Pemopralic
Bellefonte, Pa., Dec. 4, 1896.
WHO'S AFRAID IN THE DARK?
“Not I,”’ said the owl,
And he gave a great scowl,
And he wiped his eye,
And fintfed his jowl,
“Ta who I"
Said the dog, “I bark outloud in the
dark,
Boo-00 !",
Said the cat, “mi-micw !
I'll serateh any who
Dare say that I do
IFeel afraid, mi-miew !™’
“Afraid,” said the mouse,
*Of the dark in a house ?
Hear me scatter
Whatever's the matter.
Squeak
Then the toad in his hole,
And the bug in the ground,
They both shook their heads
And passed the word around.
And the bird in the tree,
The fish and the bee,
They declared all three,
That you never did see
One of them afraid
In the dark!
But the little boy
Who had gone to bed,
Just raised the bed-clothes
And covered his head.
~The Commonwealth Jd. 1.
A FELINE FATE.
Because the night was bitterly cold, and
sleet was falling in thin, sharp lines, Dick
Eaton put on his heavy overcoat, in which
every thing was far lined, even to the pock-
ets, before starting for Mrs. Leighton’sdin-
ner.
He was not feeling particularly happy,
although he was in general a happy hearted
fellow enough. When one is 28 and has
just received a severe snub from one’s lady-
love, one does not contemplate a long
dreary dinner with much satisfaction.
Dick certainly did not. He would much
rather have staid at home and nursed his
woes over a bright fire, a volume of Dumas
and a pipe. However, as this was not to
be, he did not grumble, but only .gave a
sigh or two at the fate which allotted that
his heart should have flown away before he
was aware of it and without any prospect
of its acceptance.
It cannot be denied that it was Dick’s
own fault. He had chosento fall in love
with a very superior young person, with a
girl of wit as well as beauty, with a young
lady who had seen and traveled much, who
barely tolerated the average young man,
and who, as she counted among her friends
many “prominent people, could afford to
pick and choose. It was not to be expect-
ed that Lillian Girton, an honored guest in
Upper Bohemia, privileged to act as hostess
to scores of well known people, should
have any time to waste on Dick Eaton. It
was nothing to her that he persistently
and furtively adored her, that he had done
sofrom the first week of their meeting two
weeks ago, and less than nothing that he
was possessed of a considerable income.
The Girton money made this latter fact
of no consequence, and Dick himself—well
Dick was not clever. He did not write nor
sing nor act. He was not aesthetic, musi-
cal or socialistic. He was only a big,
strong, tender hearted fellow, pure in soul
and sunny in temper, from whose armor of
proof the temptations of modern life rolled
like water from a duck's back. He had
never done a mean action, nor told a slan-
derous story. He was generous of heart,
lavish of hand and had a weakness for ani-
mals. His habits were temperate, but not
rigid. He drank a little, played poker—a
little—and was not above making a bet.
He was so straightforward and pure minded
that some of his friends had called him ‘‘Sir
Galahad’’—behind his back, of course.
Dick would not have known what they
meant. Indeed it is to be doubted if Dick
ever heard of Sir Galahad. Dick’s mental
acquirements were rather slim, it must be
confessed. He read Shakespeare and Ma-
Caunlay and Thackeray and Dumas, and he
was fond of Wilkie Collins. He had no
taste for Buddhism, and thought theosophy
was ‘‘tommy rot.” He did not kpow a
thing about Ishen and had never heard of
George Meredith, from which it may be
inferred that in Miss Girton’s eyes he was
a highly commonplace and objectionable
young man. Nevertheless, in spite of
snubs, sarcasm and ill concealed indiffer-
ence, Dick adored Miss Girton, loved her
with a single souled passion which colored
all his life and dominated all his thoughts,
which made him her knight whether she
would or no.
It is not quite certain whether Miss Gir-
ton was aware of the fact. Certainly all of
Dick’s friends were, and they were for the
most part very sympathetic and sang his
praises all day long, much to her astonish-
ment.
“I cannot understand,’ she said, ‘‘what
it is that makes that young Eaton fellow
so popular. He hasn’t an ounce of brains,
but to hear his friends talk one would
think he had the mental.powers of a Bis-
marck.”’
The state of affairs did not tend to make
her any kindlier to him. She was always
out when he called, or else some celebrity
came in, and Dick was left enshrouded in
outer darkness during the brilliancy of
their conversation. So it happened that on
this particular evening he was feelin,
downcast and for once discouraged. >
It was cold and wet and slippery. The
sleet was fine, with a penetrating quality,
and it clung to doorposts or froze on win-
dow panes until there seemed no warmth
or dryness anywhere. The wind was gusty.
It blew the sleet into Dick’s face. The
streets were uncomfortably glassy on the
pavements and mushy at the crossings. He
stumped along, with the collar of his coat
turned up about his ears, feeling that the
wind and weather had conspired together
against his comfort and growing less inclin-
ed for the chilly formality of a dinner at
every step. Half the distance perhaps had
been traversed and the last bad crossing
waded through successfully when he felt
something brush against his foot and stick
fine points into his trousers. At the same
time there came piteous mew. The night
was dark as pitch, and thesleet dimmed
the windy lamp at the corner, so Dick
stopped and felt down his trousers leg until
his gloved fingers came in contact with a
ball of shivering wet fur, which offered no
resistance, when he raised it.
It was a kitten, a very weak, very wet
and very miserable kitten, from the drench-
ed hair on ius little gray head to the tip of
its shivering tail, the incarnation of help-
less misery. It lay passively, sprawled
over his hands and looking at him with
blinking green eyes, far too cold and un-
comfortable to be frightened.
‘Hello, old man,’ said Dick, staring at
it, at the draggled, helpless paws and the
thin, rough coat, ‘‘where do you belong?"
The kitten naturally made no answer,
but continued to blink at Dick and to shiv-
er helplessly. It was so very small that it
staggered and slipped about when it tried
to stand, so it finally gave up trying and
subsided into an indeterminate heap.
“Well, I'm awfully sorry, but I can’t
i help it, you know.” Dick said, half apolo-
| getically. “Run home to your mamma.
| You’re far too little to be alone.” f
He set it down on the pavement again,
| but it only crouched there mewing, and
| when he moved away sprang feebly up his
leg and clung there till he could bear it no
[ longer. He was fond of cats, and this one
. was so very tiny and abject and wretched
lhe could not abandon it. He lifted it
| again and rubbed the rough fur for dryness
"and then tickled it under the chin and be-
| hind the ears while the kitten sat on his
‘arm and held its head first to one side
and then to the other, as'if it enjoyed the
| process. Then it backed down into the
| palm of his hand and there curled up,
| sticking its head into the fur cuff of his
i sleeve. There was evidently no use trying
| to get rid of it, and, after all, Dick could
| not abandon the little creature which had
i fled so confidently to him for protection.
| “Well, you are cool,” he said, stroking
| the soft little hand, ‘‘but I say, old man,
| what am I to do with you ?”’
The kitten offered no solution of this
| problem beyond an attempt to pur, to be
sure, but an achievement of which it was
evidently not a little proud. The pur
settled it. Dick was soft hearted and half
! conquered already. As he looked about
him in despair he caught sight of the red
light swinging in front of Briggs’ grocery
store at the corner, and he remembered
that Briggs kept a bulldog who liked kit-
tens to play with, and who usually mang-
led one a week.
Meantime it was growing late, and Dick
was freezing, two circumstances which add-
ed weight to the situation. There was
nothing to be done for it but to take the
kitten along. Abandon it he would not.
Find it shelter he could not. The only
course left was to take it with him. Once
at the Leightons he could decide what to
do with his troublesome charge. Mean»
while—
*‘Well,” said Dick resignedly, striding
on, ‘I suppose you have got to come.
Only, old man, I must say I wish you had
chosen to favor me on my way home !”?
And the kitten gave a jubilant burst of
pur. which sounded apologetic. .
Dick transferred it to his pocket, which,
as it was a very small kitten, was very
roomy quarters. The kitten smelled all
over it carefully first and then tied it-self
into a tight bunch and proceeded to make
its toilet, while Dick walked briskly on,
chuckling to himself sometimes at the odd-
ity of his position, and yet reflecting on
his situation with some anxiety.
As he drew near the house he grew more
and more perplexed. He simply could not
produce the heast upon entering Mrs.
Leighton’s parlors. The effect would be
too ridiculous, and Dick was foolish enough
to be sensitive to ridicule. Miss Girton
was to be there, and he dreaded her laugh-
ter. He felt sure that such a proceding
would ruin him forever in her eyes. An
ablebodied young man picking up a forlorn
alley cat and bringing it with him toa
dinner party—it was quite impossible ! And
yet what was to bedone? If the animal
would stay quietly in his pocket, it might
not be so hard to conceal it during the
meal, and he would excuse himself as
carly as possble. The kitten seemed so
abject and meek that he felt inclined to try
the experiment, trusting to the novelty
and warmth for due effect in keeping it
still—yet at the same time he could not
but acknowledge to himself that there are
more risks than one. However, it really
seemed the only course to take, and Dick
resolved to trust to luck, which had rarely
failed him in an emergency.
‘Now; old man,’”’ he said to the kitten
as they stood on the doorsteps, ‘‘ I have.
done you a good term, you know, so I ex-
pect you todo me another by lying low
and keeping dark. Don’t give yourself
away, old man, if you love me.”’
* 3
*‘I’ll put my coat here,’’ he said hastily
as the butler\offered to disencumber him
of that garme He could hear the hum
of voices in the drawing room, and her
bright laugh rippled out above the maze of
conversation. If he had entertained any
idea of producing his prize, it vanished
now. He hung his coat carefully in a dark
corner away from the stony eyed butler
and his assistants and tried to arrange the
folds so as to hide the small gray head
which peeped inquisitively out over the
edge of his pocket. Meanwhile he petted
his prize furtively and conjured it not to
betray him.
The kitten appeared acquiescent. It was
evidently sleepy, and Dick saw with joy
that it had already prepared itself fora nap.
He breathed a fervent prayer, gave it a
farewell pat and strode nervously into the
drawing room.
Never was dinner so interminably long.
They had allotted him to a vivacious little
girl in her first season, and he was far
away from Miss Girton’s end of the table.
That lady sat between the pianist and the
newest writer of short stories, and Dick
noticed with dull jealousy that she seemed
on excellent terms with both. As for him,
the specter of his concealed erime rose up
before him at every mouthful. The girl
who sat next him thought him very queer
and absentminded, for he talked by fits
and starts, while every now and then she
caught him looking anxiously toward the
door.
When the third course came a new tor-
ment—how to feed his incubus. That the
kitten was starving Dick made no doubt,
and the thought was sufficient tospoil his
dinner for him. He felt exceedingly guilty
at the thought that he had not provided
for it before ; also the thought that the
smell of food might possibly attract the
animal from his pocket and induce it to
make its appearance in the dining room,
filled him with apprehension. He looked
abont him for something to slip into his
pocket and convey to it secretely, but the
outlook was not promising. To say noth-
ing of the difficulty of transportation, such
viands as sweetbreads a la Marengo, chick-
en with truffles, or Roman punch, were
hardly the diet any self respecting cat
would select for her offspring, and Dick
knew it. He passed three courses in en-
deavoring to manufacture some plausible
excuse for leaving the table, but finally
gave up in despair, resolving to wait until
the ladies retired to the drawing room,
when the greater freedom that prevailed
might aid his purpose.
When cigars had been lighted and chairs
pushed back, and when conversation was
flowing gently and intermittently like the
wine into the glasses, Dick felt his hour
had come.
*‘Leighton,’’ he said, addressing his host
with elaborate indifference, ‘‘would you—
could I—ah, that is—would it be too much
trouble to get me a glass of milk ?”’
An amazed silence fell upon the party at
this singular request, and even old Grubbs
stopped short in the middle of his longest
and most wearisome story.
“Milk ?”’ said the host, forgetting to re-
light his cigar and staring at our hero in
perplexity.
“Punch ?”’ suggested the short story
writer.
‘No,’ said Dick, shaking his head, ‘‘just
a plain glass of milk, please.”
‘Certainly, if you want it,”’ said Leigh-
ton, ‘‘but won’t champagne do ?”’
“Well, you see, the fact is,’’ said Dick,
writhing on his chair, ‘‘the doctor ordered
me after every meal’’
*‘Oh, of course, if you like,” said his
host, and the butler brought a large tum-
bler of milk and placed it solemnly before
Dick on the table during a rather chilly
silence. Then they all began talking about
something else, and only the short story
writer, who sat opposite, kept looking at
Dick quizzically now and then. There
was no help for it. He was forced to gulp
down at least half the glass, which he did
with very bad grace indeed. Meanwhile
how to get away unobserved ?
“Leighton,” he said, reaching out to
straighten a candle shade, ‘‘did I hear you
say that Gladstone had been criticised in
the Times for that last speech of his ?”’
“‘Yes,”” said Leighton, quite unsuspi-
ciously, ‘‘and of all the unwarrantable’”’—
The radical M. P. at the other end of the
table had something to say on the subject,
and the short story writer wanted to ask
questions. The result was that the men
pushed the bottles into the center of the
table, squared their elbows and generally
made ready for warfare, and in 10 minutes,
as Dick had anticipated, were far too deep
in politics to observe his movements. He
felt quite proud of his finesse, but there
was no time for self rejoicing. With the
half finished glass of milk still in his
hand, he rose and wandered over to the
window, then to the buffet for a light,
then, quite unobserved, out of the door
and down the hall to where his overcoat
hung.
The kitten was awake and seemed rest-
less. Dick felt that he was just in time.
He held it under one arm and carefully
tilted the glass for it until every drop was
gone.
“There, old man !"’ he said as the little
thing rubbed his head caressingly against
his sleeve. ‘‘You feel better, don’t you?
Have a cigar after your drink %’ It amused
him to treat his treasure trove like an ac-
quaintance. The sound of chairs being
pushed about in the dining room struck
him with sudden panic. He spilled the
kitten hastily into his pocket again, sped
back with the empty glass and put it on
the table with theair of a man who has!
done his whole duty.
‘“‘Humph !” said the short story writer,
wheeling suddenly around and surveying
him suspiciously. ‘‘You’re a healthy
specimen. Is all your medical regimen on
that order, may I ask ?”’
‘‘No,”’ said Dick, with superb simplicity,
‘only a man must look after his health,
you know, and I'm not in condition at all
really.”
“You look it,’’ said the short story writ-
er sarcastically. ‘‘I saw you at the club
yesterday, boxing, and, the amount of
weakness you displayed there alarmed me,
it really did. Milk indeed ! Nervous
prostration, complicated with hears disease,
is about your case, I fancy.”
“I hope it’s not as bad as all that,”’ re-
plied - Dick, with the calmness of inno-
cence, which would have done credit to
Mr. Toole himself, ‘‘but thére’s no know-
ing what it may turn out if I’m not care-
ful.”
The short story writer gave him a sharp
look as they passed out of the dining room
together, and then went over and spoke to
the French tenor, who had been rather
neglected during the political discussion.
Conversation in the drawing room was
not exciting, and Dick grew nervous. Of
course the tenor sang, and the pianist play-
ed, and the short story writer told some of
the curious things which had fallen to his
own or other people’s experience, but Dick
wanted to talk to Miss Girton and found
this rather harassing. The lady, however,
was in her element, and, as when she was
not discussing Ibsen with the critic, she
was analyzing Wagner motifs with the
pianist or exchanging French compliments
with the tenor, he found very little chance
to put in an oar. He tried to do his duty,
but he eyed her from afar with a heavy
heart. Why was it she would never say a
word to him when she was talking so
brightly to those other men ? Why was it
he couldn’t play nor sing nor understand
theosophy ? He drifted aimlessly about,
longing to get away, and yet bound in her
presence by the irresistible pleasure it gave
him merely to look at her. ’
The drawing room was heated by a large
wood fire, and it soon became unpleasantly
warm, so the people wandered out by the
twos and threes, some into the music room,
a few into the cool, softly lighted hall.
Miss Girton was one of these, and Dick, as
a matter of course, joined the group of men
gathered about her and hazarded a remark
now and then when they gave him a chance.
How lovely she looked, he thought, as she
stood there, tall and graceful, in her fawn
colored satin draperies, with her bright eyes
and quick, animated movements of head
and hands! The ribbon of her hounquet
had become untied, and she rolled it in her
fingers and trailed it to and fro over the
shining wood floor as she talked.
“It isn’t so much the humanity of Is-
ben,’’ she was saying. ‘‘It's his percep-
tion of our higher being, I think, which
gives him so much power over things pure-
ly ideal.”’ -
Dick wondered, with a sickening sensa-
tion of ignorance, what was ‘‘a perception
of our higher being.”” Suddenly a thrill
of apprehension seized him. There was a
stir among the overcoats in a dark corner
of the hall, and as he gazed anxiously in
that direction two bright spots met his
eyes, two sparks of topaz fire fixed intently
on the floor. Oh, that fascinating blue
ribbon ! How itcurved and trailed about !
What kitten—even the most staid—counld
have resisted the temptation ?
Dick saw the danger at once. He made
2 sudden plunge and picked it up off the
oor.
‘Your ribbon is untied,’’ he said, offer-
ing it to Miss Girton with nervous polite-
ness.
‘Thank you!’ she said in some sur-
prise. She let it dangle from her hand for
a minute and then shook it out in a long,
curved line on the dark wood. It was too
sh. No mortal kitten could withstand
that.
There was a bound and a rush and the
scamper of four soft little paws—and Dick’s
unfortunate waif lay on its back under
Miss Girton’s feet kicking and clawing
at the ribbon in an ecstasy of playful ex-
citement.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Miss Gir-
tor, stepping back, ‘‘where did that come
from 2’?
“It’s a cat, by Jove I’ said somebody.
Then Dick, feeling cold and weak all over,
made a step forward.
“It’s mine—I picked it up,” he said
distinctly. “It was so cold and wet, you
know’'—
“Did you find it?’ ‘‘Was it thereall
the time?’ ‘‘Where did it come from?”
cried everybody, crowding around, while
the kitten made short charges at the ®-
bon, batted at it with its paws and kicked
at it frantically with its hind legs.
Dick told the whole story with a sink-
ing heart. What would she think of him?
What would she say ? She did not say
anything, but nearly everybody else did.
| The pianist told a long story about his cat
in Leipsic, and the short story writer clap-
ped Dick on the shoulders. ‘‘Come Eaton,
now confess,’”’ he cried laughingly, “*I spot-
ted something from the first. That milk’’—
‘*Yes’’ said Dick, scarlet, but sturdy,
“it was for the Kkitten.”’
There was a roar of laughter from the
men, and then the joke had to be explain-
ed to the ladies, and Dick had to tell again
how he had managed it.
i “And why you did not produce. the
beast right away ?”’ said Leighton. *‘I
cannot understand exactly. By the way,”
he added, ‘‘there’sa smart fox terrier of
ming up stairs. Let’s introduce them and
have some fun.”
Dick made a dash for his protege, who,
by this time, had gotten the ribbon mixed
up with its own tail and was trying to
swallow both, and caught it up.
“No you don’t,” he"said, holding the
furry little head against his chin caressing-
ly. ‘“This little beast’s had quite enough
of that sort of thing, I fancy. I'm going
to take it home and make it comfortable.
‘You don’t mind living with me old man?’
—this to the kitten. ‘We'll be pretty
good chums so long as you don’t smoke bad
tobacco.’ ”’
He got his overcoat and said goodby to
his hostess amid a fire of good natured
chaff. Then he looked around for Miis
Girton. She was standing alone by the
fire place twisting the fatal ribbon absent-
ly in her fingers, and her face wore a cur-
ious expression. Dick, with his prize still
cuddled up in his arms came over to her.
‘All that for a kitten,’’ she said, some-
1 what irrelevantly. ‘‘Why was that?”
| “Oh, well, it liked me !"’ said Dick sim-
ply, ‘and it was so beastly wet, you
know.”
She gave him her hand with a sudden,
dazzling smile.
“Won’t you come and seeme tomor-
row ?’’ she said, ‘‘I shall be quite alone
all the afternoon, and I do so want to hear
about—about the kitten !"’— Louisville
Courier-Journal.
morro grees
Campbell Saved Him.
Ohio's Ex-Governor's Determined Stand Prevented
One Decapitation for Pernicious Activity
WASHINGTON, Nov. 29.—One of the
many federal officials against whom charges
were filed because of open and active sup-
port of the Democratic ticket in the late
campaign, was Colonel Joseph J. Dowling,
collector of internal revenue for the south-
ern district of Ohio. The attack on Col-
onel Dowling came from Gold Democrats,
and it was vigorous and determined. Those
who made it declared their intention to
the collector’s scalp and boasted of their
ability to do so. DB
There was a prospect that they would
make good their threats, but at a critical
moment ex-Governor Campbell, of Ohio,
who is a friend of Colonel Dowling, took a
hand in the fight. He came to Washington
with fire in his eye, bent on giving the civ-
il service commissioner and the depart-
ment of justice the stiffest sort of a fight.
Those familiar with Governor Campbell’s
record know that he can put up such a
fight when he thinks it worth while.
The Governor sought an interview with
Attorney-General Harmon, who, as an Ohio
man, is in a position to know Governor
Campbell’s mettle. The latter told the
attorney-general that he represented Mr.
Dowling, who was under an attack, be-
cause he had exercised the right of every
American citizen to support the candidate
and the ticket that to him seemed best.
Mr. Dowling was a Democrat and gave
the Democratic ticket in the late campaign
loyal and effective support, as he always
did. If he was to be punished for this,
Governor Campbell said, he would under-
take to demonstrate in the courts that it
was a rank infringement of his rights as a
citizen, and promised before he got done to
fill the civil service law so full of holes
that its closest friends would not recognize
it. As a result of Governor Campbell's
visit and aggressive talk to the attorney-
general, it is understood the charges against
collector Dowling will be allowed to die.
Cold Weather in the West.
Suffering Is Intense and the Death Rate May be
Large.
St. PAuL, Minn.,, November 29.—The
intensely cold weather which prevails in
the storm swept districts of the northwest
has brought on intense suffering and death
list is expected to be quite large. At Moore-
head, Minn., Thomas Anderson, a young
man, after helping a woman to her home,
attempted to reach his home but perished
and now lies buried in the drifts.
At Fargo, N. D., Frank Vach, of Chi-
cago, was frozen on the prairie a mile from
town.
At Churches Ferry, N. D., a trainman
attempting to get help for a train load
of cattle, was frozen stiff. Ten car loads
of sheep destined for Chicago were frozen
at Grand Harbor, Devil’s Lake. The No-
vember which is just closing is the coldest
known in the northwest for fifteen years.
Snow fell on the 4th of the month and has
not since disappeared even for a day.
There is great suffering on the stock ranges
and thousands of cattle will be killed if the
weather continues cold.
On the ranges west of the Missouri river
the temperature is from fjve to twenty de-
grees below zero at all points in the Dako-
to-night. Farmers coming from the ranges
west of the Missouri say the loss to stock-
men so far is not great, as when the storm
broke the cattle found fair shelter in the
valleys. The weather, however, is still
very severe, zero temperatures being re-
ported all over Minnesota and the Dakotas.
Unless there is a decided rise in tempera-
ture in the next few days the loss among
sheep and cattle will be large, as the
streams are freezing over so solidly that it
will be hard for them to get water.
——The charge that the tomato produces
cancer is credited, but now Dr. W. T. Eng-
glish says that it acts as a heart poison and
in aggravated cases it sets up an active fer-
mentation in the entire elementary tract.
The heart action is rendered irregular, the
sufferer gasps for breath, and a steady use
of the vegetable as a food is likely to pro-
duce organic as well as functional trouble.
He admits that the symptoms of poisoning
are not marked except in rare cases.
——Museum Manager—‘‘We'll have to
look up a new freak or two.” Agent—
‘I've got a corker for you. It'sa Repub-
lican office-seeker who can prove that he
has not yet visited or written to Canton.’
tas. Reports from the railways indicate
that they are running nearly on time again
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i while the outburst of anti-British feeling
i ence of Europe the New World must al-
i ways be indebted.
i the oak and cedar. but that didn’t remedy
| the evil at all.
that cow money and you can pay for fur-
Lessons and Warnings of the Election.
[Dr. Goldwin Smith, in the December Forum.)
That the free silver movement was largely
an uprising of the poor against the rich ap-
peared when the Populist Committee re-
fused to accept the Democratic nominee for
the Vice Presidency on the single ground
that he was a rich man. At the same con-
vention the belief propagated by Mr. Hen-
ry George, that poverty has increased with
progress and that all the wealth produced
has gone to the capitalist, was intoned in
incendiary prose. Yet the name of Peter
Cooper was received with honor. Wealth
can no longer rest on a supposed ordinance
of the Almighty distributing the lots of
men. It can no longer rest on unquestion-
ing belief in natural right. It is called
upon to justify its existence on rational
grounds. It must make itself felt in benef-
icience. It must avoid that cstentation of
luxury which is galling to the hearts of the
poor. It must remain at its post of social
duty. If rich Americans in the hour of
peril, instead of remaining at their posts of
social duty and doing according to their
measure what Peter Cooper did, continue
to crowd in ever-increaing numbers to the
pleasure cities and haunts of Europe, or
spend their money at home in selfish luxury
and insidious display, a crash will come and
ought to come. The French aristocracy
before the Revolution left their posts of
social duty in the country tolive in luxury
and frivolity at Versailles. The end was
the burning of their chatcawr. American
plutocrats who leave their post of social
duty for the pleasure cities of Europe will i
have no reason to complain if their chateaux
some day are burnt. Unfortunately warn-
ings are seldom taken by individuals and
almost never by a class, each member of
which looks to the other members to begin.
% Nu
May not sympathy, to some extent, be
claimed by the silver movement so far as it
is a revolt against European influence and
in favor of the complete emancipation of
the New World? Any idea of severing the
United States commercially from the rest
of the nations by means of a separate stand-
ard of value would of course be absurd,
by which this aspiration is attended has its
ignoble source in false predjudice and out-
worn tradition. Yet there is something
not unwholesome, nor untimely, in the
manifestation. To the intellectual influ-
But a certain jealousy
of her social influence, as alien to the prin-
ciples of American civilization, and in
that sense of corrupting, may not be with-
out its use. Few things in social history
are more unlovely or more likely to pro-
voke righteous indignation among the
people than the matrimonial alliances of
upstart and sometimes ill-gotten wealth of
New York with the needy aristocracy of
Europe. What must an American work-
man feel when he sces the products of
American labor to the extent of scores of
millions sent across the Atlantic to buy
nobility for the daughter of a millionaire ?
The thing is enhanced by the extravagant
splendor of the nuptials. Nor are these
marriages merely offences against feeling
and taste. They are an avowal that Amer-
ican wealth is disloyal to the social prin- |
ciples of the Republic. i
Tek I Gon
Poles Have a Hard Time Standing Up to Duty.
‘‘Yes,”” said Joseph Donnes, superin-
tendent of telegraph for the Southern Pa-
cific railroad, ‘‘telegraph poles along the
line have a hard time. Particularly is
this so out west, where the poles are costly
and stations are few and far between.
‘‘Now out in the Arizona desert the poles
are played the deuce with generally. There
is a sort of wood pecker that picks the post
absolutely to pieces, thinking there may
be insects inside of the wood. They hear
the humming, and haven’t sense enough to
know what causes it. Then near the hills
the black bears imagine each pole contains
a swarm of bees, and they climb to the top
and chop the glass insulators to pieces, but
the sand-storms are the things that create
the most havoc.
‘When the winds blow strongly the
sand is drfted at a rapid rate and the
grains cut away the wood at a fearful rate.
It was a common thing to have an oak pole
worn to a shaving in a day’s time, while I
have seen poles ground to the surface of
the earth during a single storm. Things
got so bad out there that the company de-
cided to substitute steel poles for those of
The sand just wore at the
metal on each side of the pole until the
center was as sharp as a razor. and all the
Indians in the country used to shave them-
selves on the edge. We finally managed to
fix things. Just painted the poles with
soft pitch. The pitch caught the sand, and
now every pole is about two feet thick and
solid as a rock.’
An Expensive Cow.
Ex-Senator Philetus Sawyer, of Wiscon-
sin, told the following story recently :
“When we were living on my farm in Ros-
endale it became necessary to sell a cow.
The buyer wanted a certain cow or none at
all. It happened to be the cow I had giv-
en to my wife. I went into the house and
told my wife. She, the good soul, said :
‘Sell her but I want the money.’ [I sold
the cow, gave my wife # couple of dollars
and said : ‘Call on me when want
more.” When she wanted to buy a dress,
honnet or wedding present she would ask
for some cow money. I had paid back sev-
eral thousand dollars and was wondering
when the demand would cease. A house
was built. It had to be furnished. We
figured up what the furnishing would cost.
It amounted to several thousand dollars.
I said : ‘Wife I’ll pay you the balance of
nishing the house with it.” It wasa bar-
gain and the cow deal was over. The $20
cow cost the old senator nearly $20,000,
but he never complained at the price:
——The reception given to Mr. Bryan in
Denver, Colo., last week. is said to be the
grandest ovation ever accorded a man in
the west. What, it may be asked, does
that signify ? Is this the way a defeated
candidate for the presidency is usually
honored? Ovations like that given Bryan
in Denver show that the people there look
upon him as the leader of a cause that has
a great future before it. The advocates of
bimetallism are not discouraged. They
believe that the free silver issue is not dead
and ‘that the country will yet have William
J. Bryan for president.
——For the first time in the history of
the Republican party the national commit-
tee has closed the campaign with all debts
paid and a balance on hand. The commit-
tee had more money than Hanna could de-
vise ways to spend.
——The burning question of the hour is
however ; are those females entitled to be
called ladies who persist in wearing four-
story structures on their heads at theatre
performances ¥
en “
| waist decorations.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN-
Martha Hughgs Cannon has been elected
to the senate of Utah. She is the first
woman senator in America. Mr. Cannon
was her opponent. She is a Democrat, and
she beat him by 1,000 votes. The first
woman senator in America thinks that
day is dawning now, that electricity
is doing away with domestic drudgery.
that women are growing wise, and that
men are growing gentle, in short, she
believes that the millennium is coming
sooner than most people hope.
Sunshiny women, who bring a bright
thought or word, oreven a glad smile, with
them, are always welcome as the flowers in
May. Each heart knoweth its own bitter-
ness, each soul has its own troubles and
trials and vexations, and so we turn to the
one who can lighten our sadness with the
radiance of a cheerful spirit. Sunshine of
the soul is largely a matter of cultivation,
for there are but few so unfortunate as not
to have some grief. The selfish sit down
and brood over their sorrows. They give
themselves up to fits of despondency and
moodiness and are a kind of moral wet
blanket on the pleasures of all with whom
they come in contact. They tell you their
sorrows and bedew you with their tears un-
til it seems that there must be a kind of
luxury of woe in which they rejoice. Af-
ter all, the cheerful spirit is but an exam-
ple of ‘that brave attitude toward life,’ of
which Stevenson wrote. It is a courageous
| bearing of the inevitable burdens, a deter--
mination not to fret and not to add to the
sorrows of the world the grief’s of one's
own heart.
“A woman who had many sorrows and
heavy burdens to bear, but who was noted
for her cheerful spirits, once said in expla-
nation : ‘‘You know I have had no money.
I had nothing I could give but myself, and
so I made the resolution that I would nev-
er sadden anyone clse with my troubles.
I have laughed and told jokes when I could
have wept. I have always smiled in the
face of every misfortune. I have tried
never to let anyone go from my presence
without a happy word or a bright thought
to carry with them. And happiness makes
happiness. I, myself, am happier than I
would have been had Isat down and be-
moaned my fate.”
‘This gospel of happiness is one that
every woman should lay to her heart.
What it means to a man to come home at
night to a cheerful wife, no one but he who
has had to fight the hard battle of life
knows. If he is prosperous it is an added
joy, but it is in misfortune that it shines
like a star in the darkness. A complain-
ing wife can kill the last bit of hope and
courage in a sorely troubled heart, while a
cheerful one gives new courage to begin
the fight over again. The mother who lets
her children grow up to be moody and dis-
contented, subject to blues and sulks, is
failing in her first duty. She is handicap-
ping them in the race of life. Cheerfulness
is one of the prime requisites to success
and happiness. The sunshiny man or
woman has every one for & friend, ‘for this
sad old earth must borrow its mirth : it
has sorrow enough of its own.’ ”’
To return to boleros. Everything that
is usable from the scrap bag is converted
into this garment ; remnants are eagerly
i snatched for such, and dressmaking empor-
iums are filled with orders for the dashing
Spanish wrap, that looks so oddly on a
prim-faced matron or elderly maid.
The fitness of things seems to demand a
well played fan, a pair of half-shaded eyes
and the indescribable sinuousness which
endows the women of Castile. It is like
one woman attaching another woman’s
trait to herself. One always sees the sold-
tering line. Don’t make the mistake of
leaving your bolero with plain edges.
The improvement of 96 over '92 lies in
the galloon, the tassels, the lace, that now
dangle from the little affair.
It is a good thing for the housekeeper to
know that the foreshin or hock is good for
soup ; that the lower part of round, the
brisket and ‘‘chuck’’ make good stew :
that the rump, round and loin are good for
steak ; the rump, upper part of the round,
ribs and loin are the roasts, and the neck,
brisket, thick flank and boneless flank are
the best for corning. _—
It is a good thing to know¥hat a roast,
whether loin or rib, should not be put into
a lukewarm oven in a pool of water, but in
a pan on a rack, and in a hot oven.
That steak should not be sizzled in a
lake of fat, but broiled with no grease and
seasoned when done.
That corned or broiled beef should be
cooked gently, not hoiled at a gallop until
like leather.
It is a good thing to know that brisket is
one of the cheaper cuts of beef and that it
comes from that part of the animal just
above the front legs ; but it is better to
know that butchers never corn meat that
can be kept any longer and that the corned
beef already cut and rolled is the corned
beef not to buy.
She is an unwise woman who hangs up
her jacket by a loop at the back of the
neck. I makes the coat sag where the
strain comes, and gives it a dragged and
droopy appearance. If loops are used at
all they should be at the armholes, and so
put on as to stand upright and are not
stretched across an inch or so of 8 ;
This obviates the pulling at the cloth.
But the best way to keep a coat fresh and
in good shape is to keep it, when not in
active service, on a wooden hanger.
To avoid being fat a tumblerful of hot
water must be taken on waking in the
morning. Rise early and have a tepid
bath, with vigorous rubbing afterwards
with a flesh brush. Avoid drinking
at meals and -only have three meals
a day. Take one small cup of tea at
breakfast, some dry toast, boiled fish ora
small cutlet and a baked apple or a little
fruit. At dinner, which should be at mid-
day, take white fish or meat, dry toast or
stale bread, vegetables and fruit, either
fresh or stewed. For supper, toast, salad,
fruit and six ounces of wine or water. Hot
water with lemon juice in itis good for
supper.
Under the portieres stands a slight, erect
figure, that one doest’t need to study or to
speculate about, Her gown of steel gray
whipcord is correct to the hour and the min-
ute, without trying to run ahead of time and
into as yet unevolved futurities. It is cut
after the princess model, but with the bare
look of that trying style relieved and soft-
ened by a black velvet sash and velvet
At the bottom of the
skirt is a broad band of black velvet, with
a thread of ecru lace turning over its upper
edge. The bodice is slightly full in front
with square revers of lace-bordered velvet
across the shoulders, extending in pointed
lapels to the waist-line. The sleeves are
tight, but not skin tight, with moderate
fullness at the top, and cuffs of velvet and
lace for wrist finish. A velvet stock collar
with rosette at the back and a toque of vel-
vet, and feathers finish an uncommonly
| well turned out costumes.