Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 24, 1897. THE LAND OF “MAKE BELIEVE.” It lies in the distance dim and sweet, On the borders of long ago, And the road is worn by the little feet That have journeyed there to and fro; And though you may seek it by night or day The task you will never achieve, For only the little ones know tiie way To the land of “Make Believe.” Clad in their armor of Faith they ride On the wings of their fancy fleet, And we hear as we listen and wait outside, The echo of laughter sweet. It lightens the burdens of toil we bear, It brightens the hearts that grieve ; Till we wish we could follow and enter there In the land of “Make Believe.” And oh, the wonderful tales that are told Of the marvelous sights they see ! For the weak grow strong and the young grow old, And are each what they wish to be. Oh, the deeds of valor, the mighty things— Too bold for mind to conceive ! But these are everyday happenings In the land of “Make Believe.” Would you follow the print of the tiny feet ? You must walk as they, undefiled. Would you join in their fancies pure and sweet? You must be as a little child. But in vain should we seek it by night or day, The task we should never achieve : For only the little ones know the way To the land of “Make Believe.” — Ida Goldsmith Morris in Youth's Companion. THE TRUTH AT LONE STAR. We were rapidly getting acquainted. Jerry, who if surnamed, has never wasted time telling the news, settled himself on his pine needle couch, topped his hat a lit- tle further forward so that the sun but gilded the tip of his nose, and delivered his introductory remarks. When the light had filtered its way into the understanding, we knew that he was of more than ordinary importance, and his roughing it but the re- sult of a whim j still, nothing but his truthful countenance kept us from salting the tale about the authorities tying down the Atlantic coast to keep it from tipping up when he came west of the Rockies. Billy Edgerton yawned slightly and drew up his knees. He said he believed it was in poor taste to use titles either before or after names, even if youdid have a right to lean ‘em up against both ends, and that is why he was known simply as Billy Ed- gerton. Incidentally, he informed us that a hundred thousand roubles was not such a very large reward for the Russian gov- ernment to offer for a political offender ; but he preferred to take no chances, and therefore came up to Lone Star after he had met and circumvented in San Francis- co the fourth detective of the imperial bu- reau. Then Johnson, of Colusa, straightened himself up, as if he had just awakened from a sweet dream of peace. ‘‘I’ve an uncle,’ said he, “who is worth $500,000, and I'm his only heir. I’d think a great deal more of him, though, if it wasn’t for my aunt, who don’t like him.’”” Here he paused and blew a few rings from his old cob pipe, but the question didn’t come. “You see,”’ he added, ‘“‘my aunt is worth a million dollars and T am her only heir al- 50.7’ After that there was more silence and al- beit we sprawled lazily in front of the cook house, I felt that my autobiography was becoming overdue. As my wordly effects would scarcely comfortably clothe a scare- crow, and nothing short of morocco bind- ing would make my personal history at- tractive. I looked up at the stranger, who, all through it had sat quietly on his dejec- ted mule, hoping for a diversion. ‘‘Howdy, gentlemen,’’ he said, turning large and solemn eyes upon us and disclos- ing a countenance of philosophical gravity. Each of us acknowledged the salutation by slightly shifting his position, and Jerry, whose tongue is that of a multitude, ans- wered ‘‘Howdy.”’ The newcomer removed his sombrero and his hair fell about his head like a shock of over-ripe wheat. Then he gently laid his fiddle-case across the pommel of his saddle and asked : “Is this a purty good place to stop ?’’ ‘‘We stop here,’’ answered Jerry, lacon- ically. ‘Live tol’ by high ?”’ *‘Six thousand feet.’ The late addition straightened up, shook his threadbare coat and lifted one cowhide boot, dust-whitened in the crinkles, from the stirrup, and reached down, softly tapped the earth with it to make sure he was on solid ground. Then he cautiously dismounted. Jerry, who is inclined to be critical, re- garded the mule with disfavor. er noticing the glance, remarked : ‘‘Jere- miah ain’t the finest lookin’ mule in the world, but I couldn’t steal a better. I had a sight finer one in Tunis,” he added, deprecatingly. “In Tunis !”’ echoed Johnson. have youn heen ?”’ “In Nashuay, 'n Tunis, 'n Cape God, ’n Lishon some time hack. That was before I went to Kobe—went thar from Paris, which is a fair sort of a place. I ha- ted to leave.’’ Johnson drew his breath and demanded: “Why did you ?”’ ‘Mutual objections tween me an’ the gov’ment. Two days war all they give me to take my last farewell,”’ he said, slowly rosining his bow. ‘‘What did you come up here for ?”’ ‘To git out of civilization,’ responded the stranger. ‘‘I’m disgusted. People lie so thar’s trouble everywhere, ’n the only man you’re sure is anywhar near square with the law is the feller just out’n jail.” There didn’t seem to be any use of ask- ing further questions of the newcomer, but I think the opinion was general that to him truth was stranger than fiction. He laid down his fiddle on the log and looked attentively at his mule. “If it wasn’t for being so oneasy about Jeremiah, who needs a drink, I might play a little tune on the fiddle,”” he said. Ed- gerton took the hint and a bucket and went down to the creek. A trifle of glow in the western sky was all that was left of the day when ‘‘Home Sweet, Home,’’ rounded up the perform- ance. ing with his hands clasped behind his head and thought I saw a tear in his eye ; see- ing but dimly myself, I wasn’t certain. But, then and there, Lone Star adopted Ezekiel and Jeremiah. We told him of a deserted corral up the road a mile, and he became one of us. Some days, when he felt unusually ener- getie, he would run a rocker down by the creek for a tune, but he preferred to play or sing, and the camp approved of his judg- ment. “Where His own- | 1 looked at Edgerton, who was ly- | pleasant man who ever saw the sun set in { the Pacific. He was so mean that he — | would quarrel with himself when no one | else was around, and strangers passing by | his cabin used to pause and wonder at the one-voiced row within. He married a Cas- tilian, who was very fortunate and died a | tew years after the wedding, leaving their | daughter, Nita, alone with the old scoun- | drel. The blackest pirate always has the | greatest treasure, and Nita was as pretty i as her father was ugly, as good as he was | bad. | On a claim adjoining Scroggin’s lived | Atkinson, who was a hard-working young | fellow with a title to plenty of pay-dirt. | Of course there was a new edition of the ! old yarn of the fervent youth and the love- {ly maid. As soon as Scroggins suspected the attachment he began to concentrate his enmity, which he had hitherto directed impartially against all men, in Atkinson’s direction. After he found other plans in- effective, he began seeking a way to reduce Atkinson’s earthly nécessities. to a pine hoard coffin. ei i Adjoining claims furnished a pretext for a quarrel. One morning Scroggins eased his revolver in its holster shouldered his shovel and went out. Instead of stopping on his own property, he deliberately walked some twenty feet over the line and went to work in Atkinson’s territory. At- kinson looked at him in amazement, and Scroggins stopped shoveling to return the aze. s “Ef yer think, Bob Atkinson, that a shadder of a skeleton like yerself hez a pat- ent ter all the pay dirt in these diggin’s, ver away off yer level. Jest take up this trail, ef yer lookin’ for trouble. All we want of you aroun’ hyar ez yer tracks. i Sabe 27? Scroggins made a mistake. His temper was quicker than his hand, and he opened the battle before he brought up his artil- lery ; for as the sight of his revolver left the holster he heard a little click and raised his eyes to look into the mouth of Atkinson’s weapon. Edgerton, coming down tke trail, heard Bob speak sharply : “Git! And if you ever set foot on my place again, you’ll have to be carried off !”’ Scroggins looked into his eyes, and then backed slowly and sullenly away. That afternoon Jerry and Johnson on their way up from the valley, stopped to rest at Cayuse Bend. As they stood, the silence was broken by the clatter of hoofs, and around the bend, side by side, came two horses. The riders were Bob and Nita. “Good-bye, boys,” said the former, as he reined up. ‘‘Nita and I are on our wedding journey to happier times, we hope. May we ask that you say nothing of having met us? Luck go with you.” The mist crawled upward through the manzanita and mesquite and hovered over the trail. Bob and Nita slackened their pace and went forward cautiously. It was when the fog was at its thickest that they heard the beating of reckless hoofs behind them. Bob turned his horse’s head, and grasped his revolver. A dozen gigantic forms loomed indistinctly into view through the fog. As he raised his arm, Nita seized it, crying : “Don’t shoot! Surely my father—’ “Hands up!’ rang out the command, and half a dozen weapons were leveled at Bob. “What kind of an outrage is this ?'’ he demanded, recognizing familiar faces. “Well, you are a cool one,’’ said Edger- ton. “‘Kill a man and run away with his darter, and then call it an outrage when you are follered up! Reckon you thought it was just a personal matter, leavin’ old man Scroggins up there in his cabin dead !"’ “Dead !”’ exclaimed Atkinson. ‘‘Why, I hadn’t even heard of it! Why am I ac- cused ?”’ “You’ll find out soon come with us.’ Atkinson’s horses stood quietly, head and head together. Nita had fainted, and for a moment Bob glanced tenderly down at the white face on his shoulder. Then he looked at the circle of unrelenting faces and said, quietly : “I am innocent. I’ll go back and prove it.”’ Of course, Colonel Ike Stebbins, as the mainspring of the social machinery of Lone Star, presided at the trial. It was he who stood at the head of the new made grave with reverent face and upraised hand, while the clods fell dully on the pine coffin ; he it was he who sat with ease and dignity in the chairman’s place at public meetings ; a baile without the colonel to lead was like the play of ‘‘Hamlet’’ with that gentleman represented only by his re- grets ; and it was admitted without discus- sion that no one but Colonel Stebbins could properly impersonate the austerity of Judge Lynch. From the beginning there seemed to be no doubt of Atkinson’s guilt. Edgerton testified to the quarrel of the morning, and Bill Simpson loquaciously related how he thought something was up when Bob sold his claim to him at half its value, explain- ing that he was in a hurry to leave. Then Jerry and Johnson told of the meeting on the hillside, and each of the posse swore, with due appreciation of his own import- ance. to Atkinson’s guilty actions when they came up to him in the fog. Hezekiah Smith, of the hill-top, clinched the evi- dence by testifying that he saw the pris- oner standing before Scroggin’s door at noon. The jurors had ceased whittling tooth- picks and exchanging jokes ; their growing solemnity foreshadowed the verdict. Colo- nel Stebbins had with a sigh dismissed the last witness, when Ezekiel strolled calmly in through the open door. He nodded fa- miliarly to two or three acquaintances, and then addressed the judge : ‘‘Colonel,”’ he said, easily, ‘‘guess I'd better straighten this thing out a little. Where d’ye plant the witnesses ?’’ Colonel Ike, surprised, looked at him. ‘““‘Let the witness be sworn,’’ he said. “Well, what do you know about this ?’* “I know all about it.”’ “Who killed Scroggins ?’ “I did,” said Ezekiel, calmly. i For ten seconds there was silence, and | then a smile that broke into a ripple of ) enough. You laughter ran around the room. Ezekiel was maintaining his reputation. The colo- nel rapped angrily for order with the muz- zle of his revolver upon the head of the sugar barrel. “If you are trifling—"’ “I ain’t trifling,”’ protested Ezekiel ear- hestly. ‘I never told a lie in my life. It was jest after dinner, an’ I was lookin’ for Jeremiah. As I went by Scroggins’s door, he came out, lookin’ ez smilin’ ez an un- dertaker with the toothache. ‘Seed my gal lately !’ says he, foolin’ with his gun. I didn’t want to hurt his feelin’s by tellin’ him I’d seen her ten minutes before with Bob, so I sez, polite-like: ‘Sartainly, saw her last week. Lookin’ well, ain’t she? ’Stid of bein’ pleased, the old man was riled and used language that would have shocked wheat in a harvest field. But I didn’t care until he said he could git more music out’n a weather-hoarded house with a club 'n I could out’n my fiddle 'n’ how. ; 5 : | I think that Scroggins was the most un- | Then I was mad ’'n’ talked back. After | assurin’ me that I'd disfiggered the lan’- | scapes long enough, only adddin’ to them | plain words some onnecessary trimmin’s he | shot at me 'n’ I shot back, 'n’ this what I killed him with.”’ Lzekiel drew out an old horse pistol and ! handed it to the foreman of the jury. A | murmur of interest ran through the crowd, and the jurors whispered among themselves. Just then a little red-faced man pushed his way through the crowd at the door. “There he is!’ he shouted, excitedly. *‘There’s the man that stole my mule.” We followed his finger with our eyes. He was pointing at Ezekiel, who regarded him philosophically. ‘Well, I didn’t say I didn’t did I ?’’ he asked, mildly. The newcomer threw his hat in the cor- ner and danced with excitement. ‘I was this way, jedge. T’other day I tied my The Prune Harvest. | California CQOrchards Froduce 90,000 Tons This | Year.—Boarding House Keepers Smile at Reports | of a Big Yield, but Weep Over the Increased Import Duty Laid by the Dingley Tariff Sched- ule. There are some facts which will be re- | garded by the people who frequent actors’ boarding houses with mixed emotions. The California prune crop, which is now being harvested. promises to he larger than usual, and it is estimated that 90,000 tons | of the fruit will be put on the market hy | the harvest time is over. From this it would be reasonable to expect that the price of that ever present and familiar delicacy should be lower than ever. On the other hand, the Dingley tarift schedule raises the duty on imported prunes one-half cent a pound, practically mule down at Ransome’s Ferry, while I went into Pike’s place to git some refresh- ments. When I came out a little later, -the mule wuz gone, an’ I never seed him again ontil to-day, when I stumbled on him, accidental like, at this fellow’s place up the trail. I want him ‘rested quick !”’ We were all too much astonished to say anything, but finally Ezekiel broke the si- lence. “Don’t be too hasty,” he said. I stole the mule, yes. Thischap left him tied out thar all day while he was doin’ the anacon- da act in at Pike’s, an’ jest out of pity for Jeremiah, I rode him off. But that’s enough on that subject, as the undertaker remarked when he saw a ten foot tomb- stone over the grave of a debtor of his'n; we're considerin’ another matter. I didn’t say nothin’ about Scroggins’s death for two reasons ; I wanted Nita to leave ’thout it, an’ Jeremiah hed strayed off, an’ it’s a | long ways to tell news that’ll keep an hour or so.” The jury had been examining the pistol, and Ezekiel’s statement was so apparently sincere that their minds began to waver. Thay looked at Atkinson. then at the stranger, and then at Ezekiel, serenely confident. For a moment they buzzed to- gether, then the foreman, closely followed | by the other eleven, walked over and held out his hand to Atkinson. In another sec- ond Jerry was on the box cheering frantic- ally. The crowd joined in, and the excite- ment grew until the hilltop man fell out of the window backward. After awhile the colonel made himself heard. ‘The prisoner’s discharged. there’s another case to be considered.” ‘*She’s waitin’ up thar for you.” whis- pered Ezekiel, and Atkinson stayed just long enough to wring a dozen outstretched hands and give his choking thanks to Eze- kiel. But, Colonel Ike rose in his place and the | hum of conversation was stilled. *“The death of this man Scroggins ap- pears to have happened in a proper manner but the mule stealing is more serious. And while in the first instance you are en- titled to the thanks of Lone Star, because of the second it is the opinion of the court that you'd better leave in three hours, Eze- kiel.”’ “I'll go,” said Ezekiel, ‘‘but not ’less I can take Jeremiah. I ain’t agoin’ to walk.” Colonel Ike was a man of resources. He dropped a dollar in his sombrero and then passed it among the boys. When he had counted its contents he addressed the own- er of the mule. ‘Your mule is worth just eighteen dollars, a plugged half, and two Mexican dobies, and we’ve decided to buy him. Then he turned to Ezekiel. ‘‘With the compliments of Lone Star Camp,’ he said smiling. Ezekiel howed his thanks, shook hands all around and passed through the door. He unhitched Jeremiah from where his late owner had tied him, and clambered into the saddle, with his fiddle under his left arm. Something I saw in his face made me walk alongside to the top of the grade. He looked at me for a moment, quizzically. ‘Does what you hear go in at one ear 'n’ out ’tother, ’stid of your mouth ?”’ ‘Secrets that travel take that trail.” ‘Well, then, I didn’t steal Jeremiah. I saw him at the ferry, took a fancy to him, an’ when the chances offered next day. dickered for him with a man who ’peared to be his owner. But I saw that my repu- tation needed a smudge to make ’em b’lieve me about Seroggins.’’ : “Then you didn’t—’’ began I, catching my breath. “Sartinly not,”” he said, coolly. “I didn’t kill him and I don’t know who did —probably some one he did up, settlin’ an old score. I'm sure Bob didn’t do it, but I couldn’t prove it any other way. And he’s a mighty nice fellow, an’ Nita, bless her little heart—Git up Jeremiah.”’— Paul Shoup in the Argonant. Malaria. It is all over the United States except in the mountainous regions. Wherever youn find rich soil you find malaria ; and the higher up you go the less malaria you find. The nearer the ground the more malaria ; hence sleep upstairs if possible. Malaria is thickest in the valleys and near river courses and stagnant pools of water, and where there are cesspools. It affects people in different ways. In some it affects the liver, makes it sluggish, makes the excrement a bright yellow, coats the tongue, colors the eyes, and gives one sleepy feeling. It takes away all energy. In others it gives them a backache, a head- ache, and affects them in different ways, producing pains of different kinds. The way to avoid it is to eat simple foods. Avoid stimulating liquor. Avoid much sugar and candies and sweets. All sweets are turned to alcohol, and alcohol is hard on the liver. Avoid night air as much as possible, and not sleep near an open window. Ventilate your room by having the window open a very little. Avoid changes in the atmosphere as much as possible. Warm the house in the even- ings and on cold mornings. Do not get the svstem chilled by being in cold and danip air in the spring and summer time. A Sad Death. One of the saddest deaths that has oceur- red in Harrisburg for many years, was that of Edwin Fager’s little daughter Agnes, who was buried on Wednesday afternoon. The little girl, who was only seven years old, fretted herself to death. it 1s said, be- cause of the fact that her mother cannot get well. From the time the attending physicians told the family that the mother was beyond hope of recovery the child lost all interest in life and actually died of a broken heart. No Change in Postage Stamps. As the universal postal congress, re- cently in session in Washington, agreed on a scheme of colors for postage stamps to be used by all nations in the postal union, and carmino was decided for the 2-cent stamps, the proposed change to green will not be made. shutting out the foreign crop This means that the California prune growers will he able to keep prices up. The actual effect will probably result in no considerable i change in prune prices, and three times a day, just as of yore, the stewed fruit, swimming in its own seal brown juices, will confront the hungry historian. But it is really too bad to add to the in- dignities which are heaped upon the hum- ble prune. Personally I confess to a lik- ing for the plebian prune in all its stages, whether fresh, dried or cooked, and I know that lots of other folks do, for we not only consume here in the United States the many thousands of tons which the Califor- nia growers produce, but shiploads of those raised in France and Turkey. All prunes which are sold under the name of French prunes, however, are not raised in France. To the glory of our own wide domains it may be truly said that the Caiifornia prune is on top. No where in the world cau it be grown in such sacchar- ine magnificence or in greater abundance than on the sauny slopes of the San Joa- quin valley and adjacent territory. Few people who have never visited this summer land realize the extent or importance of this industry. The California state board of horticul- { ture finds that there are 53,000 acres of bearing prune orchards in the state to-day and about 8,000 more acres coming into bearing. Conservative estimates put the total prunecrop in a favorite year at 90,000 tons, and in a few years the full yield will | be 110,000 tons. Now cast your gibes at the prune if you will ! A decade ago the California prune cut | but little figure in the market. In 1887 | there were less than 7.000 acres of prune i orchards in the state, hut since that time { the prune raising business has increased hy { leaps and bounds until to-day $20,000,000 is the estimated capital engaged in it. In { Santa Clara country alone there are 15,000 acres of prune orchards. Some of these orchards are the largest in the world and contains as many as 50,000 trees. The or- chards of southern France do not hold a candle to them. . The term ‘dried prunes’ is a misnomer when applied to the California product, and the American producers are making a vain effort to get rid of it. Foreign prunes | are undoubtedly dried, for they are pre- pared for the market by being half baked in ovens or kilns. Not a pound of Cali- farnia fruit ever reaches an oven. It is all sun cured, and cured prunes is the name which the California growers are trying to persuade the American public to adopt. There are few things horticultural more fascinating to look upon than a prune or- chard when the trees are laden with ripe fruit. Just av this juncture the orchards swarm with thousands of busy workers— men, women and children. First there are spread under the trees acres of cheap white cloth. The men and boys climb into the trees and shake the branches, sending down a shower of the delicious purple fruit, which falls without harm on the covering laid over the soft ground. To gather the fruit these sheets are simply lifted up by the corners and the i prunes poured into padded boxes. Next | tne fruit is poured into strong wire cages holding several hundred pounds each. These are first dipped into tanks of run- ning water and the possible dirt and dust washed away. In another moment the huge cranes are shifted and the cages let down into caldrons of hot water heavy with concentrated lye This operation re- moves the bloom and cracks the skin in order that the drying may take place more quickly. In its natural state the skin is so smooth and tough that it takes more than a week to properly cure the fruit in the sun. From the lye caldrons the cages are quickly transferred to tanks of hot clean water, which washes away the lye and gives a gloss to the dried fruit. The curing process comes next. The prunes are dumped from the cages into a hopper, and as they pour out at different spouts at the bottom boys and girls catch them in shallow wooden trays a yard square. With deft fingers the children spread the fruit evenly over the trays. A little tramway quickly carries the trays out to the drying yards. There the ground is covered for acres with white cloths, and on these the trays are placed. The clear, hot sunrise does the rest of the work, and in from two days and a half to three days the fruit is ready for packing. Before the fruit is packed it is thoroughly dried in what are called ‘'sweet boxes.”” Then it. is put in boxes lined with oiled paper and isready for the market. Prices of prunes have heen steadily fall- ing for the past few wvears. In 1892 the average price which growers received for fruit fresh from the trees was $35 a ton, but when the Wilson tariff law lowered the duty from 2} cents a pound, the Me- Kinley law schedule, to 1} cents a pound, the price fell to $18 and even $15 a ton. A Curious Post Office. The smallest, simplest and hest protect- ed post office in the world is in the Strait of Magellan, and has been there for many years. It consists of a small painted keg or cask, and is chained to the rocks of the extreme cape in a manner so that it floats free. opposite Terra del Fuego. Each pass- ing ships sends a hoat to take letters out and put others in. This curious post office is not provided with post master, and is, therefore, under the protection of all the navies of the world. Never in the history of the unique ‘office’ have its privileges been abused. To Honor the Names of Our Noble Dead. Tennyson runs a Georgia distillery. George Washington has heen tried in Georgia for perjury. Abrabam Lincoln has been arrested for shooting a man in Dade county. Stonewall Jackson is in jail for slashing his wife with a razor. Jefferson Davis is suing for a divorce. Napoleon Bonaparts—=80 years old, and black as spades—has been arrested for hog stealing. After all what's in a name? Atlanta Constitution. ——Subseribe for the WATCHMAN. .wedding was one of the most magnificent- A Young Duke of Marlborough. In the Natural Course of Events the Youngster | Will Inherit Much of William K. Vanderbilt's Money.—The Social Position He Wili Occupy in Life is Next to That Enjoyed by the Royal Fam- ily. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough ! are rejoicing over the birth of their young ! son who saw the light of day on Satar- | day the 18th. From a wordly point of view the son born Saturday to the houses of Marlbor- | ough and Vanderbilt is the most fortunate youngster alive. In the first place he is heir to one of the greatest titles, short of royalty in the world—a title that carries with it half a dozen other distinctions, any one of which will secure its owner con- sideration in any quarter of the globe. The Duke and Duchess of Marlhorough were married at St. Thomas’ Church in New York City November 6th, 1895. The ly appointed ever witnessed in the metrop- olis. The dowry given by Mr. Vanderbilt to his daughter was $10,000,000. The prin- cipal was to be held in trust for her child- ren. The Duke of Marlborough gave her the maximum revenue from the Marlbor- ough estates. On the Tuesday following the arrange- ments in the lawyers’ office, the parties in- terested met at the residence of Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt, where the contract was signed and sealed. It was reported at the same time that Mr. Vanderbilt made the Duke a present of $5,000,000, but the re- port has never been substantiated and there is no record of this donation i Besides her dowry the Duchess of Marl- borough had a yearly income from her fa- ther of $50,000. In the settlement with his wife at the time of the divorce, Mr. Vanderbilt allowed her $200,000 a year, $50,000 of which was to be paid as income to each child on its marriage. Since their marriage the Duchess and Duke of Marl- borough have entertained in a regal man- ner at Bleinheim, the Marlborough coun- try place. During the jubilee the young duchess was a great favorite in London so- ciety. The little fellow was born Marquis of Blanford, but beside this he is heir appar- rent to the titles of Duke of Marlborough, Earl of Sunderland, Baron Spencer of Wormleighton, Baron Churchill of Sand- ridge, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire and Prince of Mindelheim in Suabia. The first Duke of Marlborough was John Churchill ; the 1 ew heir will be the tenth, if he survives his father. The first Duke was England’s great Gen- eral, and to his military achievements the Marlboroughs owe their position. Blen- heim, the castle of the Marlboroughs, is named in honor of the first Duke’s great victory over the forces of Louis XIV. By special grant the dukedom passed to his next of kin on John Churchill’s death, he | being without male issue. So runs the | title to-day. To the next of kin it goes irrespective of sex. Therefore, had the present Dukedied childless the title, the castle of Blenheim and the hereditary pension of $20,000 would have gone to Cornelia, Lady Winbhorne, the eldest sister of the late Lord Randolph Churchill, and Ivor Guest, Marlborough’s best man at the wedding, would he Mar- quis of Blandford. Has Hypnotic Jags. Strange Case of a Reformed Toper Who Gets Drunk In His Mind. | | | | i Physicians who have looked into the | case of Cyrus Gates, an old man living near Blue Hill, Me., says he is a hypnotic drunkard, a man who gets intoxicated from the effects of his own imagination. Years ago Gates was well to do and looked upon the wine when it was red and took sundry glances at other liquors of diverse colors and powers. Before his property was all gone cataracts came upon both of his eyes, making him totally blind. For the last ten years he has lived in utter} darknesss and has been fairly temperate because he could not afford to purchase liquor. Two or three times a year the old hank- ering comes on, and then he scrapes to- gether what money he can spare and sends to Ellsworth for a quart or a half gallon of strong New England rum. No sooner has he given his order than he proceeds to be- come jolly. laughing and singing like a man who is half tipsy. His pulse rises steadily until it reaches 100 beats a min- ute, and his eyes become set and watery. Finally, after having a royal time and smashing a lot of furniture, he staggers off to bed and lies in a stupor until the rum arrives. Though he may have taken noth- ing stronger than tea and water, he wakes up with headache and trembling limbs, like a man who has been on a protracted spree, and uses the rum which he has bought for the purpose of sobering up. The Philippine Islands. The trade of the Philippine Islands is principally in the hand of English, Spanish and German houses, who advance money on the native crops, requiring large capital and involving risks, but paying immense profits. The average sugar production is, in round numbers, 175,000,000 tons, about one-fourth of the Cuban product, but the crop is not profitable, owing largely to the ignorance of the planters. The tobacco is famous and the exports are about 120,000 tons, besides 140,000,000 cigars. Abaca, or Manilla hemp, is largely and profitably produced ; the indigo is famous for its su- perior qualities ; the coffee has a fine aroma, though not équal to Mocha, the cocoa tree flourishes everywhere, the oil being used for lighting houses and streets, and the land is wonderfully productive, but the in- habitants are ignorant and indolent. Cot- ton spinning and bamboo work are among the leading industries and the long, flexi- ble, sensitive fingers of the women are ad- mirably adapted to delicate work, and the hats and cigarette cases and the em- embroidery work done by them are models of delicacy. Swallowed His False Teeth. John R. Eich, who is well known in fire departments circles in York. was the vie- tim of a very queer and somewhat bother- some mishap recently. Mr. Eich bas a set of false teeth and in some manner swal- lowed thém. He was taken to the hospi- tal, where an examination was made. As the teeth are not at present giving him any trouble, he proposes to let them stay in his stomach. However if they lodge in a dan- gerous place a surgical operation will he necessary. Foot Amputated. Miss Proctor, of near Hastings, seratch- ed her left foot with a briar about six weeks ago. Gangrene set in and on Wed- nesday she was brought to Altoona, and the foot was amputated by Dr. Rice. She | is doing well and it is hoped that the rest of her limb may be saved. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. Miss Harriet A. Boyd, the young woman who volunteered her services as a nurse at | the outbreak of the Greek war, and who, | with a Cretan woman, was alone in charge of a hospital at Volo, which contained some 50 or 60 wounded, is from Boston, and was graduated from Smith college in 1892. She was a student in the American archaeological school at Athens when war broke out. There are some points of difference in the making of the skirts this season. To begin with, they are narrower ; very rare- ly is an exaggeratedly wide skirt seen, and then it is one that is cut in one piece, circular—a style only to be attempted by some genius in skirt hanging. = Fewer gores—never more than five ; the front and side breadths much straighter, still tight-fitting over the hips, and all fulness well to the back, where it is laid in small box-pleats. There is still used a narrow facing of hair-cloth, and a stiff ruffled petticoat is necessary as ever to keep the dress skirt from falling in around the feet. Sleeves are small to the shoulder ; in tailor gowns they are very pretty—a much modi- fied coat sleeve, with just a little fulness at the top. Almost all skirts are trimmed, or made of some figured material that gives the effect of trimming. Braid is now sewed on at both sides, instead of only one like last winter, and the narrow is preferred to the wide, unless when the wide braids and -very narrow soutache are combined. Street gowns are short, to clear the ground ; house gowns are all long ; while dinner gowns, etc., are made with trains. For street wear dark colors will be the most fashion- able, but for receptions and the house all the light colors are in style, both for old and young. Buttons, buckles, and hril- liant trimmings will be greatly used, while lace, both black and white, will continue to be worn with every possible style of gown. The old-time favorite cashmere (hoth plain and bordered) is once more in the good graces of Madame la Mode. It isa little softer, finer and heavier than the goods sold under this name a few years ago. If you can only have one gown for street and dress occasions, don’t choose this material, however, for, while it combines with almost anything and drapes beauti- fully, it is not heavy enough stuff for street use, and is better adapted to house gowns. Light silks will be worn later than usual this season, in fact, almost until Christ- mas. For September wear glowingly bril- liant reds will be de riguer. These in the latest effects are much softer and less try- ing than formerly. Dark blue and green, black and white in combination, reds that tone to pink and mauve that approaches to red are others of the best style and most- sought shades for early autumn wear. Clusters of bias satin folds, half an inch in width, effectively trim the skirts of figured taffeta evening gowns, and the waists have belts of satin to correspond. The heavily draped sable figure swathed in crepe from head to toe is rarely seen any more. The deep crepe veil that once was thought the necessary outward in- | dication of inward woe has passed, to join | a multitude of other similarly ridiculous and unhealthy modes that women have | discarded. when their common sense and their family physicians have joined in a despotic embargo. Blouse vests made of cloth will be the height of fashion for early winter, and will certainly also be among the most favored shapes next spring when warmer wraps are discarded. The distinguishing feature is the stiffness given to the collar and basques, which are interlined so as to be quite firm, a fashion that corrects the disarranged ap- pearance of the loose, bulgy vest. The collars are generally rolled over, and often have a notch cut in the back ; they are faced with the same cloth, and when the vest is braided are trimmed to correspond. The basques, on the other hand, are as frequently plain as fancy, whether cut into tabs or setting round uncut, and are always very short. Winter fashions in basques. In this particular these between season garments differ much from the winter coats, most of which will be made with moderately long basques, and some few with basques reach- ing down to the knees. In all probability the latter will remain exceptions for the coming season, but they may suffice to ac- custom the public to view half-long gar- ments with favor and lead to their general adoption later on. . Instead of losing ground, the blouse form of bodice is more in favor than ever. This fact is of very great importance as in- fluencing the production and sale of fabrics suited to them. Under the head of blouses are included shirts, which are not to be set aside for winter, but they will be executed, of course, in different materials. For ordi- nary wear there will be the shirts in cash- mere and other light woolens, plain, check- ed, plaid and figured. When intended as the complement of a dressy costume they will be in good silks or heavy satins. Nevertheless, in both cases, the style of make is that of the cambric or taffeta shirt. There is a wide flat plait in front, with tucks, more or less numerous, sewn lengthway on either side of it, and also a tucked back. A man may not know what the material is ina gown, but he does know perfectly well whether the woman carries a dainty handkerchief or wears a good-fitting glove, every finger of which is intact and every button of which is in its place. A little bow, a bit of white in the neck and sleeves, a taut, neat, thoroughly well put together garment strikes his eye at once. It mat- ters not whether it is satin or calico, if he does not get a glimpse of a grease spot, tears or of ends of braid straggling from the mysterious recesses of the skirt. A pan of water stood in a hot oven wiil reduce the heat. A little sweet milk brushed over the tops of pies and biscuits before putting them into the oven will give them a good color. A baked potato kept warm in the folds of a napkin, a tender piece of rare steak and a tomato salad are tempting to a convalescent. Old feather pillows and holsters can be renovated so that they become as soft as when new. Trousers should be folded flat and laid away on a closet shelf. The | stomach is frequently the seat of so-called nervous troubles. Grease can be removed from clothing by a mixture of equal parts of ether. ammonia and alcohol, rubbed into the grease spot and allowed to evap- orate. Medicine spcts or stains can be removed from silver spoons by rubbing them with a soft cloth dipped in sulphuric acid, then carefully washed off with soap suds.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers