Bellefonte, Pa., April 1, 1898. THE SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER. Yes, sir, I fought with Stonewall, And faced the fight with Lee; But if this here Union goes to war, Make one more gun for me! IZdidn’t shrink from Sherman As he galloped to the sea ; But if this here Union goes to war, Make one more gun for me! T was with ’em at Manassas— The bully boys in gray ; I heard the thunders roarin’ Round Stonewall Jackson's way, And many a time this sword of mine Has blazed the route for Lee; But if this old Nation goes to war, Make one more sword for me! I'm not =o full o’ fightin’, Nor half =o full o’ fun, As I was back in the sixties When I shouldered my old gun ; It may be that my hair is white— Sich things, you know must be, But if this old Union’s in for war, Make one more gun for me! I hain’t forgot my raisin’— Nor how, in sixty-two, Or thereabouts, with battle shouts I charged the boys in blue; And I say: I fought with Stonewall, And blazed the way for Lee, But if this old Union’s in for war, Make one more gun for me! : —Atlanta Constitution. HIS NORTHERN BROTHER. Just make it two, old fellow, I want to stand once more Beneath the old flag with you As in the days of yore Our fathers stood together And fought on land and sea The battles fierce that made us A Nation of the free. I whipped you down at Vicksburg, You licked me at Bull Run; On many a field we struggled, When neither victory won. You wore the gray of Southland, I wore the Northern blue ; Like men we did our duty When screaming bullets flew, Four years we fought like devils, But when the war was done Your hand met mine in friendly clasp, Our two hearts beat as one. And now when danger threatens, No North, no South we know, Once more we stand together To fight the common foe. My head, like yours, is frosty— Old age is creeping on, Life’s sun is lower sinking, My day will soon be gone. Bat if our country’s honor Needs once again her son, I'm ready, too, old fellow— So get another gnn. —Mianeapolis Journal, GAYLORD OF THE WEST. He came out of the west—but that was the only respect in which he resembled Lochinvar. Indeed, the points of dis- similarity were noticeable. He had no fair Ellen ; his steed, a knotty little mountain animal, was far from being the best on all the wide border, and naturally, he did not bring it with him to Chicago. ‘What he did bring was a bulging pocket book. Not knowing exactly what to do with the contents, he bought an astonish- ing amount of gay summer linen, and scandalized a discreet neighborhood by sending quantities of American Beauties to Mrs. Hadden Worcester, whom he had met out at Denver, and whose husband had in- terests identical with his own in certain mining ventures. Mis. Worcester was somewhat annoyed by these attentions, but understanding that they were only a part of the habitual exuberance by which Thad- deus Gaylord was distinguished, she ac- cepted them with patience. He even insisted that she should lunch with him at his hotel, and she consented, but just as she was leaving her house to keep this appointment a young woman alighted from a cab, satchel and guitar case in hand, and presented herself at Mrs. Worcester’s door. ‘‘Why, Heth Lowman!’ cried Mrs. Worcester, kissing the quiet little face of the girl. ‘‘I thought you were not due for a week yet. Surely you said commence- ment day was on the 1st of June.”’ “I was too tired to wait for commence- ment,”’ said the girl. ‘‘Besides—well-- there wasn’t anybody to see me, you know —and all the other girls had their people coming to commencement. Father couldn’t get away. And it’s a long way from Den- ver to Poughkeepsie, isn’tit ? I hadn’t any graduating frock, either, and I don’t know what to get. And—O, I don’t know ! But I just thought I would come and see you.” ‘‘You’re as welcome as you can he, my dear, and you look just like your mother— which makes you even more welcome.” “But I must tell you why I have my hat on. I’m invited to luncheon with a gen- tleman from your own town, from Denver, who is a friend of Mr. Worcester’s. My friend will be delighted to have you come with me.”” Half an hour later Thaddeus Gaylord took her pliable little hand in his. “I call this kind of Mrs. Worcester,” said he ; “I count myself complimented ! Mrs. Worcester, madam, you have hon- ored me.” He led the way to the dining room, talking all the way, and the ladies were seated where they could overlook the cake, at a table half hidden in violets and pink roses. Gaylord was of uncertain age. He ap- peared to be a man who could never grow old. His dark red hair was wiry and in- tractable. His eyes were blue and full of frankness. His mustache was so volu- minous, so long, and so generally reckless in its appearance that it seemed like the caricature of a mustache. His white hands had certain protuberances on them, which indicated that he knew the shovel and pick —Dbut that’s no shame to a miner, as he would have explained—and his skin, nat- urally tender and sensitive, bore marks of exposure. As for his clothes, they were quite impossible. But Miss Lowman did not know that, and Mrs. Hadden Wor- cester did not care. She was too correct herself to be more than amused at incor- rectness. The luncheon was quitz wonderful, even for that hostelry, and the conversation was s0 interesting that a number of listeners made a feint of lingering over their dessert to hear as much of it as possible. After luncheon Gaylord called for the best rig in the establishment. But no sooner had he laid his eyes upon it than his jocund spirit seemed to undergo some trans- formation. “That hearse,’’ said he to the attendant, ‘Yis intended for me, is it 2? “‘Yes, sir. It is quite the most correct thing we have, sir.” “Mr. Reynolds.”’ said Gaylord to the clerk, “I asked you for a rig to take two ladies riding. I didn’t’ask you for a hearse, sir. I’m not one of the mourn- ers ! No, nor the corpse, damned if I am ! Get me a wagon, sir—a road cart—some- thing yellow.’ A few minutes later Gaylord was driv- ing .two bright chestnuts up the Lake Shore drive, before a yellow road cart, and every time the chestnuts lifted their dainty legs there was a clinking of brazen chains. ‘Now, this,”” said Gaylord, fairly un- furling his splendid mustache to the wind in the exuberance of his enjoyment, ‘‘re- minds me of Denver. Now, I feel at home!”’ Mrs. Worcester, who was meeting her friends, grew a trifle pale. Her western acquaintance was even more startling than she had apprehended. But the grave little Miss Lowman was glowing like a rose. As the excitable animals flew along the per- fect boulevard, and all eyes were turned in their direction, she felt like a Roman em- press ina triumphal car, and said to her- self that she was really seeing life. After that Gaylord called every day at the Worcesters and saw the ladies. Two bunches of roses came daily to the house now, and the roses for Miss Lowman were invariably white—and sometimes the flow- ers were not roses at all, but lilies. Mrs. Worcester did not want to shirk responsibility, but she rather hastened the departure of her guest, and explained af- terward to Gaylord that she had been sum- moned by her father, who wanted her at home. ‘“Why didn’t you telegraph me, madam ? I’d have gone with her—indeed I would. I would have seen her safe to her journey’s end. Who knows what annoyances she may encounter ? You ought to have told me, and I can’t understand why you didn’t !”? It is necessary to record the fact that Thaddeus was not known to the fashion- able set at Denver. But on his return and upon finding that Miss Heth Lowman had been introduced to society at Mrs. Drex- el’s afternoon, he grew socially ambitious. He went to Vernon Harcourt Beresford with his difficulty. Mr. Beresford was a peculiar man. The atmosphere of London hung about him. He wore clothes which were fashionable in the English metropolis, and he gave dinners which would have been popular anywhere. He could play the host like a Sardanapalus, and when any remarkable personage came to town it waa taken as a matter of course that he or she should be invited to dine at the Beres- fords. When Gaylord went to the speculator with his troubles, Beresford lent a sym- pathetic ear. “I’11 bring you out, my boy !"’ cried Beresford. ‘I'll give you a chance to make your virgin bow to society at my table, and I'll have the people there who will make the rest easy. You ought to shine in Denver society, Gaylord, I'm dashed if you oughtn’t. But the first thing you must do, man, is to get yourself in proper gear.’’ ‘““You don’t like my clothes ?’’ ‘‘Clothes? Do you call those clothes ? Gaylord. I hate to tell you, but the truth is, you have never dressed in your life. You have merely covered your naked- ness. Now, you ought to have a valet.” “Do—do you think so0?’’ asked Gay- lord, doubtfully. ‘But we don’t raise valets out here. They don’t grow in this soil. ‘“Youmight send to England for one. I know a man who will send you just the fellow. Here’s his address—had a letter from him to-day.”’ “I'll cable him,”’ exclaimed Gaylord, suddenly electrified. ‘‘I’ll do it this min- ute.” And he started for the telegraph room. ‘By Jove !”” said Beresford feebly, look- ing after his friend, and then sinking help- lessly into a chair. Ocean greyhounds are fleet, and so are the overland flyers, and in little more than a fortnight Richard Stubbs, a gentleman’s gentleman, knocked at Gaylord’s door at the Brown palace. Gaylord shouted to come in, and Rich- ard Stubbs entered. ‘‘How do you do, sir,’’ said Gaylord, ris- ing, ‘‘I haven’t the pleasure—’’ *‘Richard Stubbs, sir, of London, at your service—the man you sent for, sir.”’ ‘Man I sent—O, yes, yes ! Glad to meet you, sir ; glad to meet you !”” I hope you had a pleasant voyage.’ He held out a welcoming hand and greeted the English- man as if they were reunited brothers. ‘Thank you kindly, sir. The voyage was rough.’’ ‘‘How do you like America?’ asked Gaylord, trying to help the man off with his overcoat. ; “Thank you, sir, but I’ve seen but little of it yet.”” The man stood respectfully, with his coat over his arm. “Put down your things,’’ commanded Gaylord, ‘sit down, man, sit down. I’m glad to see you. What will you have ?”’ ‘‘Have, sir ?”’ ‘To drink, I mean. A brandy and soda ? Just name the stuff—whatever you please.’’ ‘‘Since you are so kind, sir, I think I'd like to try one of your Americans drinks. I wish to become accustomed to your tastes, sir.”’ ‘Now, that’s nice of you, Mr. Stubbs,” cried Gaylord, striking him cordially on the back. ‘‘I see you are going to make a good American. I've always said that Englishmen made the best Americans. I hope to see you taking out your natural- ization papers soon.”’ , The drink came. Stubbs quaffed it with evident relish, and asked for its name. “That’s a local compound,’ explained Gaylord. ‘‘The barkeep down stairs in- vented it. Great, isn’t it, Mr. Stubbs?’ ‘Stubbs, sir, if you please.” “Thank you, Stubbs. I like to be in- formal myself.’ “I’m ready to begin my duties, sir. If you will kindly tell me my room, I’ll have my boxes taken up. And as you may be going out presently, sir, perhaps you will be kind enough to show me where I will find your wardrobe. Or you may wish me to attire you for luncheon, sir ?”' Gaylord, who had been glancing over the paper for the last few seconds, looked up in something akin to consternation. ‘Attire me for luncheon! Why, dam- me, man, I’ve got the only clothes I have on my back—except that old diagonal suit for Sundays. Wardrobe! Merciful pow- ers! Wardrobe! My wardrobe, Stubbs’ is in the closet. It consists of pajamas and a bathrobe.’ “May I ask you, sir, under those cir- cumstances, what my duties are to be, and ---hegging your pardon---why you sent for me, sir ?’’ Gaylord stared a moment at the valet, and then went over to him and good humoredly pushed him into a chair. ‘See here, Stubbs,”’ said he, ‘I’m go- ing to be frank with you. I’m a miner. I've made my pile. I’ve traveled a hun- dred miles to every one of yours. I’ve known cold and hunger and rough living of all sorts. But now that’s over. I’ve two of the richest silver mines in the State. I’m at a place where I can enjoy life, and I’ve earned my right to do it. I’ve got to stand on my own merits as a man, but I think I'd look better to the world in gen- eral if I had a tailor. Now, I want you to rub me down, so to speak, and send me out well groomed. In short, array me like Solomon. I’ll place a bank account at your disposal, and I want you to do the thing right. In the meantime, ring that bell, please. When the boy comes go with him and pick out a room to suit you. Make yourself comfortable. You’ve come half around the world to oblige me and I want you to feel at home. If you serve me well, Stubbs, you will never regret it —and here’s my hand on it! And don’t mind my American ways.’’ Stubbs regarded him with a pair of hon- est bovine eyes for a moment. Then the man in him rose to meet the man in Gay- lord, and they shook hands vigorously in sign of compact. This ceremony over, Stubbs became instantly the valet, and was never for an instant afterward anything else. A week after this Vernon Harcourt Beres- ford gave a dinner, and the guest of honor was Thaddeus Gaylord, who, in the most conventional attire, told vociferous stories with a gusto all his own. He went home exultant. It was now only a matter of a few days before he could meet Miss Low- man on an equal footing. Gaylord pushed his business interests excitedly. For the first time the knowledge of his wealth, present and to come] filled him with joy. He entered with avidity into his new plea- sures. Stubbs had made him the best- dressed man in Denver, Beresford not ex- cepted, and almost before the week was out Gaylord had won the reputation of be- ing brilliant, though Mrs. Drexel, who had a sharp tongue, gave out the subtle sug- gestion that he was merély vociferous. The first time Gaylord met Miss Low- man was at a dancing party given by Mrs. Thurlow Green. Miss Lowman work a severe frock of white, out of which arose her girlish neck, delicate as alabaster. Her face still bore a look of innocent hauteur, and her sweet voice was tuned to a minor key. The young gentlemen of Denver had already dubbed her the ice maiden, but wind, as he himself might have said had he undertaken a simile, and her frigidity did not even arrest his attention. He had danced till morning many a time in the mining camps, and he knew his steps per- fectly well. Miss