SIGNS.
The melancholy days are here,
The signs are everywhere.
The woodland leaves are turning sere,
And fluttering through the air ;
The cricket chirps it mournful lay
Beneath the window's sill ;
The buckwheat field is turning gray
Upon the distant hill.
A dreamy silence seems to spread
O’er all the country side ;
The flowers that bloomed, alas! are dead,
Their petals scattered wide,
But e’en without such signs as these—
The hill immersed in haze,
The tnrning leaves upon the trees—
We'd recognize the days ;
For now the agile college “men,”
With hanks of hair to spare,
Are on the campuses again
And raising hades there ;
They're hoisting flags and rushing canes,
And also hazing some,
And elsewise showing that their brains
Continue out of plumb.
— Cleveland Leader.
A POST-ADOLESCENT ELOPEMENT.
Mrs. Jeptha Quilter had gone to the door
several times and looked out in a dissatis-
fied way at two people, a man and a wom-
an, talking across the front fence. The
two people were her husband’s mother and
Mr. Matthew Haydon, a neighbor, and a
widower of sixty.
Mrs. Jeptha scowled in disgust as she
watched her mother-in-law smile, cast her
eyes modestly down, then stoop to break a
nasturtium, which she proffered to the
elderly gentleman with a gesture truly
youthful.
“For the land’s sake, Jeptha,’’ said the
younger Mrs. Quilter to her husband, who
sat in the back door, resting after his fore-
noon’s work on the cultivator, “I wish
you'd just come here and look at your
mother. I declare I’m plum ashamed to
see such carryin’ on. A woman o’ her
age.”’
‘What are ye a-watchin’ ‘em for, then 7’
inquired Jeptha, with reason.
‘““Jeptha Quilter, if you ain’t got any
more spunk nor pride than to see your
mother standin’ out in the front yard,
where everybody can see her flirtin’ and
sparkin’ with old Mr. Haydon, you ought
to be ashamed.”’
‘Well, what can I do? You don’t ex-
pect me to go out and order mother in, and
order old man Haydon off, a man I’ve
knowed all my life, back in Illinoy !”’
“I want to know, Jeptha Quilter, if you
are willin’ to let your mother marry agin,
and like as not turn us out of this place,
bag and baggage ?”’ -
“I dunno as I’ve got the ‘lettin.’”’
Mother 1s old enough to be her own boss ;
of course, I'd ruther she wouldn’t marry,
an’ I don’t believe she’s got any notion
of it.”’
“You're just as blind as—as—well, as a
man. I reckon I know when a woman’s
got marry in her head. This coquettin’
’s been goin’ on fer two months, an’ I say
your mother is as full of airs and prinkin’
as a sixteen-year-old girl. It’s just plum
disgustin’ and ought to he stopped.’’
“How are ye goin’ to stop it? Both of
‘em are of age.’’
“You give me “leave, and I lay I'll stop
it. If you’ll promise not tosay-a word,
whatever I do.”’
“Well, I dunno,” began Jeptha, doubt-
fully. “I won’t have mother harried.’
“Ill not do a thing to harry her ; you
leave it to me, and I'll just put a flea in
old man Haydon’s ear.”’
Outside, Mrs. Mary Quilter stood look-
ing across the fence and smiling in the face
of her elderly admirer, who was praising
her nasturtiums in the way they clamber-
ed up the palings.
“My ’sturtions never would do that
a-way, nothing I could do for ’em. They
jest persist in layin’ down like as they
hadn’t the heart to hold their heads up in
this Kansas wind ; but mebbe it’s on ac-
count 0’ him that planted ’em.”’
“Now, Mr. Haydon, do you mean to say
that you ain’t got heart enough to hold
your head up ?”’
“You know mighty well what ’ud put
sperit enough in me for anything,”’ said
the man, significantly.
Mrs. Quilter blushed like a girl. Her
peachy cheek had yet the color, if not the
contour of youth, and her hair which
shone as she stood bareheaded in the sun,
had not a gray thread. Yet she was fifty-
two.
“I know,’ she said, softly, ‘‘but it does
seem foolish for two old people like us to
be talkin’ about marryin’ ; besides, I know
Jeptha and his wife would be mortal op-
posed to anything of the kind. Though I
will say, that a person who has lost her
companion is a lonesome person, I don’t
care how many children she’s got.”’
*‘That’s jest it. The heart don’t never
grow old—you know that. It may not, so
to speak, bound so tumultuous as when
we’s younger, but it keeps up a steady
throbbin’ that is comfortabler in the long
run. An’ what's our children got to do
with it? They are grown an’ married an’
took up with the cares of their own fam-
ilies, an’ us two jest left out in the cold,
so to speak.’’
“I don’t believe I could ever stand the
fuss and disagreeableness that Jeptha's
wife would make for me if I was to men-
tion such a thing. Maria’s a good woman,
but tryin’ at times. I never was no hand
to jaw back, nor hold my own, even.”
“I tell you what let’s do—let’s elope.
By gum, that’s the very idee! We'll get
married, an’ not say a word until it’s
done, then they can’t help theirselves.”’
‘Mr. Haydon, I'm plum ashamed of
re 1m
The old man, with a chuckle of delight,
drew nearer the fence, and sunk the re-
mainder of his pleadings to a whisper,
which was intended for the widow’s ears
alone.
When Mrs. Mary Quilter went into the
house, she carried a handfal of crisp nas-
turtium leaves with a few of the brilliant
blooms, and placed them with artistic care-
lessness about a plate of cabbage salad.
Mis. Jeptha looked on with a snort.
“Humph! Bokays always seem out o’
place with vittles.”’
Then wishing to appear in a pleasant
humor, she added :.
‘I ’spos, though, ’sturtiums might be
called vittles, they’re good to taste.’’
As they sat at dinner, she said blandly :
‘Mother Quilter, me and Jeptha’s been
a-talkin’ it over, an’ we’ve concluded that
you ought to go on a visit to your sister in
Illinoy. She’s been a-wantin’ you to come
for ever so long, an’ Jeptha says he's made
the price of your trip over and above in
that corn trade with the elevator last week,
an’ you can have ‘it if you want to go ;
though I won’t say but I need some new
things myself. Still—’
‘Why, Maria,”” began Jeptha, but a
kick under the table made him finish his
protest in a cough and strangle over his
| soup.
| Mrs. Mary had flashed a startled look at
| her daughter-in-law, but she said quietly :
=| “Why, yes; I would like to go, but
| I didn’t low I ought to spend the money
| just now, though Is’pose some of it might
{ be comin’ to me as rent from the place.”
| ‘Well, as to rent,” retorted Mrs. Jeptha
| sharply, ‘‘the Lord knows it ain’t worth
much, an’ countin’ board an’ everything.
But I know you want to go, an’ now
would be a good time.’ ;
The younger woman was surprised at
| her mother-in-law’s ready consent ; she
| had expected some slight opposition.
i “I'll start Wednesday, on the noon
| train, Maria.”’
‘Why don’t you go on the night train,
then you won’t have to lay over in Kansas
City 2
‘No,’ answered Mrs. Quilter, with an
unusual obstinacy, ‘‘I’d ruther go in the
afternoon.”
The following day Mrs. Jeptha found 1t
convenient to be loitering at the nastur-
tium beds as Mr. Matthew Haydon strolled
by, and after a few common-places, she
remarked carelessly : .
“I s’pose you knew mother Quilter is
goin’ back to Illinoy on a visit? Ye
didn’t ? Now, I s’posed she had told you.
Well, I s’pose she’s kind o’ bashful. I
tell her ’tain’t nothin,” but you see folks
have plegged her so much about you, that
she’s got plum disgusted, an’ says she’ll
put a stop to it. She ‘lows it makes her
ashamed to have folks makin’ remarks
about her at her age. Yes, she is goin’ to
start to-morrow afternoon. Tis redic’lous,
ain’t it, that some folks is such busy-
bodies that old friends an’ neighbors can’t
pass a friendly word without anything
bein’ thought of it 2 This town just beats
all the places I ever see for gossip. An’
mother Quilter says she wouldn’t marry
the best man et ever lived, lessen ever’
hair of his head was strung with gold, an’
you know yourn ain’t, Mr. Haydon.
Though I will say that mother Quilter is
ruther graspin’ to talk that a-way.”’
