aus Demorralic, Wada : Bellefonte, Pa., Jan. 28, 1898. em A QUARREL IN THE OVEN. Oh, the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl, They had a quarrel ohe day : Together they sat on the oven shelf, The piecrust fry and the gingerbread elf, And the quarrel commenced this way : Said the gingerbread boy to the piecrust girl ¢ “I'll wager my new brown hat That I'm fatter than you and much more tanned, Though you're filled with pride till you cannot stand, But what is the good of that ? Then the piecrust girl turned her little nose up In a most provoking way. “Oh, maybe you're brown, but you're poor as ean be ; You do not know lard from a round green pea! Is there aught that you do know, pray 2” Oh, the ginger bread boy, he laughed loudly with scorn As he looked at the flaky piecrust. “Just watch how I rise in the world!” cried he, “Just see how I'm bound to grow light! said she, *‘While you stay the color of rust.” So the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl They each of them swelled with pride, Till a noise was heard in a room without, A cry of delight, then a very glad shout, And the oven was opened wide. Then the gingerbread boy and the piecrust girl Could have screamed and wept with pain, For a rosy cheeked lass and a small, bright-eyed lad Took a big bite of each—yes, this tale’s very sad— So they’ll now never quarrel again. — Truth. A BACHELOR'S ROMANCE. The orchestra was playing the “Auf Wiedersehen.”” It was his favorite waltz, but he stood at the far end of the ball room leaning languidly against one of the mass- ive pillars that supported the brilliantly lighted dome. With an aimless indolence, he watched one couple after another while past and around him. Fragments of their conversation came to him at intervals, soft- ly blended with the musical laughter of women. For the past five years he had danced and laughed and flirted with them —to some made love—but all that was over now: at least, it would be on the morrow, for then he was to marry Mildred Van Ras- salas. This was his last bachelor ball. He scarcely knew why he had come. He felt out of place. Already the people had be- gun to stare wondering at him, and that saucy little debutante, Rosa Carey, had just glided up to him whispering something about ‘the great pity that she wasn’t there to make life worth living 1? The ball was a bore. He would go around to the club. He found some of his friends on the lookout for him ; so he sum- moned the little throng into the buffet, bade them drink to his health, and while the wine was circling, and one old fel- low—-a bachelor by the way—was telling his juniors of his first love, ‘his divine loveas he termed it, the groom elect step- ped away unperceived and entered his room. Stirring the fire that glowed in the grate, he sank into a chair. The sound of the LAaf Weidersehen”’ rang in his ears. With it came a flood of memories, and the faces and forms of his old loves took semblance in his mind. There was Alice—what a bright little creature she was ! They had met over at the Blanchards’, as some informal affair. She smiled at him so sweetly when they were introduced that he liked her from that moment. It was only a flirtation at first, but such things will turn out differently sometimes. Two months, then came some slight misunderstanding—a few hot words, and—well she was a jolly little thing—too bad she married that beast of a man, Wig- gins the pork millionaire ! Augusta was tall and stately. The wealth of dark gleaming hair was her crown- ing glory. How well it matched her black, fearless eyes, and how it contrasted with her even, white teeth! She wrote poetry, and read deep books, and tried to make him read them. Just to please her he had begun “The Ring and the Book.” When he found, however, that the same rather uninteresting story was being told overand over again, he really bad to lay it aside. The root of their trouble was that their tastes were not alike. Their minds moved in different avenues. She could not look up to him as a woman should to the man she is going to marry. They realized it, after awhile, and it was by mutual consent that the affair was broken up. He really was fond of her, though, and it might have gone rather hard with him, but just at that critical moment Maud came into his life. Maud was a born flirt. He might have known that she was just amusing ber self, but then her eyes—how blue they were, how truthful, how full of womanly sympathy ! What a fool in those days, those old days; He trusted her, believed in her—until that night. How well he remembered it ! They were out on the pier at Narragansett. The moon was up, the water smooth and bright as a sheet of silver. He was holding her hand ; how small and soft it was ! ‘Set the day Maud,” he was saying. “Yes, to be sure. Let it be tomorrow,” she laughed. “No, no come now,” he had persisted, ‘‘set the day. Why should we wait any longer 9”? ‘Oh, Harry, don’t be so foolish,’’ she answered, yawning slightly. ‘Foolish ! ”’ he had answered in surprise. ‘I am deeply in earnest !*? ‘‘In earnest I” then she threw back her dainty head, and the sound of her laughter went out over the still water. “What we marry !| How ridiculous I” and she laughed in. Did he let her see how deeply he felt the sting? Not he ! His pride served him with strength to act out the wretched little one- sided comedy. He, too, laughed at their idea of marrying. He was the gayest man at the ball that night, but with the coming of the morning a great bitterness crept into his heart. Money was the only thing worth having, af- ter that, Mildred Van Rassalas, wealthy and wise in the lore of the world, took so- ciety by storm. With a business like delib- eration he had set about his task of win- ning her ; and to-morrow was their wed- ding day ! Alice, Augusta, Maud, Mildred, and— yes, there was another; one who came before them all, and whose memory he still cherished as a sacred heritage. It was so long ago, yet he could see her now, with that calm smile on her childlike face, with the soft light in her clear gray eyes, and the halo of daffodil hair! Caroline ! How dearly he had loved her— his first love, his “divine love!’ He was sure in those days, that she loved him too. Her face would light up at his coming, and her voice take to itself a melody the like of which he had not heard since, nor hoped to hear in this world. What a struggle it was to part without telling her of his love! But then he felt that he must achieve some- thing before he could ask her to be his wife, and he sealed his lips and came to the great city, with a thousand noble ambi- tions in his heart. His love was toostrong, however, to brook years of uncertain wait- ing. He vividly recalled the night he wrote that letter and asking if he might come to hear the glad answer from her own lips. Then had followed a feverish state of ex- citement, while he awaited the answer. Three days of which seemed a year, and there came a neat package addressed in her hand. It was only a little tobacco pouch, tied with blue strings, and upon it was worked in embroidery the inscription, ‘For an Old Bachelor.” He had laid it softly upon the table and sat down. It was broad day. He knew that underneath his window, in the street below, people were passing to and fro and vehicles streaming up and down, and yet no sound came to him. How still the world had seemed in that one great mo- ment! ‘‘For an old bachelor.” He un- derstood. She wished to save him the pain of a long and tiresome refusal. This was her answer ! Then, mechanically, he had taken the tobacco pouch and placed it in a corner of his trunk, and had gone out fora walk, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, knowing only that his loss was irredeem- able ! Caroline, Alice, Augusta, Maud, Mil- dred—Caroline ! Aye, she was the first and—even though he was about to lead another to the altar— she was the last. Strange that she had never married. Still watching over her aged father, he had heard. Just like her. What a different man he might have been could he have won her love ! Well, he would marry to-mor- row. He would cease to be an ‘‘old bach- elor,”” and the tobacco pouch?—yes, he would destroy it. : The fire waS dull, and a shiver went through the man as he unlocked the trunk. With a reverence greater than that with which he had ever touched the hand of his bride to be, he took up the little memento. For a moment he stood looking at it with dim eyes. Then he laid it gently upon the dull coals, and as if dreading to see it in flames, went hastily into his bed room, softly closing the door. Jenkins, the fire maker, came in early the next morning. As he knelt in front of the grate, his eyes fell upon something yellow lying on the dead coals. ‘‘A tobacco pouch the governor has thrown away,’’ he muttered, holding it up by a ‘aded string ‘Just the thing for Jenkins’ loose crumbs; and he began to fill it with ‘‘plug cut.” His finger touched something crisp within the pouch, and he drew forth a tiny slip of paper, upon which was written in faded ink the one word ‘‘Come.”’ ‘“‘Humph, that must be an out of date invitation to a shindig !”’ soliloquized Jen- kins, as he tore up the tiny slip, and de- posited the fragments in the dust pan. —Munsey’s Magazine. Left His Estate to His Housekeeper. Last week when Joseph Worth, of West Chester, had been interred a sensation was sprung upon the lamenting relatives by the announcement that he had bequeathed the bulk of his estate to Mrs. Cromartie, a col- ored woman who has acted in the capacity of his housekeeper for two years past. A few years ago Mr. Worth had a mis- understanding with his wife, with whom he had lived for nearly half a century, and the two separated. Although disagreeing upon domestic affairs, Worth and his wife came to terms from a financial standpoint when they parted, she being paid $3800 in cash to relinquish all claim to her husband’s estate. Mis. Cromartie, who was about this time installed as housekeeper in the Worth household, is the divorced wife of Rev. Handy A. Cromartie. She is ahout 38 years of age, an unusually light mulatto and rather good-looking. Prior to her sep- aration from her husband. she was an evangelist of some note and acquired quite a reputation among the colored people. When a correspondent called upon Mrs. Cromartie he found her in a decidedly hys- terical mood, her lamentations being loud and protracted. ‘Don’t say anything unkind of Mr. Worth,” she sobbed, ‘‘for he was so good and kind to me, and I was so good and kind to him.”’ Mrs. Cromartie then buried her face in ber handkerchief, and again gave vent to grief. : “Yes,” she sighed as she wiped away her tears, ‘I was good to him, and it was I who led that dear man's soul to glory.” ‘Did he appreciate your kindness ?’’ she was asked. ‘‘He told me that he did,” added Mrs. Cromartie, as she vainly endeavored to suppress her emotion. ‘‘He told me that he had left me several thousand dollars in his will, and the use of his house for a year after his death. Then the building is to go to his nephew, John P. Worth, who re- sides at London Grove.’ ‘‘A few days before he died he called me to his bedside ; he told me that he wanted to leave me the house also, at least for as long as I lived. I went for D. M. McFar- land, who made the will, but he was away on a hunting trip. Then I went for Law- yer D. Smith Talbot, and he was in New York. And so the kind old man’s life passed away befere he had an opportunity of changing his will.” The document will be probated on Mon- day next. John P. Worth, a nephew of the dead man, stated that he had no doubt that $3000 or $4000 had been left to the colored woman, but it is hinted that there will be a contest over the matter. Griggs Appointed. New Jersey's Governor Called to the President's Cabinet. Succeeds Judge M'Kenna, The President, according to expectation, nominated Governor W. Griggs, New Jer- sey, to be Attorney General of the United States. : Judge Griggs’ was decided on several weeks ago, and it was officially announced from the White House that he would be made Attorney General as soon as Mr. Me- Kenna had been confirmed as a member of the Supreme Court. To Stop Whooping Cough. The discovery of the whooping cough bacillus by Dr. Koplik, of New York has been confirmed by Dr. Czapelewski, a German scientist. It is now probable that an antitoxin for the cure of whooping cough will be produced. Dr. Koplik is at present conducting experiments with that end in view. ——Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. A Ghost Taken Into Captivity, Two Young Women Solve a Horrible Mystery of a Haunted Hut.—Wild Midnight Screams. — The Scene of Murder and a Gambling Den.—The Rendezvous of Thieves. The Women Win a Wager. A ramshackle log shanty in the woods near Coudersport, Potter Co., has a career most uncanny, and can perhaps lay claim to being the scene of more sensations in the space of a year than any other structure in Potter county. First bearing a name as the home of Floyd Myers, the murderer, it subsequently became the rendezvous for a notorious gang of gamblers and highway- men, but of late the place has produced a genuine ghost, or at least, it was genuine until unmasked in a most sensational way by two plucky young women. Now the people of that community threaten to set fire to the structure. so that its existence is liable to be cut off most any night. It was in this hut that Floyd Myers lived when he killed Leonard Hart, on Christmas night of last year, dur- ing a quarrel. Both had been drinking together and be- came involved in a quarrel. Hart was struck on the head. When Myers was ar- rested next morning he had hidden a pair of bloody trousers in the chimney place of his shanty, where they were found. He was convicted and is now serving a term in the Western Penitentiary. Believing that the associations of the My- ers abode would make it proof against in- quisitive eyes, a gang of gamblers took pos- session of the cabin and soon hereafter an epidemic of highway robbery and thieving began in that section. On three different occasions victims of ‘‘hold-ups’’ tracked their assailants to the ravine in which the Myers shanty was located, but none was brave enough to investigate fully. Mid- night orgies, in which the sounds of rev- elry and riotousness were heard, were fre- quent, and the neighborhood was well-nigh terrorized when a new feature of the place suddenly asserted itself. HORRIFIED BY SCREAMS. A man named Allen, a traveling man from Buffalo, was enticed to the place one night, and there induced to take a hand in a game of poker. His associates in the game were all dressed as Potter county woodsmen, but as was evidenced by Allen’s fast decreasing ‘‘pile,”” they were experts with the cards. A black bottle was frequently passed, and long before midnight, Allen, having been fleeced of all his money, was stored away in the attic in a drunken stupor. How long he slept he was unable to say, but it was not yet daybreak when he was awakened by a curious sensation of fright and fear. It took him some time to col- lect his befuddled senses, but before this was rightly accomplished he was startled almost out of his wits by the most unearth- ly, heart-rending scream that he ever heard. Although it was not yet late in Septem- ber, his blood seemed to congeal in his veins. Aside from the scream which seemed to have been made by a woman, there was a death-like stillness in the shanty. The ‘‘drummer”’ knew nothing of the fact that the place had been tenanted by a murderer, and being a brave fellow he soon mustered up courage to crawl to the nar- row stairway and peer down into the room below. He could hear nothing and the apartment seemed to be deserted. He was about to descend, when there came another piercing seream, and the words : ‘For God’s sake, Floy, you’ve killed me!” The voice was unmistakably that of a woman, and Allen made haste to help her. When he reached the ground floor he saw the shadow of some dark object flt through the doorway, and then the place—save for the weird song of the crickets in the trees outside was as still as a tomb. LOOKING FOR MURDER. Allen struck a match, expecting to see the body of a murdered woman lying on the floor, but the flickering light much to his surprise, revealed nothing but a vacant room, even the tables on which the poker game had been played not having been dis- turbed. On one of them was a broken topped lamp and this Allen lighed. He searched for blood, but there was none to be found, and at last he concluded that the thing he heard and saw must have been a ghost. He was unable to tell what time of night it was, for the gamblers had stolen his watch. Unpleasant as was the task he was com- pelled to sit in the old shanty until the break of day, when he started afoot for town. Allen told a few of his friends about his experience with the ghost, and soon after his story was corroborated by others who had heard of a similar occurrence several times afterward. The ghost, instead of being a hoax adop- ted by the gamblers, was as much a mys- tery to them as anybody else for it had the effect of driving them out. It is said that the apparition would appear in the midst without the slightest indication of its com- ing, and twice the gamblers fled pre- cipitously, leaving their stakes on the ta- ble. Strangely, however, next day when they returned to claim their deserted booty the the money was gone. Then the gamblers gave up the place. The ghost, however, did not for it was seen and heard there several times afterward. It remained for two young women to solve the mystery of the ghost, and they did it to perfection. Al- though done on a banter, it was neverthe- less done well. The story of the haunted Myers hut was the only topic of conversa- tion in that part of the county, and old and young alike shunned the place at night much as they would a regiment of wildcats. THE GHOST HUNTERS. Three weeks ago the lovers of Marie Peifer and Kathryn Phillips dared these young women to visit the haunted cabin at night, wagering each the choice of a lady’s bicycle. The girls were not to be banter- ed, and a night or two afterward they re- paired to the old log cabin in the ravine. They had hit upon a novel plan of action. Miss Peifer is an adept at amateur photo- graphy, and they prepared a panful of flash light powder with which to surprise the ghost. It worked charmingly. It was not yet 12 o’clock that night when they heard the door of the cabin creak on its rusty hinges, and a moment later the girls, who had stationed themselves in the corner near the sthirway, saw the black figure of a man or woman appear in the doorway. They waited until the thing had shut the door behind it. Then the flash of a match ignited the powder and the next instant there was such a flash of light in the musty old room that every nook and corner was illuminated. It was a startler for the ghost, for the figure, which proved to be a woman, stood rooted to the spot. Her cloak dropped from her shoulders and in another moment she was made prisoner by the two plucky girls. Both the young women knew their cap- tive, for she was a neighbor whom they had half suspected of the ghost trick for some time. When she saw that she was unmasked the ‘ghost confessed that she bad taken that novel way to frighten her husband out of the gambling resort, and she had been keeping up the visits occa- sionally to prevent the possession of the place by the card players. Now Misses Peifer and Philips are heroines and next summer they will ride new wheels at the expense of their bantering sweethearts. Insane of Pennsylvania. The yearly increase in the number of the insane in Pennsylvania is about 600, and gives the members of the board of public charities much concern. All State hospit- als are crowded ; their fair capacity is about 4,500, and they contain 5,600 ; the chronic asylum at Wernersville is full ; the local almshouses contain more than 2,500 insane, and something must be done to provide more shelter for the present aggre- gate and the yearly increase. The insane population of the State exceeds 10.000. A plan of relief recommended is the adoption of the Wisconsin system, which has been in operation for a number of years, and is reported to be an excellent one. The State Board sent Dr. H. M. Wetherill, their secretary, to Wisconsin, to investigate the system. He went to that State a year ago, and inspected five out of 23 of the Wisconsin county asylums, and the ywo State hospitals, at Mendota and Oshkosh, inquired into the working of the system, now in force there for 16 years, and came home advising the Pennsylvan- ians to adopt it. The Legislature will be called on to do so next winter. The Wis- consin system separates instead of congre- gating the chronic insane. The policy of this State has been to withdraw the insane from inefficient county care and place them in State hospitals. In Wisconsin, according to Dr. Wetherill, its plan ‘‘has rendered possible the true hospital care and treatment of the acute cases of insanity in the hospitals, which are no longer mixed asylums, and are now performing excellent medical service. It has in every respect greatly improved the condition of all classes of the insane, and has accomplished this at a saving to the state of millions of dollars.’”” The lunacy committee gf the State board, at the head of which Is Dr. George I. McLeod, of Philadelphi, go farth- er than their secretary, and urge that this system be adopted at once in Pennsylvania, saying : “The plan to encourage county or local care of the indigent insane, if carried out, should act as a permanent relief to the State hospitals, and finally limit the neces- sity for such expensive buildings, whereby the expenditure of millions of dollars would be avoided. The quality of care in the county asylums of Wisconsin is admir- able, and far better suited to requirements of chronics than that of any hospital we have ever seen. The methods of her State hospitals, and the excellent results in special, individual treatment of curable and relievable cases, are excelled by no public hospital of which we have knowi- edge.— Pittsburg Post. McKenna Confirmed. The Entire Executive Session of the Senate Spent in Considering the Nomination. McKenna has been confirmed as Justice of the Supreme Court. Senator Allen occupied almost the entire executive session with his speech in oppo- sition to confirmation, though there were brief remarks by Senators Turner and Wil- son, of Washington, and others favorable to Mr. McKenna. There was no division on the vote. Senator Allen had before him the charges filed with the committee on judiciary, which he read at length. This comprised a large number of letters, some resolu- tions and the protest of lawyers and judges of the Paciflc coast, charging that McKen- na is unfitetd for the high office of Supreme Court Justice on the ground of a want of legal attainments. He commenced at length upon this latter document and was interrupted by Senator Perkins, of Cali- fornia, who read a published defense of Judge McKenna, giving statistics to show that he had not as judge of the California Federal Court, been more frequently re- versed by superior tribunals than had other judges of the same rank. There were also other interruptions during the day, but the proceedings were devoid of general interest. Mr. Allen spoke for about three hours. He said he was convinced of Mr. McKen- na’s unfitness for the office. He did not insist upon a roll call when the vote was taken, and the vote was overwhelmingly favorable to confirmation. An effort was made to secure the confir- mation of the nomination of Gen. Long- street to be Commissioner of Railroads, but Senator Vest objected to immediate action and the nomination went over until an- other day. Mr. Vest did not state his ob- jections beyond mentioning the fact that they were not personal. The Senate to-day also confirmed these nominations : To be Consuls—C. B. Towle, of New Hampshire, at Saltillo, Mexico; R. S. S. Berg, of North Dakota, at Gothenberg, Sweden ; M. R. Sulzer, of Indiana, at Liege, Belgium ; B. Nusbaum, of Penn- sylvania, at Munich, Bavaria. ——Japan consumes a great amount of cotton and has flourishing factories. It has been importing from the Pacific coast large amounts of American cotton Its 43,000,000 of people use little besides cotton for clothing. It promises to be a great market for the American staple. The New Orleans ‘‘Picayune’”’ an- nounces the sailing in a few days from that port for Japan of a British steamer with a quantity of Southern pig iron and 12,000 bales of cotton for Yokohama and Hi Kone, Japan, and says it will be the first cotton cargo direct to Japan from a Southern port. The sea route offers in- ducements over the rail route to the Pa- cific coast and by sea thence to Japan in cheaper freights. And what an argument it presents for an interoceanic canal ! Noah was the first man to advertise. He advertised the flood and it came throngh all right. The fellow who laughed at the advertisement got drowned, and it served him all right. Ever since Noah’s time the advertiser has been prospering, while the other fellow has been swallowed up in the flood of disaster. Now if you want to ride on top of the wave do like Noah select a paper like the WATCHMAN that is read by thousands of purchasers, in which to place your advertisement and you’ll be like Noah, always on top. Somewhat Premature. She—‘‘And will we have a carriage when we get married ?’ He—''Er—O, yes ; certainly. She—‘‘Where will we keep it !’’ He—"‘I-er-I think we had better keep it in the nursery.”’ Squaw Wives. They Make Good and Honored Helpmeets for White Husbands in the Indian Territory. After a long residence in Indian Terri- tory and a careful observation of family and domestic life as it exists here, says a correspondent of the St. Louis Globe-Demo- crat, I am thoroughly convinced that the Indian woman who becomes the wife of a white man always makes a good and faith- ful wife, and manifests a devotion to her husband’s happiness and comfort which we seldom see equaled among women of the Caucasian race, no matter what their na- tionality. The Indian woman married to a white man seems to think that she must be her husband’s slave, and her gratitude to him for having made her his wife and for treating her with kindness and consid- eration is unlimited. White men who come here and become owners of large tracts of land are compelled for their own safety to marry Indian women—they must have Indian wives to afford them protection, and some of them even get rid of their white wives in order to marry Indian women for the reason. No white man married to an Indian woman in Indian Territory dares to ill-treat or abuse her. A man would be an utterly heartless brute who could maltreat a creature so lov- ing, faithful and devoted as an Indian wife but if such a wretch should dare to mani- fest any unkindness to his Indian consort her relatives and friends would soon put him out of the way. The Indian woman who is chesen in mar- riage by a white man is so grateful to him that in every instance she will try with all her heart and soul to be what he would have her. She will try to léarn and im- prove herself in every way. When they see a woman from the States they will ex- amine carefully every article of her dress and ask her all sorts of questions about the manners and customs, the ways and fash- ions of the effete East. They are more anxious to be stylish and fashionable, if possible, than any of the society women in our Eastern cities. McAlester, the place from which I write is named for James McAlester, my host, who is the richest man in all this part of the country. He has the finest residence in Indian Territory, and his wife is an In- dian squaw. It would never do, however, to use that word ‘‘squaw’’ in such a case. Here we would say that Mr. McAlester is married to a ‘‘native.”’ That is the term by which Indians are designated in polite society in Indian Territory. Mrs. McA les- ter is a tall, handsome woman of command- ing presence. She is the daughter of a Choctaw chief. She has a very pleasant, kind and friendly disposition, and I never saw a better housekeeper. She regards servants as a nuisance and refuses to em- ploy any. She has three children, two sons and a daughter, and she brings them all up to do housework. Indian mothers make no distinction in that matter between boys and girls. On wash days one of Mrs. McAlester’s sons helps her wash the clothes and the other gets the dinner. The children of Indian mothers by white fathers always treat their mothers with the greatest respect, and regard their white fathers as superior beings toward whom they show veneration and respect. Susie McAlester, the daughter, is 15 years of age. She is very tall and as straight and grace- ful as a pine tree. If you saw her with ber hat on you would think that she was only a very dark brunette, but with her hat off Indian blood shows itself in her hair and her high cheek bones. She is very pretty, as well as highly intelligent and accomplished. She bas been at board- ing school in Missouri, and plays very well upon the grand piano which ornaments her mother’s drawing-room. : Mr. McAlester takes his children with him on his business trips to the East, and in company with their father they visited the World's Fair in 1893. Mrs. McAlester never went East with her husband but once, and that was many years ago. When they arrived at St. Louis they went to the Planter’s hotel, but they were refused ad- mittance because the proprietors believed Mrs. McAlester to be a negress. Fortu- nately Mr. McAlester met iu the hotel lob- by a traveling man who was well known to him, as well as to the hotel keepers, and who vouched for the fact that it was Indian and not negro blood which gave the dark tint to Mrs. McAlester’s magnificent com- plexion. Rooms were then promptly as- signed them, and the hotel people did everything possible to atone for their un- fortunate mistake, but the young wife, who like all Indians, is of a very sensitive nature, had been so deeply wounded and mortified that she has steadily declined to accompany her husband outside of the In- dian Territory ever since. The homes of the Indian wives of wealthy white men are handsomely fur- nished. The china on their tables is fine and their meals are well served. All these Indian wives are very fond of flowers and devote a great deal of time to cultivating them. They have a profusion of them in all parts of their dwellings. The married life of Indian wives and white husbands seems ideally happy so far as I have been able observe it, and if you want an abso- lute surety of getting a loving, faithful and devoted wife you cannot do better than to marry an Indian woman. Will Extend His Railway. Millionaire DuBois Making a Move of Considerable Importance. John E. DuBois, the millionaire lamber- man has decided io extend his Juniata Val- ley railroad from DuBois to Emporium, Cameron county, a distance of forty miles. His ostensible purpose at present is to have the lumber on his timber lands brought to his mills, but another deal of greater magnitude is behind the present ex- tension, it is rumored. Notice to Subscribers. An Arkansas editor, in reading that a young lady in New York kneads bread with her gloves on, indulges in the follow- idg soliloquy : ‘It is said that a New York girl kneads bread with her gloves on, but that is no news to us. We need bread with our boots on ; we need bread with our pants on ; and if those subscribers so much in arrears don’t pay up pretty soon, we will need bread without anything on.” Both Traveling. Affable Aristocrat—The fact is, my name is not Gibson. You see I am traveling in- cog. There’s my card. Our Mr. Tuppings—Glad to hear it. I’m traveling in pickles. Here's mine.— Comic Home Journal. ——Col. William F. Cody, who owns an immense big ranch in the Big Horn coun- try, is building fa canal from the Sho- sone river which will carry water 125 miles through mountains rich in ore to his acres in the Big Horn basin. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. *“The shops have their shirt waist open- ings in January,” “and if you don’t secure the new models and novelties now they cannot be bought latter.” In the first place yon must give away Your lovely transparent organdie waist of last year, for while there is little, if any, change in the cut, opaque materials are de- riguer for wash waists. Piques, white shirting linens, canvas cloth, ginghams, sateens so fine and lustrous that they look like silk, are made up and shown at the openings as the only correct thing. There are many white waists, the handsomest in pique, made with attached cuffs and de- tachable collars. These details remain the: same as last year. The fall fronts are gathered to the short yoke and the effect gained by the material and cut only asa contrast to these are waists of white, short bosom linen made in the same way, but the full fronts are ornamented by clusters of fine tucks slanting to the center. There are other white waists shown, lawns and lappets. Pique in checks with pinhead dots of color and plain pink, lavender and blue are charming and new. Gingham is in high favor, complicated red plaids, two toned checks, and dainty lines of white on colored grounds are displayed. These have detachable collars to match, but white may be correctly worn in place of these. In the canvas cloth waists we find pale: green plaids artistically mingled with red rose and blue, yellow and green combina- tions. In the cambric and percales are lovely checks on white ground. The bars. forming these checks are nearly an inch wide and are in floral designs, exquisite lavender and pale blues. Crossing these: are other floral bars mingled with stripes. of black. The rage for gray has reached and claim- ed the shirt waist at