Bellefonte, Pa., August 5. 1898.
JACKSON'S MYSTERY,
The girl, shading her eyes with a shape-
ly hand, gazed away across the valley to
the high woods and wondered.
The young man pulled the flap of his
hat down to shade his eyes, gazed across at
the high woods and wondered.
They were a mile and a half apart, with
a gently undulating line of turnpike road
and a thick stratum of social station be-
tween them.
She was Mary Gregson, the pretty,
buxom daughter of the Running
Pump. The creaking sign over her
head bore a faded picture of an aggressive
head of grizzly hair, beneath which was
the legend, ‘‘Jackson inn, by Sam Gregson,
1847.7
The running pump, supplied by a robust
upland spring, stood obtrusively out in
advance of the porch, with a hospitable
horse trough in front of it, and being a
much more suggestive object to the rural
mind than the faded out portrait of a half
forgotten hero, it lent its name to the inn
in the conversation of the land and led to
pretty Mary Gregson, the landlord’s daugh-
ter, and the inn’s landlady, being famil-
iarly known as Mary at the Running Pump.
The designation was clouded by no shadow
of disrespect, but was used as became the
nickname of a young lady who owned a
piano, and a father who lived upon his
own acres 2nd who could sit a whole sum-
mer upon his own porch without damage
to his pocketbook. The little hillside vil-
lage of Jackson, numbering in all eighty-
three souls, revolved around the inn as its
social center, a vicarious strife for suprem-
acy being kept up by the general store
on the southside of the road, the social
glory of the store being, however, some-
what overweighted by a chattel mortgage
held upon its stock and fixtures by the inn.
The young man was Joe Lutton, and he
was as far down in the local social scale as
Mary was up. He was the bound boy at
Brabson’s mill in the valley of Willow
Creek, half a mile below Jackson. The
facts that he ate at the same table with the
miller’s family, wore better clothes than
the miller and knew considerable more
than that worthy old man in no way con-
tributed to elevate his social status. This
is the reason that when Joe Lutton desired
social recognition he put on his Sunday
suit and walked over to the west side of
the Sourland foothills for it.
Yet this young woman and this young
man were hoth gazing over at the high
woods, where the sun’s first rays glinted
in a golden sheen upon the luxuriant dark
green foliage. And they were wondering
at the same thing. And a very simple
thing it was. Nothing but a smoke. A
small, uncertain spiral of light blue smoke
that manifested itself faintly against the
darker blue background of the western
sky.
“I wonder has one of old John Wylie’s
stacks burned last night?” commented
Mary, as she brought her eyes down to the
contemplation of the form of a man in a
long coat seen dimly sauntering along the
road away down by the mill.
‘I wonder if old Wylie lost a stack last
night ?’’ was Joe Lutton's reflection as he
dropped his eyes to the contemplation of a
strange man in a long coat who.came up
and passed him with a short, cheerful sal-
utation.
Joe went on home, where he changed his
clothes and started the mill.
Mary went into the house and to her
maids issued an oral bill of fare for break-
fast in this way :
‘‘Rache !”’
‘‘Yessim,’’ from the cook.
‘Ham ’neggs fried tarters’ nchicken’
radish-estea’ ncofiee’ nsich !”’
Thus was the business of the day started.
Jackson and its vicinity is a very cozy
and comfortable little community away oft
among the gently rolling foothills of the
Sourland mountains. Its main industry
is agriculture, with an incidental exporta-
tion of surreptitious applejack. The lead-
ing men of the neighborhood are Landlord
Sam Gregson, Farmer John Wylieand Mil-
ler Tom Brabson. They are leaders, be-
cause in times of shortage purpose, willing
to lend to their neighbors and twice per
year to tell them how to vote. At election
times these leaders invariably swear an
undying enmity against each other which
lasts until the returns are in. Gregson is
a Democrat, Wyliea Republican and Brab-
son a Prohibitionist.
Each of these men has his little fads and
hobbies, which he enjoys in great comfort.
John Wylie’s especial lunacy is that his
business is his own particular property,
and can by no means be a matter of in-
terest to any one else. He has never been
known to voluntarily let any one known
the what, when, where or how of anything
connected with himself or his affairs. Mrs.
Wylie says he never asked her to marry
him at all. He just drove up to her fath-
er’s house one Thursday when she was
busy with her week’s baking and said :
‘‘Phoebe, put on your bonnet and get in
here. It’stime we wentand got married.”
“I knew that if I didn’t go right then and
there he would go and say the same thing
to Tishie Atwood, so I got in and told him
to hurry, because I must be back to bake
in the afternoon.”
The main road came in front from the
east and passed on through Jackson west-
ward. From the village it ran gently
down into the valley, where Willow creek
purled in peace and brawled in storm,
turning Tom Brahson’s mill and making
itself generally useful. Beyond the mill
the road swept up in a long rise to the top
of the high woods, which bordered it on
the left. Down at the mill, where the high
woods commenced, a shaded winding lane
wandered up to the left alongside Brahson's
dam and partly through the high woods
itself until it reached the little village of
dwelling and farm buildings which testi-
fied to the standing and consequence of
John Wylie, who was also the owner of
the high woods, a noble piece of timber,
which sheltered the farm on the north.
Now, when Gregson looked west from
the tavern porch and Joe Lutton looked
east from the top of the high woods, they
were in a position to see about all that was
visible in the Willow creek valley, but the
only abnormal objects they noticed , were
the smoke and the man that Mary saw
and that Joe met, and who afterward be-
came an object of interest.
This story introduces itself to the reader
on a certain Saturday evening at the tav-
ern, where in the bright, fresh parlor
Landlord Gregson, Farmer Wylie and Mil-
ler Brabson are sitting around a table, each
with a goodly pile of money before him.
Mary Gregson and Ellen Wylie, old John’s
blooming daughter,” are leaning from a
front window in earnest conversation, in
which color, pattern and style are the chief
factors.
‘Come here, you girls,’ called Gregson,
‘‘count these three piles over and see what
you make of them.”
The girls came gravely and did as they
were bid.
‘There is just $3,333,33 in each pile,”
they both reported.
Then Landlord Gregson pushed a pile
over toward each of his neighbors and pull-
ed one toward himself, at the same time
telling Mary to bid the man at the bar to
bring some mint julep, for this wasin the
bright days of the early summer, and the
men were dividing the result of a joint
speculation, which had turned out most
successfully, and they were exceedingly
happy. Mary brought the juleps and set
them on the table. Then she laid her
right forefinger on a twenty dollar note on
the top of her father’s pile, and at the same
time with her left arm she raised up her
father’s face and kissed him. When he
looked down again the note was gone.
Then Ellen Wylie came quietly behind her
father and did the same thing.
“Well, Nell I’ observed old John Wylie,
and he chuckled.
“Hi! Goy!” remarked Tom Brabson,
adding : “If only I had a darter to come
ahind me and do that she might just grab
the whole pile and I'd never wink. Here,
gals, is a ten apiece for you, jest to kinder
make things even like,”” and he laid the
bills out on each side of him. The two
girls looked at each other, smiled, and
then each came behind him, drew his head
back and kissed him. When he looked
down again the two bills were gone. “Hi !
Goy !”” chuckled old Brabson, “I’m one
ahead of you fellows. I’m one kiss ahead,
and I won’t wash my face for a week for
fear of taking away the taste.”
Then Gregson bade his daughter take his
money and put it in the safe in his bed
room, while Wylie and Brabson put theirs
in their pockets and walked away home
shortly after, Ellen Wylie remaining as
Mary Gregson’s guest.
On Sunday afternoon when John Wylie
brought his wife home from church, he
put on a pair of overalls and an old warmus
of worsted to protect his Sunday clothes,
and pottered about among his stock and
outbuildings until dark. Then he read a
chapter in the Bible and the markets in
the country paper to his wife, until she
snored gently and peacefully. Then he
put on his hat and walked, first up stairs
and then out of doors.
Mrs. Wylie awoke, missed him, found
he had gone to bed, concluded he would
be back in a little while, fastened up all
except the front door and went to bed.
On Monday morning she awoke just
when Mary Gregson and Joe Lutton were
wondering at the smoke above the high
woods. Mr. Wylie was not in his bed ;
had not been in it all night, and Mrs.
Wylie wondered with dawning anxiety
where he was. She went to the desk where
he kept his money, and where he had
placed the funds he had brought home on
Saturday night The money was not there.
Her anxiety increased and she called up
the household and sent out for the farm
hands, who at once began to search for Mr.
Wylie. She sent a farm hoy post haste
after Mr. Gregson and Mr. Brabson, as
friends of the family, to advise her what to
do. They came with all due haste, fol-
lowed by Mary, Ellen and a full half of
the people of the village.
Gregson and Brabson looked through
the house, examined the bed room and in-
spected the desk. Then they searched the
barn and all the outbuildings. Having
done this, they sat down on the porch and
indulged in silent thought for half an hour,
as they whittled absently at a couple of
shingles picked up beside the carriage
house. Then Gregson looked at Brabson
and said solemnly :
“I think that is about the size of it.”
‘“There is not the least doubt of it, to my
thinking,’’ responded Brabson.
The two dozen curious men and women
standing and sitting about the yard were
electrified, saying one to another :
“That is just what I thoughtall along!’
Mary Gregson was the only one who did
not seem to understand the conclusion they
arrived at, and she bravely said :
‘Father, what have you found out?”
‘‘Nothing,”’ he replied.
“‘That’s my view,’’ added Brahson, and
the populace murmured :
‘‘What did I tell you?”
“I ’spose,’’ remarked Mr. Brabson grave-
ly, ‘“‘we’d better be letting the water outen
the dam.”’
“You're just right, Tom,’’ responded
Mr. Gregson with alacrity. ‘‘Let’s see
to it.”’
It is a well-known fact that in all cases
of emergency in rural communities one of
the first things to be done is to let the wa-
ter out of the mill dam. If there is no
mill dam handy, the nearest stream is drag-
ged with the least possible delay. If noth-
ing is found the satisfaction is reached of
knowing that there is nothing there which
has upon the excited state of feeling much
the same soothing effect as phlebotomy has
upon the feverish patient.
The dam was duly let ‘‘out’’ and the re-
sult was a fine mess of fresh fish forall who
cared to carry them away, but nothing
more, and the sun went down upon a sor-
rowing household and a sympathizing,
anxious community.
On Tuesday sympathy, curiosity and a
desire to help again drew people to the
Wylie farmstead, among them came Joe
Lutton, who could do no more work until
the milldam filled up.
“Which I’m goin’ to see what that fire
meant over inter the high woods yesterday
mornin’.”’
“Did you see it, Joe?’ asked Mary
Gregson from the porch.
“Which I didn’t jest see the fire, Miss
Mary, but I seed the smoke.
“So did I,” said Mary.
to find out what it meant.’’
The crowd streamed away after Joe to
the high woods. In an hour they came
back, Joe holding up about six inches of
one leg of the blue drilling overalls which
the missing man had worn, and which was
identified hy Mrs. Wylie in her tearful
silence.
*‘Good gracious !”’ exclaimed Mr. Greg-
son.
‘Hi! Goy !"’ ejaculated Mr. Brabson.
Both men slid from their seats on the
edge of the porch and went behind the
woodshed to compare notes. Directly they
put their heads out and called for Mary
and Joe, who came and told the story of
the man that Mary saw and Joe met. = Joe
described the man as about twenty-five, a
well kept and decent looking man, with
dark hair and eyes, and wearing a very
long black coat. This was all elicited
through questions put by Mary, Joe sum-
ming up with :
“Which I sticks to it, he was the same
man as Mary seed, clothes and all !’