Wednesday afternoon Jeptha Quilter
and his wife saw their mother safely off on
the train. - When the noon passenger stop-
ped at the first station out, Mr. Matthew
Haydon, wearing a bran new suit and a
cerulean necktie, and carrying a new
valise, got on board. His freshly-shaven
face shone with scented soapand delight.
“If that wasn’t done the slickest ever
seen,” hesaid, as he sat down by Mrs.
{ Quilter and took her hand boldly in his.
‘They act’illy helped us off, and paid the
bride’s fare by gum,” he chuckled. ‘‘Now
we got two hours to wait at Kansas City,
we’ll go up-town an’ get the license an’
get married there, an’ go on to Illinoy an’
pay your sister a visit for our weddin’
tower.”’
All went well with the eldery Lochinvar,
and when the Chicago and Alton pulled
out of Kansas City that night it carried
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Haydon, hound as
tightly in the bonds of matrimony as the
State of Missouri could tie them.
Now this story might end here, where it
not for complications which grew out of a
weakness of Mr. Haydon’s, which years
had not been able to cure. He possessed
as much inquisitive curiosity as a woman ;
and when, about eleven o’clock, the train
came to a stop and he heard threatening
voices, and then a pistol shot or two, he
could not refrain trying to find out what
it was all about.
The matter really was, that the train
had been held up by train robbers in one
of those historic ‘‘cuts,”” famous for so
many similar adventures. When Mr.
Matthew Haydon, clad only in his
shirt and trousers, stepped off on the
ground, someone promptly smote him over
the head and laid him senseless on the
damp earth.
The train was miles away, and the rob-
bers dispersed with their booty, when he
recovered consciousness. Bitterly he la-
mented his curiosity, as he darted out to
find some place of shelter. About a mile
distant he saw a light twinkling through
the darkness, and made his way in that di-
rection the best he was able. It proved to
be the small railway station at Blue Creek,
and the night operator, who had heard
nothing of the robbery and hold-up, was
rather startled when an elderly party,
wearing neither shoes nor hat, burst in
upon him at such a late hour. Mr. Hay-
don’s gray hair stood up with mud and
fright ; a large bump, not down in the
phrenological chart, glistened over his left
eye.
Y Who in the Sam Hill—'’ began the
telegraph operator.
Now an old man is more sensitive to rid-
icule, especially concerning matters of the
heart, than a young man ; so that when
Mr. Haydon was questioned instead of tell-
ing the straight truth, he tried to hide the
fact that his unlucky curiosity had
separated him from his bride. He said :
“I don’t know how in the world it hap-
pened, unless I jest walked in my sleep,
and I hain’t done sech a thing sence I was
a boy’t I know of. But I was a passenger
on that Chicago and Alton train, and I
didn’t know I was out of it until a half
hour ago, when I come to a-sittin’ by the
side of the track an’ my head a-feelin fit to
bust, an’ I knowed I was left and see your
light. Say, mister, ain’t there some way
to telegraft to that train an’ stop it? Ive
got a-—a--friend on board who will feel
powerful oneasy.’’ :
“Oh, that will be easy enough! We
can send a telegram to Slater—the passen-
ger reaches there at twelve-thirty—and you
can have your friend wait for you, or at
least satisfy his mind. What’s your
friend’s name?’ he asked, turning to
prepare a blank.
Alas! our hero was past that adolescent
period of versatility in the art of equivoca-
tion. The old man had until now lived a
life as straight asa string, and he found
the tangled web of the prevaricator more
complicated than he would have believed.
He did not wish to give the name of his
wife, nor did he wish to run the risk in
any vay of the accident being found out at
all Ly his friends at home. He did the
clumsiest thing that he could have done.
He went on lying in the expert way he had
begun.
‘‘As shore as you live, I’m that dazed
that I can’t remember our names,’”’ he
said.
‘‘What !”’ exclaimed the night operator,
growing suspicious. ‘‘How in Halifax am
I to send a telegram, unless I know who to
send it to?”’
‘‘Can’t you you jest telegraft to the con-
ductor, ‘the lost is found,” er something
of that kind ? He’ll know it means me.”’
The operator looked at his visitor a few
moments with well-defined suspicion in
his glance, then carefully edging his way
back of the little counter to his instrument
he nervously ticked off :
‘Station agentat M—Send somebody down
here at once .Crazy man off at No. 4.”
The answer came at once :
“Ed and Jerry .on the yard engine in ten
minutes.”
|
1
M was six miles away.
‘Now, said the operator soothingly,
‘can’t you remember your friend’s name 9’
He would endeavor at least to keep the
suspected lunatic’s mind occupied.
‘No, I can’t,” said Mr. Haydon, snap-
pishly. ‘But jest send the telegraft, will
ye, I'll pay the expense. No, I can’t
either, for I’ve left my pocketbook—Lord,
Lord, how long will it take ? Send itany-
how ; I tell ye I’m good for a hundred
times the amount,’’ and he glared so wild-
ly that the operator sent this message to
the agent at Slater :
*“Tell conductor on No. 4 that the man lost
off the train is here and inclined to be un-
manageable. Have sent to M——for help to
secure him.”
‘‘There, now,’’ he said again in a pacify-
ing tone, ‘‘just sit down and keep calm a
few minutes, until we get an answer,’’ for
he heard the whistle of the engine from
M—.
The engine pulled up to the platform,
and three men got off. ‘‘Jerry’’ was a big
Irishman who walked cautiously up to the
supposed lunatic.
“Now thin, will ye go quietly wid us,
or must we use foorce ?
By this time the unlucky bridegroom’s
tribulations had indeed made him slightly
hysterical ; and supposing the men were
trying to joke with him, he made a lunge
at the grinning Jerry that would have
done credit to a youthful pugilist.
Jerry and the two others caught him by
the arms and legs, and the more the poor
old man tried to explain, the more his rav-
ings were taken as evidence of his danger-
ous insanity. He made a violent struggle
all things considered, but he was finally
thrown into the baggage room and the
key turned.
“‘Begorra, but he’s a stiff tussler fer an
old un !’’ said Jerry, puffing with the ex-
ercise ; ‘‘but it’s the madness that makes
‘em strong.’’
As may be supposed, the newly made
Mrs. Matthew Haydon was almost distrac-
ted when the conductor communicated the
contents of the telegram to her. She had
missed her lord, but had modestly refrained
from inquiring about him, until his pro-
longed absence began to make her anxious.
But, under the advice of the conductor,
she boarded the return passenger, which
passed them at Slater, and set out for Blue
Creek.
It wiil be kinder to pass over the reun-
ion and explanations which were necessary
at that place.
As Jeptha Quilter was down on
his knees kindling the kitchen fire next
morning at five o’clock, Mrs. and Mr.
Matthew Haydon presented themselves at
the door. Jeptha’s mother wore a chast-
ened yet determined look that he had nev-
er seen there before.
“Yes, it’s me—me and Mr. Haydon, and
we're married an’ got the license to prove
it. I’ve b’en through a heap sense I left
here day before yesterday, Jeptha, an’ I
tell you right now that I ain’t in any hu-
mor to take any cuttin’ up about it. No
fussin’ ain’t goin’ to unmarry us, an that
might as well be understood first as last !
An’ another thing—you an’ Maria jes’ well
make up your minds to rent the eighty
across the creek an’ move over there right
away, ’cause two famblies never did do
well in the same house, an’ it’s nachul that
I should want my own house now. There
needn’t be no hard feelin’s, an’ t’other
eighty has got a good house on it. I jest
had "bout enough worryin’ these two days
tolas’ me the rest o’ my life, an’ for a few
days I’low to have enough on my hands
a doctorin’ that bruse on Mr. Haydon’s
for'red ‘thout any bother explainin’
things.”’—By Sallie F. Toler, in The White
Elephant.
Dinner Fads.
Hostesses Are on the Alert for New Methods of
Entertaining.
A RAINBOW DINNER.
The tables are dressed with flowers repre-
senting the colors in the rainbow, each
tint being represented by a strip of flow-
ers upon the immaculate whiteness of the
cloth ; bows of the same colors are tied at
the ends. As many colors as possible ap-
pear in the meats, vegetables, and salads,
the brilliant red of radishes and beets, the
tender green of crisp lettuce leaves and
asparagus tips, the lively pink of ham
boiled in champagne, the rich brown of
the roasts and the varicolors of the fruit,
cakes, and ices all making a pleasing har-
mony. There are dainty little cakes frost-
ed with delicate blue, violet, green, pink,
ete. ; ices running the gamut from a rich,
dark red to the faintest yellows and greens,
and bonbons which repeat the huesof the
seven primary colors with artistic effect.
A FLOWER COURSE DINNER.
The acme of clegant mestheticism is reach-
ed when the floral decorations of the table
are changed with each course. With the
soup, violets are the decoration ; with the
fish, tall Venetian glasses with long-stem-
med Bermuda lilies ; with the entree,
tulips ; with the roast, Marechal Niel roses;
with the game, red azaleas ; with the
salad, sweet peas ; and with the dessert, an
avalance of pink roses. A touch of addi-
tional extravagance is the matching of the
table service for each course of flowers
used.
A CONVERZIONE DINNER.
In this form of entertainment the sub-
jects of conversation undergo a change with
the courses. The hostess, before the ar-
rival of the guests, decides upon the sub-
jects. For instance, with the Blue Points,
the subject introduced might savor of
nautical lore ; the fish course might sug-
gest yachting and augling ; the game,
hunting and roast turkey, domestic sub-
jects ; the ices, Arctic voyages ; fruits,
roamings in the tropics, etc., ete. A hostess
prolific in ideas will be able to supply
abundant subjects Por discussion which
will wonderfully enliven the tedium of
a long course dinner.—Godey's Magazine.
A Knowing Donkey.
Kept Out of a Stable Until a Lawn Mower Scared
Him.
A small boy in California is the owner
of a woolly little donkey of more than or-
dinary intelligence and perversity. Some
time ago the manger in the stable fell
down and struck the donkey on the head,
since which time nothing could induce the
animal to enter the stable of his own ac-
cord, and he wandered around the yard at
his own sweet will.
The other day the bov found that the
donkey viewed the lawn mower with min-
gled curiosity and alarm. He would not
turn tail and run from it, but he would
back away, the while keeping his ears at
full cock and his eyes on the machine.
That fact gave the boy an idea. Now he
leads the donkey to the stable door, turns
the animal around, and runs the lawn
mower toward him. When the donkey
backs into the stable the door is slammed
on him before he realizes where he is.
———Subsecribe for the WATCHMAN.
THE ISSUE IN PENNSYLVANIA.
Democratic Candidate for Auditor General Talks to the People.
BY WALTER E. RITTER.
In view of the character of the legislation that has been passed during the term
of the present Governor, and the extravagance and profligacy that are manifest on
every hand in the management of the State government, it seems to me that this
is the opportune time for a change in the fiscal departments of the Commonwealth.
Even the Republican press of the State has openly admitted that public moneys
have been used for the enhancement of private fortunes and for the maintenance of
political ring rule. On November 30, 1896, the end of the last fical year, the report of
the state treasurer showed that there was a balance in the treasury department of
more than four and a quarter millions of dollars. This immense sum of money was
scattered among certain favored hanks of the State. It has been openly asserted, and
not denied, that in consideration for these deposits a corruption fund has regularly
been paid for the furtherance of certain political interests. Up until the present time
the State has never received one dollar as interest on these immense balances. The
last Legislature pretended to remedy this evil, in deference tosan aroused public senti-
ment, but instead of making conditious better they have enacted a law which in its
results may prove far more disastrous to the State than though it had never heen pass-
ed. True, it provides that the banks of the State in which state funds are carried
shall pay interest on daily balances of 2 per cent. except the two banks of Philadelphia -
and Pittsburg, and the one of Harrishurg, which shall be the depositories of the funds
used for current expenses, and which are to be called *‘active banks” and which shall
pay interest of 1} per cent ou their daily balances. While these provisions are com-
mendable so far as they go, yet in the same section of the act a proviso follows that
inasmuch as these state banks of deposits are selected by the board of revenue commis-
sioners the state treasurer shall be exempted from all liability for losses that may
occur for the failure of any such banks.
When it is remembered that the hoard of revenue commissioners is composed of
the auditor general, the state treasurer and the secretary of the Commonwealth, it
will be noticed what grand opportunities are offered for gigantic schemes of public
plunder. The act provides that bonds shall be given by the bank receiving deposits,
but who could imagine an instance when it would be possible to recover from the
bondsmen in case of a bank failure? Hitherto the state treasurer and his bondsmen
were held responsible for a proper care of the money intrusted to his care, and why
such relief has been afforded him I fail to understand.
It seems to me that had an honest effort been directed towards the end sought to
be accomplished it would have provided that interest of 3 per cent be required, and
which I am informed many banks would have gladly paid, because they in turn were
discounting it to depositors at 6 per cent, and also that the responsibllity of the treas-
urer remain as heretofore.
Proper administration of this office would require that, regardless of this law, the
highest rate of interest possible should be obtained, and then every dollar of this mon-
ey be turned into the state treasury for the benefit of the people of the State. The
present system, though, has grown up, and if election returns are to be taken asa
criterion it has been sanctioned by the people of the State. So long as the voters are
silent, though, upon such matters as these but little in the way of reform can be ex-
pected of those who seek to perpetuate themselves in power.
positing public moneys alone are these abuses confined. The shameless expenditures
that mark the legislative sessions of 1895 and 1897 ought, in themselves, be sufficient
to arouse the people to a realization of existing conditions and to result in driving the
present machine rule from power.
In 1891 the general appropriation bill, which provides for the expenses of the State
government, such as salaries of the state officers, the expenses of the Legislature, ete.,
contained in the aggregate appropriations to the amount of $559.450, and in 1893 the
amount thus appropriated was $552,659.16. This was under a Democratic Governor.
In 1895 the general appropriation bill contained an appropriation of $1,369,816.48,
while in 1897 it contained appropriations to the amount of $1,223,502.93. The in-
crease is about $800,000, or more than 150 per cent. This fairly represents conditions
When the
increase is examined into it will be found to lazgely consist of new officers and in-
creased salaries. While the people of the State are clamoring for reduced taxation the
political cormorants are recklessly squandering the public money in order to prepetu-
ate their political existence.
The attorney general of the State, in his letter to his deposed deputy, whom he
blamed as being a party in the scheme to take money from the treasury for the pur-
pose of paying political heelers who had never rendered any service to the State, and
who had given boud to the treasurer to indemnify him if they should get caught, ad-
mits that the pay roll of the House and Senate had been padded to the extent of $31,-
000. This money has to he absolutely stolen from the State. How much more is
illegitimately absorbed in ‘‘contingent expenses,’’ in “new furniture’ and in “inci-
dental expenses’ the taxpayers have no means of knowing.
It seems to me impossible that such.a condition of affairs can longer continue.
There should be the same careful and honest management of the fiscal affairs of the
State as would characterize private business. If the people of Pennsylvania had but
a remote idea of existing conditions there would be such a revolution at the Novem-
ber election as would absolutely destroy machine political misrule in the State. The
offices of auditor general and state treasurer command the key to the whole situation.
The one draws and countersigns all arrants and as the accounting officer of the Com-
monwealth must pass upon the legality of each appropriation of public money. The
other is the custodian and has the management and the investment of public funds.
Illegal appropriations and unwarranted expenditures must pass the scrutiny of
these departments before they are paid. The Democratic condidates are pledged to a
reform in these offices should they be elected. They promise that where corruption
exists it shall be disclosed, and where unwarranted extravagance holds sway that it
shall be halted. The only remedy that can be applied is to change the entire system
of management. The books should be opened and the light should be turned on.
Worthy charities have been allowed to suffer in order that political heelers might be
rewarded for party services, and the machine thus be strengthened and continued.
Offices have been created, where no necessity for such offices existed, in order to pay
political debts. Everyone acquainted with legislative affairs at Harrisburg knows the
utter absurdity of creating clerkships for committees which perhaps meet a few times
during the entire session of the Legislature ; yet it is admitted by all the parties to
the contract that no less than 10 of these clerkships were created at the last session,
and that each received a salary of $600. :
It is always easier to create new offices than it is to abandon them after they have
once been created. If the present condition is to continue, and if the people of the
State again sanction by their vote a continuance of such work, what will De the re-
sult and what the future of Pennsylvania ?
Not in the way of de-
as they are now and as they were under the administration of Democracy.
I believe the newspapers ought to take up these matters and impress them on the
people. When there is a thorough information of the wrong that exists then there
will be a revolution that will change the order of things. The people will not always
tolerate political debauchery and profligacy, and when it becomes fully apparent to
them that such exists they are ready to overthrow the machine that endeavors to fast-
en it on them. This is an ‘‘off’’ year in state politics, and it will be impossible to
call public attention to existing abuses from the stump, but the newspapers with their
power and influence can accomplish the reforms that are demanded. Will they do it?
merme—
fligh Kite Flying. i humidity remained low during ascent.
Une From Blue Hill Obsercuiory Went Up 10,076 Lhe instruments and kites were brought
Feet down at 6:40 m., having heen more
{ than a mile above the hills for over five
altitude ever | hours.
The highest recorded
reached by a kite was Pinned on the = | S—
ternoon of September 20th, at the Blue |
Hill observatory, says the Scientific His Daring.
American. The top kite reached the
height of 10,016 feet above sea level, or
8,386 feet above the summit of the hill.
The ascent began at noon, and the highest
point was reached at 17 minutes past 4,
Hargrave kites were held by nearly four
miles of wire. An instrument for record-
ing the temperature, humidity and press- |
sure was hung about 130 feet below the
highest kite. At the highest point reached
the temperature was 38 degrees, while at
the ground it was 63 degrees. At the
height of 4,000 feet the humidity rose rap-
idly ; at 7,000 the humidity was almost at
the point of saturation ; at 8,000 feet it be-
gan to fall, and at the highest point it was
extremely low. At the ground level the
“Thar goes the bravest feller in the
whole township,’ said the landlord of an
Arkansaw tavern, indicating a hatchet-
faced, spindle-legged young native who
was slouching by.
**Why, he looks anything but heroic!’
reburned the tourist from the North.
“What has he done to give him such a
i reputation for bravery 2’
‘‘He’s courtin’ Buck Soggins’ oldest gal,
that choked a full grown bear to death
about two months ago.”’— Puck.
A Speedy Cure,
He—I suffer from insomnia.
She—Why don’t you go to church more ?
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
It is no longer fashionable to go into ec-
stacies over woman. She is no longer a
sentiment, she is a problem, and it is now
our unhappy mission to grapple with her,
or surrender as we have done. The issues
she brings are vital. They take their places
among the issues of the times; and in
their scope, in their importance, in their
far reaching effects, involving as they do a
full half of the human race and the destiny
of the whole race, it may well be said that
woman’s struggle for her rights and nobler
standards makes up the foremost problems
of this world. After six thousand years of
subordination and acceptance, woman is at
last in rebellion against the things that be.
For sixty centuries she has been content to
crown the victor in the lists of haman en-
deavor ; now she is herself in the lists for
the crown and the laurels of strife. We in
exigency of this material age repeat the
cry, “Room for a lady.” And we have
made room for her; or, rather, she has
made it for herself. In every forum of dis-
cussion and in every field of strife, in the
professions and in the trades, in the ranks
of workers everywhere, she has won her
way and held her own. Her trinmphs
over heathen prejudice have been magnifi-
cent. But she has not yet released the
sword of progress. She is marching on to
new fields and wider triumphs.—Atianta
Journal.
. a
California has added many to the list of
renowned women, but not always with
such wholesomely famous names as those
of the Klumpke sisters. There are four of
them —Dorothea, who is one of the chief
workers of the Paris observatory ; Anna, a
portrait painter in Boston ; Augusta, a
physician in Paris; and Julia, one of the
most brilliant pupils of Ysaye, the violin-
ist.
School frocks are perhaps the most im-
| portant factor in a girl’s wardrobe, and
they must be made of good serviceable
material that will stand the hard service of
daily wear. It is a most foolish plan to
accumulate many frocks for any young
girl, far better to buy them when needed.
Scotch plaids are rampant this season. and
come in several different materials, all of
which are smart and serviceable. A frock
made all of plaid is sometimes unbecoming
and when this is the case it is well to use
with it some plain goods—serge or camel’s
hair—green, blue or red. One smart de-
sign has a round yoke, sleeves, and belt of
plain green trimmed with rows of mohair
braid a quarter of an inch in width ; the
body of the waist is gathered below the
yoke, and hangs in blouse effect over the
belt. The skirt of this frock is made with
gored front and straight sides and back.
Another plaid frock has a deep pointed
collar of dark blue edged with a plaid rib-
bon--the same plaid as the frock ; the col-
lar is so deep that the points come to the
belt in the back and front. There is a sash
of blue knotted loosely, with the ends left
long enough to fall to the hem of the skirt,
and there are also pointed cuffs. The skirt
is gathered all around on this frock, which
is designed for a girl of ten.
Plain rough serge trimmed with plaid is
also fashionable for school frocks, and is
thought to be more becoming. A pretty
design is in dark blue, with a full sleeve-
less waist of green and blue plaid cut out
over the shoulders and showing a yoke of
the blue. The sleeves areof the blue to
match the yoke and skirt, and the only
other plaid is a band around the skirt.
Another style which is attractive is of dark
blue serge with skirt trimmed with four
rows of black braid. Theskirt is gored all
around. The waist is like a blouse, and
opens in front to show a full vest of scarlet
velvet ; on either side of the front are small
gilt buttons, and a lacing of black silk cord
fastens around them and holds the fronts
together. The waist has a stock collar and
belt of the scarlet velvet.— Harper's Bazai.
—_—
The ‘‘collar cape,” a mass of frills of
glace silk and chiffon, is much in favor.
It is fastened at the throat by ribbons long
enough to be tied at the throat in good-
sized bows, and still leave length enough
to encircle the waist as a sash and tie again
with loops and ends. The tie must be
done at the back of the waist, so the ends
will hang down the back.
To remove grass stains soak and rub the
spots in water and cream of tartar. If a
garment is mildewed lemon juice is said to
remove the stain. If the stain is hard to
eradicate soak in a gallon of water in
which a tablespoonful of chioride of lime
has been dissolved. Rinse thoroughly.
Fruit stains may usually be removed hy
pouring boiling water through the stain,
but if this fails add oxalic acid, dissolving
three ounces in a pint of water. Soak the
stain in this solution for five minutes and
then steam it by holding over a kettle of
boiling water, or hang in the sunshine.
Rinse in ammonia when the stain disap-
pears, so the acid will be counteracted.
Rinse again thoroughly, so that the fabric
will not be injured. Javelle water 1s rec-
ommended for washing white goods.
The reign of the blouse is supreme.
Even the tailor-made gown, that most
fetching contrivance, which is supposed to
show the admirable outlines of the wearer,
is largely affected and no longer clings to
the figure as if it had grown there. The
blouse is in everything. It is king or
queen, or whatever you like to call it, but
anyway, if you wish to be in fashion do
not forget the blouse for a single moment.
The stout women like the blouse because
it is extremely comfortable. The women
who are not stout like it because it gives
them a fuller appearance than would oth-
erwise be the case. ;
The stout woman always thinks more of
her comfort and the slight woman of her
appearance, because the stout woman has
given up all hope of ever appearing slight,
and the slight woman envies her her com-
posure. So itis not at all unlikely that
the blouse has come to stay.
If the blouse is not worn it is replaced
by coat effects or the double-breasted bod-
ice, which holds its ground, and will be
largely used this winter. These double-
breasted affairs all have the left-hand jabot
and since heavy woolen goods is scarcely
adaptable to this purpose the frills will be
of lighter fabrics, such as silk, chiffon or
lace. A little later on the jabot will be
made of the bodice material, less full and
edged with fur to harmonize with the
gown, or made of a fluting of fur. While
in the depth of winter these blouses will
appear made entirely of fur, especially
sealskin and astrakan.
If there is anything which can compare
with the rage for blouse effects it is the
craze for braid trimmings. Everything
that is susceptible to that treatment—and
some things which would seem not to be as
well—has artistic scrolls and curves and
straight lines of braid thereon, generally
in a rather strongly contrasting color, but
braid at all events. The figures are ar-
ranged horizontaily, vertically, diagonally,
in Van Dykes, and, every way that the
mind of woman can conceive.
si RL BLN i, iii