last and some of the prettiest and most becoming are plaids of all tones of grey. A home-made emollient for chapped hands is compounded from an ounce of white wax and an ounce of spermaceti. Cut into shreds and melt together in an earthenware jar ; then add an ounce of camphorized oil, stir the ingredients until they are well mixed, place the jar in a basin of cold water, stir until the cream is cold, then pack in little jars for the dress- ing table. If this is rubbed on the hands and a pair of wash-leather gloves worn at night the relief will be prompt. Everyone admits the necessity for guard- ing against exposure, especially when there are sudden changes from heat to cold, but few persons take these imperative vrecau- tions in the proper way. They are chilly when the weather changes and immediately seek out an overcoat, a jacket, a scarf or a muffler. The shoulder cape comes into use and the feather boa or wrap that is pulled up close about the neck and covers the chest. If, instead of this, thicker shoes and warmer hose, without garters, were put on and a warmer covering for the limbs were afforded the trunk of the body could take much better care of itself. Cold and exposed extremities and too much wrapping around the hody create conges- tion and pave the way for disease. The hygienic and sensible method is to give the throat, chest and arms a dash of cold salt and water every morning upon rising. An entire sponge bath of this sort is of great advantage, but this treatment of the throat and chest is almost absolutely nec- essary if one would avoid a multitude of ills that affect this portion of the system. A charming spring gown fora young girl is of Havana brown twilled serge ; the skirt four yards around the hem ; the hips fitting snugly ; the fullness laid in four inches of shirring at the back. Each seam double stitched, the bottom entirely plain, the whole made over a lining of apple green taffeta. No dust ruffle, they add to the dust. Two inches of the material for facing, the skirt quite long, touching all around. The coat rather long, reaching over the hips ; single breasted, buttoning on a secret flap, with brown horn buttons. Small pockets with flaps on either side of the waist ; these seams also lapped and double stitched. As to the fit of this coat, it goes into the figure, but does not press it. The curve of the back must be faultless, the line over the hips without a wrinkle. With such a costume can be worn a gingham or pique shirt waist, a crimson silk Ascot tie, and a brown, plaited velvet and straw toque, with a green bird at the side. With tan pique walking gloves and kangaroo walking boots, highly polished added, no debutante could be more wisely or more attractively gowned. According to London predictions, the hair is to be worn low again, way down in the nape of the neck as it has not been worn for many a day. No one for dress wears her hair unornamented these days. A twist of velvet or jet is in favor, es- pecially when accompanied by a single os- trich feather at one side. The old turban effect is revived in a fold of gauze tied into a knot at one side, with an ostrich nodding over the whole. What a turn about there has been ! wom- en adore change. Few can be true to any style long enough to really enjoy it. Only one short year ago they were vieing with ° one another in the matter of sleeves. Great was their anguish of soul when they discovered some other woman with an inch or two more of sleeve than theirs, skirts had an impertinent flare and swing about the bottom ; we wore millinery of skyward tendency ; our flowers reared above misty foundations as straight as wire could prop them. They have collapsed in every direction. The inflated arm covers have gone the way of all modes, the sleeve they now profess to be in love with, hugging skinny as well as plump arms, to the distraction of their owners. Skirts hang around as limp as the feath- ers of a rain-soaked fowl, while bobbing plumes bob low—so low that many of them trail shoulderward. To be sure there are still women with hats that suggest top loftiness. The soubrette hat of velvet carries many plumes heavenward. To be very swell, however, the feather must be long and it must cling as closely as possible to the head-gear it adorns. Never place wet boots by the five, for the heat stiffens the leather, so that it becomes most uncomfortable to wear. The best way todry them, and at the same time preserve their shape, is to fill each boot with oats, or any other grain. This gath- ers up the moisture from the leather and in doing so, swells so that the shape of the boot is well defined. When the boots are quite dry shake out the oats and dry them for use on a further occasion. Boots that have been allowed to harden should be well rubbed with paraffin.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers