Facing Death in the Sky.
character. But want of thought sometimes
leads to serious trouble, as Herbert found
out about this time.
His people wanted him to come. He
had stayed away quite long enough, they
‘Well, sweetheart, I'll try. Thee knows
I would do anything to please thee. But
thee musn’t mind the clatter of the village
folk. Thereisn’t one of them that doesn’t
know I want thee for my little wife. I
marry you. (The letter dropped from her FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
Ba) You would not be happy if I :
were to take you away,”’ she read, taking
up the letter again. ‘‘Oh, Bess, do not
think itis because I do not love you. I
Aeronaut Stevens Writes of His Terrivle Fall
ron 2 folio The majority of women wear a corset
much toolong. When a stout woman does
Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 2, 1896.
KIND WORDS.
There is no sound of music half so sweet
As that by which the human heart is stirred,
When pressed to earth and fainting neath its
load,
There comes some sympathetic, kindly word,
No brilliant gem dragged from earth’s richest
mine, ;
No costly pearl brought up from ‘neath the sea,
Can with such brilliancy and lustre shine
As kindly words before which sorrows flee.
How potent fall these soul-uplifting words,
So gently dropped in life's dark, bitter hours,
When fierce the tempest breaks about our heads,
And clouds of sorrow make us shrink and
cower!
Like oil upon the troubled water poured
said. He. began to think this was trué
make no secret of it my lass.”
door.
wife's supper, Bob, he called. n > ; i
ately in love with him. Yes, it was time
for him to go.
What would his mother and sisters say if
he were to take her home as his bride ?
home.”
hurried awdy.
There was little to vary the monotony of |S
the quiet village life. Now and then a
stray tourist wandered over from the Shaf-
ton Inn, about two miles beyond.
close of June the arrival of a stranger was
heralded: He was a young artist who, the
evening before, had chanced upon the
place while strolling about with no partic-
ular aim, and had taken a fancy todo a
little sketching in the neighborhood.
Just then the Captain appeared at the | h
‘Stop and have some of the good | h
‘No, thank you, Captain ; I must be off
And with a good night to Bess, he
The summer days passed slowly on.
But one bright morning towards the
As he passed the Halloway cottage he
imself. He knew that he was heels over-
ead—as he expressed it—in love with bon-
ie Bess, and he knew that she was passion-
He could not marry Bess.
he would he out of her element to say the
least.
The better part of his manhood warned
him that the meeting with Bess must cease.
Perhaps if he went away at once she would
soon get over her fondness for him. Poor
little Besssie !
to think of how he should tell.
himself face downward on
grass, and tried to fight it out with him-
self.
His heart sank as he tried
He threw
the stubbly
How long he lay there he did not know.
have tried to do what was best for both
our sakes. Will you tryto believe this?
I wanted to see you once more before I left,
but that wovld not have made the parting
any easier, would it? And now I must
say good-bye. Oh, Bess—’’ Here the letter
ended abruptly. ,
‘‘Dinner’s ready, Bess,’ her mother call-
ed up the stairs.
‘I think I'll lie down, mother, I don’t
want any dinner. My head aches.” Then,
trying to steady her voice, ‘I've had a
note from Mr. Desmond. #e wishes to
say good-bye. He started for home to-
day.” .
‘You don’t say. Well, I'm sorry he’s
gone, for he wasa nice, pleasant gentleman.
It was real kind of him to think of sending
| you a line.”’— Philadelphia Times.
The following account taken from the
New York Journal, of Leo Stevens fall down
at Hecla Park, is a good illustration of how
sensational newspapers exaggerate. Many
of our readers witnessed the accident which
was neither ‘especially thrilling nor se-
rious. Stevens, parachute did not open and
as he was only up about 150 feet the won-
derful adventure he describes at length was
all over in about three seconds.—Ed.
Tossing on a cot in Montreal hospital lies
Leo Stevens, of New York City. His life
thread may snap at any moment, but this
is not the first time the daring aeronaut,
one of the best known in America, has
sighted the land from whose bourne 1
traveller returns. The following signec
statement, written by Mr. Stevens just he-
fore he left for Montreal to fulfil the un-
| fortunate engagement, describes in graphic
language a fall from the clouds he had re-
so in the hope of lengthening her waist,
the usual result is merely to push the full-
ness of the figure up under the chin and
thus destroy all symmetry of form. When
a thin woman wears a long corset she
sacrifices all her contour and looks like a
wooden doll.
The severely plain arrangement of the
hair is going out and a growing tendency
to have soft curls and waves is noticed.