Lowman - had the feet and the airy motions of a fay, and in the embrace of the strapping mountaineer, de- momentum, the pair swept all things be- fore them and had the right of way where- ever they went. The next day Gaylord called. The next day after that he sent flowers. When he met her at dinner at Mrs. Drexel’s she was wearing some of them in her drab hair. After that he always sent flowers—every day. Her father might well have inquired into this devotion had it been her father’s nature to inquire into anything. But he was a distrait sort of man, who appeared to speculate absent-mindedly, and who seemed vaguely and largely successful. His interests were reported to be very great. It was commonly thought his investments in the East furnished the base of his in- come. But he was uncommunicative and sour, and confided in none. His business apartments were furnished in mahogany and bronzes—and that was rather convine- ing to Denver, for Denver is still young and credulous. It was said everywhere in the city that Heth Lowman was an heiress, and the daughter of a millionaire—but they speak that word glibly out there. Stubbs saw the photograph of a girl on his patron’s dressing table, and drew his own conclusion—especially after he found it one morning under his gentleman’s pil- low. In course of time a delicately paint- ed miniature replaced the photograph. Stubbs was able to observe certain marked changes in his patron, also. When he had ‘first entered into Mr. Gaylord’s life---if it is correct to speak in terms so emotional concerning the association of a man and his valet---Gaylord had writhed under his ministrations. Now, he sat like a lamb while Stubbs arrayed him, and had even, to his valet’s secret delight, sharply rep- rimanded him for lack of attention to some small detail. Under this treatment Stubbs began to feel quite at home, and if he had entertained any secret apprehen- sions about the gentility of his patron they now disappeared. One day, however, a cloud appeared on Stubbs’ horizon. It may or may not have been bigger than a man’s hand ; Stubbs was not in a position to say, because for some time he paid no attention to it what- ever. The first thing he noticed was that every morning Mr. Gaylord was avid for his paper, and that he turned to the Washington news and read it feverishly. Later on the valet observed that a strange anxiety lay upon the whole city. Excited groups talked and gesticulated together on the street corners. Men lingered long in the barber shops, haranguing. The hotel rotundas were thronged at night, and, ap- parently, not for the purpose of pleasure. Miners thronged the city by the thousand, fresh from the camps. Bulletins were ea- gerly read in the clubs and the newspaper windows. The rooms of the Mining Ex- change hummed like a hive with men. One morning the papers printed the news that India had suspended the coinage of silver. That day there were three suicides at Rico and two at Ouray---and perhaps some others, elsewhere, of which no one took note. The air was electric with pres- age of disaster. Gaylord ate nothing all day, and that evening he stayed in his room---a thing he had not done since he re- turned from Chicago. About this time Colorado began to make new fashions for itself. Beresford invited his friends to dine with him under the auspices of the sheriff. So they came---all the merry old rounders, and drank good wine under the nose of the sheriff---who drank as much as anybody. In fact, Mrs. Beresford, in her corn-colored satin, held aloft an iridescent goblet of twisted glass in her hand and cried : ‘“To the sheriff,”’ and the company drain- ed the amber liquid to him, while he came in from au ante-room to bow his acknowl- edgments. Up in the camps hard-luck dinners be- came the rage. One dinner was given at Rico to which 10 penniless men sat down, who had been millionaires, or well on the way to he such, the week before. The food they ate was obtained on credit, and they sent out a telegram asking for passes to Denver---which they got---for it had been only a month before that they had had the president of the road and twenty other good fellows up to drink champagne and eat venison with them. The days passed feverishly. Men wait- ed for the final blow. It came. The Sher- man act was repealed. The government no longer guaranteed the purchase of silver. Gaylord came to Stubbs with the old whimsical smile about his face. “I’m done for,” he said. ‘I’m cleaned out, Stubbs. But there’s a lot of others Mr. Thaddeus Gaylord was a Chinook |S pending upon his strength and magnificent | traveling my road, and I’m not going to feel lonesome. I'm simply going to pack my grip and get out. I've got a little money that I can honestly use. though most of what I have in the bank will have to go to pay off the men at the mines and settling up matters. And I’ve this to say, Stubbs, to you. If you want to go with me, you may. I brought you over here, and you may share my fortunes to the end if you wish. But I give you fair warning they’ll be misfortunes from this time on for a while. Of course, I'll get on my feet again somehow. but I don’t know when nor where nor how. I’m used to rough- ing it, and I don’t mind—at least I wouldn’t mind but for one thing---but that’s neither here nor there. Now, what will you do ? I’m with you, Stubbs! Say your say.”’ “Why sir,”’ said the man, touched by his employer’s misfortunes, ‘‘there’s a very respectable place in a barber’s shop that will he open to me, and I'll be better there. I'd bea burden to you, sir, but here I’ll be well provided for, and in con- dition---I beg your pardon, sir, but you’ll understand how I meant it---to be of some assistance to you, should you need it any time.”’ The tears were in Gaylord’s eyes in a second. *‘No, no, Stubbs, I shan’t need your as- sistance, I hope. But if I do, I'll ask for it and be proud to---and there’s my hand on it. I don’t know yet where I'll go, but there are many reasons why the sooner I get away from here the better.’’ That night Thaddeus Gaylord left Den- ver. Stubbs returned to his master’s old apartments at the Brown Palace, and was gathering up such of his trinkets as he had not packed, when a nervous little knock at the door arrested him. He opened it to the lady of the miniature. “He is gone?’ she almost whispered. “Mr. Gaylord is really gone?’’ She held a notein her hand which Stubbs at once saw was in his departed patron’s hand- writing. ‘‘He is gone, madam,’’ said Stubbs, bow- ing profoundly. She walked back and forth in the room,’ in apparent distress of mind. ‘You are his man?’ she asked at length, stopping suddenly and facing tubbs. ‘‘I am, and if I can be of any service to you, pray let me know, ma’am. I’m sure Mr. Gaylord would wish me do do any- thing in my power—or—or his, ma’am.”’ ‘Mr. Gaylord,’ said the lady, was— was a friend of mine. He has gone just when I needed him most. I do not know what to do—what to do— ““Won’t vou tell me what I can do for you, ma’am? There is certainly some- thing !”’ ‘Listen I” she said, drawing near the valet and looking at him with dilated eyes. ‘‘I have something so terrible to say that you will *hardly believe me! No one knows yet—nota soul. As soon as I found it out I locked the door and came here. I ran all the way. I knew the number of his room, and I came right here—and he is gone. I had a note saying he was going, but I thought I might get here in time. Do you know what has happened? My father—’’ she took hold of the valet’s sleeve—groping for human sympathy— ‘‘my poor father has killed himself !"’ Stubbs instinctively and respectfully supported her swaying body. By and by she grew calmer, and permit- ted him to inform the proper persons and to send for her carriage and see her safe home. He sent out telegrams after the de- parting train on which his patron had gone, but no response came. Gaylord him- self had had no idea of his destination. He did not know, when he left, whether he would stop in the mountains after he crossed the divide, or go on to the Pacific coast, or still further, to Honolulu. The death of George Lowman attracted but little attention. When the news of his insolvency and his suicide went abroad people simply concluded that they had overestimated his wealth and had been mistaken as to the source from which it came. His daughter’s existence was unknown to many of those who had an acquaintance with her father, for it was but a few weeks since she came to the city. The women who had taken it upon themselves to in- troduce her and to show her courtesies were kind now, and visited her, and in- vited her to their houses and sent flowers. The poor child turned toward them a white face of refusal, and shut her doors on all the world. She dismissed the servants the next morning and bent herself to the task of looking after her father’s affairs. She gave the whole thing over finally into the hands of his attorneys, and quitted the place at twilight, when none might see her, with no attendant save the faithful Stubbs. He had sent her trunks to a quiet place in the suburbs, where the mountains look- ed down on a grass-grown table land and white streets, irrigating ditches and clumps of wild willows. For several days she did little but lie on the settee and watch the rise and fall of the fire. The consciousness that she would soon be penniless had prompted her to for- bid Stubbs to let any of her few friends know her whereabouts. A few days more would bring her to penury. Her proud little spirit would not endure the idea of mendicancy, even in its most agreeable forms, and she shut herself close in the house and kept her heartache as her only guest. As time went on, her little purse suffered perfect depletion. She might have given lessons in bad French or mistaught pupils on the piano, only no one in Denver was paying for luxuries of that sort just then. Denver was economizing—dramatically. Heth Lowman, however, had no call to be histrionic, and she watched the mails, and was forever expecting a letter from Gay- lord, who had gone, as he explained to her in his farewell note, to retrieve himself, and would return to her only when he was once more a rich man. She was convinced that he was keeping watchful care of her when, about a month after her misfortunes, and just when her fortune looked the blackest, an envelope came, containing a number of bills—quite enough to keep her in comfort for several weeks to come. She told Stubbs about the money—she was confidential with Stubbs—and asked him if he didn’t sup- pose Mr. Gaylord had caused his banker to send the money, which would account for the Denver stamp mark on the envelope. Stubbs said that was a reasonable supposi- tion, and little Miss Lowman was perfectly happy. Though she had entertained such violent scruples against accepting help from any one else, she had no compunction at all at receiving it from Thaddeus Gaylord. He had told her, with frenzied iterations that he loved her, that he must marry her, that he had never loved any one else, and that she was the loveliest woman in the world. She found nothing irritating in the fact that Gaylord, bewildered at his own mis- fortunes, had forgotten to inquire about her condition. As the months went by the mysterious stipened continued to come unfailingly,and Heth kept up her spirits, and made her- self useful. She loved the spot where she lived. The eagles flew over it sometimes, and the mountains were seldom hidden. One day that which Heth expected had happened. Stubbs had not called in the morning, as usual, and Miss Lowman, who had come to depend upon him for any small service she might wish performed wondered if he were ill. She sat at the window, sewing lace in the neck of her - gray Sunday frock when she saw him coming down the street. And, gladness, gladness! He was not alone! Beside him strode a gentleman in resplendent attire—a gentleman with a flamboyant mustache—a gentleman who looked as if he were in the habit of having men and obstacles, and even U. S. mail wagons get out of his way! In his arms Stubbs carried a basket of roses and sundry little packages, and as they walked the man with the mustache talked all the time. Heth could hear his ringing voice come up to her through the closed window. She flew back to her own room and sat down and sewed some more of the lace in the neck of her frock with an air of deadly indifference. She heard some one hound- ing up the stairs three steps at a time—and she still sewed on the lace. She heard an impetuous knock at the door, and it burst open—Heth was just knotting a thread— and the next thing she knew she was not in her chair at all, but—well, well—never mind. ‘““Well,”” said he, ‘‘Heth, I’m back.” No one smiled. Everyone seemed to think the remark was needed. “I’m on my feet again. I knew I would be-—with you waiting. Alaska salmon did it. - I canned the tails. The fools were throwing away as mnch as they canned. I swear they were. I got a cannery in the shadow of a volcano and under the lid of a glacier, and I want you to see it.’’ It didn’t seem surprising to anybody that Gaylord should wish to take his bride to a salmon cannery. “I didn,t know your plight, dear child, till Stubbs told me—heavens! If I had known it, I’d have been home soon enough.” “Didn’t know it,’ gasped Heth, wiping her eyes on a diminutive pocket handker- chief ; ‘how then—"’ But she was interrupted by Stubbs, who came in with the roses, and the little box- es, which the traveler made her open, and which contained trinkets of various kinds —silver bracelets from the Thinglets, and a silk shawl from Chinatown at Portland, and carved bone spoons from the Aleuts and a necklace of Alaska garnets. ‘If it hadn’t been for that fellow’s waist- coats,’’ said Gaylord pointing to his valet, ‘‘and all the rest of the truck with which he furnished me, I might have fared badly, Heth. The rascal packed up the whole outfit, and where I’ve been clothes wear out fast, not to mention the fact that it’s often comfortable to wear three suits at a time. I wore my swallow tail with a blue flannel shirt and a pair of checked trousers, and it seemed to take with the natives first rate. Stubbs had never known before that his master’s mistress could give a peal of laughter like that—he hadn’t an idea of it —or that her eyes could dance like will o’- the-wisps on a foggy night. ‘‘But if you don’t know about my mis- fortunes,’’ said she suddenly, returning to her former question, ‘‘how was it that you sent me that money every month? But for you I should have been a heggar, and I know it whould have broken my heart.”’ ‘‘Money,’’ said Gaylord, ‘‘money !”’ Stubbs was making for the door. ‘‘Come back here, you rascal,”’ cried Gaylord. ‘‘Turn around here, sir.”’ Stubbs’ face was scarlet. ‘Look at that my dear, will you,’’ cried Gaylord, ‘‘look at that ! Guilt painted on every feature! See that, my dear !”’ Heth got up and slipped her hand in Stubbs’ big paw. ‘I hope you will never have to be part- ed from—from Mr. Gaylord—and—and me,’’ said she. Gaylord was mopping his blue eyes. “Stubbs, he said, ‘‘I-—-"’ *‘Don’t mention it, sir, if you please. My fathers have been gentlemen’s men for five generations, sir, and it would be queer if I didn’t understand a gentleman's feel- ings, sir, and I know what he would want done under certain circumstances.’’ ‘““How,’’ cried Gaylord, throwing up his hand ‘‘can I live up to Stubbs !”’—By Elia W. Peattie in the Philadelphia Inquirer. River Floods. With the shift from winter to spring it is usual to expect a rainy season that fills the streams. Once, when the forests were reservoirs that stored the surplus waters, floods might have been less frequent and severe than now. But the forests are gone, and forever, While we talk about a sys- tem of forestry it is the talk ot the builder of air castles, and is not likely to take tang- ible shape on any scale of magnitude. Floods may, therefore, be looked for from year to year, some of them more dangerous and some of them not so much to be feared. As the population and industry of the val- leys increase it will be possible for great floods to do more harm to property, because more property will be on the rivers in reach of the water. River craft will increase, and there is no way to get it out of the river in time of high tides. Prudence may dictate to the expectant builder the wisdom of selecting higher ground, and in that way, except in the cities where every foot of ground is so valuable that it must be used, the river banks may be kept clear from danger to buildings. But boats and rafts will be compelled to take their chances in the swollen streams. In some thickly settled places it might be profitable to con- struct basins opening from the river into which craft might retreat in time of flood and be saved. Breakwaters are constructed for such uses, but often high water sweeps over them. Canada’s White Plague. Consumption Slowly Undermining the Entire Nation. A public consumption hospital for every county in Ontario is the hold suggestion made by P. H. Bryce, secretary of the pro- vincial board of health. Dr. Bryce calls consumption the ‘‘White Plague,’’ and declares that it is increasing throughout Canada. The germs of the disease, he declares, do not only take possession of individuals, but of localities and houses, and attack all persons who live in them. The number of infected houses is steadily increasing, and it is only a matter of time until the entire nation will be undermined with the dread malady. , Dr. Bryce declares that houses and shops where consumption has existed must be inspected and maintained in a sanitary condition, and that the sick, who are im- properly cared for, must be removed to sanitariums. Dr. Bryce’s opinions are highly respect- ed here, and his recommendations are ser- iously regarded. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. Miss Grace A. Adams, of Columbus, O., who was the first to benefit by the new law allowing women notaries, is to he brought into a test case on the ground that as the Constitution requires that all officers shall be electors, her appointment was un- constitutional. Following the fashion of her elders, the skirts of girls’ costumes are closely gored at the top and the slight fullness arranged either in two box pleats or in two flat ones, closely meeting in the centre, giving the effect of a tight top. Sleeves fit closely, except just at the armhole, where they are gathered or pleated, but tucks or epau- lettes are much in favor, and make a pretty finish. The selection of modes for a girl from twelve to sixteen years of age is fre- quently a perplexing question. They must not wear styles too old for them, as to err on that side is to make them appear awkward and ridiculous, while, on the other hand, a too youthful garment en- genders the bete noir of girlhood—gawki- ness. Accordion pleating was run into the ground this time last year. This year tucks bid fare to share the same fate. Tucks cut in one with the garment or simulated, large, medium, small, horizontal, bias, ver- tical, singly or in clusters are used indis- criminately on skirts, waists, yokes, sleeves and collars. It is whispered that when the scant backed hell skirt is generally adopted the shirt-waist will be worn with the lower portion outside the skirt. Pique in white and colors will be used to develop some of this season’s swellest shirt-waists. The new buttons are almost handsome enough to he used for brooches and promise to be one of spring’s most foremost dress garnitures. Buckles in all metals from gold to steel, and in all sizes from a very diminutive one to five inches long, are a perfect craze. Let me tell you of a navy blue gown I saw in New Orleans last week, at the Mardi Gras. The skirt was very narrow, fit- ting snugly, of course, over the hips and hanging in uncrinolined folds about the feet. From hem to the waist were laid pipings of milliner’s folds of the cloth put on with four rows of stitching on each ‘edge, but from under each edge peeped a tiny suggestion of cardinal red bengaline. A short, tight-fitting coat, single-breasted, was fitted over a tucked chemisette of car- dinal red silk, and three straps were laid military style, across the top of the sleeves, with four rows of stitching and the edges of cardinal silk. ‘With it was worn a plain black walk- ing hat, tipped over the eyes, with a tiny knot of cardinal red velvet showing out of the three tips at the side. It was a very individual costume. Another fashion that will be worn this Spring in color effect—black satin skirts with plain white satin bodices. This costume at an afternoon tea during Lent was considered very chic. The skirt was of black cloth with eight bias bands of black velvet stretched on in curves. The bodice was a full waist of white liberty satin, made on a yoke, formed of heavy shirring over cords. The sleeves were small, shirred at the wrist in a narrow turnover cuff of black velvet. At the throat was pinned a huge chiffon bow. This bow nearly covered the front of the gown and was allowed to hang to the waist. Its streamers had designs of applied lace and shirrings of chiffon all around the edge. The girdle was of black velvet, very nar- row, caught down back and front, with a circular cut steel buckle. It was a very ef- fective toilette. “Nose hat’’ shapes are everywhere the millinery of the hour. The build is es- pecially fetching in ‘‘walking’’ hats. And the rosettes! They are everywhere on the new hat. They are of every conceivable make and material. The corded rosettes are particularly noteworthy. Corded at the upper edge of the ribbon, gathered at the lower they gave an effect of double shirring which hasn’t been hinted at before. At a millinery opening a wonderful little creation was—garnished simply with three of these. Each rosette was of a different shade ; colors were divinely blended ; the three were crushed together and poised upon the crown. Yokes or guimpes are universal whether small, in vierge fashion, low and rounded, with jockeys to match, or square and high on the shoulders. In heavy ivory chenille lace a yoke with jockeys woven en forme has a slender point reaching to the waist line in front, the draped surplice bodice of cashmere or crepe being finished from shoulders to belt with slender bands of velvet ribbon or of the same cloth, these continuing down upon the skirt and about it knee high behind as a heading for the circular flounce that forms the lower half. Soleil plaits and tiny erimps to match, the first for skirt, the second for bodice, and reappearing on crepe and light wool frocks, and the blouses for jacket suits made most fashionably of panne or a soft taffeta silk and closely corded in ridges either in hoopes or vertically, in diagonal lines forming lattices, or in yoke effects. A cravat bow or a long four-in-hand of silk muslin is lavishly made and immacu- lately fresh, the long scarfs befrilled and betucked elaborately. The latest fad in bed furnishings is to have two hard round bolsters one at the head and the other at the foot, covered with silk and lace. No pillows are in sight during the day, but at night the bolsters with their beautiful decorations are laid aside and the pillows brought forth for use. SPONGE CAKE.—Four fresh eggs (the whites of two reserved for frosting), beaten until light ; two cupfuls pulverized sugar, which has been twice sifted, beaten with the eggs. Two teaspoonfuls of baking powder with two cupfuls of flower are sifted four times, and added to the eggs and sugar a little at a time, stirring well. Lastly, add a cupful of boiling water, stir- ring a little in at a time. Now beat well. Flavor to suit the taste. Bake in loaf from twenty to thirty minutes, frosting with the reserved whites. Patent leather slippers are again in style. Fashionable bootmakers say that they are to be worn with everything this summer, from white duck suits to ball gowns. They are modish and make the feet look well. Every sweet has its bitter, however, even when it comes to footgear. Patent leather is the coldest of all leather in winter and the hottest in summer. ——-Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers