2 ET > . c ~eO v Demorraite; Waldman Bellefonte, Pa., April 22, 1898. mm THE PERSISTENT EDITOR. The editor knocked at the pearly gates (He was always good at knocking) And the man in charge, so the legend states, Indulged in a laugh that was mocking, “You can’t come in,” the official said ; My orders are conclusive— On earth your paper always read - “Our news is always exclusive. “In making a break like that you know That your sheet was simply lying; So take vour ‘schoop’ and go below Where those of your kind are frying.” In vain did the editor spring a comp, The doorkeeper wouldn't tale it, The portal shut with a mighty thump And the editor couldn’t shake it. He's gone below where the fakirs sizz In the realms of dire damnation, And even there his contention is; “I’ve the largest circulation !”’— Bradford Era. REUBEN COLE'S CHANGE. ‘‘And roses, Reuben ?”’ Leah Cole said, quietly. 2 The seed catalogue lay open, and she could see the bunch of thrifty onions on the open page. Reuben most always end- ed his list with onions! There wasn’t time to wait any longer. ‘‘And roses, Reuben ?”’ Reuben Cole bent over his laboring pen, apparently deaf to the gentle, wistful voice. His hand was painfully cramped, and the parallel lines indented between his eyebrows told of his mental toiling. Plowing half a day, steady, on the windy side of Stone Scrabble hill was nothing to this. ‘ Leah could have helped him if she had only dared to suggest it ; but to her simple vision there was something majestic and unapproachable about Reuben with a pen gripped in his fingers. It required all her courage to mention her heart’s desire—the roses. “But I'm bound I will,’ she communed with herself, stoutly. “I’ll do my part, an’ that’s all the Angel Gabriel could do if he wanted Reuben to put roses onto his list. But her heart failed her as she watched Reuben’s slow pen trace ‘two packages of best onion seed,’’ and then sign ‘“‘Reuben Cole” in great quivery letters. It did not write ‘‘roses,”” and Leah Cole’s plaintive face fell. Reuben Cole was not deaf. None of the Coles had ever been, even in their eighties. It was a matter of family pride with them all. He had heard Leah’s gentle reminder about the roses—oh, yes, but he had let it pass unheeded, just as he had the year be- fore and the year before that. Leah al- ways put in her oar for some foolishness like that every time he sent off his order for seeds and berry canes. One year it was flowering almonds an’ some kind of Tartar honeysuckles. If he got ’em once he'd have to again, and wasn’t it all he could do to manage the garden sauce? They’d got to have that, but they hadn’t got to have a whole mess o' bushes an’ flower beds littering up the front yard. Leah was real curious about that. The Cole farm was a prosperous one. According to its place in the taxgather’s books, it ranked as one of the thriftiest in the township. There were always the newest varieties of small fruits in its berry patch and the newest kind of garden sauce in its garden. Its field crops were fine—its level mowing fields wonderfully productive. The neighbors averred that they never did see greener, heavier grass than grew in Reuben Cole’s meadows, and his loads ’o hay at haying time were sights to behold. But the front yard at the Coles’ was barren and dismal. To be sure, there were Leah’s beds of old-fashioned flowers that she spaded and tended herself with patience ; but they had a discouraged look in spite of her care. The little old-time posies refused to blossom thriftily in such barren, undressed soil, and Reuben could not spare any dressing for it. But the grass—oh, that was the worst! It tormented poor Leah’s beauty-loving eyes summer after summer. She did so long to see it brilliant and carpety, like other people’s front yard grass. Across the street a little way down the hill, and Hobbs’ grass was so green. You could feast your eyes on it an’ bury your feet in its luxuriatin’ thickness—an’ they always kept it mowed. Leah Cole did her own front-yard mow- ing. It was not very successful. The day after the seed list was sent off, Leah took her sewing out into the yard. It was one of those surprisingly warm, sum- mery days that come sometimes in early spring, that she could not resist the temp- tation of it. But she did not sew much. She wandered wistfully around the big, bare enclosure, girt in by its unkept fence. It took all Reuben’s time to keep the pasture fences trim. “It’s a nice shaped yard,” murmured Leah. “It’s got the ‘possibilities’ in it. Mowin’ an’ dressin’ an fixin’ up the bushes an’ things—land alive! wouldn't they make it nice? 1’d like to see it jest once before I die!’ She went about picking out her *‘sites,”’ as she called them—this corner where she wanted a Tartarian honeysuckle like Amanda Hobbs’—that little longish place where she wanted a row o’ rosebushes— this sheltered spot for the flowering al- mond. There were a good many sites. They dotted the forlorn little place all over, and when Leah shut her eyes and made be- lieve, transformed it into a lovely little place. In the antipodes of Leah Cole’s hungry, wistful life it is possible she might have been an artist. The artist’s soul was in her. “I'd put the clump o’ hydranges over here in this corner place—kind o’ set em round carelessly in a scatterin’ bunch. They look real pretty so. There's a clump in a yard over to Buxville. Aud the white laylac 1'd like to go about here. It would grow big and need plenty o’ room.’ A white lilac was one of Leah’s heart's desires, too. She wanted a white one so! They were plowing down in the home field, and the sound of the men’s voices drifted up to her through the clear air. Reuben’s voice was hearty and full of en- thusiasm. He was going to lay down that field to clear clover. ‘I wish they’d pfow the front yard up,’ mused on Leah, watching the long, straight furrows grow, ‘I'd sow the grass seed my self. It’s the only way to do. This old sod is more dead’n alive.”’ There were no children on the Cole farm, and all the love and devotion Leah Cole might have spent over little, uneasy bodies and all the time she might have spent over little patch hungry pinafores and frocks were centred on this little, unkempt front yard that was so dreary and might be !land! so beautiful, It wouldn’t have been so bad with prints of little feet on its graceless sod. “I’m agoin’ to run up to John’s before the plantin’ begins, Leah. There's some business I’ve got to do with him, an’ I need a little change,”” Reuben said at sup- per time. He said nothing about Leah’s going too. Did he think she did not need a change ? ‘Why, I would, Reuben. It’s a pretty drive, an’ they’ll be tickled to death to see you! It'll do you good. An’ Reuben—’’ her voice faltered the least bit—‘‘An’ Reu- ben, if you don’t mind askin’ John’s wife for some slips—’’ “Slips!” I s’pose you mean slips o’ plants an’ things, but I calc’late John’s wife has all she can do makin’ slips out o’ dimity cloth’”’— for at John’s there were little children. Reuben laughed and pushed away his plate. But Leah rallied for the second at- tack ‘‘Mebbe she’s dreadful busy, but John’s wife will always find time to keep growin’ things around—"’ ‘Of course. There’s six there now, if I remember. 1 guess they all grow fast enough. ”’ The immediate prospect of a ‘‘change’’ made Reuben unwontedly jovial. He chuck- led in pleasant appreciation of his little joke. But Leah was intent on her own thoughts and remained grave enough. If she could only have some of John’s wife’s slips and maybe—and ! think of it! John’s wife had roses all around the house. ‘An’ John’s real poor beside Reuben,’ sighed Leah’s thoughts. The last thing, as Reuben drove out of the yard, she called out after him, wist- fully : ‘‘If you're a mind to speak of the slips, Reuben—"’ And then she went back to her work, and Reuben rode along the pleasant coun- try ways with the beautiful resurrection of spring all about him. The air was full of the smell of newly-turned sods, as he passed by fields fresh from the plow. The first birds back from their winter resorts tilted on limber twigs and sang to him. It was spring—spring—spring. Reuben Cole’s blood quickened and ran more thickly through his veins, as the sap was flowing under the little song birds’ feet. He passed a jogging couple in a quaint, old-fashioned wagon and caught a glimpse of their placid enjoyment of each other’s company. ‘‘I declare,’ he though, ‘why didn’t I bring Leah along? I might’ve as well as not. I'd go back now if I warn’t a third of the way to John’s.” At John’s a good many things interested* Reuben Cole, and a good many things as- tonished him. The tiny farm was just out of its winter dress, and the spring cutting and fitting had not begun. “Ain’t you late about your plowin, John?’ questioned Reuben a little sur- prised. ‘‘Down our way it's all out o’ the way, an’ plantin’ will be comin, along pretty quick. ‘Yes, I am late,’’ laughed John, cheer- ily enough, looking up from his work—he was helping his wife prune the roses and shrubs. ‘“You’re ahead this time, sure. But I told Letty here she shouldn’t do all this prunin’ and tyin’ up alone—the plow- in’ could wait a bit. Don’t you worry. I’11 catch up with you.” John and John’s wife were bending over a white rosebush, and their hands and fingers came together. now and then, in the friendliest nudges. Both of them were laughing with their voices keyed to a spring music. It was very pleasant out in John’s front yard. Reuben sat on the doorstep and revolved new notions in his head. . “Why shouldn’t I help?” went on John’s voice. ‘‘Half this front yard’s mine, an’ I guess I want things to look flourishin’ in it, too—hey, Lettie? What's that you say about men folks not carin’ for flowers? Take it back, ma’am—one, two three.” A merry race ensued, and all the little John children flowed out of nooks and crannies to join it it. Letty came out of it breathless and smil- ing. ‘We're goin’ to put the aster seeds in under the windows this year,’”’ she ex- plained to Reuben. ‘‘They’ll look so bright against the underpinnin’. And the sweet peas over there against the fence and the pansy beds here, you see. The child- ren see to those. Oh, we're goin’ to look fine, I tell you! And John’s sent for some new shrubs too—let’s see ; hydranges and a golden elder and a smoke tree. Last year we got that purple-leaved plum. You’d ought to see it by and by ! And we got the white lilac’”’—John’s wife said ““laylac,” too—*‘last year. Oh, yes, and that cunnin’ little mulberry tree. We try to get three new ones every year. When the front yards full, there’s the back yard.” John’s wife laughed and went it to see if the John baby had waked up yet. ‘‘She’s a great one for fixin’ up, Letty is,”’ John remarked, proudly. “I leave the selectin’ all to her ; then I help set out and tend. There’s nothin’ like havin’ things kind o’ pretty around the house. I say that’s as necessary as havin’ good pota- toes and thick bay crops. If you can’t have both, have six o’ one and half a dozen o’ the other. You chaps with the money can outshine us, of course, but we’ll do the level best we can !”’ All the way home Reuben Cole was re- volving his new ideas. Inthe back of the wagon wasa bulky bundle of shrubs done up in burlap. He had driven ten miles out of his way for these. John’s wife’s slips were in a moist packet under the seat. Halfway home the ideas said there was going to be a revolution in the front yard at home. Two-thirds of the way, there was going to be a revolution in the homely sitting room where he and Leah sat to- gether long winter evenings. There was going to be something new and bright there as well as in the little homely front yard. Grand ideas—brave ideas. Three-fourths of the way home, he was going to help Leah set out the things and prune them and dress them for her. Poor Leah! She’d had kind of a hard, uphilly time of it tryin’ to fix up things around home. Come to think of it, Leah was growin’ real sober and old, late years— Leah ! and she used to be the sprighliest, handsomest little woman in the United States! Happy an’ cheerful, too, as a laughin’ child. Four-fifths of the way home, five-sixths, —almost home ! : Seven-eights of the way ; he was goin’ to give the little, woman a surprise an’ see if she’d forgot to blush that little soft red color that used to set her off so. Home. And Reuben Cole lightly down and kissed Leah’s patient gentle face. A little soft red coldt hurried into her cheeks and made her young again. sprang “Why, Reuben — land !”’—7he House- wife. : Dr. Swallow Is Still After Thieves. Auditor general Mylin has but recently issued his report for the year ending No- vember 30th, 1896. It should have made its appearance in March, 1897, but at that time a very interesting trial was in prog- ress in the Dauphin county court house. Governor Hastings, auditor general My- lin, state treasurer Haywood, and their scapegoat, John C. Delaney, together with a score or more of contractors, agents, clerks. etc., ete., were terribly interested in that trial. If they could send the writ- er to the penitentiary they would be com- paratively safe. If they failed there was trouble before them. They failed. It would not do to publish the auditor general’s report, having in it all the evi- dences of wrong doing that must appear, until after the trial was over, and until af- ter the people were supposed to have lost interest in the exposures made during the trial ; hence it has heen deferred for over a year. Let us look at a few of the items. PUBLIC GROUNDS AND BUILDINGS. John C. Delaney, salary, $3,000. Salaries of watchman and employees, $12,499.92. CONTINGENT EXPENSES $12,500. Look at it. Contingent expenses, what did it cover? What was done with the money ? One would suppose that there would be little other expense ; but read on and observe that many of these amounts are not described. They are not itemized. They do not indicate what the enormous expense was for. Look at it carefully. This occurred at a time when the people of the State were asleep to the wrongs being committed. Here is the official evidence of the wrong in black and white. CONTRACTS AND SCHEDULES. Wyckoff, Seamans & Benedict, $1,633.- 58. What was this for ? Arthur A. Hodges, decorations, $31,998.- 33. This must Lave been for the beautiful pictures on the walls of the hall of the house and the corridors. David Montgomery (for what?) $63.38. Morse, Williams & Co., alterations to elevator, $388. Joseph Goldsmith, repairs to furniture, $1,648.21. Now sixteen hundred dollars would do a lot of repairing. Mr. Goldsmith does busi- ness on Walnut street. This was doubt- less the most profitable part of his business for that year. Did Mr. Goldsmith get and keep all that money ? P. H. Vaughn, $8,382.55. This gentleman is probably a plumber. This amount would do a large amount of that kind of work. Thousands of dollars for coal, yet when one looks at the steam heat bill, he is led to wonder what use could be made of coal. Harrisburg steam heat and power com- pany, heat furnished several departments, $10,394.40. Harrisburg electric light company, light furnished for several departments, $24,344,- 74. Water department city of Harrisburg, $1,000. Harrisburg cycle and typewriter com- pany, $1,303.72. John P. Gohl, painting, $631.25. A. B. Tack, $708.37. Now comes a marvelous revelation. Jo- seph Pyne, it will be remembered, ap- peared on the witness stand in the libel suit, to give Mr. Delaney a good character by saying that he sold Mr. Delaney two French clocks for the state at $500 each, reference to which had been made by the writer, and that -he did not present Mr. Delaney with a clock equally valuable for his own use in view of the sale of the other two. No one had connected Mr. Pyne’s name with the sale of clocks. It was nega- tive testimony, objected to by our attor- neys, and a travesty on justice for the court to admit such testimony. An Appropriate Death. W. C. Brann, of Waco, Tex., met an appropriate end on April 2nd, as the result of a meeting with Captain M. T. Davis. Both men used pistols, and Captain Davis was wounded, perhaps fatally. Brann was a remarkable character. He was born in Kentucky about thirty-five years ago, was educated for a preacher and entered the Baptist ministry, where the boldness of his attacks on accepted ideas made him conspicuous. He was too progressive, how- ever, for his ministerial brethren, and was expelled from the Baptist church. Then he turned newspaper man, practicing that profession first in Kansas and later in Tex- as. After feeling the pulse of the public at Houston, he went to San Antonio, and there started the JIeonoclast, but the vigor of lis strictures on men and matters there caused him to be mobbed, and then he went to Waco. There he followed the same methods, but with better success, and was able to enlist popular sentiment on his side. His death was a consequence of a series of attacks which he made on the faculty of the Baptist university at Waco. For this he was set upon and beaten last October by students of the university ; but he continued to give offense, and was But here is the item to which we refer as it appears in this long over-due auditor general’s report : Joseph Pyne, clock, $1.924.55. Did this cover the three clocks, or was there but one clock. It must have been a beauty. Nearly $2,000 for one clock. We presume that the columns of The Common- wealth will be open to the Governor, the auditor general, the treasurer, Mr. De- laney, or Mr. Pyne to describe this valua- ble clock. We must defer a further examination of this report for a few days. In the mean time the people should exercise the powers of the imperative mandate by arising, and in the name of a State defrauded, a tax- paying constituency outraged, and of jus- tice long trodden under foot, demand the immediate resignation of the whole gang. S. C. SWALLOW. Swallow Says He Wiil Kill Off The Arch Enemy of Pennsylvania. He'll Run for Governor.—Accepts the Nomination in a Letter Against Ring Rule.—Sorry is the Preacher That John Wanamaker Has Made Him- self Unacceptable as a Candidate. Rev. Dr. Silas C. Swallow, of Harris- burg, addressed a letter last week to the Philadelphia notification committee of the honest government party, accepting its nomination for Governor. After making a brief allusion personal to himself, and re- ferring to corruption in Pennsylvania poli- presently again assaulted and beaten by | one of the trustees, assisted by two students. | That led to a fight with pistols between { Brann’s friend, Judge Gerald, of Waco, and | W. A. Harris, editor ofa Waco paper. Har- ris was killed, Gerald dangerously wound- ed. Brann went right on expressing his views with entire candor, until, as stated, Captain Davis intervened, and pacification has followed. Brann was a very vigorous writer, with much humor, and was, as may be conject- ured, thoroughly earnest in what he under- took. It is told to his credit that he was kind, brave and sincere, loved his friends and hated his foes, and fought for the side he believed to be right. The trouble was that his discernment of right and wrong was not clear. Miss Willard’s Ashes Buried. The remains of Frances E. Willard were buried at Rose Hill cemetery April 10th. The body was cremated Saturday, and previous to the ceremony a small metal box, wrapped in white and contain- ing the ashes, was placed deep in the grave of Miss Willard’s mother. Never Know a Good Thing. One of the strangest things about the female character is the tendency which the prettiest girls always have to fall in love tics, due, as he sees it, to the manipula- with our inferiors. had been spent two years before. difficult to see where such a bill could get in. Pennsylvania construction company, (for what?) $9,974.41. Enormous! Was this any part origi- . ally of Mr. Hodges’ bill. E. B. Reinholds, designs, $410.55. John H. Sanderson & Brothers, furni- ture, ete., $60,224.28. Lock at it. These were hard times. Taxpayers were in distress. Bankruptcy was staring thousands of our people in the face. But old furniture was given away, taken, stolen, and four prices paid a favor- ite dealer for new furniture. Was this amount of furniture actually bought? Did Mr. Sanderson get and keep all this money? Was some of this furniture receipted for by Mr. Delaney and then hauled to private houses ? These are all interesting questions that only a fair, jddicial investigation would so discover as to convince the public. Here is more plumbing. J. Wesley Neill, plumbing, $4,059.84 ; Vulecanite paving company for granolithic pavements, $13,063.89. ’ This is supposed to cover that useless walk running parallel with Fourth street from Walnut, also that ornamental pave- ment constructed to accommodate the resi- dents of South street, avenue or alley. But look at this ! Charles H. Miller & Co., carpenter work, rose propagating house, $82,53.01. Wonder what the one cent was for? We criticised the maximum estimate placed in the schedule for this work, viz.: $1,800. We thought it worth not more than $500:- 00. Messrs. Graham, Gilbert, Kunkel, and the rest of the lawyers on the side of the commonwealth, tried to make it appear that this rose house was worth $1,800, but its actual cost was seen above. Possibly that carpenter work covers the corners put in between the House and Senate and the committee rooms. There can be a large amount of carpenter work done for §8,000. M. G. Baker, painting, etc., $1,397.65. This, in addition to the nearly $32,000 worth of decorating said to have been done by Hodges. Henry T. Coats & Co., books, $3,904.46. W. M. Donaldson (what for?) $3,868.37. Detre & Blackburn (what for ?) $4,186.- 43. John Wanamaker (what for?) $10,195.- 0 Was it for carpets? It may have been. Yet here is another carpet dealer’s hill, viz.: Gimble Bros., $2,057.25. Edmundson & Perrine, $60,00. Forney & Knouse (what for?) $446.07. Strayer & Ryder (what for?) $7.55. Henry Gilbert & Sons, (what for?) $476.93 3 D. L. Jauss & &o., $271.00, presumably It was tions of one man, he says in part : ‘The only hope of our State is to cut off | with the cimeter of a conscientious ballot, ! the political head of its great arch conspir- | ator with the helmet of the machine upon | it, for it has been worn so long that head and helmet have grown into one. “It has been demonstrated again and again that he holds in leash a vast majority of Republican leaders. That his machine reaches its iron grasp to every precinct of the State. That voters are bought at every election if necessary to win, and that the consciences of vast masses of our fellow- citizens have been, almost unconsciously to their owners, gradually but surely de- bauched, till having gone to their knees in blood, they find it easier to go over than turn back ; and now stand erect with bra- zen-faced effrontery and excuse, apologize for, defend and even applaud deeds of darkness in their tyrant chieftain that in the innocence of their integrity they would not only have denounced as a criminal but would have given time and money to pun- ish. ‘Promises of political promotion and of the spoils of office have been made by the great manager of the machine to fathers for their sons, now in their minority, that mortgage at least a quarter of a century of the future, and render our State a very Gibraltar of corruption compared with which the England of Charles I, was the embodiment of virtue. ‘All other. methods of redress for the taxpayers having failed, there is nothing left me, desiring as I do to see finished the disagreeable work, hegun over a year ago, of driving out the thieves and retrieving the State plunder, but to accept your ur- gent request to stand as an independent candidate for the office of Governor. “Mr. Wanamaker, I am sorry to say, has rendered himself unacceptable to those in all parties who seek my nomination and election, first, by declaring against my in- dependent candidacy, and second, by de- claring his past indorsement, by an un- scratched ballot, of the vilest boss methods his forceful language could describe. *‘I have no pledges to make, and none to redeem, except those implied in my past record. I have no friends to reward nor foes to punish, except as they are the friends or foes of my State.’ One on Him. ‘‘Maria,”’ said Mr. Welkerston. ‘‘I don’t understand how you can bring yourself to wear hair that has belonged to some other person. Ugh! It makes me feel creepy.’ “Well,” she replied, as she deftly lifted a long brown hair from his coat sleeve, ‘‘this doesn’t seem to have given you the creeps. I suppose you got it in the crowd- ed car coming home, didn’t you !"’ Chicago Bicycle Heart. Several well-known French cyclists have lately, it is said, been rejected as unfit for military service by reason of hypertrophy and other diseases of the heart. Medical men will be rather surprised that the mem- bers are so small. There must be few of us who have not seen the ill-effects of over- exertion on a bicycle. The commonest is palpitation and temporary dilation ; but even this is sometimes very difficult to cure. In a case which occurred recently a lady, ordered for a fortnight’s change of aiy after influenza, chose to spend it in bicycling about fifty miles a day. Asa result she has had, ever since that time—now nine months ago—a pulse which on the least ex- ertion rises to 120, though she has never ridden again. That temporary dilation oc- curs is enough to show the great strain put upon the heart, and it is an added danger that the sense of fatigue in the limbs is so slight. The rider is thus robbed of the warning to which he is accustomed to at- tend, and repeats or continues the strain upon the heart. As in other similar cases, the effect is to render that dilation perma- nent, which was at first but temporary, and to cause an increase in the muscle of the heart by repeated exertion. The heart pro- duced is of large dimensions and of thick walls—a condition which may, perhaps, give little uneasiness to its owner, but which a medical man will view with con- siderable distrust and apprehension. Weakly and elderly people cannot be too often told that no exercise is more easily abused, though if taken in sensible measure few are more healthful or enjoyable. — Brit- ish Medical Journal. Another Death in the Demco Family, Over at Three Springs, in Huntingdon coun- ty,another mysterious death has taken place in the Demeco faimily. This time it was Joseph, the father, he died on Saturday and was buried Sunday afternoon at Jor- don’s cemetery near Beersville. He died in the same manner and apparently from the same cause as the balance of the fam- ily died, he being the fourth one that has died in the past few weeks, leaving but one member of the family to survive, a little girl about seven or eight years of age. She is reported to be sick at this writing. The cause of the deaths still remains a mystery. Prof. Pond, of State College, analyzed the contents of the stomach of the first vietim but could find no traces of poison as sus- pected. The story of the sick pig which they are said to have killed last fall for their winter meat has never been corrob- orated. Daily News. — ——Subseribe for the WATCHMAN. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. Miss Jessie E. Parker, who has just been elected mayor of Kendrick. Idaho, is said to be both young and pretty. Steel buckles are ‘*all the rage,’ to use a common but highly expressive phrase. They crop up in the conventional places on the crown of a high hat, at the throat of a collar ribbon and at a point a trifle below the waist line in front of a bodice. French *‘artists,’”” however, have ingeniously made use of long curved steel buckles through which they pass the knotting of a sash. This is extremely pretty, and shows a per- fectly novel design. ~ Very small steel buckles are employed as “slides” on the twist of satin or velvet, or the woven rib- bon that trims the wrist of one’s sleeve. If you have a steel buckle at the knot of your flowing sash, at the back of your skirt, and little ones to match at your wrists, and, perchance, one at your throat, you will be almost as well armored as one of our new cruisers, and exhibit to your admiring and envious friends your famil- iarity with the most recent fashion. The dress of the period is arranged by the most skillful dressmaker so as to make a girl short waisted at the back and long waisted in front. To this end the skirt is often made to fasten over the waist in the back, while the long blouse front is drawn in front to extend the line. Satin belts of bias bands folded are drawn low down in a point in front, so as to preserve the contour of the old fashioned ‘‘stomacher’’ noted in oa paintings, which are portraits of the ies. No woman should be without lemons on her toilet table. ‘‘Lemons!’’ exclaimed a woman who believes in them religiously, “Why, I wouldn’t be without lemons a whole day for anything. I once heard of a French woman who was considered the most beautiful woman of her time, and she attributed her good looks to eating eight oranges a day for 365 days in the year. I’d be willing to gamble on it that lemons will do far more toward beautifying a woman than oranges. Lemons beautify one through and through, outside and in. Nothing in the world bleaches the skin, hands and face like a little diluted lemon juice applied at night, and, strange to say, unlike most bleaches, it softens the com- plexion. Then the finest of manicure ac- ids is made by dropping a teaspoonful of lemon juice in a cup of tepid water. This removes all stains from nails and skin and loosens the cuticle naturally and much bet- ter than any sharp instrument. A dash of lemon juice in plain water is an excellent tooth wash, removing not only tartar. but sweetening the breath, and a teaspoonful of the juice in a small cup of black coffee will drive off a bilious headache before the sufferer can say caterpillar. Life would be very barren to me without lemons, and so it would to any woman who knows the se- cret of their efficacy. Best of all, the juice of a lemon taken with a teaspoonful of cooking soda, after each meal, will pull the flesh right off the most persistently fat woman who ever worried over her weight.’ Just about this time the sweet girl grad- uate is beginning to wonder how she shall have her graduating dress made. In the first place it should be a white, cobwebby affair trimmed with ruffles or lace insertion. One not at all difficult of achievement, but requiring that very desirable virtue —pa- tience—is ruffled within an inch of its life. The five gore skirt has eleven ruffles, all less than three inches wide and at equal distances apart from hem to belt—a dainty airy-fairy arrangement as an angel of a graduate could desire. More ruffles hover around the top of the blouse, making a set- ting for the sweet young face—if ruffles seem too frivolous then choose delicate lace insertion. And there’s simply no end to the ways it may be inserted. It may ring- around-the.rosy fashion from the tips of her toes to her slender waist, or it may be in zigzags, or a few rows of it may simulate the apron shape with which the sex just now is very much in love. She should not however, be above having some sort of a little flounce round the foot, for it gives a most becoming setting for even feet that leave nothing to be desired. Of course there’ll be rings of the insertion round the pouched bodice ; likewise the sleeves, and some perkiness by way of a throat finish, the real finishing touch however, will be the sash. It may be simply a ribbon, at a few cents a yard, or it may be one of the tremendous affairs in Ottoman silk, with knotted silk at the ends, that cost $12 or more. The passion for gray gowns has not abat- ed, even after a whole winter of favor. Spring gowns galore are built in the most lovely of gray shades, the best liked of which border on the smoke and dove col- ore. Light weight canvas cloths and etam- ines, made up over silvery gray taffeta, are lovely enough to make one dream of them. One especially lovely gown has a narrow skirt, built in drop fashion, clinging at the hips, with the smart foot flare outlined in squares, made of crossed lines of tiny steel beads arranged on narrow satin ribbons. The entire blouse is crossed with these bead decorated ribbons, as are the perfectly snug sleeves. A girdle of cut steel and a dog collar to match are the finishing touches. The fancy of the moment is the befrilled black taffeta frock. Skirts flounced to the waist, or half way, are the correct thing, with a fancifully ruffled bodice to match, relieved often by a guimpe of white or a belt and a collar of jewels. For those to whom the frills are unbecoming there are the skirts trimmed from hem to belt with graduated rows of velvet ribbons, the blouse hodice matching, the sleeve bearing the same mode of treatment. A smart frock of this material has its blouse entire- ly laid in fine tucks, sleeves and all, and each flounce on the skirt tucked half its depth. f prime interest are the scarlet duck an® linen waistcoats to wear with any spe- cies of coat and skirt, and so popular do they promise to become that every color- loving woman threatens to develop as a ri- val of robin redbreast. To retain, and even acquire a good com- plexion, eat plentifully of fruit. This is better than any outward applications. All fruit is good when in seasou, but the best of all are those in season at the present mo- ment, as apples and oranges, etc.; and es- pecially apples, which act on the liver and help digestion. Digestive troubles are the worst enemies that the skin has to fight against, and apples are its best soldiers. Whilst in season they should be eaten every day, whether with or without other fruit. Their cosmetic qualities are posi- tively marvelous, and they clear the skin and beautify it when all other means fail. The trial is easy, and very inexpensive, and to neglect it is a sin to beauty. Worry, care, fads, jealousy, home sick- ness, intellectul overwork and grief are all creators of dyspepsia. Fatigue is equally hurtful to digestion, especially immediate- ly after meals.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers