Sweet Cupid sat on a mossy bank With a tear in his round blue eye, His wings were draggled with silver dew, And his quiver and bow flung by. The butterflies came from the garden near And perched on his dimpled toes, And a honeybee sipped at his crimson lip And thought it an opening rose. “Not an arrow went to its mark to-day, I wasted them all,”” he sighed, “My wings and my curls too well they know, So the men and the maidens hide, My mother must clip my pinions close, And must braid my locks of gold, And I'll borrow the frock of a damsel fair My roseate limbs to fold.” So now no more in the flowery field Or the wood where the thrushes sing, Do we hear the patter of naked feet, Or the sweep offan airy wing. He has stolepthe gown of a pretty girl, And her hat with its drooping plume, And a cluster of velvety violets blue From his breast to shed perfume, He has donned her veil with its broidered edge, And her gloves of the palest gray, And hides his bow in her fluffy fan Before he goes out to slay. He has clipped his wings and braided his curls, But beware of his roguish eyes, For sly little Cupid is still the same In spite of his new disguise. —Minna Ircing in Penny Magazine. THOUSANDS IN A LAUGH. A veteran gallant in the first orchestra chair wearily adjusted his monocle. “Gad!” said he, ‘I would give my life to laugh like the damsel in the box. Gad ! What is there in those mounte-banks to put such joy in a laugh ?”’ ‘Bandy,’ chuckled ‘‘you’ve lived too long. The damsel in the box has just begun. There's no get- ting round it, my boy, it does make a dif- ference.’ But the girl in the box, forgetful of play and playhouse, laughed on. She was rev- eling in an elysium in which capricious editors, importunate landladies, and dis- appointed ambitions had no part. Sud- denly conscious that her merriment did not fit in with the play on the boards, she turned a furtive glance to the orchestra. The curtains of the box parted. “If this is not Miss Madeline Lycette, formerly of Terre Haute, Indiana, later of 234 Rue St. Jacques, Paris, Rolston Cham- berlain, of Lincoln’s Inn Court, London, begs a thousand pardons.’’ “You heard ?’ gasped the girl. “I did,” said the young man. “Do you know the last act recalled the night you and Thorndyke disguised as gendarmes knocked at the madame’s door and demanded in the name of the Prefec- ture of the Police my immediate arrest as an Anarchist spy, giving the number of the cab and the name of the place from which I had driven that day to interview Michel.” “Curious,” said the young man. “I was thinking of the very same episode, when two old fellows down there in the orchestra called my attention to your laugh.” “Mental telegraphy !”’ ‘Royal good luck !”’ “And it was ages ago,’ sighed Miss Lycette. “Fully a century,” acquiesced Mr. Chamberlain. ‘And you're not yet Lord Chancellor ?”’ “And you have yet to write the long ex- pected American novel 2”? They had drawn their chairs within the seclusion of the box, while ten years were thus glibly stricken off the calendar. “Do tell me of the Thorndykes.”’ ‘The madame’s dead.”’ “Dead ? Poor soul !”? “Don’t say that. Were she alive, I, in all probability, would not he here.” ‘Nonsense ! Everything drifts sooner or later.”’ “It’s in the interest of her estate—?’ ‘Oh, Isee, the heir married an Amer- ican wife. He always said he intended to—"’ “And he did intend to—until he fell in love with you.”’ *‘That settled it,”” smiled the girl. ‘You see, you were the first American he met, and he concluded—he con- cluded—"’ “After the catacomb fiasco—?’ “‘Exactly—that if all les belles Ameri- cains were like Madeline Lycette he would have none of them.” “Wisdom one would never have credited him.” Again their laughter failed to fit in with the play. here w * * * It was a radiantly sunshiny day in early spring—the spring that engenders dissatis- faction, revolt, indefinable yearning. Miss Lycette had sped along, jostled hither and thither, ubmindful whither she was going. Anything, anywhere, for a brief forgetting. A rejected manuscript upon the acceptance of which literally depended, for the nonce, her hodily sustenance, weighed her pocket. ‘Too sad ! Our readers won’t have it,”’ was the verdict of the optimistic editor of “Every Day in the Year.”” “Give us the gay, the sprightly. You can do it.” “Too sad! too sad I” It seemed to the girl’s over-wrought, self-questioning soul that the editors of Gotham had con- spired of late to execute every offspring of her fancy on the same verdict—*‘Too sad !”’? How could one write otherwise in the face of continued failure ?—failure that forced one to question the raison d’etre of the gayety, the sprightliness of which the Old World never wearies. ‘“There's lots of romance and adventure in the hard work- a-day world !”” Had not the editor said it ? “It’s a grand mistake,’’ concluded Miss | Lycette, catching the reflex of Saturday afternoon Broadway festivity, ‘to take oneself—the world—anything—too serious- ly. To creep into one’s hole and mope when the gods cease to smile is arraut cowardice. If romance, adventure, cease to come one’s way, and they are still the elixir the world craves, then it behooves one, in behalf of bread if not art, to sally forth to meet them on their own happy hunting ground.” ‘‘Beg pardon, madame, it’s my turn.”’ Lost in the phantasmagoria of spring millinery, the rustle of silk, and the odor of violets surging into an uptown theater, Miss Lycette was swept along until un- wittingly she usurped the place of an irate dame at the box office. It was too late to retreat. ‘‘What will you have 2? ‘What have you got 2"? * ‘Lower hox.”’ “Nothing else 2”? ‘Standing room.” | usher to lead her. With recklessness born of desperation Miss Lycette, reputed a successful woman of letters—Miss Lycette, the envy of scores | of women with fat bank deposits—counted | out the last penny she had in the world. | To the choicest box in one of the most | fashionable theaters, an extravagance of which she had rarely if ever been guilty | when fortune smiled, she suffered the | Reclining in a lux- urious chair she yielded, with the non- chalance of an habitue, to the seduction of | the environment. Norilla—blued-eyed Norilla, of the Latin quarter of this Lycette’s not uneventful | girlhood. When Norilla’s exchequer was reduced to 5 francs it was her wont to hail a cab, pick up one or two congenial spirits, then with an authoritative wave of her | hand, ‘‘Cocher, au Bois!’ She called it | giving hard luck the laugh, and vigorous- | ly maintained that it never failed to quick- en good fortune’s return. * * * * * * ‘‘I suppose that madame told you,” said Miss Lycette, breaking in at length upon an orchestral interlude. *‘Oh, yes,”’ said Mr. Chamberlain, sen- tentiously, having drank in with approv- ing glances the changes ten years had wrought in the woman at his side. ‘I met her in Hyde Park the day she got Thorndyke’s letter. ‘A delightful family,’ he wrote ; ‘not a single outsider but one, a jolly and deucedly pretty American girl.’ 2 | *‘Three hours later the madame was on | the Channel.”” Happily the bass-viol drowned Chamberlain’s laugh. *‘You see,’ he continued, ‘‘it was the his companion, | | very situation she was solicitous to avoid. Your indifference to the beloved heir won { her heart at first, then nearly broke it.” | ‘Absurd !”’ cried the girl. The Eng- lish—beg your pardon—have such an ex- | traordinary way of arranging matters. At | first it astounded, intimidated, then | amused me. first—his prospects of succeeding to the title and the estates of the Lord—dear knows who ! I listenedsto her story of the town house, the country seat and the | number of pound sterling she intended to settle on the woman he married, as I listen to all unsolicited confidences. Do you know, Mr. Chamberlain,’”’ she said with sudden earnestness, ‘‘all my life I have been surfeited with the love affairs of an impersonal world, until it has come to pass that I never know whether I am the woe ?'? ‘‘Really ?' said the young man with quickening interest, while his brown eyes lifted incredulously. ‘It’s embarrassing at times, I assure you. It has got me into no end of trouble and spoiled many a delightful friendship.’ ‘‘But you knew, certainly you suspect- The dear old lady bored me | | to death about the youth—stupid fellow at | recipient or the object of a sentimental | “I was at Terre Haute last week,’’ he said.. “‘I wandered about several days be- fore I found courage to inquire the where- abouts of one Madeline Lycette.’’ The girl, tripping along cheerily at his side, listened as she had to Madame Thorndyke’s ‘‘arrangements.’’ ‘‘I fancied in every prepossessing hoosier I met a possible husband of the object of my search. Shall I tell you what I did when I discovered the truth ? I threw up my hat, and Hoosierdom reverberated with The situation recalled | an Oxford yell !”’ : ‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ she smiled. | ‘‘Absurd as ever.”’ ‘‘What’s more,’ he continued, “I know every movement you have made up to date.”’ ‘‘Not a whit less impertinent.’’ : Miss Lycette’s heroine had by this time expended a large portion of her heritage. Scarcely a woman encountered in the ave- nue had failed to suggest a toilet detail in- .| dispensable to the trousseau with which the heroine dreamed to conquer the hero’s English cousins. Chamberlain rattled on in a melodiously seductive way, little sus- pecting that to his companion he was but the obligito to a romance bent on meeting the requirements of ‘‘Every Day in the Year.”” With all his fancied skill in bend- ing women to his will, this girl eluded him now as she had in the past. But there was one thing he had resolved to know—his was a facial tenacity—before | the day closed. When they had reached { the stately old mansion in which Miss | Lycette found the freedom of a bachelor | maid’s apartment, together with the hos- | | pitable protection of a home, the moon had | risen, and the woodvines, screening the | portico like a portiere, coquetted with the | moonlight. ‘How like the said Chamberlain. ‘Often of a summer evening,’’ said Miss Lycette, ‘‘I have fancied it looked out on i-Rue St. Jacques !”’ ‘Then you have not forgotten %’’ madame’s balcony,” gaze. | “It is ever with me,” he said. ‘‘And | the moon it looks for all the world like the same old fellow that’ shone that night—?"’ | “The same,” said the girl. I ‘““When I stole what I have come to | return.”’ | The man in the moon decorously turned [ his back on the swaying vines, while in | the heart of the story-weaver truth at last | belied fiction. “I agree with you,” said Chamberlain next day, as they drove away from the | offices of the American representatives of | Madame Thorndyke’s English solicitors. | “It’s a capital story !”’ *‘All but the denouement,” sighed Miss | Lycette,—the ruling passion strong in | prospective matrimony as in bachelor “It’s so inartistic !”’ About Anonymous Writers. Some interesting Facts, and a Number of Real and Fictitious Names. Some good citizens never read or pay any attention to anonymous communica- tions, just as though they ought to be dis- regarded and totally ignored. It will be taken for granted that this utterance was made either inadvertently or with a large mental reservation, for anonymous writers are nearly as common as those who use their real names. A reference to a few of these may possibly prove interesting to the readers. The ‘‘Junius’’ letters published in the | London Public Advertiser hetween Janu- (ary 1769 and January 1772, are probably the most famous anonymous epistles of which there is any record. They were di- rected against the ministry and other lead- ing characters, and contain some of the most effective specimens of invectives that can be found in literature anywhere. “Their condensed and lucid diction, studi- ed and epigrammatic sarcasm, dazzling metaphors, and haughty personal attacks. arrested the attention of the government and of the public. Not less startling was the immediate and minute knowledge which they evinced of court secrets, mak- ing it believed that the writer moved in the circle of the court, and was intimately acquainted not only with ministerial meas- ures and intrigues, but with every domes- tic incident.”” The name of the writer was She turned uneasily from his ardent | | ting him unmercifully.”’ | maidenhood. ed, Thorndyke would bring matters to a “How 50%" crisis that day at the Catacombs? I was never divulged, and his identity is in doubt to this day. Edmund Burke, Lord Chat- ham, Henry Grattan, Horace Walpole, Sir | Philip Francis, and many other prominent | men were at different times suspected, but | the last named is the only one who at the | present time is supposed to have heen | Junius. ’ | ‘“Boz’’ was the pseudonym under which | the first literary productions of Charles | Dickens appeared in the Old Monthly | Magazine of London. Among his sketches | was one entitled ‘‘Mrs. Joseph Porter over | the way,” followed some years later by | Pickwick Papers, Oliver Twist, Nicholas Nickleby, and his other well known novels | that have given him a world-wide fame. Michael Angelo Fitzmarsh and George | Fitz-Boodle were the odd and affected names adopted hy William M. Thackery when he commenced writing for Frazer's Magazine, and for papers in Punch he as- sumed the titles of The Fat Contributor, Jeames’ Diary, and the Snob Papers. Lan McClaren is the nom de plume of the famous Scotchman, Dr. Watson, who visit- ed this country a few months ago, and whose Domsie, Highland Mystic, A Doctor collection entitled ‘‘Beside the Bonny Brier Bush, ”’ are familiar to most readers. George Eliot is the singular name used | by Marian C. Evans, whose Adam Bede, { Mill on the Floss, Romola, Middlemarch. Daniel Deronda, Felix Holt, and other novels have probably been read by as many jo be : 1 | Miss Lycette hid her blushes. ‘‘Con- | persons as any others that might be named. 1. i s y : . on handey hr AIRS, =he Sangh ventional ending, you know.” By Lida | Miss Evans was a Warwickshire lass, the te DO earls ) | Rese McCabe, in Pittshurg Dispatch. i fonachier 9a poop country curate with a : ® =: — arge family, she was a And when you failed to materialize,—well | RE | 8 fi Y ho, Sos Adopted a I had to have my inning, so I fell to twit- | Big Deficit in Sight. ‘ ) clergyman. At the | A Pittsburg Republican paper made | quite a feature during the troublous fi- | nancial times of the Cleveland administra- | ' tion of regularly printing tables showing ! | how the revenues were falling off, and the Miss cleared. ‘Come to think of it, I believe I did promise to join Thorndyke that day at the Catacombs. It threatened rain. I was fearful of dampening a Virot. Something | ditures. fully as important changed my mind at | bill the eleventh hour.’ : Lycette’s brows knitted, then | It was all blamed on the Wilson | and the Democracy. We hope that | age of 23 she went to London and took to literature as a vocation. She became a regular contributor to the Edinburg and Westminster reviews, and translated from the German Strauss’ Life of Christ and Feverback’s Essence of Christianity, At big deficit between revenues and expen- | the age of 37 she began writing for Black- | wood over the assumed name she now bears as an author. of the Old School, and other stories in the | The Evangelists in Philadelphia. Bellefonte and Centre county readers will be interested to hear of the success of Evan- gelists Weaver and Weeden who have been traveling over the country with the taber- nacle that was presented them by Belle- fonte people. The Philadelphia Times, on that city : Success in soul saving has for the past eight weeks crowned the efforts of Rev. Leonard Weaver, the evangelist, and W. S. Weeden, the evangelist singer, who, with united forces, have for that length of time been earnestly laboring day and night in their gospel tabernacle at Broad and Tioga streets. At least one hundred persons have expressed themselves as being converted, many others have formed intentions to pursue better lives, while many thousands have been;given the opportunity and seized upon it of listening to the message of salva- tion. But the success, while it has not heen small, can in no way compare with the results of the revival conducted by these same gentleman in Central Pennsylvania. Although loath to leave this rich field, Rev. Weaver desired to work in Philadel- phia, his native city, for he thought that much good could be accomplished, so the big tabernacle wasibrought here and located where it is now standing. It is a monstrous affair. First there is a big skeleton structure resembling some what in appearance three sides of a trunca- ted pyramid. Its length is 135 feet, its breadth 85 feet. In its construction 15,- 000 feet of lumber was required. Over this framework is spread yard after yard of tent canvas. Underneath are the seats, the lights and the pulpit. This is the famous Weaver Gospel tabernacle. Here every night and twice each Sunday the evangelists have preached and sung to 3,000 and often 4,000, people who have | gathered to hear them. Scarcely has a ser- vice passed when the seats were not filled and many had to stand in the aisles or just outside the entrances, in order to be a part of the interested congregations. Success has undoubtedly attended the evangelists’ labors, but during the few days they are yet to be here, before going to Ocean City to take charge of the Metho- dist camp meeting there Mr. Weav- er and his associates have determined to pour forth every effort to bring about more fruitful results, to endeavor to gar- ner well the field. so that no stray sheaf shall be left. Hence there are to be several innovations instituted, which in the mind of their orig- | inators, will be a great help in the work of | | soul-saving. Friday, had the following to say of them in | FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. Mrs. Sarah A. Wilson, of Lincoln, Neb., is the regularly nominated candidate of the Liberty, or Prohibition party, of that State for associate justice of the supreme court. Women who wish to preserve the beauty | and contour of their figure must begin by learning to stand well. That is explained to mean the throwing forward and upward of the chest, the flattening of the back, with the shoulder blades held in their proper places, and the definite curving in the small of the back, thus throwing the whole weight of the body upon the hips. Light gray gowns are considered extreme- ly smart, and are worn not only by young girls, but by married women. The favor- ite and most becoming shade isa light pearl gray, which, relieved by trimmings of white, has none of the tryiug qualities of the stone or purple gray. Canvas and etamine, poplin, gauze mousseline de soie, and several other thin materials are used. Ina coarse canvas an exceedingly smart gown is made up over white taffeta silk. The skirt 18 tucked over the hips in five rows of tucks, and the lower part of the waist is also tucked ; the upper part is a yoke of yellow guipure lace, which extends over the puffed sleeves in epaulettes. There are also deep cuffs of the same lace. A high collar with white lace ruche and a lace-trimmed white sash help to lighten the effect of the gray, and make the gown more than ever becoming. A receipt for caramel custard let a cupful of brown suger meltand brown in a sauce pan over a moderate fire, stirring constantly to prevent burning ; when well browned pour over it half a coffee cupful of boiling water, let it simmer slowly ; beat four eggs, add a pinch of salt and a quart of new milk ; when the caramel is melted add it to the milk and stir well, pour in custard cups and bake in a dripping pan of hot water in a quick oven half an hour ; serve cold. The late Miss Rosalie Butler, of Stock- bridge, Mass., left $50,000 to the State Charities Aid Association. Shepherd’s check in both silk and ging- ham in lavender, pink and blue are the shirt-waists of the season to have. Instead of being dissatisfied with their lot, women with red hair should study how to use it becomingly, and be proud of the distinction of having it. There appears to be an impression among women with red hair that almost any shade of blue can be | worn by them, because as a usual thing First, and above all, Fanny J. Crosby, | thing they have fair and delicate complex- | the distinguished blind hymn writer, will | ions, but, as a matter of fact, blue is the | be at the tabernacle Sunday and Monday, One color above all others that they ought She was well acquaint- | and, according to Mr. Weaver, for many | to aveid. The contrast is too violent and | years her devoted friend, ‘‘to see the soul | the combination is not harmonious. The shining in her face is enough to make the | shades most suitable to he worn with red | sinner repent.’ During the Sunday even- | hair are bright, sunny brown and all au- | ing service she will give a short talk. Mon- | tumn leaf tints. After these may be se- | day evening will Le known as “Fanny | lected pale or very dark green-—but never Crosby night.”, Every hymn sung will | 2 bright green, pale yellow and black un- {be chosen from those written hy Miss | mixed with any other color. Mixed colors | Crosby, and as each one is anounnced she | are not becoming to red-haired people, as | will tell to the congregation the incident | or thought which inspired it. | they nearly always give them a more or | less dowdy appearance. In fact, red hair The revival will end two Sundays hence. | i$ usually so brilliant and decided that it | must be met on its own ground, and no | vague, undecided sort of things should be worn with it. —————. Fees of Policemen. ‘And when you joined in our raillery that night at Thorndyke’s expense—"’ | “Oh, yes,”” laughed the girl—*‘The din- ner ! What a droll affair!” ! ‘“The madame, we all expected, would witness the announcement of ‘the arrange- ment.’ ”’ “I can see her now,” she continued, ignoring the interpolation,—‘‘a necklace of yellow topaz playing hide and seek with the rolls of fat in her bovine neck ; the conquering hero air of the aigrette in her | towering yellow coiffure.’’ “I bear that feather a ‘grudge to this | “It persisted | | day,’’ said the young man. | in cutting off my view of a certain noble coleur de rose.” “What a memory for detail I’? cried Miss Lycette, unconsciously reflecting the tint. ‘‘Methinks I snuff now the refresh- that stuffy dining room. the heir’s whispering hints to inform me that he was born in the Bosphorus of an English father and a French mother, that his boyhood passed at Eton and Oxford. {and that it was expected that he would carry off all the honors at L’Ecole du Droit. After a winter of unadulterated Anglo-Saxon the whiff of Gallicism was positively intoxicating.” “But Thorndyke—"’ “Of what consequence 27? ‘He never forgave us. He went to India and married the daughter of an officer in Bengal. Madame wept when she told me. ‘If it had only been Madeline,’ ! she sighed. Truly fond of you was the madame,’’ said Chamberlain. “I seemed to amuse her,” laughed the girl. ‘‘She was given to paroxysms, vou know. I recall one in which she solemnly avowed she would remember me in her will.” ‘And she did,” cried Chamberlain. ‘‘Jesting aside, Miss Lycette. This time I am gendarme in earnest, and I have been on your trail a fortnight.”’ He had risen. He took from his pocket a much besealed document, ‘‘Read,”” he commanded. Disciplined, as she had truly confessed, to look upon ‘‘men and things’’ imperson- ally, Miss Lycette perused, without an emotion, the closely written sheet. ‘I, Caroline Criquett Thorndyke, in full pos- session of my mental faculties, do give and bequeath to one Madeline Lycette, a native of Terre Haute, Indiana, United States of America, in memory of three of the heart- iest laughs ever given me to enjoy in mor- tal life, three thousand pounds sterling. | If said Madeline Lycette be not living at | the time of the execution of this will, or | the executors fail to discover her where- abouts within three years after my demise. said three thousand pounds sterling shall 1 | Ralston Chamberlain, Esq.’ Their eyes met. | “Twill make a capital story,” said | Miss Lycette. The curtain had fallen on | the last act. | * * * * * * | journal will continue this practice under | ed with Herbert Spencer, Dickens. Thack- | | the Dingley law. ing breeze a certain youth brought into | It didn’t require | revert to my beloved friend and counselor, | On July 20th, when Dingley was clamoring for speed with his | tariff to save the treasury from loss, the receipts from customs were $1,679,631 ; on | July 21st, $2,433,435 ; on July 22nd, $1,- | 153,890. Mr. Dingley’s first full day, | | July 26th, brought in $674,521, and July | | 27th, his second day, $195,585—in other | | words, a loss to the treasury of over $1,- , 000,000 a day, taking the average of the three days when he was shouting that | every day’s delay cost the government | $100,000. The deficit for July up to date is $10,700,000, and would be much larger but for the extraordinary receipts under | the Wilson bill. When the unaided Ding- magnificent monthly deficits to show up ; the wisdom of that law and demonstrate | once again how high taxes encourage im- | ports with their resulting revenues. While we see the government revenues | dwindling to an insignificant sum the first days of the new tariff, the sugar trust, | under the operation and advantages of the | same law, has commenced to reap its har- | vest. Secretary of the treasury Gage pointed | out, when he wanted a tax imposed on the | sugar in hand held by the trust—imported ‘in anticipation of higher duties—that it | meant a profit to the trust of $16,000,000. | He wanted. a tax that would divert that | sum to the treasury. but the trust was too | strong with the Republican managers. | They had their campaign debts to pay. | With the passage of the Dingley law the | trast commenced advancing its prices of i sugar so as to get the full benefit of the | anticipatory imports. | trust advanced refined sugar } cent a pound. | The sugar trust treasury is booming under | the Dingley law. Uncle Sam’s treasury is | paralyzed. Net results so far. All ‘“‘evi- | dences of prosperity,”’ of course, because | of the Dingley blessing— Post. \ Shot Three Times. | A Dastardly Attempt to Kill Huckster Crawford | Black. On last Thursday a huckster named | Crawford Black was driving along the pub- | lic road from Altoona parallel with the Lo- , gan valley electric railway and overtaking a { man who was walking the stranger asked | the huckster for a lift in the way of a ride which was given him. When at the ant hill woods some distance out of Hollidaysburg the stranger drew a revol- | ver and shot Black in the head three times, | and then witha pair of steel scales attempt- | to beat out the huckster’s brain. Black al- | though severely wounded concentrated all | the strength he had upon his assailant, and ! finally managed to force the beast to leave | him without booty, for which the attack | had evidently heen made. Black was driven to Hollidaysburg and | at the office of Dr. Brotherline two of the | bullets were extracted from his head. He | afterward walked to the Kellerman house | in Gaysport where he is said to be resting | comparatively easy. Whether it is thought | the wounds will prove fatal we were not in- | He was so big, so strong, so wholesome, | formed. The man made his escape in the | The crowded thoroughfare gave way to his | Woods. The Sheriff and a posse of men are masterful stride. |it all. How refreshing, how restful to be led! It seemed that they had always known each other. The girlish delight with which she was wont to look forward to his coming, after the Madame’s dinner, was upon her now to give shape to the story her fertile fancy had begun to weave | for ‘‘Every Day in the Year.”” The heroine | Was yet a little vague, but there was no doubt about the hero. While the romance took form and substance. Chamberlain continued the story of his migrations. She saw it all, she felt | NOW searching for him. Crawford Black’s home is in the country near Claysberg in Greenfield township. He is in the brother of Prof. Black, principal of the sixth ward schools in Altoona. ——The 1897 wheat crop in Kansas hav- ing been estimated at 60,000,000 it is ap- parent that bleeding Kansas will bleed again, and like a dropsical patient dying of thirst amid his watery store, will suffer want for a market for such an overproduc- tion. Kansas seems doomed to suffer. ley bill gets to work we shall have some ! On Monday the eray, Matthew Arnold, George Henry, Lewes and other prominent writers. Jonathan Oldstyle was the name under which Washington Irving wrote a series of papers for the morning Chronicle, and as Diedrich Knickerbocker he published his burlesque history of New York, from the beginning of the world to the end of the Dutch Dynasty. Hosea Bigelow is James Russel Lowell. Josh Billings is Henry W. Shaw. Artemus Ward is Charles F. Browne. Bill Arp is Charles H. Smith. Gath is George Alfred Townsend. Howadjii is George William Curtis. Ike Marvel is Donald G. Mitchell. John Pheenix is Capt G. H. Derby. Mark Twain is Samuel L. Clemens. Max Adler is Charles H. Clark. Eli Perkins is Mellville D. Landon. Petroleum V. Nashy is David Locke. Nym Crynkle is Andrew C. Wheeler. Old Si is Samuel W. Small, Orpheus C. Kerr is Robt. H. Newel. Mrs. Partington is Benj. P. Shellaber. Spoopendyke is Stanley Huntley. Uncle Remus is Joel Chandler Harris. Fanny Fern is Sarah Payson Will s. M. Quad is Charles H. Lewis. More names could be added, but these will suffice to show how large is the num- ber of anonymous writers, and it goes for the saying that their communications have always been read and received considerable attention. tte Rest for the President. He and Mrs. McKinley Comfortably Established on the Shore of Lake Champlain. The President and Mrs. McKinley up at Plattshurg, N. Y., occupy a suite of seven rooms on the second floor in the southwest corner of the Hotel Champlain annex. con- nected with the main building by corri- dors. The President is delighted with the magnificent lake and mountain scenery. Mrs. McKinley is a good traveler and suf- fered no material fatigue from the journey. The President has appeared in public only once, coming into the hotel lobby for a short time, and visiting the weighing ma- chine, where he tipped the scales at 191 pounds. The President has had few callers. Gen. Peck, adjutant general of V rmont, came with handsome offerings of flowers for the women of the Presidential party. Gen. Peck extracted a promise thatthe Presi- dent would visit Burlington next Wednes- day and review the cavalry troops at Fort Ethan Allen and attend a reception in his honor. The only other plans so far made by the President are a review of the Twenty-first regiment, United States in- fantry. and a reception by the officers at Plattsburg post, to take place probably next Tuesday ; then some time next week a trip by steamer to Isle La Motte as the guest of Senator Proctor and of the Ver- mont game and forestry commission. All the Cabinet officers will be here more or less during August, and there will be in- formal cabinet meetings as occasion re- quires. Vice-president Hobart is expected this week. Distinction With a Difference. ‘I think you pay too much attention to wealth in America,”’ said the visiting for- eigner. ‘‘You say aman is rich and in- fluential. Do you mean that he is influ- ential because he is rich ?”’ ‘Not always,,” said the native. ‘‘In the case of statesmen we frequently mean that they are rich because they are influen- tial.”’— Brooklyn Life. Wilkie Collins, | The Provisions of the Recent Act of Assembly. The following act regulating the remun- eration of policemen and constahles was ap- proved by Governor Hastings, July 14th, 1897 : Section 1. That from and after the pas- sage of this act all municipalities or corpo- rations, employing policemen within the to all such policemen a fixed or stipulated salary, and that hereafter it shall not be lawful for such policemen to charge or ac- cept any fee or compensation, in addition to his salary, for any service rendered or performed by him of any kind or nature whatsoever pertaining to his office or du- ties as a policeman, except public rewards {and the legal mileage allowed for traveling expenses. Section 2. That from and after the pas- sage of this act it shall not be lawful for any high, ward, township or other consta- ble, who is at the same time employed as a policeman in any city, borough or other accept any fee or other compensation, in addition to the salary paid to him pertain- ing to his office or duties, either asa po- liceman, or as such high, ward, or other constable, except public rewards and the traveling expenses. Section 3. Any policeman or constable employed as a policeman as aforesaid vio- lating any of the provisions of the several sections of this act, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and, upon conviction thereof, shall be sentenced to pay a fine not exceeding fifty dollars and costs, or under- go imprisonment in the jail of the proper | county, not exceediug thirty days, or, both | at the discretion of the court. Section 4. That all acts or parts of acts in force at the date of the passage of this act, inconsistent with its provisions, are hereby repealed. Bicyclists Should Dismount. The Supreme court has laid down two rules which makes it very difficult for bi- cyclists to recover damages from a railroad company for accidents at crossings. The first is that no recovery of damages can be had if there is any contributory negligence on the part of the persons injured, and again, everybody must stop, look and list- en before crossing the tracks. Some time ago a bicyclist at Philadelphia was killed on a crossing and his widow sued for dam- ages. But although it was shown that the company was negligent in not giving any warning of an approaching train and ai- though the bicyclist looked and listened and made a circle with his wheel before crossing the tracks still the Supreme court decided against the widow, because the man did not dismount. The case was that of Robertson vs Pennsylvania railroad which is reported in 180° Penna. Reports, page 43, in which the Supreme court held that the bicycle stop, circling about, is not the legal stop, but bicyclists must dis- mount, look and listen hefore crossing rail- road tracks. S———————— Wants to Call a Halt. The widow of Lieutenant Schwatka, the Artic explorer, has heen interviewed con- cerning the Klondyke gold fields which country she has repeatedly visited with her husband, and declared that the government should stop the tide of immigration pour- ing into the gold fields in Alaska. She says that the mountain passes are strewn with the skeletons of unfortunate miners who perished from either cold, heat, mala- ria or starvation while trying to reach the golden region. commonwealth of Pennsylvania, shall pay | part of this commonwealth, to charge or | legal mileage allowed to constables for | mer wear: Very fit, especially in the sailor madel, are the linens and ducks used for whole gowns as well as for jacket suits. One of bright navy is trimmed about the skirt at the hem with five rows of white linen braid, each band ending on each side of the front breadth with a zilt button. The blouse is banded just under the arms with five rows of braid, ending with buttons on each side of the open and very pouchy front,;the broad square sailor collar that finishes it being of yellow pique with an under collar a bit wider of white. The vest inside the blouse is of white linen fastened up to the throat with small brass buttons, this vest flat and plain, but pouching with the blouse ahove it. A linen collar is worn, and a sailor four-in- hand of blue and white foulard, the belt being of white kid with a gold harness buckle. The skirt or costume of black taffeta is, according to Modes, the latest addition to | the up-to-date wardrobe, and once its com- fort, as well as elegance, is realized, the demand is certain to be extensive. The silk is light in weight, sheds dust with ease, and is altogether delightful for sum- Some few skirts are frilled from | foot to waist, and each frill has a pinked | edge, but the greatest number allows a | group oi narrow ruffles at the hem. A stylish gown seen a few days ago was of linen crash, with an embroidered polka dot of black. The skirt was plain and full with a medium hem. Beginning about 10 inches below the waist five bias hands of black satin, each half an inch wide, were stitched on, going entirely around the skirt and curving slightly downward as they ran around the side and back widths. An Eton jacket fitted perfectly just to the belt which was a pleated band of black satin. A full front of black satin was covered over with linen open-work embroidery, and the whole effect was at only stylish, cool and { eminently hecoming. Although sleeves are small now, the wide collar or fussy epaulettes give width and breadth, and are infinitely more be- coming than huge, unwieldly puffs or sleeves distended by haircloth. The surplus waist is popular for the simply-made gown of white or tinted mus- lin. Strikingly handsome oval gilt belt buck- les with two prongs for a centre. Some in Russian enamel ; some silver and gilt are now the rage. Mothers will be glad to learn that curls and ruffled shirt waists for this summer haye been relegated to obscurity and are only worn hy very little fellows upon dress occasions. Boys over 2] years old have their hair clipped in short locks, and the suit for them is the sailor suit, with wide collar and shield, either in wool or duck. Those for dress occasions may be made as ornamental as desired, with numerous em- broidered stars and anchors. Mixtures, navy blue and white, the last in the duck particularly, are much affected by mothers for their boys are very pretty. One young- ster in cadet blue, with crimson stripes on the shield and broad band around his sailor collar, looked sweet enough to eat. —1I¢t is said that California alone is now sending migrants to the Klondyde fields at the rate of 2000 a month. ——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers