Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 8, 1897.
THE WATER-MILL.
Summer winds revive no more
Leaves strewn over earth and main,
And the sickle ne’er ean reap
The gathered grain again ;
And the rippling stream flows on,
Tranquil, deep, and still,
Never gliding back again
To the water-mill.
Truly speaks the proverb old,
With a meaning vast.
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.”
Oh, the wasted hours of life
That have swiftly drifted by !
Oh, the good we might have done,
Gone, and lost without a sigh !
Love that we once might have saved,
By a single kindly word!
Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed,
Perishing unpenned, unheard :
Take the proverb to the soul—
Take and clasp it fast :
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.”
Oh, love thy God and fellow-man,
Thyself consider last ;
For come it will wher thon must sean.
Dark errors of the past
And when the flight of life is o'er.
And earth recedes from view,
And heaven in all its glory shines,
"Most pure and good, and true,
Then proverb deep and vast :
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.”
Take the lesson to thyself,
Loving hearts and true :
Golden hours are fleeting by,
Youth i: pa-sing, too :
Learn to make the most of life,
Lose no happy day ;
Time will ne’er return sweet joys,
Neglected—thrown away.
Leave no tender word unsaid,
But love while love shall last :
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.”
Work while yet the sun doth shine,
Man of strength and will :
Never doth the streamlet glide
Useless by the mill.
Wait not till to-morrow’s sun
Beams brightly on the way ;
All that thou canst call thine own
Lies in the phrase “To-day !”
Power, intellect, and blooming health
May not, will not always last :
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.”
— Anonymous.
SOMBRE.
Long golden beams from the setting sun
swept over the plains of Andalusia, along
the serpentine line of green willows which
marks the course of the Rio Guadalquivir,
and fell upon the Giralda Tower of the
great cathedral of Sevilla, many miles in
the background. In their path along the
banks of the limpid river, those heams il-
lumined a stretch of vast pastures, enclosed
by whitened stone walls, and dotted with
magnificent cattle. Finally, ina far cor-
ner of one of these enclosures, they sought
out the figure of a young girl passing
through an arched stone gateway. As she
turned from closing the gate, she threw
back from her head and shoulders a dark lace
mantilla, and paused to gaze upon the scat-
tered groups of grazing beasts, the level
rays, meanwhile, playing in lights and
shadows upon the waving masses of dark
chestnut hair, upon the richly heath-tinted
young face and the creamy neck, and pene-
trating deeply into the large, dark eyes.
That their touch was not new to her, her
olive-tanned skin bore witness, but never
had they discovered such signs of distresss
in the lustrous eyes, underscored darkly
with emotional fatigue. and painfully dry,
as if tears were exhausted.
She gazed but a moment from group to
group, then took several quick steps to-
ward a near one, crying out eagerly in
tones which Juliet might have used to
Romeo :—
*‘Sombre! Sombre !”’
A pair of long, gleaming horns rose ab-
ruptly amid the browsing herd, and a mag-
nificent bull came toward the young girl at
a brisk trot. The sunbeams glinted upon
his intensely dark coat as it swelled and
sank under the play of powerful muscles.
His neck and shoulders were leonine in
their massive strength, his legs and hind
quarters as sleek and symmetrical as those
of a racehorse, but his ferociousness was for
the moment held in check by that devoted
love which, in their actions and expres-
‘sion, dumb animals show for those who
love them.
In a moment the young girl’s white
arms were thrown around the animal’s
dusky neck as far as they would go, and
her cheek was laid on the silken skin.
‘‘O Sombre,’’ do you know what they
are going to do? Papa wants to send you
to the Plaza de Toros! I have begged him
in vain to spare you, but he is a heartless
papa. Does he think, after Anita has
brought you up from a tiny little black
calf to be such a beautiful foro, such a dear
good toro, that she can give you to those
cruel picadores, those maddening capea-
dores, and the heartless matador, to be tor-
tured, and made crazy, and killed for the
amusement of brutal men and women ?”’
She was sobbing bitterly, and the devot-
ed beast was striving vainly to turn his
head far enough to lick the fair neck bend-
ing down upon his. Then the sobbing
ceased, and she stroked the strong shoul-
ders with her small hand.
*‘Never fear, Sombre,’’ she said, ‘if they
take you to Sevilla, Anita will find a way
to save you. Now let me wipe your
mouth so that you may say good night.”’
With her delicate handkerchief, she
wiped the grass and earth stains from the
big beast’s mouth, then held out her hand.
