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Deworealic Wald.
Bellefonte, Pa., April 23, 1897.
BEN BOLT.
BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.
Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, "
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown ;
Who wep: with delight when you gave heir a
smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In a corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a slab of the granite so gray,
And Alice lies under the stone.
Under .he hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
Which stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we've laid in the noon day shade,
And listened to Appleton’s mill,
The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Den Bolt,
The rafters have tumbled in :
And a quiet that crawls round the wall, as you
gaze, @,
Has followed the olden din.
Do you mind the cabin of logs, Bea Bolt.
At the edge of the pathless wood ;
And the button-ball tree, with its motley imbs,
Which right by the door-step stood ?
The cabin to ruin has gone, Een Bolt,
And the tree you would seek in vain ;
And where once the lords of the forest have
waved,
Grow grass and the golden grain.
And don’t you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
With the master so cruel and grim ;
And the shady nook, in the rurning breok,
Where the children used to swim ?
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry ;
And of all the boys that were schoolmates then,
There are only you and I.
There is change in the things I loved, Ben Bolt
They have changed from the old to the new—
But I feel, in the core of my spirit, the truth,
That there never was change in you.
Twelve months, twenty have passed Ben Bolt,
Since first we were friends, yet 1 hail
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth—
Ben Bolt, of the salt sea gale.
OUR CHURCH FAIR.
“Dear me!’ observed Mrs. Ferret,
with a friendly grin as she settled herself
comfortably in a rocker on her neighbor’s
stoop. ‘‘Now, I'd just about die o’ lone-
someness if I didn’t hev you to come an
visit with every onct in awhile. You're
the only neighbor within hollerin distance
o’ my house, an I can cawl to your Jimmy
ef I want him to run o’ an errand down to
the grocery store, or I'can peek out o’ my
kitchen window an see you settin here
with the baby or doin your chores around
the yard. An I can hear you real plain
talkin to Jimmy an’’—
“Talkin to him I" echoed Mrs. Sharp,
with indignant wrath. ‘“yellin at him,
you mean, enough to wake the dead an a
disgrace to the neighborhood, _that's what
it is, the way that child carries’ on. It’s
his father’s fault, a humorin him in every-
thing. I followed him all around the yard
this mornin with a bean pole, but I might
as well hev tried to catch a fire-bug as that
young one. Well,”” concluded Mrs. Sharp,
with a sigh of suffering and defeated moth-
erhood, ‘‘he’s 5 year old, an this winter
sees him a-goin to school or my name ain’t
what it is, an I’Il never say nothin to any
teacher as.gives him a lickin. He's fairly
achin for one, an ef it warn’t for his fath-
er’s a-interferin the rod wouldn’t be spared
an the chile wouldn’t be spoiled. He's
the aggravatinist young one I ever did
see.’
‘He hed a good time at the fair last
night,” snickered Mus. Ferret, loosening
the strings of her gingham sunbonnet,
which she drew off her head and waved
back and forth in front of her face. ‘Phew,
ain’t it hot ? Our church fair’s always on
the very hottest days in the year. Thats
‘cause 0’ the ice cream. They sell a lot o’
that on hot nights. Tow did you make
out last night? [I didn’t hardly hev a
chance to speak with yon, there was such
Jam, an IT was helpin “em at the cake table.
What time did you get around? Was vou
there when the band begun to play 27°
“I got there just as they was playin
Sweet Maree.” Johnny Wilson toots on
the cornet real good. I might hev been
there at the start,” sighed Mrs. Sharp,
“but, laws, it were 7 o'clock atore I got
through with the supper things.
always late gettin home from the shop ef I
want to go avywheres, an Lord knows
‘tain’t often I do.
children an myself to clean after that, I
put cn my new shalley dress, the white one
with the black beetles on tot. | onlv
paid three an a half centsa yard for it down
to Adamses when they was sellin off a job
lot. Tt made up real nice, au to see me in
it von wouldn't think I weighed 200
pounds. An I put on my sailor bat, with
the blue band around jt. When 1 oot
through, I was pretty near roasted, I tell
You, anny face was as read as a pianny.
So I took the children an went along. The
baby behaved pretty good, hat Jimmy —
juss as ef he doesn’t know how to make
noise enongh to wke vor héad ofi—his pa |
goes an buys him a whistle at the Jack-in- |
the-hox. and he kep’ up such a sereechin
with it that I conldu’t hear myself think,
so I tuk it away from him an put it in my
pocket. [t's there vet.”
“How dict you like the way the tables
was fixed ¥7 inquired Mrs. Ferret.
Oh, T didn’t think much 0 ‘em !?
sniffed Mis. Sharp. “I could hev fixed
‘em better myself. They didn’t look tasty
a bit, an things was so dear vou couldn’t
buy anything. I warn’t goin to pay double
for things I could make home easy enough
—iron holders an that. So we went an
hed someice cream. It was awful bad—
the taste of it’s in my mouth yet. An they
charged 15 cents a plate for it an never so
much as give us a crumb o’ cake with it.
Cake was 5 cents extray.”
Here Mrs. Ferret gave a long chuckle be-
fore she said : : :
‘They was awful mad at the cake table.
Mrs. Adams hed charge o’ it. You know
the cakes was all do-nated, an some was
sent to the cake table to be sold an some
was give to the supper table to cat with
their cawfee an that. Well, there warn’t
enough to go round at the supper afore it
was half through with. An one o’ the
cakes was made o’ ham fat ! Oh, just as
true a’ youn live, an everybody knowed
where it come from too! all, they was
hoppin mad! IT give ’em two pounds o’
cawfee. But, to make a lohg story short,
some 0’ the supper coniihittee come to us
an wanted to take the cakes offen our table.
An Mrs. Adams—you know how spunky
she is—an she told em’ right up and down
they shouldn’t hev ‘em, an I don’t blame
her. Said she bad trouble enough goin
around beggin ’em for her own table, an
they’d oughter done the same for theirs. So
they begged her an said they was short, an
folks was askin for it at their supper. An
she said she hed nothin to do with the sup-
per excep’ to eat hers an pay her quarter
for it when she got through an told ’em it
Jim's |
Of course there was the |
was their business to see after their own
table, an ef they wanted her cakes they’d
got to buy ’em, for all that warn’t sold
was going to be auctioned off. An I never
heerd the beat o’ the compliments as passed
between ’em. I guess Mrs. Adams was
kind o’ riled anyway, for just afore it was
time for- the fair to begin, an everybody
was hustlin around to get things straight.
them two girls at the flower stand kep’
goin from one table to another astin for
cord to tie up their bowkays, an scissors to
cut ’em with, an vases to put ’em in, an
they littered the floor all over with their
leavin’s, an then ast Mrs. Adams for a
broom to sweep up with. She spoke up
pretty sharp an told ’em them things didn’t
grow in the basement o’ a church, an they
hed no business to undertake a thing ef
they expected other folks to wait on them,
an she just give it to ’em good, but one ©’
them was her own daughter, so she hed a
chance to speak her mind.”
Mrs. Ferret fanned herself vigorously
with her sunbonnet and paused, not for
want of a subject, but for want of breath.
Mrs. Sharp was listening intently. with a
broad smile of encouragement ; so, after
shooing away a big blue-bottle fly, Mrs.
Ferret resumed :
“An the lemonade girls—Rebeccas at
the well, they called themselves! They
hed one o’ these big butter crocks on a low
stand for the ‘well,” with a big chunk o’
ice in it, an a tin dipper to dish out the
lemonade with, an a tray with about a
dozen 0’ tumblers on to it all turned up-
side down. They squeezed the lemons
home an brought the juice in fruit cans, an
every now an then they’d pour a little
juice into the well, with some ‘more water
an sugar. An it was the poorest-stuff I
ever tasted. They hed the well fixed up
vith evergreens an goldenrod.
was branches o’ the greens tied to the legs
0’ the wable, an they stuck out so folks was
trippin over ‘em an could hardly get by.”
*‘I wonder ef they made out good at the
Jack-in -the-box,’’ observed Mrs. Sharp.
‘Them girls in the Jack-in-the-box,”
said Mrs. Ferret emphatically, ‘‘hed about
ten fellahs a-helpin ’em, an such carryin’s
on you never seen! O’ course folks wasn’t
waited on properly an did not like what
they got, although it was writ up, ‘Take
what comes an no change.” So that’s the
way it went. But you should hev seen
your Jimmy ! He never took his eyes offen
that Jack-in-the-box from the minit he fust
come in. Iseen him, for he was stannin
just along my end o’ the cake table. He
stood up ag’in the wall with his two hands
in his pants pockets an his mouth wide
open, just where he could peek through an
see aii the parcels as they was rolled up.
An you know they run short o’ things. So
when they was all give out there stood
Jimmy, with his two eyes as big as saucers.
An I heard him say to Georgie Adams, ‘I
seen every durned thing in there! It
sounded awful cute,’’ wound up Mrs. Fer-
ret, *‘I hed to laugh.”
‘“‘Wno washed the dishes ?”’ inquired
Mrs. Sharp.
‘Oh, don’t ask me !”’ - replied Mrs. Fer-
ret, laughing despairingly. ‘Anybody
they could get, I expect. It was touch an
go with ’em from first to last. They was
all that cranky an flustered all the time.
There was no hot water an nobody to see
to the fire, an somebody took the tea-kettle
that was full o’ cawfee an hed poured half
0’ it into her dishpan afore she seen what
it was, for it was dark, an there warn’t
enough lamps, an nobody’s business to get
any, an, oh, laws, what a rattlin time they
did hev to be sure ! I don’t know how
they made out with the ice cream, but the
supper didn’t amount to as much as they
expected. You see how it is. All the
workers was grabbin for theirselves an
skinnin everybody they could for their own
credit, an they all want to do everything
but the dirty work, an they won't spend a
dollar to hev a couple 0’ wimmin to attend
to the fire an wash the dishes, for the boiler
has to be kep’ full an the tea an cawfee
hot. Miss Saunders, she undertook to
make the cawfee. So she tied up five
continued she loftily, “*they don’t do nothin
| right in the start ! There's no head an no
| management. Now. would you believe it,
| there was no tongue at the supper, except
| what was waggin, an when it was asked
for everybody thought somebody else was
{ to ev brought it, an they didn’t, so what
was everybody's business was nobody's
| business, an that’s how it was! concluded
| Mis. Ferret scornfully.
they was too dear. There was one tidy
I
| only reasonable thing I saw. It was made
o’ white crape, hand painted —just elegant !
| There was a houeh, with apple blossoms
an two little birds settin on to it close he-
I'side each other as lovin as you please an |
lookin down Kind o’ zcornfullike at another |
all its lone on to the |
lower bianelr an eyin them awful jealous, |
an nerit, right along under the two wep!
| bird what was settin
ones, wax ‘T'wo’s company,’ and under
neath the bottom one,
| Oh, it was just too cute foranything ! And
Just my luck!
cd.”
and regretful sigh.
the fancy table,”” says Mis. Ferret.
between vou an me I don’t think them
two girls knows beans. You know the
cake table was alongside o’ their table, so I
could see an hear considerable o’ what was
goin on. I was at that end too. Of
course their table was decorated, an their-
selves as much as they knowed how. They
hed made a lot 0’ pink paper roses an stuck
em in letters on a.piece o’ white paper
muslin stretched acrost the top o’ the poles
over the table, an this is what the letterin
was: ‘Come an buy. We'll sell you
cheap.’
‘I could see the folks laughin,” laughed
Mis. Ferret, *‘when they looked up, but I
didn’t know what it was at till a bunch o’
young men came along, an Sally, she jumps
up an begins to pin up somethin an talk to
Mamie at a great rate #1 smirkin an pre-
tendin she didn’t know they was there.
‘Come along,’ says one o’ the fellahs, ‘an
I'll introduce you.” ‘I don’t want to be
sold cheap,” says the fellah, grinnin an
lookin up at the pink roses. Then they all
laughed, while the other one pulled him
along by the sleeve an says: ‘Allow me
to introduce my friend Mr. Cad. Young
ladies, Mr. Cad ; Miss Simper, Mr. Cad,
Miss Startup.” An Sally an Mamie hoth
stood up as stiff as sawdust dolls an made
a bow, with their eyes on the ground all
the time, an says very prim, ‘Mis-ter Cad,
happy to meet you !” An he holds his hat
right in front o’ his shirt buzzum an bends
hisself for all the world like a barber’s pole
an says as solemn as an undertaker eyin a
corpse, ‘*Mis: Simper, Miss Startup, happy
to meet you.’
‘It was for all the world like play actin.
I never seen such manners. An then they
all began gigglin an foolin an talkin the
silliest stuff—enough to make anybody
sick. An that Cad fellah wanted to be
jokey. So what does he do but takes up a
Bible that was for sale an opens it at the
first page o’ the Psalms an reads out loud.
‘The plastar of David,’ ’”” And Mrs. Ferret
looked the very picture of disgust as she
slowly rocked herself back and forth.
‘I think it’s a great shame,’’ said Mrs.
Sharp, with an aggrieved air, ‘‘that they
didn’t hev benches for people to set down
on. I know lots o’ people would hev staid
longer ef they’d hed anywheres to set. I
ge! er “ona soap box an held on to it as
long as'1 coula. The baby was that heavy
I couldn’t keep luggin him around all the
evenin. I was settin near to where they
dished out the ice cream, an there was a
gang o’ boys stood there watchin them real
greedy, an every time their backs was turn-
ed they dipped their hands right into the
freezer an et all the cream they wanted to,
an there was all colors 0’ ’em. Did you
ever hear tell the equal o’ that ?”’
‘,They’re dreadful, an no mistake,’’ as-
sented Mrs. Ferret, ‘‘an I ain’t sorry the
whole thing’s over an done with. I went
over this mornin to lrelp them clean up. I
took my own broom an a basket for my
dishes that I loaned them. It was a dirty
job, I tell you—banana skins, an peanut
shells, an orange peels, an bits o’ cake,
scattered all over an trod into the floor.
We swep’ up, but they're to hev a couple
o’ women there this afternoon to scrub. I
draw the line at that. My piety hain’t
gone that far yet. An I’m real glad we’re
through with it. I don’t know what's in
An there | as soon as it comes on fair time, I
a church fair that stirs everybody's bile up
| so. Religion an fightin seems to go to-
gether. Neighbors that live peaccably all
the rest o’ the year are at loggerheads just
don’t
know whether I'll go to church to-morrow
or not. The new minister hollers so he
gives me a pain in.my spine. The last one
whispered so you couldn’t hear him, an
this one’s so bossy—everything’s thus an
so with him. But then there’s always
somethin the matter with them. So it
might as well be one thing as another,”
concluded Mrs. Ferret, with a sigh of pious
resignation as she rose from her chair and
tied on her sunbonnet. ‘‘Well, goodby,”
she added as she ambled sidewise down the
stoop steps. ‘‘Come an see me.”’
“TI will,” replied Mrs. Sharp, “an I'm
real glad you came over. Come again.’”’
“I will,” answered Mrs. Ferret, ‘‘an
you come an see me. Goodby !”
*‘Goodby !""—M. C. McNeill in Collier's
Weekly.
Pét Names for States.
Many of the forty-five States in our
sreat Republic have nicknames, which.
were given for various reasons when the
States were new, and have clung to them,
just as nicknames do to boys and girls.
Main was settled very early by the Eng-
lish, and was originally a part of Massachu-
setts. It is called the ‘‘Pine Tree’ or
“Lumber State.” New Hampshire was
named for Hampshire county in England ;
its nickname is “‘‘Granite State.’” Ver-
mont, at first a part of New York, is proud
of being the first State admitted to the
original thirteen, and is called the ‘‘Green
Mountain State,”’ as its name implies.
Massachusetts, whose original name was
‘‘Massachusetts Bay,’’ is called ‘The Old
Bay State.”” Rhode Island is ‘'Little
Rhody,’’ and Connecticut is the ‘Wooden
Nutmeg State.’’
New York is proud of being the ‘“‘Em-
pire State,”’ and Pennsylvania the ‘‘Key-
stone State,” because it stands as the key-
stone in the arch of the original thirteen
States. Delaware keeps her name as *‘Dia-
mond State.”
The word Kentucky is said to mean
“River of blood,”” or ‘the dark and bloody
pound o’ cawfee in a meal hag an put it to. | Sate
{ soak in the wash boiler full o’ cold water |
an set it over on the stove to come to a |
scald. An it tasted o’ the bag,’ sniffed
| name of ‘Pan Handle State.”’
| “They hed some quite nice things at the |
fancy table,” remarked Mrs. Sharp, ‘‘but |
| there I would hev beught, though——the |
**Three’s a crowd.’ |
i the
when I @st forit they said is was sold. |
I was awful disappoint- |
And Mis. Sharp heaved an ample |
“Sally Simper an Mamie Startup Lied |
‘An |, > A
lin Everett for some time has been arrested
ground.” It was the hunting and battle
ground of many Indian tribes, and derives
its name from that fact ; but its common
pet name is “The Blue Grass State.” Ten-
nessee is the “Big Bend State.”
Carolina has several names, ‘‘Old North
Far Sate,” and “Tar Heel
South Carolina is well known hy
“Palmetto,” and Virginia as
State.”’
the name
Mrs. Ferret contemptuously. ‘But, laws,” | “The Old Dominion,” and *‘the Mother of |
Mrs. Ferret ¢ ) Ry. y HAWS,’ |
bears the
Alabama is
an Indian name meaning “here we rest.’’
Arkansas is the ‘‘Bear State,”’ and Cali-
fornia the ‘Golden State.”” Colorado was
admitted in 1876, 100 vears after the Dec-
laration of Independence, and for that
reason is called the “‘Centennial State.’
Florida is the “Peninsula State,” and
Georgia rivals New York in heing the
“Empire State of the South.” Louisana
is calied both ‘Pelican and ‘“Creole.’’
and Mississippi the “Bayou” State,
Iinois was named from a tribe of In-
dians, and means ‘‘superior men,’’ but has
for its nicknames ‘‘Prairie State’ and
‘Sucker State.” Ohio is the “Buckeye,”
Indiana the “Hoosier,” Towa the “Hawk-
eve,” while Kansas, which means “smoky
water,” is called the ‘‘Garden State.’’
Presidents.” West Virginia
sota “Gopher State.”
Missouri means “muddy water,”’ Nebras-
ka “shallow water.” Nevada is the “Sage
Hen State,” Oregon’ “Wild Thyme.”
Texas keeps the “Lone Star” name, while
new State of Utah used to he the
“Desert State.” Wisconsin “was named
from its badgers, the ‘Badger State.”
Girls, Take Warning.
H. C. Lane, who has been splurging over
in Lynn, Mass., for bigamy. Lane came
to Everett in May, 1894, and stopped at the
Palace hotel for one month. During that
time his attention was paid largely to a
daughter of the proprietor, Mrs. Etta Ells-
worth, a widow. The intimacy was dis-
liked by the father and finally resulted in
“his forbidding Lane to enter his hotel. The
latter immediately obtained a boarding
house at the Union, where he stopped for
over a year, during which time the court-
ship was continued outside of the hotel.
Lane always had plenty of money and was
looked upon by some of the people asa
millionaire.
In August, 1895, the couple left sudden-
ly and it was supposed that they were
married. Nothing more was heard of them
until a few days ago, when the information
was received that this same Lane had been
arrested and sentenced to jail at Lynn,
Mass., on the charge of bigamy. He had
there assumed the name of Lee and was
pursuing about the same course as here.
Following the arrest came the intelligence
that he has at the present time no less than
six wives.
Men.
The longer I live the more I am certain
that the great difference between men, be-
tween the feeble and the powerful, the
great and the insignificant, is energy—in-
vincible determination—a purpose once
fixed, and then death or victory. That
quality will do anything that can be done
in this world, and no talents, no circum-
stances, no opportunities, will make a two
legged creature a man without it.
North |
I hat that
| appeared tp be in jeopardy, and certain-
i ly threatened to slip down upon the i
ls ; 3 a 3 | again upon ma-
Michigan is the “Wolverine” and Minne- { ,° !
{and Dlessoms of
IN
WOMAN'S HEAD-GEAR.
Its Mutations and dts- Marvels for Twenty-Five
Years Past. A Glance Backward to the Days of
the “Waterfall’—The Vagaries of Style—How
Shapes and Combinations Have Changed.
[Copysight, 1897, by the Author. ]
It is doubtful if there be any one ex-
perience better galculated to impress the
feminine mind with its own capacity
for folly than areview of past fashions.
At this season, when, one and all, we
are ready to admire the latest creation
from Virot or to
exclaim over the
loveliness of a
dream in tints of
rose executed by
some other Pa-
risian authority
on boanets, it be-
comes peculiarly
instructive to re-
view the past and
to ponder upon
the conceits and
fancies that elic-
ited similar
“Ohs!” and
‘“Ahs!”’ from our
own lips a decade
back .and from
those of an older generation a quarter
of a century since. In making such a re-
view one fact becomes apparent before
all others. Beauty is a relative term,
and, let one be as @sthetic as she may,
her sense of fitness is 1grgely governed
by the fashion of the day. :
To be sure, we may boast with truth
that the styles of the present are some-
what better than many that are past be-
cause of a certain improvement in dyes
and certain artistic truths that have
been poured into our ears by those who
consider dress as an art. But it is doubt-
ful, nevertheless, if a future generation
will not laugh at useven as we laugh at
those who have gone before. ‘‘ Whatever
is in style is pretty,’’ said a young wo-
man with enthusiasm not long ago, and,
while we may smile with indulgence
over the remark, it really voices the
opinion of most humankind, for men
as well as women have their foibles, and
if they have evolved a more sensible style
of dress it is due rather to the exigen-
cies of business life, from which the
femirtine world is only now beginning
to suffer, rather than to any superiority
on their part. ¢
But at Easter the Easter bonnet is,
above all things, the one that looms up
upon the wom-
an’s horizon and
holds her spell-
bound, be she
ever so advanced
or ever so ardent
an advocate of re-
form,and a study
of such as have
been presented
for the past quar-
ter of a century
becomes as di-
verting as it is
instructive. Only
©
1871 the mon- |
a strous waterfall
1874. was held the |
height of elegance, and, perched upon |
g a
the huge monstrosity, was worn a tiny
perforce was tip tilted until it
nose. “Tipsy’’ was the name given to
the favorite shape, and fashion articles
| of the day speak of it as ‘‘jaunty,”’
while, small as it was, flowers, ribbon |
and tulle all went into its muke up.
Five years later demure bonnets that
sat well back upen the head, showing |
the waved hair, and with strings that
tied in a bowknot under the chin, were
correct even for young girls. The saucy
air of the gypsy had given place to a
quicter style, and no one thought of be-
ing so frivolous as to tilt a hat or even
to wear onc for dress occasions if she
had been graduated from the school-
room. Bonnets were the style. Hats
were relegated to children or to misses
[under 18 and
WEre not seen
ture heads for a
decade or mere.
Lace, flowers,
feathers—all
went into the
make up of cne
good specimen,
all sorts wore
made to cluster
round the face.
In fact, chip, tho
favorite materi-
al, and those
same flowers X
made the feature
of the time, _
Straw was given second place. Every
one who could aimed to wear chip,
which was light in weight, varied in
color, seft and pliable. Evening bonnets
were often all of flowers, a single wreath
encircling the head and held in place
1881.
| by a mass of tulle in the form of ties
being a favorjte style. But throughout
all the variations a certain demurenecss
was ever apparent. There were no wav-
ing plumes nor nodding flowers. Every-
thing was planned to set closely to the
head, and the bonnet was so kept in
harmony with the small, tight sleeves
and the trim, plain bodices.
By the time another five years had
passed, in the spring of 1881, fashion
was eager for another change, and the
‘Bernhardt poke’’ had appeared. Being
named for the great actress, the .style
was necessarily chic, but, compared with
the creations’that are now being made
in her name, it is tame in the extreme.
Chip appears to have still held first
place, and flowers, combined with feath-
ers, to have been a combination much
in vogue. A typical hatof the period,
shown in the illustration, is described as
‘‘brown chip, trimmed with yellow
poppies and ostrich tips shading from
THE REMARKABLE CHANGES
as far back as |
Jonquil yelle
noticeable th———————; had dis-
appeared. J g that were
head cover & BROKEN.—Dar, “org the
trimming ve remembered a tho outside
of the crov ball pitcher th
In 1886.eague was in ex‘evival of the
flower hatinsylvania hospi? adage claims
that fashij 3 hroken back?S the year saw
a return 3 attached to th a years pre-
vious, v 3 *h variations as
modist” sy city and acorporate. Be-
2 ¥ vikel Str ever permit an
EAul ' we is nevertheless a
similafit§ ve ween the bonnets of 1876
and those of 1886. Less of the demure
element is to be found, to be sure, and
the ribbons and
flowers had as-
sumed a more
pert and jaunty
air. But flowers
were the feature
of both, and dress
bonnets, made
| entirely of vio-
| lets or other blos-
soms, were again
in vogue. The
one chosen for il-
lustration is of
straw. Chip had
fallen into disuse
and has not since
taken any promi-
nent place. The
1886.
crown is well covered with flowers, and
I bows of striped ribbon, combined with
| plain, stand jauntily up at the center.
Ties of ribbon form a bow under the
chin, but many were worn both for
evening and afternoon dress occasions
that were mere bouquets fastened to the
hair with a pin. The plain sleeves still
held, and the sleeve bodice. With them
only a bonnet or small hat was in taste.
Hats had not yet come into style for
matrons of mature years. Hats were
worn only for the promenade even by
the young, and every woman demanded
a bonnet for ceremonious occasions at
least. But emancipation from the bon-
net was not to be long delayed. Light,
plain sleeves were already giving place
to fuller ones, and a tendency to aug-
ment the trimmings for the head and
shoulders and to simplify the skirts was
apparent. Accordingly the next five
years show a wide divergence in style,
and we find both bodices and hats great-
ly changed.
In 1891 hats had gained a decided
vogue, and women of all ages were to
be seen, as they have been since, wear-
ing jaunty and elaborate hats that re-
tained not so much as the narrowest tie
to hint of the bonnet. Strings had by
that time come to be regarded both as
uncomfortable and, far worse, as adding
to the apparent age. Hence strings were
forsworn and hats gay with flowers
and feathers held first place.
or headdresses dignified by the name,
were, to be sure, worn upon evening oc-
casions by many who held them alone
to be correct. But the hat had gained
: its place, and al-
ready the shadow
of that creation
which was to call
for legislative re-
form was cast.
As yot the hats
5 HORSE 3
NZ
re
uh
size. A favorite
shape rolled back
off the face and
turned up at the
\ back, leaving the
crown flat. The
general style was
* , for bigger models
1891.
| than those that had me before. Shoul-
| ders had been broadened by full sleeves
i and bodices amplified in many ways.
With them came also the hat which
gave an air of youthfuluess to the wear-
| #1 and defied the observer to mark the
passage of time. Few women, except
{ those in mourning and the unquestion-
ably elderly dames, wore bonnets for
promenade. Chie little affairs, all lace
and nonsense, with redding flowers and
tantalizing aigrets, were indeed affected
by many for cvening wear, but even
tlese showed ne strings and were mere
, fancy bits made as decorative as could
I be. The hat of the season was a hat—a
| hat of generous size, of unlimited pos-
sibilities and one that asserted its claim
. before all others, while it threw the bon-
net into deepest shade, :
For this present Easter we have flow-
ers such #3 Never were il vefore——
flowers true to nature and fascinating in
the extreme. Roses cn masse make the
garniture of one importation, poppies
erect and tive of another, and such
delicious ch ithemums of a third as
Set
before. The feature of the season is
~ massed flowers. Whether they be roses
. or what not, they are bunched together
in profusion and scem to be almost
crushed, so closely are they packed.
In other matters we may not have im-
| proved, but in color we are assuredly as
| nearly perfect as can be. The lovely
! tints of the rose and the delicious grada-
| tions of tone tr
shown in all the
| flowers are in
themselves fea-
tures of which to
boast. A review
of the bonnets of
the past might
| well teach us hu-
| mility, if nothing 7
nore. But, let: +
the future Gove SA
| op what it may,
| it scems difficult ¢ |
to imagine the
tints of 1897 im-
proved or dis-
placed. Mayhap we shall yet return to
the waterfall and the tilted trifle set at
an angle with the head even as we are
now approaching tight sleeves and trim-
med skirts. But degeneracy can surely
never reach the depth of forcing us to
use crude color or rob us of the lessons
we have learned. Ribbonsp=ilks, flow-
ers, straws themselves, are beautiful
simply because of their delightful hue.
Let shapes and combinations change as
they will, the art of the dyer must sure-
ly remain. CLARE BUNCE.
1897.
Lv” Itis
Bonnets,
were modest in -
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Forty-seven young women have just
passed the examination of the New York
University’s daw department and are now
ready to practice their profession before the
bar of that city.
Black and white shepherds’ plaids are to
be seen in every shop window. Two other
distinct novelties are a Bedford cord covert
coating, which is as new as it is pretty,
smart and workmanlike, and a reproduc-
tion for feminine wear of the smartest mili-
tary uniforms in the British and foreign ar-
mies. In the home service alone there are
a thousand and one varieties of mess jackets,
vests, braiding and such like, which are
eminently adapted for the adornment of
feminine apparel ; and the French military
uniforms, too, are exceedingly smart.
Every detail, down to the very buttons
and twists of the braiding, is carried out
exactly in accordance with the official pat-
| terns and specifications. This, of course,
. invest the costumes with an added interest.
| During this jubilee year of grace, the army
{ will doubtless figure prominently in many
| ways, and at fetes, garden parties, race
meetings and other functions where some-
thing really. smart and original is desirable
the new military costumes will certainly
| prove wondrously popular. ,
Rows of narrow black velvet ribbon will
"be used on the dresses for early spring and
summer. © If the ribbon be narrow enough
it can be used in shaped skirt trimmings
and lie as smoothly as the more elastic silk
and mohair braids. Checked materials in
the neat, small squares known as the ‘‘shep-
herd’s”’ plaid look well made up with such
a trimming. The edges of a surplice-fold-
ed waist are outlined with velvet ribbon
applied in any ‘‘odd’”’ number of rows.
Where the ends cross the finish will be a
knot or bunched rosette composed of loops
of ribbon. A collarette effect is produced
by square battlements or ‘tabs’ of the
check, lined with itself and interlined with
some slightly stiffened material. These
battlements are trimmed with the black
velvet ribbon, stitched down perfectly flat.
The hem of the skirt shows application
of rows and rows of the ribbon made to de-
scribe set figures or perfectly plain. The
‘‘apron’’ or tablier trimming is effected by
using the ribbon down the seams of the
front breadth of the skirt, and over across
its face as high or low as you care to have
the panel decoration.
Bright days and smiling sunbeams have
brought many new spring gowns and the
up-to-date fashions are first of all, the Eton
jacket ; that chic little garment is distinct-
ly on top, and a pretty and becoming mode
it is to a young and slender figure. Braid-
ed it can be, slashed it may be, here and
there, up the back or in the front darts ;
and tight-fitting. it must be to fulfill all
the requirements of Dame Fashion.
Then comes the problem of milady’s
chapeau : which are really miniature
flower gardens, called by courtesy hats.
To tilt or not to tilt, is the question. Does
the fair wearer dress her hair after the style
of the frail Marquise de Pompadour then is
the crush turban worn well back, giving
passers-by an opportunity to catch more
than a glimpse of eyes, brow and nose. But
on the other hand, if milady have a lean-
ing toward chic French fashions her hat is
sure to be pitched well forward at a saucy
angle, hiding the upper part of her face
and leaving visible only mouth and chin.
and perhaps the tiniest tip of the nose, to
pique the curiosity of the inquisitive.
And then that beloved *possession of the
summer girl—her shirt waist. That, too,
made its annual debut yesterday, and worn
with a straight linen collar, a bright, plaid
necktie and a brilliant hued belt, it was as-
suredly as chic and becoming as any of its
predecessors of seasons gone by. Another
feature of the get-up of the modish girl is
the jingle which accompanies her footsteps
whenever she takes her walks abroad,»
The maiden-heroine of the romances of
Maria Edgeworth and Jane Austin, we are
told, glided or swept noiselessly from place
to place ; not so our end-of-the-century
girls. Their coming is heralded by the
swish of silken petticoats, the jingle of
chatelaines and usually the sound of merry
chatter, and we wouldn't exchange their
cheeful clatter for all the repose of all
the Vere-de-Veres of a whole generation of
novels.
One of the beautifui spring gowns
of is navy blue cioth the skirt has sort
of waved Vandykes outlined in black and
white braid, a yoke being simulated by the
same braid. The bodice has a double set
of vests, one of brilliant red and angther of
white duck with narrow lines of black vel-
vet. With itis worn an all red hat, a
rough straw sailor loaded with poppies and
waving cock plumes.
If color can sound the note of the new
millinery red and violet bid fair to reign
supreme for at all the millingrs openings
they were greatly in er
If you desive to put away your rugs for
the summer, empty one of the hanging
closets in your house and clean it thor-
oughly with scalding lye. When dry,
sprinkle the floor well with camphor gum.
Thoroughly beat your rugs, and cover each
one/ separated with newspapers, next to
the nap. © Tie a piece of camphor gum in a
bit of cloth, put it inside the rug, then roll
the rug up and tie it with stout cords and
place it in the camphor closet. Do this
with each rug. After they are all in the
closet, lay a lot of newspapers over them,
and then sprinkle a lot of camphor gum
over the papers. Close the closet door and
seal it up by pasting strips of paper over
the cracks.
Blankets, cushions, hangings and drap-
eries may be put away in the same man-
ner. The main thing to observe is the
whipping and beating of the articles to free
them from dust and moth eggs. Moths
breed in dust and dirt. You may cover a
garment a foot deep in camphor and put it,
away soiled, and when you take it out in
the fall you will find it all riddled with
mothholes.
The efforts have been tremendous to get
rid of the blouse, but it would not go. The
blouse makes a part of all the new gowns.
It fits with most dressmakers down close
to the figure behind and is full and bouff-
ant in front, and to make the waist long
may fall down through the middle entirely
over the helt. It is made with a yoke, or
it is made double-breasted, or it is open
down the front over a gilet, the latter in
combination with a linen flange collar, and
a tie being the choice of the moment with
women that are chic ; it is trimmed up and
down and it is trimmed across, according
to the figure or to the design of the skirt ;
it may have over it a bolero, and these are
sherter than they were and are sometimes
no more than yokes or it may have figaro,
and this only a bolero made long so as to
go with a narrow belt, to which there is a
very general return. It is carried “out in
burlap, it is carried out in lace ; it is worn
at morning, noon and night, and on the
subject of bodices this is the first and last
and all there is to be said. :