Pompadour effects are new, and above all
don’t have one of those hard protuberances
known as Diana’s knot ; they are away
out of date ; the figure eight or an elabora-
tion of this is the thing now worn, either
high or low. .
If there is a bare corner you would like
to brighten take a small table of oak and
throw a scarf of gay Japanese crepe over it,
then drape the scarf over one corner with a
count of his fall from the clouds that his | ic Japanese ey fou Sprays of the
next ascension would have such a tragic | De paper chry santhemuns, or a Japa-
termination. The fall he describes over | '¢S¢ doll can be placed in the vase.
his signature was 4,000 feet. He thought | . —
as he whirled through the air that the final | Linseed oil is recommended as a sure
Falls soothingly each gentle, kindly word,
And wounded Faith lifts up again her head,
For Hope the tread of coming morn has heard.
Suddenly he was startled by the sound of
footsteps. Looking up, he saw Bess com-
ing towards him. She carried a little bas-
ket and was on her way to one of the cot-
tages to take some dainty dish to a sick
neighbor.
“Oh!” she said, as though surprised,
saw ‘‘a little gypsy maid” romping with a
great Newfoundland dog in the narrow
garden patch. A veritable little beauty,
he thought to himself. Suddenly it dawn-
ed upon him that he was very thirsty and,
doffing his cap, he politely asked the gypsy
maid if she would kindly tell him where
A Prince Among Fruit.
cently.
One of the most universally cultivated, Little did he think as he wrote this ac- |
and one of the most appetizing fruits known
to man, is the grape. With our forefath-
ersin Asia it was a staple, and everywhere
that man has made his abode the fruitful
vine has accompanied him. It seems to
<
They fall like blessed sunshine from ahove
Upon a fountain shadowed by dark dread ;
With tender breathing from the throne of love,
Dispelling fear and giving light instead.
oP
They touch the lives that lie so chill and drear,
And breath around a fragrance and a balm ;
They scatter gloom, doubt, unwholesome fear,
And o'er the troubled life spread gentle calm.
God bless whoever speaks « kindly word,
And may his life-way be with sunshine crowned
And if at times dark shadows 'eross it fall,
Then may he find what through him others
found,
he could get a drink of water.
the Newfoundland. which brought the- col-
or to Bess’ face ; at any rate, it was a very
rosy one upturned to Herbert Desmond as
she answered, ‘‘I will get you one, sir.”’
trouble you,” said Desmond, and as he
smiled at her, the rosy color deepened.
Perhaps it was the exercise with Bruce,
‘
‘‘Oh, thank you ; but I’m so sorry to
“it’s you.”
Desmond had risen
‘Yes,’” he answered, ‘‘it’s I.”
immediately.
This was
all that was said for a moment.
“Is there anything the matter?’ It
seemed to Bess as though a chill went
through her as she asked the question.
‘Anything the matter ? Oh, no!’ Des-
mond tried to speak steadily, but his voice
thrive in all climates, and in all soils. In
America it is a native, and, although the
cultivated varieties are nearly “all the pro-
duction of the art of grafting and crossing,
sometimes mixing foreign sorts with the
natives, some of the wild vines afford con-
siderable income to those who harvest and
use the product.
The most popular and widely-known
chapter of his life, so full of danger and
excitement, was rapidly closing. In less
time than it would take a man to walk a
block he came down like 2 chunk of lead.
Three thousand people in the little vil- |
lage of Bellefonte, Pa., witnessed this ter-
riffic fall from the clouds to the earth. |
- They saw the man, a mere speck in the
sky, with his balloon, and the next instant |
| cure for both hard and soft corns. Bind
on a soft rag saturated with linseed oil and
continue to dampen it with the oil every
{night and morning until the corn can be
| removed easily and without pain.
The new sleeves are in reality very, very
much smaller, but the variety and elabora-
tion of their trimming just at the shoulder
“By jove!” said he, as she disappeared, | was rather shaky. ‘‘I was just lying there
“I never saw such a color.”’ thinking about things. It isn’t a good
Soon Bess returned with a pitcher of | plan to think, is it ?”’ .
water and a glass. | ‘‘That depends on what you think about.
“Thank you so much,” he said, as he | A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Des-
took them fromher. ‘Would you mind if | mond.”
I sat down fora few minutes while I drink He colored.
‘it ? Ihave had a rather warm walk, and | Miss Halloway.’’
if I am not intruding would like to rest ‘Miss Halloway ! Why do you call me
awhile.”’ Miss Halloway ? Have I done anything to
“Will you come inside, sir,”’ said Bess, | offend you 2”
‘‘or would you rather sit out here,’’ point- ‘No, Bess, but the fact is you called me
ing to a bench in a shady spot outside the | Mr. Desmond. You broke the agreement
cottage, sheltered by a luxuriant honey- | first.” oo
suckle vine. They had begun to walk and were grad-
“Outside, please,” Desmo ually leaving the line of cottages, and wan-
seated himself in the cozy nook. dered down to the shore. When they had
saw the balloon collapse and the speck dart
downward. It was the unexpected that
happened, and the aeronaut tells of it in
this statement :
W. R. Hearst, New York Jouial.
Coming down that three or four thous-
and feet from the edge of a cloud was like
stepping from life into eternity. I had
time to think, and I thought of death.
i Those who saw the fall say it was made in
: 5 ._ | less than a minute. That may be right,
turns off a good crop to the acre. In addi- | too, and yet it seemed to me that I was
tion to these traits it stands shipping very :
: ; : the greater part of a century coming down.
well, and is a good keeper, so_that it can | I firmly believe that I thought 5d in |
be sent to distant markets. It is the fa- Cs fats id i 3 ;
vorite of grapes, and is sold more generally : rh than 1640 fy enti
than any other. It has several near rela- |
prevents the change being too markedly
noticed. The sleeves in all the new coats
and jackets are close-fitting leg-’o-mutton
. with modest fullness at the top. The
mousquetaire sleeve is very popular for
wedding gowns, and for a good reason. A
wedding gown is always richer the more
simple it is, and another material to trim
; detracts from its appearrnce, so any device
to use its own material for trimming is
welcome for that purpose. For the trim-
ming on the bottom of the sleeves the ten-
dency seems *o have it all run up and
down, and with the sheath-like upper, to
give the arm a more slender appearance
(this is very trying to women with thin
grape in the country east of the Rocky
mountains is the Concord. Itwas origina-
ted by Ephraim Bull, of Concord, Mass.
It is such a hardy vine, and such a free and
abundant bearer, that it has come to be
planted in vineyard and garden in nearly
i every state of the Union. The Concord
grape has nearly all of the good qualities.
Ig ills out nicely in the bunch, has a fine
flavor for the table, attains a good size, and
Kind words are deathless and can never die ;
The lips that uttered them, so full of love, |
May silent lie, but still their work goes on,
And links us to the throne of God above.
— William, G. Hasselbarth, in Christian Work.
“They are not for sale,
BESS HALLOWAY,
A Short Summer ldyl ; or, the Story of a Love Letter
that Brought No Joy. z
The boats were coming in. Down on
the sandy beach a little group of fisher folk
stood waiting to welcome the brawny sea-
men. The western sun had sunk to rest,
after bathing the earth in a golden glow.
Twilight was beginuing to fall.
replied, and
‘But
Nearer and nearer the fishermen came,
and down to the water’s edge the watchers
ran, ready to help in pulling the boats
ashore.
“What luck, Captain?’ asked an old
sea salt, as the final boat was drawn up on
the beach.
*‘Rare good luck, Ben,” was the answer,
“and a hard day’s work we've had. Well,
my lass,’ to a dark eyed maiden who had
come from among the crowd of watchers
and was now holding him by the arm,
‘‘thee has come to welcome thy old daddy,
has thee ?”’ and with his rough, bronzed
hand he gently smoothed her curly hair.
“I am always so glad when you come
safe home, father,”’ she said, as she patted
his arm.
“Well, here I am safe and sound enough
to please any little maid, and with an ap-
petite big enough to frighten one. Run
home to mother and tell her I’ll be up for
supper as soon as the men get through. ”’
A sturdy young fellow who had heen the
first to spring ashore, and who was already
helping to haul the nets out of the boat,
stopped his work and came to where the
maiden stood, watching her father go down
the sandy incline.
‘Well, Bess, hasn’t theea word of wel-
come for me, too ?’’ he said, in a voice that
seemed wonderfully tender, .coming as * it
did from such a strong and hardy fellow.
Even the dim twilight could not hide the
love light in his eyes as he looked into her
“ face.
Bess turned her head asidea little, while
she answered him, as though his earnest
look disturbed her.
“Iam glad you have had such good
luck, Bob,” she said, restlessly scattering
the sand about with the toe of her well
worn boot. “‘But I must hurry home, for
father wants his supper ready. Good
bye.”
“Good bye, Bess, ”’ said Robert, and with
a little sigh he went back to the men.
Robert Barrow had always loved Bess
Halloway. From the time she was able to
toddle about he had been her devoted
slave. He was her boyish lover when they
went to the little school together, over in
the village beyond. He was her lover still,
at 23, a man who had never given a thought
to any other maiden. Bess was the bon-
niest dark-eyed lass in all the country
round. Her hair was almost black and
hung in heart-ensnaring curls about the
well-poised head. Light of foot and light
of heart was she, dancing and singing
about the house or along the lonely shore.
“I wish Bob wouldn’t be so foolish,’
she thought, as she climbed the hilly path-
way. ‘‘He doesn’t seem to mind who sees
him. Tam getting too old now to have
him act so. I must let him see that I’m
not a child any longer. One would actu-
ally think he was my brother.
As she neared the house she saw her
mother standing in the doorway, and has-
tenod her steps to tell of the safe return of
the fishermen.
‘‘They’ve had fine luck, mother,” she
called out, ‘and father will be home for
supper when the boats are emptied.’
A look of relief passed over the woman’s
face as she heard the good news. Her
mind was at rest for a time again. She
was always uneasy when her husband was
away on the water, not knowing whether
he would ever return.
Soon they heard the voices of men, Cap-
tain Halloway’s ringing out above the rest,
ashe bade them a cheery good night.
Robert Barrow stopped at the cottage
door, and Bess, knowing that he wanted to
see her, stepped outside.
Robert’s face brightened as he saw her.
“You haven’t told me that you are glad to
see me, Bess,”” he said. ‘‘You know all
the time I am away fishing I’m thinking of
hearing yon say that when I come home. I
suppose I'm a foolish fellow, but I can’t
help thinking about you, Bess.”
Now was her time.
Of course I'm glad to see you, Bob, but
—'? here she paused an instant and the
color rose to her face, which, fortunately, it
was rather too dark to see—‘‘you musn’t
look at me so much when people arz about.
I'm getting old now, and some of the fool-
ish folk do say such foolish things.”
‘What do they say ?”’ asked Robert.
‘Oh, never mind,” she answered, the
» color rising to her cheeks again.
“Do they say that I dearly love thee, my
lass? Is that one of the silly things 2”
Bess did not reply.
“If they do, it’s the truth. I have no
need to tell thee that, Bess ; thee has always
known it. As for not looking at thee, how
can I help it ?”” He spoke so tenderly, so
lovingly, that Bess, who was far from pos-
sessed of a heart of stone, and, indeed, was
very fond of Robert, relented.
‘But, Bob,”” she said softly, ‘‘don’'t
make such a fuss before folk. I don’t want
like people to talk.”
gone some distance they came toa great
don’t let me drive you in,’’ as he saw Bess
turning away.
again, ‘‘you will allow me to tax your hos-
pitality a little further and will let me ask Vo
you a few questions about the village 2”’_~1 pare Bess for the parting.
Nobody ever comes here and nothing ever
happens,’ she replied.
sit down? I really will not feel comforta-
ble unless you do.”’
beside him on the old wooden bench, her
heart throbbing and her bosom heaving,
with the excitement of talking with this |t
handsome stranger.
ground between them, every now and then
rubbing his nose against the little brown
hand that fondly caressed him.
leaned over and patted the noble creature. | t
“What a fine fellow he is, and you are!
very fond of him, aren’t you ?”’ : i
glossy head.
was a puppy.
when I was a little girl.”
ed with a smile.
such a big girl now.”
would not have thought you were so old.”
At last Desmond rose to go.
keep you any longer.
ish,” he said, looking into her eyes.
hope, however, to see you again.
going to do alittle sketching and will be
over here every day or 80 for at least a|t
week. Now I must say good bye,’’ taking
her hand.
remained standing. How long she would
have stayed there it is impossible to tell
had not her mother’s voice recalled her to
her senses.
she carried them into the house.
to the handsome artist, and she tried to re-
call his every word, his every look, and to
feel again the pressure of his hand as he
bade her good bye.
she asked herself whether it had only been
a dream. Was it really true that she was |!
going to see him again? Perhaps even to-
day ?
peared *
she saw him. He was with her father
and Robert Barrow.
laughing heartily at a joke of the captain’s,
as they slowly climbed the hill.
turned quickly and went into the cottage.
father saying.
part of the country well enough to want to
stay for some time.’ 1
attraction for me already (catching sight
of Bess by the window).
home, sir? Then I presume that is your
daughter.
terday ;"’ and he-told in what way.
he saw Desmond smile up at Bess and saw
her blush as she nodded in r
jealousy ? Robertscoffed at
it fear? He scarcely knew.
first time in his life he felt glad that Bess
did not come out to speak to him. He
nodded to her, and with Desmond passed
on.
and the gypsy maid did not meet.
by chance ?
the meetings were planned. The villagers
best of him. 2
was, silenced tongues for awhile net Lig
was strife.
coming fond of Herbert Desmond ?
heart stood still at the mere thought.
suppose it was true ?
hands as he asked himself the qustion. |%
Had she not a right to choose whom she
would ?
any reason why she must not love another ?
No, she was free to do'as she pleased.
would not try to influence her.
loved her, longed to make her his wife, she
already knew. |
lingered.
work nowadays.
were the cause of this, it is needless to say.
Desmond was not a bad fellow at heart,
indeed far from it:
is true, and perhaps a little selfish, having
been the idol of three adoring sisters, but
to be cross with you, but indeed I don’t | beyond this there was not much to which | ©
i you could object to in the young man’s
‘‘Perhaps,’’ here he smiled
tell.
“I am afraid there isn’t much to
“But you must not stand. Won’t you
Though rather abashed, Bess sat down
Bruce sat on the
Desmond
> , . . ‘
‘*Yes,” said Bess, and smoothed his
“You wouldn’t part with him, I sup-
8?
“Oh, no. I have had him ever since he
A friend gave him to me
“How long ago has that been ?*’ he ask- 5
“I would’t consider you
“I'm 16,” she said, drawing herself up. |!
“Then you are quite a young lady. I
And so the unimportant talk went on.
“I must not
I must not be self-
<1
I am
As he passed down the sunny road Bess
Taking up the empty pitcher and glass
All day long her thoughts wandered off
The next morning when she awakened
Noon came, but the stranger had not ap-
It was just before sunset when
The
three were
Bess | ©
Well, Mr. Desmond,” she heard her
“I hope you’ll like this
“Thank you, Captain. It has a strong
‘
Is this your
She was very kind to me yes-
Robert Barrow had a strange feeling as
rn. Was it
e idea. Was
But for the
There was not a day now when the artist | S
Was it
At first it was. But later on
Robert’s answer, whatever it
But deep down in Robert’s heart there
Was it true that Bess was he-
His
But
He clenched his
Because he loved her was that
He
That he
It was now August and still the artist
He accomplished very little
The meetings with Bess
He was thoughtless, it
cheeks became rosy red, as she said :
don’t understand you.’
bit of an answer ?
better than ‘you.”’
wish I could keep
dear love,’’ he said.
about poor Mrs. Walters.
£0 now.
make everyone happy.”’
“And must you really go? Well, then, |
fore I go home.
age better,’’ she said smilingly.
most precious thing in the world.
she opened it.
me that you will not hate me.
him !) You believe that I love you. )She
kissed the letter.)
try to be brave.
for hissake.) Not that I deserve it. (The
dear fellow) Why did you ever love me ?
I, who am so unworthy of you. Bess, dear,
the truth is that I am a scoundrel.
won your love, and then, like a sneaking
She read it again.
rock, and here they stopped, Bess sitting
down to rest in its shadow.
Terbert felt that he must begin to pre- |
“I suppose that when I come again to
(=)
Rexton you will be married,” he said,
with a desperate plunge.
Again that chill seized Bess, though her
$Y
*‘I mean,’’ he said, and his voice sound-
ed strange even to himself, ‘that by this
ime next year you will be married.”
“Married? And who am I to marry,
pray tell 2’
“If rumor proves true, Robert Barrow.’’
Bess tried to smile, but the shock to the
ender little heart had been almost too
much, and brave as she was she wanted to
run away and be alone, where she could
‘ery her heart out.’
‘‘He loves you, and so do I, Bess,” he
said, forgetting all his good resolutions as
he saw the pathetic smile.
kiss her, but she put up her hand to ward |
him off.
He tried to
“I love you with all my heart,’’ he said,
and, sitting down, he took her hand in his. |
‘Sweetheart, haven’t you the least little
Then I know you must
ove me. Isn’t it so. darling?’ and al-
most before Bess could realize what was
happening, he had kissed her.
again he kissed her before she could release
herself.
Again and
It was not long before the little curly
head found a resting place on the velvet-
een jacket, quite close to Herbert's heart.
The long shadows began to fall, and still
he lovers sat on.
They had so much to say to each other, so
many things that had to be repeated over
and over again.
sayings and not very varied, but to the two
who listened to them they were the most
wonderful words ever uttered by living |
mortal.
They were not very wise
But in this world of ours all dreams
must have their waking.
And you didn’t mean what you said
about my marrying Bob Barrow ?’’
Desmond gave a little start. ‘‘He would
have made you a good husband, sweetheart.
He is much more, worthy of you than I.”
‘Herbert ! As if there could be anyone
And the dark eyes
ooked lovingly into Desmond’s face.
What could he do but kiss her again ?
‘But you wouldn’t want me to marry
him, Herbert, dear?’’
“eT
you close to me always,
For answer he took her in his arms.
‘‘Oh, Herbert,”’ Bess said after a time.
‘I have been so happy that I forgot all
I really must
I feel as though I wanted to
et me carry your basket for you.’
As they neared the cottage Bess stopped.
‘I must say good-by to you now.”
“But Iam going to wait and see you
safe home.’
‘I would rather not,’ she said, coloring. |
“Why, sweetheart ?”’
“I want to get quieted down a little be-
If I am alone I can man-
What a long time it took them tosay the
simple words. At last they parted. Just
as Bess was about to enter the cottage she
turned. There stood Desmond, waving his
hat to her.
Putting her fingers to her lips
he waved her hand in return. As she
passed within Desmond heaved a sigh, an
went slowly homeward.
Herbert Desmond slept very little that
began to talk. One even went so far as to | Right. In the gray of the morning he
warn Robert Barrow that he had better | Packed his trunk. At daybreak a storm
look out or that artist fellow would get the | 3rose. The rain beat against the windows
and the wind lashed the trees across the
oad, while far in the distance he could
A few hours later a boy was making his
way as best he could through the mist and
the rain to the Halloway cottage.
ried a letter.
He car-
Bess’s hand shook as she
ook it from-him. Was there an answer ?
No, the gentleman didn’t tell him so.
It was her first love letter.
She fondled it as though it were the
At last
“Sweetheart, how can I tell you. Promise
(Hate
Then, for my sake,
(What would she not do
I have
ur, have left you.” (Have left you.)
“I feel that I cannot
which resemble it in its rich blue color, but
none of the others combine all of its
qualities.
| ~The excellent little red grape, the Dela-
| ware, is one of the finest for table use, but
| does not yield a large crop, and the vines
{ are not hardy. The above grape cannot,
therefore, be raised for the same money as
the Concord, and is always scarcer and
dearer in the market, although selling quite
freely in seaoon.
Crowding closely upon the heels of the
Concord for place is the Niagara, a new
white grape, a kinsman of the Concord, in-
heriting many of the good qualities of the
common ancestry, showy, ripening early,
and prolific in crop and of good flavor. It
bids fair to rival the Concord in the market
as it becomes more generally planted.
Ripening later, and just coming into the
market now, are the Catawbas,a showy red
variety of fruit, of fine taste, and until the
Concord passed them in popularity, proba-
bly the foremost grape in the American
market. But the Catawba is a late fruit,
and on that accotnt it has to take pot luck
with the grower who prefers to plant the
i earlier varieties for the sake of the better
prices that good early fruits bring.
Vineyards have multiplied wonderfully
in the United States in the past few years.
Before the day of railroads they were plant-
ed here and there by the Germans, Swiss
and other foreigners descended from the
wine-making people of Europe, but vine-
yards for the market of the fruit had hard-
ly occurred to the farmer. Since the Con-
cord grape has become known, and its pos-
sibilities realized vineyards are planted with
thousands of vines, for the sole purpose of
shipping the fruit. Now, in the harvest
season, the vineyards present an air as busy
as that of any agricultural ranch or packing
plant in the country.
Train loads of fruit are carried away
from every railroad siding in the grape
belts, and distributed all over the East.
' In the early summer the grapes of the
| South come northward, while at this season
| New York and Ohio grapes are penetrating
! the country from Minneapolis to the At-
lantic ocean, and from Boston to Atlanta.
It is a valuable food, containing a high
percentage of nutrition. It ripens at a
time when much of the other fruit is out of
the way. It grows everywhere, in the
vineyard, in the city back yard, trained
against the wall of the coal shed, or flour-
ishes in the broad acres. It will devote
itself to making fruit, or to sheltering the
kitchen porch from the rays of thesun, and
will do both at the same time. It is hand-
some as a vine, fragrant when in blossom
and the fruit is pleasing to the eye as well
as to the palate. The grape is a prince and
a plebeian, filling a place wherever it may
be found, and more and more every day it
: is coming to be a household necessity.
1
Selection of a Wife.
| The strangest system of selecting a wife
- known to civilized countries exists in Rus-
:sia. It is called a zame, but it is a very
serious one.
Someone of prominence in a village an-
'nounces that the annual merry making
will be held in his house. On the appoint-
ed day the young men and women hasten
in huge excitement to the meeting place.
There are songs and games and dances, but
they are simply a prelude to the more im-
portant business of the day.
When the time comes the hostess leads
all the girls into one room, where they seat
themselves on the benches. Laughing
and chattering they are each promptly
muffled in winding sheets by the hostess.
The head and hair and figure are complete-
ly covered, and when this is done the girls
resemble mummies
The young men draw lots, and one by
one they enter the room where the muffled
girls sit. Helpless so far as sight or touch
goes, the puzzled lover tries to find his fa-
vorite. Finally he chooses one, and then
he may unveil her.
It is the law of custom that the man
shall marry the girl he has picked out, and
if either backs out a heavy forfeit must he
paid. It issaid this matrimonial lottery is
productive of many happy marriages.
——‘‘Father,”’ said little Patsey O’Bry-
an, ‘buy me an orange.’’
*‘Phwat?”’ cried O'Bryan, ‘a hye of
moine ashkin’ for an orange? Niver.”’
“I'm so fond of fruit,’’ said the boy.
““Thot’s all roight,”’ returned O'Bryan,
‘ye can hov all ye want of it‘; but remim-
ber ye’re an O'Bryan, Patsey, and sthick
to grane apples.”’ .
——The National Watchman says that
England has $91,000,000 invested in brew-
eries in the United States, and last year
she took out of the country as beer receipts,”
$8,100,000 in gold.
tions, like the Worden, Moore’sEarly, ete., |
good |
|
|
|
1
The ascent with the balloon was made |
I had a parachute at-
tached to my body, by which, in case there |
in the usual way.
was any accident to the balloon, or that [
saw that I was going too high, I would be |
able to drop as I had often hefore. The
balloon, one that I was thoroughly accus-
tomed to, went up rapidly. I heard the
cries and shouts of the people helow, at
first loud and clear. Then they changed to
a muffled roar, growing less and less dis-
tinct, until I could hear nothing, but could
see the surrounding country spreading like
a map, with the people just a mass of mov- |
ing spots.
Although I had made a great many as-
censions before, I do not remember any of
them with the distinctness of this. Even
now I believe I could draw a picture of
every speck, every white house, every
group of trees, every slender line of water,
that lay before me at that time. I was far
up and was just about-to passa low cloud
when I heard a peculiar sound.
Tam somewhat of a follower of the scien-
tists, and on each of my journeys into the
air I try to gain some additional knowl-
edge. So, on hearing this noise I felt that
it was something unusual. I turned in the
narrow basket, but before I could even take
a glance upward the end came, and I felt
myself pitched forward. Then that wild
rush of thought came to me. I understood
that by some accident the balloon had col-
lapsed, but I also knew well enough that
my parachute was firmly fixed to my waist
and that I believed that I had nothing to
fear.
But the horror of my position must
have come to me in the fraction of a second,
even while the first thought came to me
quicker than the flash of an electric spark.
The parachute would not open. Down
I went. My hands outstretched and grasp-
ing at the air.
heavy thundering crash, like no sound I
had ever heard before. It was like the
rumbling of a heavy train, mingled with
the sound of waters that beat wildly
against rocks. My eyes were wide open
and staring, still they saw nothing but a |
strange unearthly light, such as one sees in
a streak of lightning. But to me the light
was continuous.
I forgot that I was in the air, and I re-
memberjthinking, ‘‘And so this is death,’’ I
believe I even tried to say the words. I
felt as though some terrible weight was on
me: compressed my chest, bound my
limbs, clutched my throat. It seemed to
me then as though I was held in some giant
hand that had broad-fingers of living steel
which encompassed me like no animate or
inanimate thing that can be imagined. They
shook me till my bones felt as though they
were being crushed to powder, and did it
as easily as a man would crush the lightest
feather.
I thought all this, I saw the terrible
light, I felt the wild and awful force, and
yet it must have been in a second. It
must have come to me just at that instant
that I was pitched headlong from the bal-
loon into space, for that was the beginning
of the world of thought which followed :
thoughts of my past life, of home, of fam-
ily, friends and earth.
Then there came another sensation. It
was just such a one as I felt must come to a
man who is being hanged. It appeared to
me as though my head had left my body ;
as though my bod$had fallen away from
me and left my head in the air. Tt felt
that way to me. And I thought that still
in my head my brains, or my intellect, or
something was left, so that I could still
have those terrible thoughts. Just an in-
stant I felt I had regained a sort.of con-
sciousness.
Then I realized that the parachute had
opened and had suddenly checked the speed
at which I was falling. Another world of
thoughts came to me. But now they were
all joyful, for in that instant I realized
that I was saved, for the oper parachute
would break my fall. I remember getting
just one look around. It must have heen
the look of a lightning flash, but in it I
saw the open parachute and above it the
falling balloon, and still further beyond
the sky with the lazy-going cloud from
which I had fallen. More than that, I saw
the earth beneath me, the houses and the |
people. I must have become unconscious
just as I realized my position, for the
glimpse of earth was the last thing I re- |
member. When I next opened my eyes
the people were hending over me.
‘‘Where is that terrible hand that held
me?’ I asked.
afterwards that they thought that I had
lost my reason in my fall. But I had not,
and I wonder yet if there was not some
other power than the air that held me in |
in that awful grasp. LEo STEVERS.
——XNew Way to Propose.—‘‘Will vou
go with me on my wedding trip, miss ?"'—
In my ears there was a!
And the people told me |
arms.
Elizabeth Seward of Denver, the only
woman bill poster in the United States,
| employs from eight to ten men and is as-
sisted by her 22-year-old daughter.
All manner of odd conceits are brought
into play with the new craze for braided
| gowns. It requires a master hand to turn
out a successful braided gown. Every bit
| of it must look as perfect as a die, yet it
must be all band work, or it is not up-to-
i date.
Black braid is put upon gowns of all
colors, from pale grays and tans to black,
and with equally good effect. Shades of
brown braid are also employed nicely upon
certain shades of blue, tan and smoke gray.
A fetching gown in the latter dainty
color is made up of smooth English mel-
ton, lined throughout with rustling golden
brown taffeta, and richly braided with the
same shade of silk braid.
The skirt is cut to measure five yards at
the foot, and is trimmed with a curved
border of brown braid, set on in a fantastic
way. The blouse bodice is drawn into a
belt of brown velvet ; the entire body is
braided over in rows, ending in figures to
match the skirt, the braiding extending
over the hips a short distance and over the
tops of the leg o’-mutton sleeves. Double
cuffs of the velvet and an odd double collar
finish the waist.
Military effects are much used in braid-
ing. Very little is put upon the skirt, but
quantities are lavished upon the bodice.
Sometimes the entire sleeves are braided
over in narrow, curved lines, finished with
tiny loops. A gown of white alpaca is en-
riched by the bodice being braided elabor-
| ately with black outing appliqued figures
of royal purple broadcloth.
Young girls will wear gay-tinted jackets
the coming season. A young girl is a pretty
sight in one of the jaunty little scarlet
coats, made double breasted, just short
| enough to cover the hips and provided with
an enormous flare at the back to set out
over a small bustle. All the seams are
overlapped and stitched in rows ; the
shoulder and sleeve tops are ornamented
with rows of small smoke-pearl buttons set
on in groups.
Big pearl buttons to match ornament the
front of the coat. With such a jacket may
be worn a smart little turban of black felt,
faced along the brim with velvet, piped
with a satin cord. At the back, where the
broadened brim rolls up, is nestled a cluster
of black violets, and at the side is a clump
of nodding black ostrich feathers.
Few women seem to appreciate the neces-
sity as well as the value of a night toilet.
They reserve all their gréoming methods
for daylight trial and are content to slip
into bed with only a hasty attack on their
teeth with a tooth brush and a few rapid
strokes of the hair brush upon their locks.
Now, the ultra-fashionable sister would as
soon think of slighting her toilet details
before she goes to dreamland as she would
venture into the breakfast room with un-
combed locks. She realizes that night is
the time to repair whatever ravages the day
has made in her looks. In the first place,
just before going to bed is the best time to
take a warm bath, for the bather then has
the entire night to rest if there is any
fatigue attendant upon the hot rubbing.
Night is the proper time to take a facial
steam bath. The pore-cleansing plan is
i apt to make the skin look blotchy and red
for a time, and it is an advantage to be
able to apply a creamy unguent and let the
‘‘par-hoiled”’ effect wear off before morn-
ing. When there is need of a thorough
facial bath of soap and water (and there
are times when the skin calls for effectual
cleansing) it is better to take it just be-
fore retiring.
The use of a little cold cream will remedy
| the drawn, stretched feeling the skin is
| likely to assume, but no woman can start
{out on her day’s duties with a cream-
! daubed countenance. Hence the value of
the night toilet. |
Those much-talked-ahout ‘‘fifty strokes
{ of the hair brush’’ should be doubled at
night, when the dust that has accumulated
lin madam’s tresses needs to be removed.
i It is an untidy habit, this slighting the
" head, as well as any other part of the body.
Nothing betrays lack of attention so plain-
ly as one’s hair. No one can expect to
secure a lustrous, satiny head of hair if too
lazy to bring the brush into vigorous play.
Dentists’ bills would be less heavy if
women would appreciate the value of thor-
ough mouth grooming hefore retiring. The
tooth brush should be deftly carried into
| every crevice of the teeth and the mouth
well rinsed out with a little water and
“myrth or listerine.
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