In deepest dumb brute devotion he thrust
out his huge tongue and licked the little
hand and arm. Then she bent forward
and kissed him on the frowning, hairy
forehead hetween his eyes, and departed,
waving a last farewell with the handker-
chief as she passed out through the gate-
way.
Anita’s path homeward lay through an-
other field, which, when she had crossed it
earlier, had been empty, but now a herd of
cattle was moving through it in a restless,
zigzag way which showed that it was be-
ing driven. Always fearless in the pres-
ence of cattle, Anita scarcely heeded the
approach of this disgruntled herd, but hur-
ried along holding her skirts up from time
to time as she crossed damp places. In do-
ing so she displayed not only a pair of well
booted little feet, but part of an elaborate-
ly embroidered, red silk underskirt. Sud-
denly she heard a low bellow of animal
rage, and a rapid, heavy beating of hoofs
on the soft turf; in one swift backward
dering toward her, with horns close to the
ground ; then fear paralyzed her, and she
tottered and fell forward, burying her face
in her hands, and moaning an incoherent
prayer.
Far across the field a young herdsmen,
in broad sombrero and short jacket, riding
a strong horse hither and in brisk canters
to round up straggling cattle in rear of the
herd, had seen the girl enter from the ad-
| joining pasture, and had instantly realized
| her danger.
Even before the maddened
bull had charged upon his intended victim,
the horseman, with an agonized exclama-
tion in English, had given his steed rein
and was riding at breakneck speed along
the flank of the advancing herd to throw
himself between it and Anita. When the
{ angry bull broke from the rest with his
| murderous intent, the horseman set his
| beardless lips hard upon one another and
| lifted from the pommel of his saddle the
coils of a long lariat. The next moment,
with a wild plunge between the infuriated
bull—a plunge before which the mass of
jostling mass, like baffled billows beaten
back from a cliff —the young man rode on
till nearly abreast of the mad animal.
There was a quick sweep of the hand con-
taining the coiled lariat, a straightening
out of the coils as they swished through
the air, until a single remaining loop
seemed to float for a moment like a halo
above the charging beast’s head, then fell
around the spreading horns. Instantly the
lariat tightened, the intelligent horse fell
| back almost upon his haunches, sliding
| many yards through the soft turf, the
{ huge bull’s lowered head swung abruptly
under his left forefoot, his long horns
| plowed deeply into the ground, and his
body rolled onward in a sidewise somer-
i sault, and flung itself out at full length,
| perfectly limp. So close was the beast to
{ his intended victim that clods of earth
from his hoofs fell upon her dress.
i The young man sprang from his horse,
{ and lifted the almost fainting girl in his
| arms, exclaiming in Spanish and with un-
| mistakable terms of endearment :—
‘‘Anita, are you hurt ?”’
She clung to him as a castaway would to
| a suddenly discovered spar, trembled vio-
| lently from head to foot, then slid to the
| ground unconscious. Dropping down be-
side her, he raised her to a reclining posi-
tion in his arms, tore away the mantilla
from her head and shoulders, and fanned
{ her with his big, flexible sombrero. Mean-
| while his horse having inspected and snort-
ed over the fallen bull, came forward and
sniffed at the group in sympathy.
Anita drew a long convulsive breath and
opened her eyes.
her rescuer’s she murmured some hardly
audible words of tender greeting, from
her feet, erying in apprehension :—
‘‘Where is he ?”’
“There ; dead and harmless.”’
‘‘Are you sure? How did you kill
him 2”?
“I broke his neck—one of my cowboy
tricks learned on the plains at home.
Don Alonzo will be furious, for it was El
Sol, and he was advertised for the Plaza de
Toros next Sunday.”’
Anita clasped her hands and asked, with
bated breath, for her heart seemed to cease
beating :—
“And
00 ?"’
“Yes ; haven’t you seen the posters?
There is one on the outer gateway ; but
here I have one in my pocket."’
He drew from an inside pocket of his
short jacket. a bright-red sheet covered
with black letters, and held it up before
her. Pressing one hand to her throat, and
leaning eagerly forward, Anita read with
burning eyes, the words that stamped up-
on her mind as a dreadful certainty what
had existed there before only as a vague
dread.
No, there was no mistaking the import
of those terse, abbreviated Spanish senten-
ces.
PLAZA DE TOROS DE SEVILLA
was—was Sombre advertised,
SUNDAY, THE SEVENTEENTH OF MAY,
ANNIVERSARY OF THE KING'S
BIRT
HDAY,
SIX BULLS TO BE KILLED.
The two magnificent brother bulls SOL and
SOMBRE, and others very ferocious,
AGAINRT
THE INTREPID MATADORES.
LARIATO, THE AMERICAN,
AND
| AMADOR OF SEVILLA.
As her eager eyes flashed down the sheet
the blood rushed to her forehead, her
hands clenched and unclenched.
“It is cruel of them, cruel,”’ she mur-
mured ; then, with a little gasp :—
‘‘Ah! ‘Lariato’—that is yourself. Lis-
ten,”’—entreatingly, -— ‘vou will spare
him ; you will spare my Sombre !”’
‘They do not permit me to fight Don
Alonzo's bulls,’”’ Orlando replied, ‘‘for I
raise them, and they would not fight me.
Amador will fight Sombre.’’
‘No, no!” the young girl cried, with
tense voice, her hand gripping his arm,
‘you must fight Sombre. That wicked
Amador will kill him !”’
‘‘But so would I Anita, or be killed by
him!”
Anita was silent for a time, thinking
fast. Suddenly she exclaimed :—
*‘Orlando, do you love me enough to
put faith in a promise which will seem to
you impossible of fulfillment ?’’
He took her in his arms impulsively.
“‘God knows I do !”’
“Don’t—don’t !’’ she said, gently pull-
ing away ; ‘‘but listen ; I refused to be en-
gaged to you until you were reconciled to
those parents in New York from whom you
ran away so foolishly--"’
*“Who drove me out without cause !”’
*‘Hush I’ she said, don’t interrupt me.
I take back that condition, and make one
which will involve not your pride, but
your faith in me. If Sombre goes to the
Plaza de Toros, you must fight him, and
| must spare him, even if they hiss and jeer
glance she saw a great brindle bull thun-
at you.”
Orlando grew very white.
“I cannot hear their jeers,”’ he said;
‘‘death is easier! Perhaps the manager
will let me fight Sombre, for you raised
him, and I can tell them that I have
scarcely seen him. I will fight him, An-
ita, and for your sake I will let him kill
me !"’
‘No, Orlando, for this is my promise ;
even in the last extremity, Sombre shall not
harm you!”
‘‘And then, Anita ?”’
‘“Then I will leave my father’s house
and go to you. Don Alonzo will never for-
‘give, and I shall become an outcast like
yourself. We will buy Sombre with my
money, and have enough left to take us to
your dear America. We will go to those
moving forms swerved away in a tumbling
Faintly smiling up into
which she broke off to struggle abruptly to
plains you love so to tell about ; you will
be a ranchero, and Sombre will be the pa-
triarch of our herds.”
The man shook his head. ‘‘You do not
understand,’ he said gloomily. ‘‘I have
tried that once and failed !"’ .
“Ah!” she said, gaily, ‘‘but you had
neither Sombre nor Anita,”’ and waving
him a kiss, she ran off across the field, that
portion of it being now free from cattle.
On Sunday afternocn, May 17th, 189—,
a small party of American sightseers left
the Grand Hotel de Madrid in Sevilla, drove
to the Plaza de Toros, and occupied a stall
specially reserved for them. They evi-
dently constituted a fraction of New
York’s ‘Four Hundred,” although the
chaperon, an austere, aristocratic looking
woman, had unmistakably Castilian feat-
ures. She was dressed with the elegance
and simplicity of wealth and good breed-
ing, and had a nervous habit of raising a
lorgnette to her peculiarly careworn eyes
whenever a stranger passed her, as if al-
ways hoping to see some one whom she
had long sought. The gentlemen of the
party wore the uniform of the New York
Yacht Club. In fact, a handsome steam
yacht had left these people at Malaga, and
was now awaiting them at Cadiz.
The party reached the Plaza late. Ama
dor de Sevilla had killed several bulls, and
now there was a short intermission, during
which elegant Spanish caballeros were mak-
ing courtly hows among their neighbors,
and handsome hespangled boys were hast-
ening around the serried tiers of humanity
selling dulces and soft drinks. In the vast
arena itself the capeadores had thrown
their red mantles carelessly upon the en-
circling board fence, and werc smoothing
the earth here and there where it had been
torn up in deadly combat. There was a
vast murmur from thousands of throats,
like the magnified hum of bees among ap-
ple blosoms.
| an entrada which led like a corrugated to-
boggan slide down through the terraces of
seats to a masked exit from the ring (used
by capeadores to escape when hard pressed
by a bull), sat Anita alone, for Don Alon-
zo, her father, had gone quite half way
around the plaza and was hanging over the
chair of a handsome matron, probably pay-
ing her exaggerated Castillion compliments.
Presently a band of music began a state-
ly march, and under a high stone archway,
at the far side of the ring, a long proces-
sion advanced. First, gaudily capari-
soned picadores on blindfolded steeds de-
bouched two by two, separated, and cir-
cled in opposite directions until they came
to a halt facing the center, with long
lances at rest. Then red-coated torreadores
carrying long barbs with brilhant stream-
ers of ribbon, grouped themselves near the
heavy, closed ‘doors of the bull pen. Fi-
nally, the capeadores, in yellow satin, car-
rying the flaming red capes on their arms,
filed around like the mounted picadores
and stood between their steeds.
The music ceased, the vast murmur of
voices died away, and the gates of the bull
pen were thrown open. Ata quick trot a
great black bull dashed in, receiving in his
shoulders, as he passed the forreadores two
short barbs crowned with hig rosettes of
colored ribbons.
Anita gripped her chair and gasped :(—
‘‘Sombre !”’
Coming from a darkened pen, Sombre
had trotted eagerly forward, expecting to
ures, but he paused in the great glare of
light. What meant those tiers of people,
which seemed to reach the sky? What
meant those horsemen facing him with
spears in such a sinister manner? What
meant those stinging pains in his should-
ers? Sombre stood in the middle of the
ring with head raised high and tail slowly
lashing his flanks. Hither and thither he
turned with nervous abruptness, and stood
at gaze. Finally, he lowered his grand
head and sniffed the earth, and there he
smelled fresh, warm blood, the blood of
his own kind ! In an instant Sombre real-
ized that he was to be the victim of some
dreadful tragedy prepared by human
hands.
his keen horns close to the ground, gave a
deep bellow of defiance and flung clod after
clod with his forefeet high above his back.
Then there flaunted toward him a red ob-
ject, at which he charged, but it swept
aside, and a new sting of pain was felt in
his neck. Something with long, bright
streamers was hanging there and swinging
about, gouging and tearing in his flesh as
it swung, and warm blood was trickling
down his neck. Again: and again he
charged, but each time the red things van-
ished and there was more pain ; more tor-
turing barbs hung in his neck and mad-
dened him.
Presently a horseman advanced with
lowered spear. Surely horse and rider
could not vanish. Ah, no! Sombre found
that it was not intended that they should.
Rushing upon them, hestruck such a blow
that they were forced backwards twenty
feet, and both gave a scream of pain. The
picador was dragged away with a broken
leg despite his sheet iron leggings, and the
horse, when beaten to make it rise, lay
lifeless, for Sombre’s horn had pierced its
heart. Instantly a great cry went up from
that vast crater of hnmanity.
‘‘Bravo !—Bravo, Toro !— Bravo, Som-
bre !”’ ;
Sombre understood that he was applaud-
ed, and trotted around thering looking
up at his admirers. Perhaps, after all, he
was expected to do the Killing and not he
killed ; but why torture him with
maddening barbs ?
More than once he earned that grand ap-
plause, then his tormentors disappeared,
and he stood alone looking at the archway
through which they had departed, and
longing to go, to.
And now through that archway there
advanced a youug man. tall and athletic,
in green spangled jacket and knee breeches
in ruffled shirt, flesh-colored stockings. and
buckled shoes. On his left arm hung a
scarlet mantle, and in his right hand he
carried a Jong, keen sword. Unlike other
matadors, he wore no wig, but his own
hair curled in soft brown waves above a
pale, classic. beardless face.
Up in her stall, the chaperon of the
yachting party nervously raised her lorg-
nette, then turned pale and half arose
from her seat, but sank back again, mur-
muring under her breath :—
“Impossible ! I am foolish, but it looks
like him !”’
She could have spoken the words aloud
without being heard, for the whole audi-
ence was yelling like mad :—
“Lariato! Lariato el Americano !!”’
Pausing under the archway, the matador
swept his sword in military salute, bowing
low his handsome head. Then, with low-
ered sword point, he stepped into the arena
and faced his antagonist. Upon all fell an
awful silence, for Lariato and Sombre were
met in a struggle to the death !
ring. Orlando would never permit a hu-
man being to be within helping distance
during his encounters. For a time the
combatants stood motionless, eyeing each-
In a stall of the lowest tier, close beside |
find himself once more in his loved past- |
With gathering rage he lowered:
the |
The man and bull were alone in the |
other intently. Then came stealthy move-
ments hither and thither, then thundering,
desperate charges and graceful hairbreadth
escapes. At last, in one great charge,
Sombre’s horns tore the scarlet mantle
from Lariato’s arm, and, carrying it half
around the ring as a streaming red banner,
the bull ground and trampled it in the
dirt. A slight hissing was noticeable in
the audience, which turned to thundering
applause when Lariato contemptuously re-
fused a new mantle brought by a capeador.
The man alone was now the mad beast’s
target, but Lariato had at last reached the
position of advantage for which he had so
long maneuvered. He was standing in the
great lune of shadow cast by the encirling
wall, while Sombre, across the ring, was
in the glaring sunlight. The audience un-
derstood the situation, and became breath-
less.
Sombre, dripping with blood and per-
spiration, his flanks swelling and falling
in his great gasps for breath, his eyes half
blinded by the dust and glare, slowly real-
ized that he was wasting his effort upon a
mere textile fabric, while his real antagon-
ist stood tauntingly befor him. Throw-
ing up his head, he gave the matador one
brief glance, as if to measure his distance,
then, with head low down, he charged up-
on him. Lariato’s long, keen blade was
lowered confidently to its death dealing
slant. The whole audience arose en masse
and craned forward.
Just as the murderous sword point
seemed about to sink through the bull’s
shoulders into his very heart, a despairing
woman’s cry, unheeded by the onlookers,
reached the matador’s ears.
Then a mighty hiss, like the whistling
of a great wind. interspersed with hoots
and jeers, went up from the exasperated
spectators, for the bull thundered on, with
the sword, scarcely penetrating an inch in-
to the tough muscles, standing upright be-
| tween his shoulders and swaying from side
to side, while Lariato, with a quick step
! aside, stood disarmed.
Coming to a standstill far beyond his an-
tagonist, Somhre shook his vast body, and
the sword spun high into the air and fell
toward the center of the ring. Lariato
Conditions at Skagway.
The beach is low, and runs out several
hundred yards, and then drops off into deep
water. At low tide the whole beach is un-
covered, so the steamers lie outside, and
try to unload their freight at high tide.
Our vessel was soon surrounded by a fleet
of row-boats and large Siwash canoes, try-
ing to pick up passengers. In-crowds on
the deck we stood gazing in wonder at the
scene before us. We were yet too far off
to see things distinctly. The captain went
ashore for a customs officer. Others were
eager to follow. No attempt is to be made
to unload, though the weather is beautiful.
Few of us have the inclination to look at
the truly grand scenery with which we are
surrounded. Snow and glacier-capped
mountains, rising thousands of feet up
from green sparkling water, burying their
lofty heads in soft cottony clouds, are for
other eyes than those of miners excited by
the preparation for the real commencement
of the journey. I went ashore with two
others—and such a scene as meets the eye !
It is simply bewildering, it is all so strange.
There are great crowds of men rowing in
boats to the beach, then clambering out in
rubber boots and packing the stuff, and
setting it down in little piles out of reach
of the tide. Here are little groups of men
resting with their outfits. Horses
tethered out singly and in groups. Tents
there are of every size and kind, and men
cooking over large sheet-iron stoves set up
outside. The tents are pitched without
any regularity, and behind these are more
tents and men, and piles of merchandise,
hay, bacon smoking, men loading bags and
bales of hay upon horses and starting off,
leading from one to three animals along a
sort of lane—which seems much travelled—
in the direction of a grove of small cotton-
woods, beyond which lies the trail toward
White Pass. Everybody is on the move,
excepting those just arrived, and each is
intent upon his own business. There are
some twenty-five hundred people here,
stretched along the road between the bay
and the summit. There are not over one
hundred tents here at Skagway, but there
might be more than five hundred persons
took several steps toward it, tottered, and
fell forward prone upon the ground in a
swoon, for he had been grievously bruised.
With a great exultant roar. the bull rushed
back to complete its victory. The hissing
and hooting was hushed, and groans of
horror swelled through the air.
Suddenly. just as the animal had gath-
ered full headway in his murderous charge
a slight, white-gowned figure glided
through the capeadores’ exit into the ring,
and a clear, ringing voice pronounced one
word :—
“Sombre !”’
At the sound of that voice the charging
beast came strainingly to a halt, threw up
its head and gazed eagerly about. Then
there went up another cry of horror, as he
turned and rushed toward the girl. Capea-
dores hurried forward, flaunting their red
capas, but she waved them back.
“Go back !”” she cried, ‘‘you shall tor-
ture him no more, my poor, tortured,
wounded Sombre !”’
In a moment the great beast was beside
her, and making unmistakable demonstra-
| tions of joy : licking her dress, and arms,
| and hands. As she deftly extricated the
barbs from his neck and shoulders, the
thousands of throats around them shrieked
out a vast pandemonium of braves. Blood
Meanwhile, Lariato, after a dash of
water in his face, had struggled to his feet
and hurried toward her.
“God bless you,” he was saying, but
she pushed past him with a glad smile,
murmuring :—
“Wait ; I have something to say to
them.”
Standing at the centre of the ring with
one hand uplifted, Anita waited for silence.
Quickly the audience understood that
mute, graceful appeal. Delaying till not
a sound was heard, Anita said, in such
clear tones that they reached every ear :—
‘“‘Jeer not at Lariato. He spared my
pet, my Sombre, because he loved me.”
No matador ever gained such applause as
followed. Bravo Lariato! Bravo, la seno-
rita de toros ; Bravo, Sombre! Bravo, bra-
visimo ! rang out and reached over distant
housetops. Bouquets, sombreros, scarfs,
and fall purses showered into the ring.
And as that strange group stood facing
the ovation, the chaperon of the yachting
party tremblingly seized a pair of opera
glasses and scrutinized the matador’s color-
less upturned face. Then she sank back,
exclaiming :—
“‘God be thanked !
I have found him !”’
Three additional passengers joined the
yacht at Cadiz. Two of them may now be
found in a fifth Avenue mansion in New
York City, and the third may be seen
every autumn at the Westchester county
fair.—By John M. Ellicott, U. S. N., in the
Black Cat.
New York’s ¢“Citizen.’”.
Seth Low, the Citizen's Nominee, Has a Reputa-
tion for Public Deeds.
The first mayor of Greater New York is
an object of personal interest to the whole
country.
Seth Low. former president of Columbia
college, and one of the best known of
Eastern philanthropists, has been nomina-
ted by the Citizen’s Union, which is sup-
posed to represent the reform element as
| opposed to bossism in both the Republican
{and Democratic camps. His record ;is as
was covering her hands and soiling her |
dress, but Anita was blind to it. |
actually in the town.
| Rough frame buildings are going up as
| quickly as men can handle scantling, and
: as fast as they are finished they are turned
| into stores or ware-houses. Thereare three
or four hotels or restaurants ; and a United
| States flag flying over a tent is evidence of
| the presence of a United States court com-
| missioner—the only representative of gov-
| ernment here, save that organized by the
miners themselves. A large sign indicates
| the location of the correspondents of en-
i terprising newspapers, and the half a dozen
newspaper men here gave us a hearty wel-
| come. Men and horses are traveling to
| and fro in a never-ending stream.
| are a number of women ; such as I met be-
{ ing wives who are accompanying their hus-
| bands thus far, and most of whom will
| return.
i Signs are out announcing ‘‘Outfits
| bought and sold.”” Discouraged men are
| coming down from the trail, and they have
but one story to tell—of terrible hardship,
horses falling right and left, seventeen in
| one place ; the road, if it can be called a
{ road, in terrible condition ; not one in
{ ten will get over.
i I talked with one or two determined fel-
! lows who came down to the hoat, and who
i had ‘their pack-trains in on the trail.
| From these I heard a different story. In
all I have talked with five or six good men,
| and they all agree that there is plenty of
| trouble.
{ “The road is good for four or five miles ;
(it is a regular cinch: after that hell
begins.”’
Some say that not one in ten will get
over. These are the alarmists and the
excited ones. A more conservative esti-
mate is that only four out of ten will get
through. One party of two were building
a scow, and when I got back to the boat
they loaded all their belongings on it and
paddled over to the steamer, where they
held a long talk with our men, announc-
ing that they were bound for Dyea and
Chilkoot Pass. They claimed the pass
: here is blocked, while men are moving
over the Chilkoot, even if slowly. As
they paddled away we admired their pluck
and gave them a rousing cheer. They did
not look like strong men, but they smoked
their pipes bravely. All their stuff was
loaded on the scow, sinking it low in the
water. There were sacks and boxes and
two buggy-wheels, with which they mean
to make a narrow push-cart. It is pitiful.
Their last word was, ‘“Well, boys, we will
meet you on the other side of the moun-
tains!” We wondered if they would.
—Harpei’s Weekly.
African Court Trials.
Of all central African customs trial by
ordeal, which is universal, is that which is
most revolting to a European brought for
the first time into contact with savage life.
When a man is accused of any crime—as
theft, arson, murder, witchcraft or the like
—evidence is brought against him in
the way common throughout the whole
continent. This, however, is never final.
The accuser’s; witnesses swear, to anything
required of them without the slightest
compunction of conscience, and as the
prosecutor must produce his evidence first
the defendant’s witnesses are ready to
swear, and doswear the opposite of all that
has been said.
Trial is invariably in open court, and
nothing said by the witnesses for the prose-
cation can be concealed from those that are
to follow. There are no affidavits, thus
follows : .
As mayor of Brooklyn he reduced the
city debt by $7.000,000. He complety re- |
formed the public school system, and put it |
| to the highest efficiency. |
As president of Columbia college he gave
almost half his fortune of $2,000,000, to
build its library. He raised more than
$3,000,000 over and above the $1,000,000 he
gave himself to provide the beautiful build-
ing that constitutes the new home of the
university, adding 60 professors to the fac-
ulty and greatly increasing the number of
{ students.
| Asa citizen of New York he was the
| most conspicious member of the Greater
| New York charter commission. He has
! been for years a favorite with labor orga-
nizations as an arbiter. He has been able
to avert many threatened great strikes.
His most conspicious service in this re-
gard was his adjudication of the differences
between the plumbers and steamfitters of
New York city.
His opponents fear that he may be too
theoretical for the practical spending of
Greater New York’s $70,000,000 annually
so the Platt Repnblicans have nominated
Gen. Benjamin F. Tracy President Harri-
son secretary of navy. The silverites have
nominated Henry George and Tammany
Judge Van Wyck.
i
——The primitive Russians place a cer-
tificate of character in the dead person’s
hands, which is to be given to St. Peter at
the gates of heaven.
making contradiction at once simple and
safe. If rebutting evidence were allowed,
the most paltry trial would be intermi-
nable. For a witness to be called a liar is
in such a case a compliment. It proves
that his evidence told, and that he, by in-
ference, is a very clever fellow. If the same
man were accused of bewitching, he would
regard it as a foul libel and demand the
poison bowl without an hour's delay.—
James Macdonald in Popular Science Monthly.
Eating ‘Dogs in Havana.
The Starving Population Reduced to the Great-
est Extremity.
A party, consisting of a Cuban, his wife
and daughter, arrived from Havana recent-
ly on the Vigilancia. The Cuban arrival
stated that there was practically a famine
in Havana.
“For eight days before I sailed,’”” he
said ‘‘there had been no meat eaten in any
of the Havana hospitals—either by doctors,
nurses or patients. The supplies of the
hospitals consist principally of pease, rice,
cornmeal and jerked beef from South
America. The poor people are subsisting
upon dogs, as they have no money to pur-
chase more costly food. Dog catching has
hecome a fine art and dog raising and
breeding for food purposes is now a recog-
nized industry. .
‘‘/Cats also are eaten and in some cases—
especially among the Chinamen—rats are a
staple article of food.”
——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
are |
There |
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
To suit a long, narrow face the hair
should be dressed round, and 1t is always
best to show a coil or so from the side be-
hind the ears ; also endeavor to fili up the
nape of the neck as much as possible.
For a sharp-featured face always avoid
dressing the hair right at the top of the
back of the crown in a line with the nose,
as this so accentuates the severe outlines.
Dress the hair low down or else quite on
top to meet the fringe.
For around face narrow dressings are
becoming and can be taken well down the
neck.
For a broad face narrow dressings are
preferable, hut should he kept, somewhat
high.
Exceedingly tall people should keep the
hair dressed rather low and decidedly
round. f
Very short women should have their
hair dressed high, as it gives addition to
their stature.
It is very rarely that we find purely
white hair ; it is usually a gray white, and
with this latter no colors are so suitable as
dark greens, browns, ambers, purple tints,
deep cream, dark reds and warm shades of
dark blue.
Make the back of the waist as narrow as
possible and have room enough. Make
the fronts as wide as possible over the bust
without making them loose. Be certain
that the waist is long enough and equally
certain that it is not too long, says a writer
in the Ladies’ Home Companion.
In fitting, make corrections just where
they are needed, but make them cautious-
ly. If the back is just right and the side
forms are wrong, do not make the latter
look better by making that which was all
| right before look less well.
i A bodice should always be put on and
taken off with care. A glove pulled on
and off in a careless, hurried way soon
looks like a wrinkled bag, and the same
result is brought about in a bodice treated
in the same way.
Never hem selvages ; ship them at inter-
vals, and turn them under or cut them
off. No amount of pressing will prevent a
hemmed selvage from puckering. Over-
cast sleeve seams separately, and over cast
arm’s-eye seams with edges together, and
make this seam as narrow as possible to he
strong.
In handling velvet and all exquisite
fabrics use a piece of clean cheese-cloth as
a foil. Basting threads and pins thrust
through mar velvet, and should be used
only where their trail will afterward be
covered. Do not be afraid of asking too
many fittings so long asin the end your
work justifies you in having done so.
Do not allow the person to be fitted to
i assume an unnaturally erect position, hut
fit the bodice to the normal figure, be that
goor or bad, and cover defects in shape
with trimming or supply deficiencies with
padding if the result is an improvement.
Be more afraid of basting too little rather
than too much. Take great pains with the
tout ensemble of any gown you are making,
that is, the outlines and effect in general.
Do not waste your energies in following
hard and fast theories of systems, but in-
stead study the figure to be fitted and turn
out original effects and ideas. One of the
features of good waist-fitting is to have it
fit tight enough everywhere without hav-
ing it too tight anywhere. Padding is only
excusable in habit bodices where plainness
is de rigeur. The woman who is so thin
as to need padding to make a plain bodice
presentable should affect a style lesssevere.
The novice with a new pattern will be
safer if she uses some cheap material in
making a dummy lining and fitting it care-
fully before cutting into good material.
This lining can be saved as a foundation
pattern, and makes fitting an easier matter.
With silk and plaid wool shirt waists
leather belts are worn. Some of these
have the most gorgeous Russian buckles
imaginable.
‘As to skirts, they will be much narrower
as the season progresses. No more than
five gores will be used. The front and
sides pieces will be narrow and tight-fitting,
while the back gores will be laid in tiny
plaits at the belt.
Either overskirts will be worn or skirts
trimmed to simulate them. A pretty
style for young girls has a double skirt,
the upper one drawn up and back slightly
at the hips.
Although skirts are so narrow, it is still
necessary to have them stand out at the
bottom. To secure the proper effect, a
band of haircloth 12 inches wide is used
and a stiff underskirt is always worn.
The newest walking and for winter
rainy weather shoe of black French calf-
skin, straight foxed and straight tipped,
with extension welted sole, military heel
and modified bull-dog toe. These are al-
ways laced with eyelet holes all the way
up, as the patent fasteners catch in a wom-
an’s skirts and tear them.
There are no less than three of the
wealthy widows of Washington society of
whose existence the goverment takes
cognizance, and whose names, because of
the valor and standing of their husbands,
have a place on the pension rolls of the na-
tion. These are Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant,
whose pension, dating from 1885, is $416
a month. Mus. Philip Sheridan’s pension,
dating from 1889, is $268 a month, Mrs.
John A. Logan, whose pension dates from
1888, is $166 a month.
One of the best remedies for a sallow
or “‘muddy’’ complexion is a generous diet
of fruit. Many kinds of fruit possess won-
derful powers of clearing the skin and giv-
ing it a translucent appearance. A cele-
brated skin specialist once said that several
sound, ripe apples eaten daily would
beautify the skin when lcecal applications
had proved useless. As a matter of fact, a
torpid liver is frequently the immediate
cause of skin troubles, and the juice of ap-
ples, containing, as it does, a valuable acid,
acts upon the liver and helps the digestive
organs to work properly. Among the
most valuable fruits, the daily use of which
help to improve the complexion, may be
mentioned oranges, tamarinds, nectarines,
peaches, plums, blackberries, pears, med-
lars, black currants, strawberries, goose-
berries, red and white currants, lemons,
limes, and—most valuable of all—apples.
An excellent antiseptic wash for the
teeth, which also acts as an astringent if
the gums are spongy and unhealthy, is
composed of tannin, half a drachm ; spirit
of horseradish, two ounces ; tincture of
tolu, two fluid drachms. Adda teaspoon-
ful of this mixture to a tumblerful of cold
or tepid water, and well brush the teeth,
afterwards thoroughly rinsing the mouth
out with it. Another capital astringent
and antiseptic mouth-wash is made by
simply adding three drops of oil of
eucalyptus to a tumblerful of water.