule dictated by the
church, to which they owed obedience as |
salvation’s price. 5
These mission born children were educa~
ted by the church in the belief that duty to it
was paramount. The wishes of its clergy
were commands, the bishop’s will an edict
from on high. The boys were trained to fill
their fathers’ places, the girls to make the
missionaries’ wives, the men -to take what
wives the church bestowed, the women to
marry without choice such husbands as the
bishop might award.
And that the church had wisdom on its
side was proved by the universal happiness
to which those thus united testified.
And yet she could not reconcile herself.
Her innate modesty revolted at the gross
idea of surrendering to a perfect stranger’s
will. How could she fail to hate him, to
despise this man, who without one spark
from the flaming altar of true love, would
willingly forfeit all noble sentiments of
mind and heart and selfishly debase him-
self and her-pure young ‘womanhood ?
And she herself would make this union
possible !
An overpowering loathing of herself pos-
sessed her with the thought, a terror she
strove vainly to control, and the pent up
torrent of her dread burst forth, sweeping
her away upon its turbulent waves in par-
oxysms of despairing tears.
An atmosphere of feverish expectancy
prevaded the usually quiet surroundings of
The Post. People were hastily gathering
from all quarters upon the little mound be-
side the church. The oil depot and factory
were deserted, and the wolfish dogs might
pass the unguarded door and drink their
fill from the uncovered vats of oil.
The misssonary’s tidy children jostled
with the crowd of natives unnoticed by
their nurse. The baker and brewer stood
on the mission house porch, puffing vigor-
ously at his long Dutch pipe, while his lit-
tle frau beside him conversed excitedly
with the gardner’s wife, who leaned from
an open lattice. :
’ she answered ab- |
That he is yet in his novitiate, act- |
And. |
A rising hum of eager voices came from
| the hillock, where the throng of dusky Es-
| kimos was steadily increasing and every
eye was strained upon the entrance to the
little bay.
The cause of this unusual agitation had
been a signal gunshot from the hill, fired
| by the sentry stationed to keep a lookout
| for the long expected ship. It was to bring
| them news from o’er the sea, the history of
| the great world’s doings for a year—letters
from relatives and friends, presents and
| messages, supplies and stores, their firs in-
| telligence for a long 12 months. What
| wonder, then, that they looked forward,
| anxiously counting the months and weeks
| and days and hours, until the time the ves-
| sel might arrive.
{ And one there was to whom it brought a
| bride. He was the youngest white man at
| the post. He had her picture, brought
| through winter snows and stormy twilight
| by the native messenger, who journeyed
| over the frozen channels with his sledge to
| the lower missions, where he met the fac-
tor of the great company buying furs, and
' who brought a few precious letters for The
| Post, forwarded by a winter courier from
| Quebec.
Two thousand miles the print had come
| by sledge, and every day the young man
studied it, noting the charms of youthful
reyes and mouth, of rounded cheek and
i wavy hair speculating upon her character
! and longing for yet dreading that moment-
| ous time when they should meet to either
: love or hate.
Which would it be and could he gain
i her love? How should he greet her? He
| a gawky youth, who, guarded in his school
| ascetically trained, had no experience with
| the other sex, regarding them as quite be-
yond his ken, knew nothing of the pangs
of boyish love, and only had a crude ab-
stract idea of the happiness. duties, sacri-
| fice and pain involved in the mysteries of
| married life.
The elder of the post had said the time
was ripe for him to take a wife. Obedient
to the magnate of the church, he had writ-
ten, at dictation, his request.
And now the signal shot had let them
know the vessel bringing her was drawing
| near.
i He left the store with speed, fled to his
room, bathed, combed and dressed him in
| his best, looked at the photograph and put
it back within its velvet cover next his
{ heart, laughed and half cried and paced
| the polished floor, and through the open
window nervously watched and waited for
the coming ship.
The murmur of the voices increased and
t swelled into shouts of ‘‘Gleanerakoo-a-koo-
o-o-t I”” and round the precipitous point.
with white sails set and pennants flying,
swept the noble brig. The bay was dotted
| now with bright kayaks. and volley on
volley rang from a hundred guns, the
church bell pealed, the dogs set up a howl
and sang their weird chorus lustily, flags
fluttered bravely from the mission roof,
and presently the brig’s signaling cannon
hoomed.
The novice hid his face within his hands,
' with fluttering heart of mingled joy and
| fear, and
| away.
* * * *
| A week passed.
| chor in the bay.
| Within his study the mission elder sat,
| his long gray board falling in tangled
{ waves upon his breast.
| His keen gray eyes were bent upon the
The brig still lay at an-
| novice and the girl, who stood respectfully |
| waiting till he should speak.
| For 40 years he had lived his mission
{ life, and his thoughts were busy with that
| time long passed when he had been just
| such another youth and had obeyed just
| such a call to wed. His helpmate’s silvery
| hair was auburn then. Her dear old
| face was smooth and fair. .
| The children of the love were scattered
wide. One had been sent to Asia's infidel
| land, another lived beneath the scorching
! rays that bleached the sands of Africa, and
' a third had labored for the church among |
| the hordes of one of those far islands in the
| sea, and news had come that he, the most
| beloved, had been rewarded with a mar-
| tyr’s crown.
‘Fraulein,’ he said at last, ‘‘the time is
| short ; the brig must sail tomorrow. I
must urge that you should give your ans-
| wer definitely. :
“It is a thing most serious to. you both,
| but you have been together seven days.
| Not long in which to fix upon a wife or
| learn to judge a lover’s moods and whims.
| “But I can speak myself for this young
man. I pledge you he is upright, virtuous,
kind. :
‘And as for you, my son, she is far more.
| Her features would he ample passport with-
out this commendation from the church.
That you already love her I can see.
What do you answer?’ ;
The young man looked to her, then
dropped his gaze. ‘You speak but truth,
sir. She is dear to me. I would not have
her leave me, but still less would I enjoy
the thought that she was forced by sense of
duty only to share my lot.
‘I pray let her decide for both of us and
give her till the morning to reply. If she
should wish for more dely, it is not necess-
| ary we should wed at once, and meanwhile
I may try to win her love.’ ’
‘What says the madchen ?”’
The girl was touched by the generous
thoughtfulness the youth had shown and
by the kindness of the aged man. She cast
one swift, wistful glance through the open
window at the anchored brig, where the
captain’s stalwart figure paced the quarter,
and blushed and bowed her head and tried
to speak. Then, with returning courage
and resolve, she approached and knelt be-
side the old man’s chair. :
‘‘Father,” she said, her sweet voice
tremulous, “I have had thoughts, unwor-
thy of my faith, rebellious thoughts and
fears and wicked moods. If either is un-
worthy, it is I.
‘Give me some few days more before we
wed—and let the brig sail. I will stay
with you.”’—Ralph Graham Tabor in Zruth.
The “Russian Thistle.
The so-called ‘‘Russian thistle,” or
‘‘tumbleweed,’”” has found its way to the
vicinity of Chicago, as it was sure to do
sooner or later, and is causing no little an-
noyance to the farmers of northern Illinois
and Indiana. It came of course, along the
railway lines with the stock-cars, and great
patches of it are now found on the out-
skirts of the city. It first got a foothold in
this country over twenty years ago, having
been brought by some Russian colonists
who settled in the Northwest. It soon
took firm possession of the Dakotas, and be-
"gan to spread itself over a dozen other
States and Territories. It isa pest that
promises to make more trouble than the
Canada thistle ever did. Already it
causes a loss of several millions annually
to the farmers of the Northwest, and its
ravages are increasing every year. Thus
far science has been appealed to almost in
vain for some effective means of getting rid
of this extremely unwelcome immigrant.
wished himself 10,000 miles
-[ her smile
Compulsory Education.
Pennsylvania will attempt an experi-
ment this year in compulsory education,
and the people will have a demonstration
whether it is more effective than free educa-
tion. It will certainly involve large addi-
tional expenditures, and will provide places
for politicians, and in these respects may
be accepted as a first-rate law.
The compulsory law was’ passed in May,
1895, and approved by Governor Hastings,
after having been vetoed by Governor Patti-
son at a former session of the legislature
for good and sufficient reasons. Under the
law the election assessors in making their
lists of voters are required to obtain a com-
plete list of all children between the ages
of 8 and 13 residing in their respective elec-
tion divisions, with information as to sex,
color, and whether or not they are in care
of parents or guardians. The assessors are
to be paid for this work by the city coun-
cils or county commissioners in addition to
their allowance for the regular spring
assessment. The lists are to be certified to
the school districts and the principal of
each school furnished a list of children in
his or her district subject to the law. Pa-
rents or guardians are required to send
their children to school at least 16 weeks
each year, and it is made a misdemeanor to
neglect this duty punishable by a fine of
$10 for the first and $5 for each subsequent
conviction. In some cases imprisonment
will follow neglect or refusal to pay the
fine. Truant officers are also provided to
look after chilren who ‘‘play hook.”’ The
machinery of the law will swell to large
proportions in due time, and it will make
a considerable increase in taxes.
We do not believe the compulsory sys-
tem will grow in favor, and have little
doubt that in a few years it will fall into
disuse, as in other states where attempted,
unless the official pickings are sufficient to
keep it alive. The compulsion that is
wanted in our school system, as the Phil-
adelphia ‘Ledger puts it, is provision to
teach the younger children, who have to
leave school at an early age, to read, write
and cipher correctly. A system is wanted
that will eliminate the superfluities, in
the children who have to go out into the
world taught to read fluently, write freely
and cipher correctly. Even those advanced
to the higher branches should be made
more thorough in the primary basis. “They
have been taught physiology,” says the
“Ledger,” *‘by teachers who know nothing
of the subject except what is set down in
books ; they have been instructed in draw-
ing by bewildered instructors who could
not themselves do the work required of the
children, but they have not received such
| an elementary education as will put into
| their hands the keys of learning.” The
many thousands, says the same paper, who
| are abliged to leave school at, say,
of age have gained little more than the un-
| fortunates who are to be dragged into
| school under this new compulsory law by
! well-paid political workers. Even com-
| pulsory education is to be made a spoke in
{ the political machinery.
The Stevenson Wedding.
Washington Society Interested in the Marriage of
the Vice President.
| eldest daughter of vice President Steven
son, to Rev. Martin D. Hurdin, of Harrods-
| burg; Ky., occurred in Washington May
| 28th, The bride is a very handsome’young
woman, highly accomplished, and has been
| the belle of Washington society. She is a
| brunette, tall and slim, but her figure is
| graceful and athletic.
| educated, having studied for a time at |
! She is a brilliant con- |
| Wellesley college.
versationalist and, a clever writer, being
| much interested in literary work.
The Rev. Mr. Hardin is a son of one of
Kentucky’s foremost politicians and law-
yers, the Hon. P. Watt Hardin, who was |
for 12 years attorney general of the state |
and who is an old friend of the vice Presi- |
dent. His eldest son, who has but recent-
ly entered the ‘ministry, inherits his fath-
er’s oratorical gift and is already famous |
throughout the state as an eloquent speak- |
er. Martin was graduated from Centre |
college, Danville, three years ago and be- |
gan to study law with his father, but be- |
came impressed with the idea that he had
a call to the ministry. He at ofce gave up
his brilliant prospects and entered the Pres-
byterian theological seminary froni which
he has but just graduated. While a stu-
dent at Centre college he won a medal for
oratory and was also awarded the inter-
collegiate state medal.
He also became famons in quite another
direction. He is one of the best athletes
in the south and made a great reputation
as a foot-ball player when he was in col-
lege. His bold and skillful playing in the
field won for him more popular favor than
even his ability as a debater. He is rather
under medium height and not so tall by
two or three inches as his bride elect, He
met Miss Stevenson while she was visiting
in Louisville about three years ago, and
they have been sweethearts ever since.
The wedding took place in the New York
Avenue Presbyterian church about
noon and was followed by a reception
at the Normandie, where the vice Presi-
dent lives. The young couple will take
up their residence in Danville.
|
The Girl Who Works.
The. girls who works—God bless her,
says an exchange. She is brave and she is
not too proud to earn her own living ; she
is studious, painstaking and patient ; she
smiles from behind the counter or desk ;
is the reflection of celestial
grandeur and eternal bliss ; she is like a
beautiful mountaineer ; her character is
pure as the bubbling spring, strong as the
rock from which it flows and as high as the
mountain’s topmost pinnacle. The sight
of her should be a fine inspiration for us
all. Her hand may be stained by dish
washing, sweeping. factory grease or print-
er’s ink, but it iS an honest and helping
hand : it stays misfortune from many
homes ; it is one shield that protects many
a forlorn little family from the asylum.
All honor to the girl who works.
——The Harrisburg Patriot calls atten-
tion to the fact that this year the Democra-
tic party is one hundred years old. It be-
gan business in 1796, and has outlived
many opposing organizations. The Fed-
eral and Whig parties managed four times
to carry the Presidential election, holding
that office for sixteen years. The Republi-
can party has seven times elected its Presi-
dent. The Democratic party has carried
the country fourteen times in Presidential
contests, and has made its lasting impress
upon the character of the Federal Govern-
ment as illustrated in the accepted inter-
pretation of its constitutional powers,
There will be no danger of the dissolution
of the Democratic party as long as the Re-
public shall last ; for itis founded upon
the principles which underlie successful re-
which there is imperfect instruction, and |
13 years |
She has been finely |
Death Claims Wm. A. Wallace.
Pennsylvania's Jurist and Ex-United States Senator
Dies in New York.—Paralysis Was the Cause.
Ex-United States Senator Wm. A. Wal-
lace, "of Clearfield died last Fri-
day morning at his temporary residence,
170 West Lk a in street, New York.
He had been suffering from paralysis of
the brain since last February ; had been
unconscious most of the time for several
weeks, and was unconscious when he ex-
pired. His sister who is the wife of ex-sena-
tor Mecgarroll, of Pennsylvania, and
his son, 1. E. Wallace, were at his bed-
side at tHE time of his death. The other
members of the family, who had been in
the city for several months, left for home
Tuesday, thinking that he would live fora
long time yet. His wife has been an in-
valid for some years.
SENATOR WALLACE’S CAREER.
States senator and for 15 years a
state senator, was born at Hun-
tingdon, Huntingdon county, November
28, 1827. He is descended from sturdy
Scotch-Irish stock on both sides. His fath-
er, Robert Wallace, emigrated to this
country in 1819, and for a time taught
school in Mifflin county. He finally be-
came a lawyer and settled in Huntingdon.
He was a gentleman of education, but of
dimited means, and it was not in his power
to give his children superior educational
advantages. He taught school, edited a
newspaper and practiced law, his most
prominent position in the legal profession
| being reached when he was elected district-
attorney of Huntingdon county. In 1836
he removed to Clearfield, when that coun-
ty was a wilderness.
Senator Wallace was but 8 years old
cational opportunities in the public schools
of Huntingdon,
field he pursued his studies as best he
could in the schools of the place, but no
opportunity was offeréd him to gain more
than a fairly good English education and
the rudiments of the classics. He began
| the study of the law when a little more
than 16 years of age in his father’s office,
and helped to support himself by doing
clerical work in the offices of the prothono-
tary, sheriff, treasurer and commissioners
| of the county. He applied himself with
| great earnestness to work and study, and
| his employment in the county offices ‘gave
{him a knowledge of titles and surveys
which was of great value to him after he | Felations. At the time of the greenback |
- was admitted to the bar, as the bulk of the | Deresy Mr. Wallace was of great service to |
is party in including it to take conserva-
| cases in that county were ejectment suits
| and other litigations growing out of
His father in the
{ meanwhile, had moved to Blair county, and
| was 20 years of age.
Hon. William A. Wallace, ex-United’
when his father removed to Clearfield. |
Although so young he had had some edu- |
When he went to Clear- |
| ed titles to land and lines of oS tempering and controlling the bitterness of |
| was admitted to the bar in 1847, before he | °PPOSing factions.
and United States laws.
understanding that his services were only
legal questions that would naturally
of the subsidized road.
isfaction to the company, returning when
body.
cured control of the legislature on joint
lace was turned to by his party as its can-
didate for the United States senator.
walked into the senate chamber a pale,
delicate and almost unknown young man,
he had outstripped many Democratic lead-
ers of less force but more pretensions. Of
course several prominent leaders of his par-
United States senator, but Mr. Buckalew
was the strongest opponent that Mr. Wal-
that Mr. Wallace was the choice of two-
thirds of them. When the Democratic
caucus met there were only six votes out of
121 cast for all opposing candidates. In
which Mr. Wallace was elected United
effect the provisions of the new constitu-
tion. To this work Mr. Wallace earnestly
addressed himself, and much of the impor- |
tant legislation of that session bears the |
| impress of his mind and work. The gen-
eral act of incorporation, which is regarded
| as one of the best of the kind on the statute
| books of any state in the country, was his
work, and the law regulating and classify-
| ing cities and providing for their debts also
| came from his hand.
Mr. Wallace took his seat in the senate
| of the United States on March 4, 1875, and |
| almost immediately assumed a leading posi- |
I tion in the national councils of his party.
| His reputation as a man of political force,
| gained by practical service in Pennsyl- |
| vania, followed him in the broader work at
| the capital of the republic, and he had
| been in the senate but a very short time
| before his judgment was sought and his
| advice taken upon all matters of party
| management. During his term in the sen-
| ate he served upon the important commit- |
| tees of finance, appropriations and foreign
|
| tive action upon leading questions, and in
In all the political
: : oe. -
its charter rights under Texas, Louisiana |
When he accept- |
ed that position it was with the distinct |
temporary and related exclusively to the | fort to please. The "houses to which
arise | like best to go are those where you feel at
out of the title and over the construction | liberty to look over books and" portfolios,
He went to Texas | Where the piano stands open, and there are
and attended to his duties with great sat- | easy chairs without elaborate cushions. In
In the election of 1874 his party had se- |
Inj Joo
the few years that had elapsed since he | always he a corner set apart for those who
lace had. It did not need the expression |
of the Democrats in the legislature to show |
the winter of 1874, the one prior to that in |
States senator, the legislature was engaged |
in framing the acts necessary to carry into |
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
The secret of being a good hostess is in
| hiding the fact that you are making an ef-
preparing for an evening party, if you ex-
the senate met to resume his duties in that | pect to have games which involve real play,
| put away delicate bric-a-brac, so that no
guest shall have the misfortune to spoil his
evening and yours by an accident. Scatter
ballot, and by common consent Mr. Wal- | picture books and single views at the sides
of the room for the benefit of those un-
| fortunates—the wallflowers. There should
{do not dance, and this should be large
| enough for a table at which a game may
{ be played comfortably. Look after the
shy girls and boys—that is one of the chief
| duties of the hostess. It is better to try to
i
ty were candidates for the nomination for | Pring them into the general sport than to
| devote yourself to their amusement.
Why will staid middle-aged women wear
clover blossoms, buttercups, daisies and
| forget-me-nots? Can they not see that
| such flowers suggest youth and springtime,
and are appropriate only for children’s
millinery ? .
There is no excuse in these days for any
| woman to be ugly—since ugliness, as dis-
tinguished from plainness, which is in no
way repulsive, comes generally as the re-
sult of an unhealthy mode of life.
Exercise, good, healthy exercise, is, fort-
unately, fashionable. Clothing sensibly
made—knickers instead of countless pet-
ticoats—known rules of hygiene, which ard
easily followed ; simple styles of dress-
| making, which, with care and attention,
land even a very slight amount of clever-
| ness, can be copied, are just a few of the
things which help the much-quoted fin de
siecle girl to look beautiful, even when not
blessed at the start of her career with regu-
lar features, a perfect figure, and a rose-
leaf complexion.
A fine carriage of the head makes a plain
woman effective, even in a drawing room
of beautiful women. The head thrown
back, the chin and shoulders held straight,
give an air of distinction, of presence,
which mer? beauty never confers. Poking
| the bust forward, resting the chin in the
hollow of the throat and walking with
shoulders quite square, is simply a carica-
ture of grace and elegance.
| The latest change in hairdressing is the
| full, loose effect around the nape of the
neck. The hair is waved on a large iron
to make it stand out, arranged very loosely,
and the ends are'coiled quite high on the
events transpiring during his six years at head. This affords a resting place for the
| the national capital Mr. Wallace held a
left him to make his way by his own ef- foremost place, and, although antagonized
forts. Fo jme it was 2 ; , | at every step by his rivals for leadership in |
id Fa iime ft wae haut steele, | the state, he maintained his position and |
a victory over his | sleeve is the length ;
| part by teaching school.
and he was compelled to earn his living in | 3 |
During this | almost universally scored
| i - .
| time, however, he devoted himself to the | 2dVersaries.
| practice of law, and by hard work gained
| foothold.
| tious and untiring, and when he got a case ing wi
| he prepared it with care that soon attracted friends,
{attention and his practice began to in- | place among the leaders of t
a |
he rapidly rose to
|
a oe | sleeve, is one of the prettiest of the newer
| hats worn tilted over the eyes.
One distinctive feature of the fashionable
and if you would be
strictly in the fashion, you can have no
Mr. Wallace's career asa lawyer is as | medium between the very long and the
He was painstaking conscien- | eminent as his record as a politician. Start- | €1bow sleeve which leads the style for all
thout opportunities or influential
thin gowns. Butterfly puffs, or drapery
drawn through a knot at the top of a tight
crease. Attrition with strong minds and | state. While serving in the senate he did | Styles, and then there are double puffs with
. E i | the character of the litigation rapidly de- | not neglect his
The marriage of Miss Julia Stevenson, veloped his force as a a dy
The hard work required and his close ap-
plication told upon his health, so that in
1862 he accepted the nomination of the
Democrats for the state senate as a relief
from the drudgery of his practice, and in
the hope that the change of scene and action
might benefit him. It was impossible to
make an active canvass, or really any cam-
paign at all, as the war and the invasion of
the confederates at the time absorbed every
other thought. Each of the candidates had
therefore to rest his case with the people
without the usual excitement and interest
attending upon political movements. He
received his full party vote in the other
counties of the district, and in Clearfield he
ran so far ahead of his ticket that he was elec-
ted by a good majority. For 13 years after
his first election he was returned to the sen-
ate, and, notwithstanding the bitter assaults
that were made upon his political action, at
each election he ran ahead of his ticket in
-his own county.
He went to Harrisburg with merely a
local reputation, but he soon made his
name known throughout the whole state,
and ina very few years it was known
throughout the whole country. His elec-
tion to the state senate gave the Democrats
a majority of one on joint ballot, and his
vote made Charles R. Buckalew United
States senator in that year.
So rapidly did Mr. Wallace develop into
a power in his party that in 1864 he was,
without hisconsent, made chairman .of its
state central committee. He found the
Democracy split and demoralized and at
once addressed himself to the work of or-
ganization in which he develop unusual
tact and ability. In this year the only
state officer to be filled was that of auditor-
general, and there was no great interest
taken in the canvass. General W. H. H.
Davis was the Democratic candidate, and
was defeated. In the succeeding year, al-
though his party was in better working
condition than during his first year as
chairman, he went into the zanvass to see it
again defeated with Heister Clymer as its
candidate for governor. In 1867 Judge
Sharswood was the candidate for supreme
court judge, and Mr. Wallace, at the head
of the state committee, conducted such an
adroit and noiseless cafivass that the Re-
publican candidate was defeated. In 1868
the most memorable canvas of his career as
a political manager was made. Seymour
idency and vice-presidency against Grant
and Colfax. The October election in
Pennsylvania was the pivotal contest, and
the issue was made and fully tested there.
He not only gave his party a splendid or-
ganization, but good heart, and “brought it
to the polls in such excellent working con-
dition that the Democratic candidate, Hon.
C. E. Boyle was defeated by less than 10,-
000 votes. A change of less than 1 per
cent would have reversed the decision, and
might have beaten Grant in the November
election. Even with the prestige of Grant’s
name and popularity his majority was less
than 29,000 at the presidential election.
The contest that year in Pennsylvania was
one of the bitterest ever known. in the his-
tory of the politics of the state, and the
Democratic party, under the leadership of
Mr. Wallace, was in better condition than
for many years before or since that time.
In 1871 the Democrats obtained control
of the state senate, and Mr. Wallace was,
by almost unanimous consent of his party,
chosen speaker of that body. In 1872 he
was a delegate to the Democratic national
convention at Baltimore, and voted against
Horace Greeley, but followed his party in
supporting him for the presidency after his
nomination. In the same year, while yet
a state senator, and in the zenith of his
power in the Democratic party of the state,
Mr. Wallace was chosen vice-president of
the Texas Pacific railroad company, for the
purpose of looking after the legal questions
presentative: government.
©
arising'from the complicated character of
and Blair were the candidates for the pres-
legal work. During the | band between, lengthwise puffs and puffs
labor troubles in the Clearfield region he | Of all sizes and kinds. Double frills of lace
[took a judicious and equitable part be- | surmounted by loops of satin ribbon make
tween the commonwealth and the coal |2 Pretty finish for the top of a close sleeve.
place at Clearfield when the leaders of the
labor strikes were arrested for conspiracy,
and the question of the organization and
conduct of the labor unions was up for
judicial investigation, Mr. Wallace was
counsel for the coal operators in their ac-
tions against the miners. The late senator
Matt Carpenter, Judge Hughes, of Potts-
ville, arld other eminent lawyers defended
the actign of the labor union. Judge Orvis
presided, and the trial was a long and
desperately fought legal battle. John
Siney, the head of the labor unions, was
acquitted because no covert act could be
proved against him ; but Yingo Parkes
and other prominent labor unionists were
convicted and sent to the penitentiary.
Mr. Wallace interposed in behalf of the
convicted men, and urged upon the court
the utmost clemency. He took the ground
that the moral effect of the conviction of
the leading strikers was greater than a
harsh execution of the law.
In all the labor troubles that have oc-
curred in Clearfield county Mr. Wallace
has taken a prominent part as .assistant
counsel to the law officers of the county.
He has also represented the large coal opera-
tors'in that region, and By his judicious
advice and discreet interposition between
contending forces law and order have been
very well preserved, and never have troops
been called into the county to preserve
peace, as they have in nearly every other
mining district in Pennsylvania. In the
labor riots in 1877, as in all others that
have occurred in the Clearfield region. Mr.
Wallace's action and advice were effective
and all important. He took a judicious
ground between the workmen and the
operators. He held that the men had the
right to strike, but no right to prevent oth-
ers working, and the quiet but firm posi-
tion assumed by the operators and au-
thorities under his advice prevented blood-
shed and. restored order in the region.
The qualities of mind that Mr. Wallace
early exhibited specially fitted him for
dealing with the delicate questions which
this condition of things imposed. He was
always noted for great courage, tact and
good judgment. Untiring energy and te-
nacity were among his most striking char-
acteristics, and his powers of endurance
and capacity for work were simply remark-
able. |
After Mr. Wallace left the senate he de-
voted himself assiduously to the practice of
his profession and to bringing returns from
his large landed estate, which had been
neglected during his official life. During
the last few years he did more to develop
the bituminous coal interests of the Clear-
field region than was ever done before.
Five children and his wife survive the
dead statesman. His wife has been an in-
valid for years. The two sons, Harry F.
and William E., are both prominent Clear-
field lawyers. The three‘daughters are Mais.
and Mrs. John W. Wrigley, all of Clearfield
T. L. Wallace, freight agent of the
Pennsylvania railroad, at Harrisburg, is a
brother, as is J. H. Wallace, ticket agent
of the Pennsylvania railroad at the Broad
street station, Philadelphia. Two sisters
of the deceased are also living, the wife of
Senator McCarrell, of Harrisburg, and Mrs.
Cadwallader, of Philadelphia.
Saturday evening his body reached his
home in Clearfield accompaned by Hon.
James Kerr, A. W. Lee, H. F. Bigler, W.
D. Bigler. Smith V. Wilson, Oscar Mitch-
ell, W. A. Hagerty, J. M. Adams, J. F.
Snyder and P. F. Weaver, all of Clearfield.
Tuesday afternoon he was buried in the
Clearfield cemetery with one of the largest
crowds of distinguished men present that
has ever been assembled in Clearfield
COU EY ans,
David L. Krebs, Mrs. Allison O. Smith
operators. In the great trial which took | All the tight sleeves which have appeared
thus far have some sort of drapery or epa-
ulette frills falling over the arms at the top
to distract one’s attention from the real
thing underneath, but some of the models
are very pretty, in spite of the future in
sleeves which they anticipate.
Try to keep in mind that the cistern
water may be purified and sweetened by
hanging in the cistern a bag of charcoal.
And, by the way, that same coat-and-
skirt gown seems destined never to go out
of style, as it is still affected above all oth-
er modes by the well-dressed woman. The
new crash, duck, linen and canvas gowns
are almost invariably made in that useful
and chic fashion. .
Paquin, writes the Paris correspondent
of Harper's Bazar, is using the petits lain-
ages almost entirely in the place of the
mohairs of last year. Other good Paris
dressmakers are making up what they call
bure for spring costumes—a stuff some-
thing between poplin and mohair. There
are lovely brown bures. made with ac-
cessories of batiste ; and, privately, one
reason why I think brown is so fashionable
this year is that it isso pretty with the
omnipresent batiste. A lovely brown bure
had a very short, close bolero made to meet
one of the high ceintures, or belts, that are
seen on almost all the new gowns, the cein-
ture made of black satin ribbon. The
brown bure bolero was also bordered with
black satin ribbon. The front of the
bodice under the bolero was of ecru em-
broidered batiste, as was also the wide col-
lar that came down in tapering points on
either side over the high black belt. The
batiste collar had . flaring points of green
velvet on either side. Cloth gowns are
made by Baudnitz with batiste bodices ;
as, for instance, an ecru or biscuit cloth
skirt had a corsage of fancy batiste and a
lovely belt of gold. These fancy belts are
striking features of new summer gowns,
especially those made with stones to look
like old turquoise amulets. One sees the
open-work grenadines, basket-cloths and
etamines made over silks, with the color of
the silk re-called in stones in the belt. One
sees the same stuffs made up with lovely
broad ribbon repeating in its tones the
colors in the material and the changeable
silk lining.
The diminished sleeve with which we
are threatened will bring about a revolu-
tion in our attire ; in order to preserve the
fitness of things and the correct propor-
tion of size narrower skirts and smaller
hats will doubtless be adopted.
If there were any doubt that the shirt
waist occupies the most prominent place
in the feminine wardrobe of the coming
season it would be dispelled by the dis-
covery that for each dainty waist of linen
or batiste there may be found says the New
York World, a parasol of corresponding
style and texture. Indications point to an
inevitable enlargement of the summer girl’s
already capacious trunks, since they must
‘contain not only shirt waists of every pos-
sible fabric and finish, but likewise as
many parasols, whose only essential is that
they shall “match.’’
As the linen shirt waist is to be the most
conspicuously in vogue, the linen parasol,
with its frill of fine embroidery and its
silk lining of delicate green or rose will
doubtless oftenest be seen. Yet the simple
untrimmed affair of striped cambric or oth-
er light material is just as novel, and is fast
making its way into fashion because of its
congruity with the unpretentious costumes
of summer wear.
4
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