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.