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.
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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.