Deworeaic Watch.
Bellefonte, Pa., March 19, 1897.
A CHARACTER.
He was always a saying : “It's all for the best ;”
No matter what fortune was bringing.
And he did what he could—left to heaven the
rest,
And went on his pathway a singing !
By day and by night—in the dark, in the light
You'll find him serene and contented ;
The world, to his notion, was treating him right,
And his way with its roses was scented.
His life was a lesson all comforting—sweet !
A life that was kind and forgiving,
For who, when the sharp thorns are piercing his
feet,
Can thank the good Lord that he's living ?
But sometimes I think when the heart in the
breast
Is sick with its sorrow and grieving,
If things never happen at all “for the best,"
We can make them the best by believing !
ADAM.
BX LISETTE W. REESE.
The postmaster stretched a greasy hand
across his grocer’s counter and held out a
letter to the tall and middle-aged woman
standing there.
‘*Miss—Adelaide—Spring.
for you I guess.”
‘‘Oh, thank you,” she said indifferently.
She slipped the letter into her basket and
walked out of the store. One glance had
told her the writer. Her lilac calico gown,
laid away for years in a garret trunk, was
dimly reminiscent of him. He had been in
her mind a good deal the past week.
The pike curved upward to the moun-
tains, a dusty, warm-colored line, with
here a house, there an orchard or some pas-
ture land beside it. It had rained the
night before, and the sudden little winds
that beat down it were thick with the late
August odors, that of withering grass or
the ripening apples. Puffs of this red
dust followed the tall woman up the road.
She carried her head high as she walked.
‘Her stately name seemed to suit her. Un-
der her thoughts and over and through
them ran that one of her letter.
‘‘Adelaide ! Adelaide !”’
. She turned.
Jane Roseborough held her skirts well
up out of the dust as she came. Her round,
good-natured face shone like a full moon
from under her starched sunbonnet.
“I have just been down to the drug
store after some liniment,’’ she stopped to
say. ‘‘I wonder what makes you walk so
fast, Adelaide? You only had a minute
ahead of me.”’
“I didn’t know you were following.”
‘You ain’t as fat as I am, Adelaine, or
you'd realize how I feel. Well, let's go
on.”
“I guess the worst of the hot spells
over,’’ said Adelaide a minute later.
‘‘I hope so anyway.’’ Jane was staring
wide-eyed at her neighbor. ‘‘How old-
timey you look, Adelaide! I believe you
had a dress like that when he first came to
see you.’’
‘Who?’ asked Adelaide, unflinch-
ingly. te
‘‘Adam.”’
They toiled along, one heaving and
crimson, the other erect and high-headed.
A loaded hay wagon, moving ponderously
in the opposite direction, went by them.
It seemed to Adelaide that the farmer’s
boy, perched on top, looked at her cur-
iously. /
‘‘He’s been talkinga good deal about
you to-day, Adelaide.’’
“Who 9”?
‘‘Adam.”
The tall woman’s face was like stone.
‘‘He just came back last night. I tell
you I was mighty glad tosee him. Eigh-
teen years is a long time to do without see-
ing your only brother.’
Adelaide kept dumb.
‘His wife's dead, and his children’s
dead, and he’s come back here to stay—
that is—that is—'’ She ended vaguely.
‘‘Jane Roseborough !"’
“Well, Adelaide?’
*‘You needn't be afraid to say anything
to hurt. You can talk all you want to.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘Adelaide !”’
“Well 2” re
‘What was it that made you and Adam
fall out ?”’
The only sound in the road was that of
their mufiled feet going along through the
dust. Farther down the hay-wagon still
lumbered. Adelaide measured out her
words when she spoke ; there was a snap
to them*
“I’ve never told anybody yet, and I
never expect to.”’ ’
‘I didn’t think you would,’ said Jane,
shrilly. “but I thought I'd ask, anyhow.
Do you see this?’’ holding up the package
in her hand ; “it’s liniment. Do you
know what he’s gone and done to himself ?”’
“No.”
‘He was fixing up my grape vine for me
this morning, and he slipped and fell and
hurt his back. ‘The doctor says he'll
have to keep quiet for a week. Adam al-
ways was unlucky about some things.
When he was a baby he didn’t do any-
thing but bump his head, and when he got
older he stumped his toe. They used to
call him Stumping Adam.”
They were coming to a small frame
house set well back from the road. Two
rows of box, each bush as tall asa man,
led up to the front door. -
‘‘How’s Ellen ?”’ persisted Jane.
‘‘She’s gone down to Haversham.”’
‘John Emmet sticks as close as ever,
don’t he? You’ll miss her when she
goes.”’
*‘She ain’t married yet.”
They had reached the
stopped, irresolute. ‘‘You might let by-
gones be bygones,’”” she blurted out.
“You might send him a word or two, Ade-
laide. He hasn’t forgotten you.”’
“It’s no use going on like that Jane
Roseborough.”’
“I know it ain’t. Well, good-by.”
“‘Good-by,”" said Adelaide.
She lifted the latch and passed austerely
along between the tall rows of box.
‘‘Miss Adelaide ! Miss Adelaide !”’
“Oh, dear !”’ she said.
Back of the little house stretched a fat
vegetable garden, and over the fence that
divided it from the green, alley-like lane
beyond, hung the owner of the voice, young,
stalwart’ white shirted.
‘‘Heard anything from Ellen
Miss Adelaide ?"
‘Not a word.’”” She put down her bas-
ket and faced him judicially.
‘What's the matter between yon and
Ellen, John Emmet?’
He groaned.
“Who began it >”
‘Ellen. She saw me stopping down the
road talking to one of the Bean girls, I
only asked her how her mother was, and I
couldn’t run right off when she began to tell
me all about the old lady’s rheumatism. I
Something
gate. Jann
lately,
just stuck it out, though by the time she
was through I felt myself all wrapped up
in red flannel, with a hot iron dragging
at each foot. And Ellen got jealous, and
wouldn’t listen toany thing I said, and
the next day she was down in Haversham.
Miss Adelaide, she’s been there a week,and
I haven’t heard a word since.’’
“That's like Ellen.”
““T love the very ground she walks on,”’
he cried vehemently.
She looked at him kindly.
it’ll all come right !"’
He swung himself off down the lane.
She watched him with a new and yet
strangely familiar pang at her heart. It
seemed to her as if she were listening to
some old story again.
In the house she remembered her letter.
She read it seated on the edge of a chair in
“I guess
her solemn little parlor.
Adelaide :
I'm coming back to Green Meadow just to see’
you. ADAM.
Her face hardened, grew soft, and har-
dened again. At last she cried out : ‘“‘But
he got married, he got married !”’ and
flung the letter from her.
Over the mantel in a cheap gilt frame
hung the photograph of a young girl. Her
face was dimly like Adelaide’s.
She rose and crossed over to it, and shook
her finger at the soft and smiling eyes.
‘Is that the reason you went off to Ha-
versham ?’’ she hegan, sharply. ‘It was
‘Aunt Adelaide’ this, and ‘Aunt Adelaide’
that, until I said yes. You ought to have
said : ‘I’m going away “and make a fool
of myself.” It’s in your blood, Ellen
Spring. It was in your father’s blood, and
in his father’s before him, and way back as
long as there was any Springs. We're all
alike. © IT wouldn’t make up with Adam
Roseborough, and you won’t make up with
John Emmet, and you'll be sorry for it all
the rest of your life.”” Her voice was
trembling as she drew toward the end ; her
last words were almost a wail.
She picked up the letter again and held
it out full in the face of the mysterious
likeness.
‘‘And look at this, Ellen Spring ! But I
can’t make up my mind to answer it. I'm
soft one minute and hard the next. He
got married and I stayed single. Seems to
me I can't get over his taking a wife. I
can’t---I can’t.
She plucked at the waist of the gown she
wore.
‘Ellen Spring, did you ever see this
trunk this morning, where it’s been folded
up ‘most 20 years. I knew he was com-
ing, and I wanted something to put me in
mind of him. He always liked this lilac
so. That’s what you'll come to, Ellen
Spring. You’ll hunger abd thirst and find
nothing to satisfy you but a rag or old rib-
bon or an old pile of letters or something
else. Some other woman'll get your hangs:
ness, and you’ll sit and look on and make
out you don’t care.”
Her voice was stern and appealing and
passionate by turns. It came back in tink-
ling echoes across the empty room. It
seemed to her as if the house were full of
ghosts.
Then she said suddenly:
right up now and take it off.”
She climbed the steps to the garret with
the letter still in her hand. The blacken-
ed door ereaked ; she found herself for the
second time that day in the dim place,
antique with the scent of herbs. The trunk
out of which she had taken the gown a few
hours before stood under the sloping eaves.
She crawled toward it on her hands and
knees, and dragged it out to the middle of
the floor. Then she began mechanically
to unfasten her dress, and little by little as
she did so, there grew out of the half light
in the room the figure of another woman,
younger than herself by some 18 years,
who watched her with sad and reproachful
eyes. Herself, in truth, in the likeness of
her youth, the youth she had flung from
her with a stubborn hand.
She opened the trank. An odor of
camphor struck across that of the herbs.
Here lay her wedding things, in careful
and separate folds, berihhoned and be-.
ruffed, yellowing with age. She ran her
fingers along the top-most garment ; it was
trimmed with rows of some delicate, hand-
knit lace, and she remembered having
walked two miles in the sun to beg for the
pattern. Below this showed a loosened
breadth of something fine and dove-color-
ed. It was the dress in which she had ex-
pected to marry Adam Roseborough. She
gave it a long look ; then smoothed the
lilac calico into decent creases, and laid it
down in a heap on the rest, and the letter
last of all. She felt as if she had just fin-
ished making a shroud.
Late that afternoon her niece came home.
“I thought you were going to stay anoth-
er week,’’ said Adelaide.
“I got tired of it,’’ said the girl. She
dragged out a chair and sat down on it.
‘‘Yon needn’t get me any supper. I’m not
hungry.”’
Her aunt stopped in her passage across
the kitchen.
‘John Emmet was 'ronnd here to-day,
and he told me all about it. He’s most
crazy for you to make up, Ellen.”’
*‘I feel's if I'd rather die than do it.”’
Adelaide Spring set her dishes down
again on the table, and looked curiously at
her.
*‘I’'m going to tell yon something,’’ she
began. ‘‘I guess you've heard about Adam
Roseborough ? And that once he and I
were going to be married, and then we had
a quarrel, and we never made up, and he
went away and got another wife ? Every-
body in the village knows that story.
Well, he’s back here again at his sister
Jane's. He’s come back just to see me. I
got a letter from him this morning, and he
told me so. But it’s too late, Ellen
Spring.”
‘Well 2”? said the girl.
“But don’t you go and make a fool of
yourself like me. I'm too old to change,
but you're young, and you can ; you
must.”’
‘What was it about 2’ asked Ellen.
“He thought I talked too much to the
minister. We had just got him, and he
was handsome and had a tongue. And I
said I would, and Adam said I mustn’t, |
and there it all ended. Adam begged and
begged, bat I held out, and so he stopped
begging and went away.”
The young face stared up into the mid-
dle-aged one.
“I look at you, Aunt Adelaide, and it
seems as if I were looking at myself, only
older.”
“And I look at you,” said Adelaide,
“and it scems as if yon were me, only
younger.’’
The rattle of china sounded again. Ade-
laide’s heels made clicking noises over the
bare kitchen floor.
‘You go up to bed, Ellen,” she said,
suddenly ; ‘‘you’re as pale as a ghost. I’H
bring you a bowl of hot tea.”
It grew late ; the light faded. From
one of her windows she could.see the Rose-
borough chimneys, showing very black and
plain against a sky that was all pale rose
and emerald.
From the stove came a pleasant bubbling
and boiling, and the room was full of a
“I'm going
lilac calico before ? I pulled it out of the |
homely odor. It was time to take Ellen
her tea.
The girl drank the steaming liquid down
at one gulp.
‘‘Aunt Adelaide !”’
“Well 2”
“I’ve been lying here and thinking
about what you told me.” :
“Well on
‘‘If you make up with Mr. Roseborough
I’ll make up with John Emmet.”’
Adelaide turned on her in a sudden pas-
sion.
“I don’t see why you should try to make
me do that, Ellen.”’
“I’ll do just what you do,” said Ellen.
She had been sitting up ; she lay down
again.
‘‘Suppose somebody that said he cared
all the world for you went off, and forgot,
and got married?’ asked the older
woman.
‘‘You wonldn’t let him marry you, Aunt
Adelaide. I don’t blame him.”’
‘“You’d remember it if John Emmet
treated you that way.’’
“I'd die!” Ellen sat up once more.
‘Oh, it seems to me that if you “yield, I'll
yield, too.”
A curtain flapped in the wind that was
pouring down the pike. Up from the gar-
den came the old and straitened odor of
box. A door creaked.
Adelaide Spring went falteringly out of
the room. Once more she climbed the
stair to thegarret. The minutes passed ;
it grew dark outside. When she returned
she carried over her arm the lilac calico she
had worn to the store that morning. She
began putting it on ; her fingers trembled ;
a look of her girlhood came into her face.
Ellen watched her.
“I'm ready,’ she said, at last.
Late August pinks bloomed thickly
along the garden path Adelaide trod that
night. She stoopéd and pulled a great
handful.
The pike was a dim track running east
and west ; there was no moon ; the stars
were scattered and few. Far ahead shone
light in a window. It was lit in Jane
Roseborough’s little parlor, and behind it
was the lover of Adelaide’s youth She
hurried toward it. The gusts plucked her
by the skirts ; they beat the spice out of
the pinks she had gathered. Vague whiffs
of them reached her now and then.
The light drew nearer. The shrubs in a
corner of the Roseborough front yard sway-
ed in a sea of glory.
Adelaide knocked. Jane opened the
door. Adelaide did not see Jane ; she was
blind to the shadowy other figures in the
room ; she saw only Adam Roseborough
sitting pale and middle-aged by the.chim-
ney place.
‘I’ve come to see how you are, Adam.”
She held out the pinks.
His hand caught hers and them in the
same grasp.
- “I've thought of you every hour since
I’ve been here, and long before,’”’ he said.
‘‘You ain't changed a bit, Adelaide.”’—N.
Y. Outlook.
India's Tanning Industry.
Leather 8aid to Be as Good ae the English Ar-
ticle.
The tanning industry in British India ie
steadily assuming important dimensions.
Last year's exports of tanned skins and hides
by sea to foreign countries indicated a
steady annual expansion, an in of
42 per cent being shown th v§ years.
The trade-i i to which there
seems to be prospects of still further devel-
opment on a large scale. In the case of
finished leather goods a very general im-
ression has hitherto prevailed that Eng-
ish leather was infinitely superior to the
Indian article, and - to a great extent gov-
ernment and private purchasers hive been
content to buy the censiderably higher cost
of British made articles in the belief that
they were getting relatively hetter value
for their money. This, however, can no
longer be accepted as a general rule, prac-
tical experience iia numberless instances
proving the contrary.
The foremost leather manufacturers in
India keep well abreast of the times, and
have shared in all that the application of
modern science has done for the tanning in-
dustry? Recent comparative experiments
undertaken in England between artillery
harness made of Indian leather turned out
in the Government harness and saddlery
works at Cawnpore, and the same made in
England of home-produced leather, proved
the former to be the stronger; and pre-
sumably, there could hardly have been a
severer test.
Cawnpore is the centre, no doubt, of a
great leather industry, but one which is
probably in its infancy as yet. Operations
locally are in the meantime apparently
confined to the production of material suf-
ficent in quantity to meet the demands of
manufactured articles. In the foreign ex-
port trade in tanned hides and skins, Mad-
ras, far to the front, five-sixths of the total
exports from India being shipped from
that seaport.
It Baffles the Doctors.
Miss Lizzie Kellagher, of Locust Gap,
near Shamokin, was taken suddenly ill just
after eating her dinner on Monday last, up
to which time she had beengin the enjoy-
ment of apparent good healthy Since Mon-
day she bas been confined to her bed and
often lies in a comatose condition for hours.
During her lucid intervals she speaks in a
rational way of some girl friends who have
recently died, and insists upon it that she
has seen and conversed with them during
her period of somnolency. Some time ago
she sustained a fall, and it is now thought
her skull was injured, and that her illness
is due to some foreign pressure on the
brain. An operation will be performed in
a day or two to determine if such is the
case. Her condition has created much in-
terest among the medical profession.
Floods on the Mississippi.
The Highest Water in Twenty-Five Years—Levees
Protected by Guards Who Shoot.
Last Sunday the Mississippi river was
ingher than since the establishment of the
weather office in 1872. "The rise Monday
was slightly above Lalf a foot. On all the
islands near and in the lowlands of Arkan-
sas there was great suffering and loss of live
stock and property, but no authentic re-
ports have been received of persons being
drowned. People are leaving the lowlands
for this side of the river and bringing all
the stock and property they can. The
levees were closely watched, and 20 shots
were fired at the steamer Bluff City because
she went nearer to the embankments than
he guards thought she should.
4
——Arizona Al—‘‘Wal, what do you
think of that? Here's Jim goin’ an’ gittin’
married !”’
Chloride Charley—‘‘Wal, that’s the way
of the world !”
Arizona Al—'Right enough ; but look at
this : ‘No cards.” That’s what comes of
marryin’ inter a pious family.”
©
Corbett and Fitzsimmons.
History of Their Scraps From 1894 to the Present
Time. >
On the night of Sept. 26, 1894, Robert
Fitzsimmons defeated Dan Creedon by
knocking him out in two rounds in the
arena of the Olympic club, New Orleans.
A few hours after the fight Wm. A. Scholl,
president of the Olympic club, sent the fol-
lowing telegram to Champion J. J. Cor-
bett : ‘‘Fitzsimmons has signed articles of
agreement to meet yon in February for the
world’s championship, for a purse of $25,-
000 offered by the Olympic club, and a
$10,000 side bet.
That was the beginning of fistic hostili-
ties between Corbett and Fitzsimmons.
The bold challege of the Australian sur-
prised the majority of sports in the coun-
try, but the most surprised man was Cor-
bett himself. Fitzsimmons issued an open
challenge to Corbett and the latter answer-
ed in an open letter. In the letter Corbett
declared he would not accept the challenge
unless ‘‘you prove yourself a .champion
heavyweight, and not a middleweight.”
He then asked Fitzsimmons to meet Steve
O'Donnell, ‘an undefeated man.’’ The
Australian answered that he would meet
O’Donnell after he had won the champion-
ship. Corbett again refused to accept the
challenge, but announced that in a week
he would deposit $10,000 and invite all the
fighters in the world to cover the amount.
On October 3, 1894, the board of direc-
tors of the Olympic club formally declared
Fitzsimmons ‘‘heavyweight champion of
the world,’’ because it was in the Olympic
club that Corbett gained the title by de-
feating J. L. Sullivan. The declaration, of
course, was laughed at by the whole coun-
try, but it had the effect of stirring up Cor-
bett, who covered Fitzsimmon’s $1,000 de-
posit, and on October 11 the two men sign-
ed articles to fight before the Florida Ath-
letic club, of Jacksonville, for a purse of
$41,000 and $10,000 aside. There were
three bidders for the fight. Wm. A. Scholl,
of the Olympic club, offered a purse of $25,-
000 ; Captain Frank Williams, of the Aua-
ditorium club, of New Orleans, also offered
$25,000, and Joe Vendig, representing the
Florida Athletic club, offered $30,000.
Then Williams offered $35,000, Vendig
$37,000 and School $40,000. Vendig fol-
lowed with $41,000 and Scholl raised it to
$50,000. Here the bidding stopped.
Scholl was unable to deposit $5,000 as a
forfeit and Vendig planked down the
amount, and got the fight.
Corbett deposited the whole amount of
his side bet ($10,000) in the hands of Phil
Dwyer, the stakeholder. Fitzimmons
agreed. to deposit his in installments. After
having deposited $5,000 the unfortunate af-
fair with Con Riordan took place, and Fitz-
simmons requested Corbett not to insist on
the deposit and the champion consented.
Fitzsimmons deposited the balance of his
side bet in April, and both fighters waited
4 the Florida club to name the date of the
ht.
Now Dan Stuart appeared on the scene.
He was a widely known sporting man of
Dallas, Tex. It was impossible to pull off
the battle in Florida, and on June 4th
Stuart took full charge of the fight and an-
nounced that it would take place in Dallas
under the auspices of the Florida athletic
club, which had placed a certified check in
the hands of the stakeholder covering the
amount of the purse, each fighter having
received $1,000 for training expenses. The
fight was scheduled for October 31st at Dal-
las, and the two pugilists began to train
for the event. Corbett trained at Asbury
Park and Fitzsimmons on Coney Island.
On September 30th the latter entered his
training quarters at Corpus Christi, and a
little later Corbett selected quarters at San
Antonio. :
Governor Culberson, of Texas, convened
the legislature in extra session, and on
October 2nd it passed a bill prohibiting
‘‘pugilistic encouuters between man and
man, or a fight between: man and bull, or
any other animal,”’ under a penalty of im-
prisonment in the penitentiary for not less
than two or more than five years. This
settled the fight as far as the state of Texas
was concerned. .
There was then talk of pulling off the
fight in Mexico, but President Diaz threat-
ened to send tho whole Mexican army to
the border to prevent the meeting. The
Indian territory was also under discussion,
but the Secretary of Interior at once in-
structed the military commander there to
prevent the fight, even if he had to resort
to force of arms. Carson City, Neb., bob-
bed up with a purse of $100,000 for the
battle, but no person paid the least atten-
tion to the city which is now the centre of
attraction.
Finally Hot Springs, Ark., encouraged
by its mayor and other prominent citizens,
opened its doors to the fighters and that
place was selected for the battle. The date,
October 31st, was not changed. Two other
fights were on the program, one between
Peter Maher and Steve O’Donnell and the
other between Tommy Ryan and Myster-
ious Billy Smith. In spite of the fact that
at meeting of over 1,000 citizens presided
over hy the mayor of Hot Springs $5,000
were raised to bring the fight over into
their city, and 200 laborers were hired to
erect the arena in Whittington park, the
Govenor declared that the fight should not
take place ih Arkansas and instructed the
sheriff to do his duty.
Governor Clarke ina personal letter to
Corbett advised him to keep out of the
state and that the fight would not be per-
mitted in Arkansas. On October 14th Cor-
:bett left San Antonio and took up training
quarters at Lake Springs. On Cetober 17th
he entered Hot Springs and was arrested
for ‘‘threatening, in conspiring and is about
to commit an unlawful assault upon one
Robert Fitzsimmons.” Next day he was
released ‘by . Chancellor Leatherman, who
decided that ‘‘the proposed glove contest,
from the evidence, will not be a violation
of the common law making prize fighting
punishable as a simple assault, because
there was nothing to show that a glove con-
test was a prize aught.” v
Having now apparently a clear field, Dan
Stuart set to work to bring off the big
fight. but asked for a postponement of the
date to November 11th. Corbett readily
agreed, but Fitzsimmons, through Julian,
stubbornly objected to a postponement.
This made Stuart so angry that he called
off the whole affair.
Some time before Fitzsimmons’ side het
of $20,000, in the hands of the stakeholder,
had been attached by Lawyer Friend, who
defended the Australian in the latter’s trial
for killing Riordan, and by a printing |
company, so that Corbett’s $10,000 was un- |
covered. Julian claimed that a man
in New Orleans had offered to put up the
stake money, but would not do so unless
the fight took place on October 31st. This
ws one of the reasons advanced against a
postponement. The citizens of Hot
Springs organized an athletic club and of-
fered a purse of $10,000 for the fight.
Fitzsimmons signed to fight Corbett for the
purse. but the latter refused unless Fitz-
simmons put up a side bet of $10,000.
Although on October 24 Corbett declared
that he would leave for New York the next
day he reconsidered the step and determin-
ed to remain in Hot Springs to meet Fitz-
simmons in the ring on the date, October
31, and thus prevent the Australian from
claiming the forfeit placed by the Florida
athletic club in the hands of the stakehold-
er. The governor again threatened to have
the pugilists arrested. On October 29 Fitz-
simmons left Corpus Christi for Hot Springs
When the train entered the state of Ar-
kansas Fitzsimmons was arrested and taken
to Little Rock: A special train was at the
disposal of Fitzimmons which would have
taken him safely to Hot Springs, but he re-
fused to make use of it, The Australian
consented to a postponement of a hearing to
November 1, a day after the date set for the
fight. This settled the affair. A few days
later both pugilists left the state of Ar-
kansas.
On November 11, 1895, Peter Maher de-
feated Steve O’Donnell in one round be-
fore the Empire athletic club, and Corbett
jumped into the ring and presented him
with the championship. Maher then chal-
lenged the world. He signed to fight Fitz-
simmons and was beaten in one round in
Mexico on February 21, 1896.
Now Corbett began to chase Fitzsimmons
just as a year or more before Fitzsimmons
had chased him. Fitz ignored- Corbett,
went to England, came back, and last Sep-
tember at a banquet in New York, formal-
ly challenged Corbett ‘to a fight for a purse
and a side bet of $5,000 or $10,000, the
fight to take place inside one week, one
month or three months.’”” Corbett at once
accepted. They met two days later and
agreed to fight for $10,000 a side. It af-
terward was learned that neither man had
deposited a cent, and that really no match
had been made. Dan Stuart then offered
a purse of $15,000 and both fighters signed
articles to meet in the ring on March 17th,
1897, between the hours of 7a. m. and 12
p- m. at a place to be selected by Stuart.
Each man deposited $2,500 as a guarantee
that he will appear in the ring. The legis-
lature of Nevada passed alaw sanctioning
prize fights, and Carson was selected by
Stuart as the battleground.
A True Bear Story.
A Yellowstone Park Bruin Gives a Great Moral Lesson
to Parents. ,
Speaking of law and the enforcement of
discipline in Yellowstone park, I heard the
story of a bear there which I consider ex-
ceedingly important not only as a comment
on the discipline of the park, but as a
moral lesson to parents in domestic obedi-
ence. The story is literally true, and if it
were not I should not repeat it, for it would
have no value. * Mr. Kipling says, ‘‘The
law of the jungle is—obey.”” This also
seems to be the law of Yellowstone park.
There is a lunch station at the upper basin,
near Old Faithful, kept by a very intelli-
gent and ingenious man. He got acquaint-
ed last year with a she bear, who used to
come to his house every day and walk into
kitchen for food for herself and her two
cubs. The cubs never came, The keeper
got on very intimate terms with the bear,
who was always civil and well behaved and
would take food from his hand without
taking the hand.
One day toward sunset the bear came to
the kitchen, and, having received her por-
tion, she went out of the back door to car-
ry it to her cubs. To her surprise and an-
ger, the cubs were there waiting for her.
She laid down the food and rushed at her
infants and gave them a rousing spanking.
‘‘She did not cuff them ; she spanked them
and then she drove them back into the
woods, cuffing them and knocking them at
every step. When she reached the spot
where she had told them to wait, she left
them there and returned to the house. And
there she staid in the kitchen for two whole
hours, making the disobedient children
wait for their food, simply to discipline
them and teach them obedience.
The explanation is very natural. When
the bear leaves her young in a particular
place and goes away in search of food for
them, if they stray away in her absence,
she has great difficulty in finding them.
The mother knew that the safety of her
cubs and her own peace of mind depended
upon strict discipline in the family. Oh,
that we had more such mothers in the
United States !
Queen Victoria's Favorite Apple.
In Montgomery county, Virginia, on an
extensive plateau of a spur of the Blue
Ridge, an apple is raised that in size, sym-
metry, and flavor can only be surpassed, if
surpassed at all, hy the genuine Albemarle
pippin. Unfortunately it would seem that
the real home of this last most delicious
fruit is limited to a small area in and
around Rockfish Gap, partly in Albemarle
and partly in Nelson county. But a pip-
pin much resembling it, even though not
in all respects so excellent, may be advan-
tageously cultivated through a stretch of a
hundred and fifty miles along the slope of
the Blue Ridge. More than forty years
ago a barrel or two of the Albemarle pippins
were sent as a present to Queen Victoria,
and from that day to this it is the favorite
apple at her court.
Sugar Coffee War,
In the sugar-coffee fight between the
Sugar Trust andthe Arbuckle Coffee Com-
pany an announcement has heen made
by the Arbuckles that the price
price of Ariosa coffee would be fixed at
11 1-2 cents. This bring it to the price of
the rival ‘‘Lion brand’’ of coffee produced
by the Sugar trust.
It has been said that the trust is mark-
ing up the price of sugar to make up losses
made in the coffee fight, but the sugar
trade explains that the rise is due to an ad-
vance in raw sugar, in anticipation of possi-
ble tariff legislation.
A Loss to Mifflin County.
The decision of the commissioners ap-
pointed to locate the contested line between
Huntingdon and Mifilin counties has been
made, giving the award to Huntingdon
county. This, if confirmed, will take from
Mifilin county its richest farming district,
including thousands of acres and the im-
portant town of Allensville.
Exceptions have been filed to the deci-
sion by the attorneys for Mifflin county and
the final decision will be given by Judge
Bailey on April 5.
-——The Carsonites now have it figured
out that the visitors to the big fight will
spend $900,000 in the town.
MARCH.
Like a frolicsome lion March comes with a roar,
And stirs up the weather as never before.
But the days of Old Winter are passing away ;
His breath becomes feeble ; he stops in his play.
The Brooklets are melting, the winds cease to
blow,
And the trailing
snow,
While far in the distance the bobolinks sing
Tis the Winter's good-by and the greeting of
Spring.
arbutus peeps out from the
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN:
Mrs. C. H. Lippincott, of Minneapolis,
has raised flower seeds for the general mar-
ket for more than ten years. She is said to
be the pioneer in this business.
Sufferers from oiliness of skin must, of
course, consider what produces this com-
plaint, and take active measures to cure it.
It is caused by either weakness or some
disorder of the system, and the diet should
be carefully attended to first of all. Rich
foods of all kinds must be given up, and
plain nursery cooking, with plenty of fruit
and vegetables, taken instead.
Hot, ill-ventilated rooms must be avoid-
ed, as well as late hours and heavy bed-
clothing. Plenty of out-door exercise mus
be adaily item in our life. A daily bath
of tepid water, douche baths and an occa-
sional Turkish bath must be taken except
under medical orders.
Aperient medicines should be taken in
the morning and fresh fruit eaten while
dressing. Apples or oranges are advised at
this hour. If fresh fruit is difficult to ob-
tain French plums, figs dipped in oil or
prunes. may be taken instead. Salads
should be taken for breakfast and lunch :
watercress and dandelion can be advanta-
fensly used for this purpose, as well as
ettuce.
_ But lately we have been going to many
little dinners ; and since at little dinners
in Paris people are extremely apt to wear
high gowns, we have remarked that the
smartest women were almost invariably
clad in colored blouses and black skirts.
I have not seen one skirt of black moire
poplin I have seen dozens of black satin.
The blouses are almost invariably of mous-
seline de soie. One charmingly dressed
woman in half-mourning wore a black sat-
in skirt—take for granted that all these
skirts are black satin, unless I say to the
contrary—and and a blouse of white mous-
seline de soie with white satin sleeves
striped with black. The blouse was deco-
rated with crystal spangles, put on a
foundation arranged in a modified bolero,
with tiny epauletts of the same on the
shoulder. In the collar was a little note
of black and white at the back ; but mark
my words, elaborate neck arrangements are
going out. Ido not know but one might
say they have gone out, so on no acconnt
whatever have them put into any dress af-
ter the date of this letter.
By spring all that will be seen at the
back of the collar will be a little frill of
mousseline de soie, or little revers of lace
or velvet or silk. One of the smartess
dresses I have seen lately was a gray don-
ble-faced cashmere made with a little bolero
tucked up and down, the tucks in bunches
with the tops of the sleeves tucked round
and round. The collar was a perfectly
stiff, straight collar such as we used to
wear, made on a foundation, with gray
mousseline de soie falling over it, quite at
the back.
Hair is worn much higher than formerly
in Paris. No chignon should now be seen
at the back of the hat. The proper thing
now is to wave your hair behind, and fast-
en it up straight, not twisted, with a comb
that goes across the back of the head and is
just seen below the edge of the hat. Then
the hair is made into a loose twist just a$
the top of the head.— Harper's. Basar.
en
Just at present the sleeve question is one
of absorbing interest to all womankind,
and to the home dressmaker it is more or
less of a difficulty unless she is perfectly
splighienad. boi .
¢ Of course everybody r izes the fact
that large sleeves are ae the past,
and that a gown is no longer really stylish
that is encumbered with them. It is an
easy matter, however, to cut them over if
one only understands how, and a pattern is
not needed in many cases. With the
sleeves made smaller a last year’s gown.
takes a new lease of life and comes out
fresh and smart, for in other ways gowns
have not changed in any striking manner.
Any of the large, old style leg o’mutton
or balloon sleeves will easily furnish ma-
terial for the small sleeves of present fash-
ion, and worn places may be avoided, only
the best of the goods being put into the
new sleeves, by following the diagram giv-
en here,
The larger, outer part of the sleeve is cut
across the top, and this is made to form the
puff in the new sleeve. The lower part of
the outer large leg o’ mutton is cut to fit
the inner lining, to which it and the top
puff are sewn. This is one of the mosh
popular sleeves in vogue at’present and is
the easiest to make. It may be left per-
fectly plain or dressed up as much as one
likes, for a great deal of trimming on
sleeves is very fashinable. If the sleeves is
of wool goods, little puffs of bias silk may
be set an inch apart, covering gracefully
any worn or stained places. Another fan-
cy is to have many rows of velvet ribbon
set an inch apart, or little frills of narrow
lace. All sleeves are made long over the
hands, either the bottom of the sleeve itself
being long, or made to appear so by a frill
of silk, lace, chiffon or whatever ome fan-
cies.
Very little stiffening is used, and it is
confined entirely to the top of the puff, a
straight piece of stiffening three inches
deep and eighteen inches long being gath-
ered into the arm along with the
sleeve ; this sets out sufficiently to keep
the puff from drooping.
A white marble mantel in some old-
fashioned house is often a difficult obstacle
to the furnisher who is striving after har-
monious effect. As a woman complained
not long ago, ‘‘there is no coaxing such a
mantel into the scheme of the room ; it
will assert itself, standing out alone and
cold, and the first thing to be seen.’
A suggestion in this emergency, which is
got from a well known decorator, is to give
the room a wainscot of plain cartridge pa-
per, mouse gray, green ora good art brown
bringing it up to the height of the mantel, ,
and finishing it all around the room with a
‘narrow white molding. Above the mantel,
cover the wall straight to the ceiling with
the same plain paper. The mantel is then,
in spite of itself, a part of the whole effect,
and when a platerack and pictures are
hung above it the harmony of the treat-
ment is evident.
Remember if you have been out in the
rain or damp with a hat trimmed with os-
trich feathers or with a boa or a gown fin-
ished with this trimming you should put
it in front of your register and let the
warm air blow on it until it is perfectly dry.
This will materially aid in keeping it in
good condition. When the curl has gone
from ostrich feathers the beauty is gone.
Nothing spoils a woman’s appearance so
much as a worn out skirt binding. See
to yours if necessary. The gingham
frocks are nearly all made with straight
full skirts gathered and sewed to the
waist. This is in’ the I'rench style, or it
is made with something of a surplice in
front. .