Then Gregson and Brabson came back to
the porch, and the former, standing against
a post, said gravely :
“I s’pose we might as well tell them ?”
“That’s my view of it. Can’t keep it
back no longer.”’
‘‘Folks,’’ said Sam Gregson, with sor-
rowful gravity, ‘‘this is a bad streak of
business. John Wylie has unaccountably
dropped out, and we ain’t no ways certain
what's come to him. To our thinking,
“Go and try
though, the thing is just here. Somebody
knew he had that money. He must have
went out while Mrs. Wylie was asleep.
Then he was knocked in the head and the
murders slipped into the house and got the
money. Then they carried the body off to
the woods and burned it this little scrimp-
tion of drillin’ being all that is left of poor
John Wylie. But we've got the man that
did it!”
‘Where? Where!” cried the crowd,
looking around excitedly.
‘That is to say,” continued Gregson,
‘we havn’t just got him yet, but we know
who he is.”’
‘Who is he 2’
populace.
“Why, of course he’s the man that Mary
saw and Joe met,” replied Mr. Gregson
with conviction, and Mr. Brabson re-
marked :
“Of course !”’
“Now,”” said Mr. Gregson, ‘‘the next
thing we've got to have is an inquest.”
“Certain,” said Mr. Brabson. ‘‘Joe,
you'll have to go for Squire Spear and tell
him to bring his inquest tools along.”
“Which I don’t pretend to know much
about it, like you folks,’”’ said Joe doubt-
fully, ‘‘but it seems to me the squire’ll
want the body afore he can hold much of
an inquest.’’
Mary Gregson laughed, and for some
reason Joe felt idiotically happy in the be-
lief she had laughed at him.
*‘Which I'd likewise like to remark that
I don’t see how the man that Mary saw
and I met could a-had much to do with the
burnin’ of Mr. Wylie when the fire was
e’en about out afore he got anywhere near
it.’
“Shouted Mr. Brabson, ‘‘you’re my
bound boy, and you're not outer your
time yet for nigh unto two months, so you
jest make up your mind you don’t know
nothin’ till you’re your own man. You
jest get after the squire and tell him to
bring the best inquest he’s got in stock.”
‘‘Which I'd like to ask, hadn’t I better
tell him to bring along a corpse, seein’ as
we're short ?’’
‘Joe Lutton, maybe you’re forgot the
lickin’ I give you about 'leven years ago,”’
snorted Brabson.
“Which I don’t jest call it to mind
now,” replied Joe demurely, and again
Mary Gregson laughed a silvery little rip-
ple that made Joe feel as though a little
stream of warm joy, sweetened with hope,
was being poured down his back.
‘Well, we may as well get to business,”’
said Mr. Gregson briskly. ‘‘Joe, you go to
my place and tell Dan Walton to hitch up
Bob to the buggy for you, and
see that you get Squire Spear here early to-
morrow morning.’’
Who is he 2’ cried the
‘‘Father, I must go home and look to
the house. Joe will walk over with me ;
won’t you Joe ?”’ said Mary Gregson, and
she smiled upon Joe in a way that made
him feel dizzy, but he managed to blurt
out :
“Which I certainly will.”
‘All right,’’ said Gregson, and Joe and
Mary marched off down the lane, while
the crowd staid until dark discussing the af-
fair.
Now, it is only a short three-fourths of a
mile from Wylie’s gate to the running
pump ; yet it took those two young people
two long hours to walk the distance, and
yet, as long as they were in sight of any-
one they were walking as though big
money was bet on them, and Joe only got
away with the buggy when Mary exclaim-
ed :
“Mercy on us, Joe, you must go, or fa-
ther and all the rest of them will come and
catch us here.”’
As they walked home through the gath-
ering dusk Gregson said to Brabson :
‘“Tom, it’s kind of borne in on me that
that there Joe Lutton of your’n has got
more hoss sense than we've been giving
him allowance for.”’
“Don’t I know it! But it’ll never do
to let him know it until he is out of his
time.’
The next morning the whole neighbor-
hood was on hand at the Wylie’s place,
for it became known that Squire Spear was
to be there, and great things were to be
expected. The squire appeared ahout 8
o’clock, and the first thing he did was to
empanel a jury, and then he said :
‘‘Now, gentlemen, we will view that
body.”
Brabson and Gregson looked at each
other blankly. Joe Lutton grinned, Mary
Gregson laughed outright and Joe whis-
pered in her ear :
‘“Which I told you so.”
These explanations had to be entered
into and the story was told the squire of
the man that Mary saw and Joe met. The
squire laughed and told them that he
knew the man well. He was a young
priest of Flemington, who was in the habit
of taking long walks into the country.
While they were talking a rough, unkempt
man came and leaned over the gate. Di-
rectly it was whispered that he wore John
Wylie’s overalls and warmus. The squire
called him and questioned him. He ad-
mitted he was a tramp, but didn’t know
whose duds he had on. He never inquired
into those little matters. He found the
things lying in the fence yonder last Mon-
day morning, and while he was cooking
his breakfast over there in the woods he
had cut the legs off because they were too
long. He reckoned the other piece of leg
was over there somewhere yet.
The crowd was so busy around ths tramp
out in the yard that they failed to no-
tice a tired and dusty looking man who sat
down on the porch, until he called out :
‘‘Hallo, there! What have you got?"
“If it ain’t John Wylie !"” “cried Mr.
Brabson. ‘“Where in sufferin’ sin have
you heen ?"’
‘I’ve been minding my own business.
What have you folks been doing ? Squire,
come inside.”
“Which I reckon the inquest can go on
now, seein’ as we’ve got the body,” re-
marked Joe Lutton cheerfully.
All that John Wylie ever condescended
to explain was that he had been away on a
little business and took his money with
him.
Mr. Gregson and Mr. Brabson registered
a vow that the next time John Wylie
wanted to mind his own business he
should have the privilege of doing it to his
heart’s content.
When, six months afterward, Joe Lut-
ton was ‘‘out of his time,’’ and the little
community had been socially shocked by
the announcement of his engagement to
Mary Gregson, with the full indorsement
of her father, Ellen Wylie said to the pros-
pective bride :
*‘Oh, Mary, how could you take up with
him, and he only a bound boy ?”’
“I wanted a man with some hoss
sense about him,’ replied the saucy beau-
ty.—J. Dark Chandler in Newark Call.
——The longest stretch of road suitable
for bicycle riding in the world lies between
Calcutta and Lahore. The distance is
1200 miles, and the road, which is level,
concreted and dustless is bordered for
the greater part of the way with trees,
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THE Rt. REV. THOMAS MCGOVERN,
BISHOP OF THE HARRISBURG DIOCESE.
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Bismarck Has Passed Away.
The Iron Chancellor Died Saturday Night at His
Castle at Friedrichsruhe After a Long Illness.
Prince Bismark died at his castle at
Friedrichsruhe shortly before 11 o’clock
Saturday night.
The death of the ex-Chancellor comes as
a surprise to all Europe. Despite the fam-
ily’s denials, there was an undercurrent of
apprehension when the sinking of the
Prince was finally announced, inspired
more by what the family left unsaid than
any information given.
But it appears that the ex-Chancellors’
death was not precipitated by sudden com-
plications, but was rather the culmination of
chronic disease—neuralgia of the face and
inflammation of the veins—which kept him
in constant pain that was borne with the
iron fortitude which might have heen ex-
pected.
On April 1st, 1815, there was born at
Schoenhausen, a man destined to be for
many years the central figure in European
polititics. This man was Otto Edward
Leopo’d von Bismarck-Schoenhausen, the
fourth son of Captain William Ferdinand
von Bismark and Louise Wilhelmina Men-
ken.
The early years of the boy were speat on
his father’s estate, a dismal, dark and se-
cluded farm, where his father hunted and
talked politics with his neighbors. At 6
the lad was sent to a boarding school in
Berlin and at 12 he was transferred to the
Grey Friars gymnasium, or High school.
He graduated from the latter place with
distinguished excellence and at the age of
17 he entered the Hanoverian college of
Goettingen. To the German lad entrance
into college life is entrance into the first
full liberty that they have. To Otto von
Bismarck it came as a revelation. He was
tall, strong, robust, with a constitution
that no excess or hardship could affect.
He was studious, but at the same time he
entered heartand soul into the drinking
and duelling spirit that invests the German
university with a peculiar charm.
Among his intimate friends at the uni-
versity perhaps none was dearer to him
than John Lathrop Motley, a friendship
that lasted through life. Mitchell G. King
and Amory Coffin were also classmates,
he indulged his fondness for matters mili-
tary by entering a lancer regiment of the
Landwehr, this time as a lieutenant, and
won his first decoration—the Prussian Hu-
mane Society’s medal, for saving his sol-
dier-servant from drowning. It was dur-
ing this time that he earned the title of
“‘mad Bismarck,’ from his wild ways, his
reckless rides, his capacity for drink—and
the boldness and originality of his char-
acter. His hatred of the growing liberal-
ism of young Germany was intense, for
whatever else he was Bismarck was an
aristocrat in every fibre of his body through-
out his life. In 1845 his father died, the
mother dying six years previously, and
Otto von Bismark settled at Schoenhausen,
which had fallen to him. He described
his life as one ‘‘of night frosts, sick oxen,
bad rope, and worse roads, dead lambs and
half starved sheep, want of straw, fodder,
money, potatoes and manure.
Now came the turning point, in his life.
He married and entered politics. Of his
marriage he saysin a familiar letter that
he had been ‘in love for twenty-four
hours’’ some time before, but on his fath-
er’s death he discovered that he ‘‘must
marry.
So he offered his hand to Fraulein Jo-
hanna, daughter of Heinrich von Pautt-
kamer, a Pomeranian squire, and in July,
1847, they were married. In dismissing
this subject it should be said that never
was a union more absolutely perfect. The
trust and love that was established be-
tween the two had n:ver a flaw, and many
years later, talking to Signor Crispi, the
great Bismarck said : ‘“You little know
what this woman has done for me.”’
THE CREATOR OF THE GERMAN EMPIRE.
Prince Otto von Bismarck, the founder
of the German empire, will probably be
accounted the greatest statesman of the last
half of the nineteenth century. He was a
soldier also, and his hands were long ago
stained with the blood of the innocent. In
one of his franker moments he confessed
that some of his reflections in this connec-
tion were not pleasant, and he wished it
had been possible to accomplish the work
he set out to do without such a sacrifice of
human life. But it seems to be quite as
impossible to build empires without blood-
shed as it is to construct any other modern
bit of work.
We have never heen able to admire the
methods of Prince Bismarck, how much
his feats in constructive statemanship com-
pel respect. He had no regard whatever
for the people. He did not set about the
work of creating the German empire he-
cause he thought it would enhance the
German reputation. He was a worshiper
of kingeraft and created modern Germany
that it might glorify the Hohenzollern
line. Incidentally, however, he had a
great admiration for Bismarck and was not
displeased that the first emperor was mere-
ly a puppet in his hands. In fact, he hoped
never to have any other sort of emperor.
Bismarck succeeded because he had an
iron will, an invincible determination, a
sagacious and prescient mind, and a con-
science that was amenable to discipline.
He provoked a war with Austria because it
was necessary to oust the latter from the
leadership of the Germanic confederation
and give Prussia her place. He cunningly
irritated the French and provoked the
vanity of the imperial family until Louis
Napoleon was persuaded to declare the war
which culminated in his own overthrow,
in the humiliation of France and in the
crowning of William I, kaiser of the Ger-
man empire, at Versailles. He made it his
one object in life to create a great and pow-
! erful empire for the glorification of the
Hohenzollerns. He had no trouble with
the old emperor, and expected to have
none with the one who now occupies the
throne. He hated Victoria, princess
royal of England, who was the wife of
Crown Prince Frederick, and it is not im-
probable that he hailed with delight the
news of the mortal illness of that noble
prince. During tho pathetic hundred
days that the dying emperor Frederick
sat upon the throne Bismarck used every
means in his power to prejudice Prince
William against his mother, and those
who recall the painful episodes of those
tragic weeks remember that he had an
apt pupil. He was a very. happy man
when William II ascended the throne,
but his pleasure was of short duration.
William had learned his lesson too well ;
‘he was as haughty and. imperious
jas bis preceptor. Ho declarel that he
{ mea, ; to govern Germany in his own
| Way and would remorsely crush anyone
who opposed him. The first con-
spicuous German to he crushed was
- Bismarck. After his summary dismissal
from office the old autocrat put himself in
opposition and endeavored to harass the
' emperor by divulging certain state secrets
_ whereof he had been the custodian. While
: he succeeded in causing considerable com-
motion he likewise exhibited the utter un-
serupulousness of his methods. He did
not hesitate to negotiate a secret treaty
! with a nation which outwardly he was at
variance. The socialistic schemes which
he pushed through the richstag were in-
| tended to head off the socialists. The
‘only time he was forced to retrace his
steps was when he became involved in a
diplomatic jangle with the other remarka-
blt old man Leo XIII.
| Prince Bismarck was the most conspicu-
| ous representative of absolutism prodnced
{ by the nineteenth century, although his
; mantle has fallen upon a worthy successor
| in the person of William II. = Bismarck
* did not have any regard for the common
| people. He would have destroyed par-
liamentary government if the power had
been placed in his hands and would have
established and enforced a press censorship
more rigid than that which exists in Rus-
sia. He was the antipodes of Mr. Glad-
' stone in almost every respect. The words
‘‘liberty,’’ ‘‘freedom,’’ ‘‘equality,’’ had no
place in his vocabulary. “Blood and
iron’ constituted his favorite weapon when
it became necessary to repel popular aspi-
rations. He did a great work if one re-
gards his history from the superficial stand-
point of a worldly man. But he was the
apostle of absolutism, the watchful, un-
scrupulous and untiring foe of equality.
He made an empire and exalted a dynasty,
but freedom owes his memory nothing for
he was her inveterate foe. His work may
stand, but it was created by force and
force is the weakest weapon in the tyrant’s
armory.
—If you expect to conquer in the battle of
to-day,
You will have to blow your trumpet in a firm
and steady way.
The man that owns his acres is the man that
plows all day,
And the man that keeps a humming is the
man that’s here to stay.
But the man who advertises with a sort of
sudden jerk,
Is the man who blames the printer because it
didn’t work.
The man that gets the business uses brainy
printer’s ink,
Not a clatter or a sputter, but an ad. that
makes you think ;
And he plans his advertisements as he plans
his well-hought stock,
And the future of his business is as solid as a
rock.
Sugar in Cuba.
Bell—Why did the Spanish burn the
Cuban crops ?
Nell—To keep the insurgents from rais-
ing cane.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Margherite Arlina Hamm, the editor of
the woman's department of the New York
Mail and Express, has just heen appointed
supervisor and inspector of supplies and
head nurses’ staff in the Red Cross depart-
ment of the National guard. She will go
direct to Tampa and from there to Santiago.
The women of her corps will be added by
the Governor and members of his staff.
Miss Hamm has the best of letters from the
Red Cross, Volunteers, Daughters of the
American Revolution, Sons of Veterans and
the War Department. Miss Hamm—*‘In-
spector’’ is now her official title—is an im-
mune, having lived for many years in the
tropics and surviving the terrible fevers of
those lands. Her services as nurse during
the Chino-Japanese war and the plague
season in Hongkong have been highly rec-
ommended. Nearly all of the nurses in
her division are also immunes. There are
about 20 auxiliaries of the National guard
under the supervision of women, and they
have sent in the neighborhood of 820,000
worth of supplies to the front from differ-
ent States. They now propose to make
this national movement stronger and more
effective in all its departments. It is in
view of this proposed extension of the work
that they have engaged Miss Hamm as
chief superintendent. She is an exceed-
ingly energetic woman with untiring en-
thusiasm.
Some or the most stylish summer tailor
costumes worn at Newport this season for
morning drives, beach walks, etc., are
made of smooth, fine Irish linen trimmed
with rows of white braid or linen lace in-
sertions aud edgings.
A lined sash is regarded as a part of a
skirt trimming and is worn with ends that
reach to the foot of the skirt, and loops
that reach half way to the foot. The sash
may be made of very broad silk ribbon
edged with fine Valenciennes lace, or it
may be a double sash with a frill of chiffon
around the edge. A double sash is con-
sidered by many an economy in the end.
To make a double sash get twiceas much
ribbon as you would need for a single sash.
You sew the ribhon carefully together so
that it has two sides, and between the
edges of the ribbon you gather a frill of
lace or a frill of chiffon or one of tiny white
ribbon. You then make your sash up into
a very large bow and it is ready for use.
You can wear it with any dress. The rib-
bon sash is tied exactly in the back, and
the long, straight lines which it gives to
the figure are highly desirable. The girl
who wears a skirt of lawn unrelieved ex-
cept by the dust ruffle under the feet, and
a long double sash tied at the back of her
waist, is almost classic in the lines of her
figure.
A very clever kind of sash is now adopt-
ed by the summer young woman. Itis of
two colors, so that it can be worn with two
dresses. A pale blue sash has a reverse of
green, and the edges of the sash are ruffled
with blue on one side and green on the
other, with plenty of care that the two
colors are selected so as to harmonize per-
fectly. :
PI (are
Prickly heapdi'a very trying summer
trouble for children. It is really a disease
of the sweat glands, often caused in those
who perspire profusely as the result of be-
ing too warmly dressed. The thinnest
woolen underwear is suitable in these cases,
and the perspiration must not be allowed ZF
to remain upon the skin. The itching of
this is often relieved by a solution of a
teaspoonful of soda in a pint of water, al-
lowed to dry on, and the following powder
should be thickly dusted on the skin :
Camphor, 1 teaspoonful ; oxide of zine, one-
half ounce ; starch, one-half ounce. The
diet should be lighi, and alkaline reme-
dies taken, the following being very good ;
Bicarbonate of soda, one-half teaspoonful 3
spiced syrup of rhubard and syrup of senna,
of each four fluid drachms ; syrup of orange,
one fluid ounce. A dessertspoonful of this
is to be taken three times a day, or for a
little child a teaspoonful will be sufficient.
Nettle rash is also a trying affliction in
hot weather. The commonest: cause for
this is acidity. Anattack is often brought
on by eating shellfish, pork, cheese, straw-
berries or raspberries. The irritation aris-
ing from this trouble is so great sometimes
as to he almost maddening. Ointments, as
a rule, only make the irritation worse, but
as local, remedies the use of a strong solu-
tion of carhonate of seda in water or of
pure vinegar is of great service. A very
useful lotion is a weak (one in fifty) solu-
tion of carbolic acid, or one drachm of
benzoic acid to a pint of water. In acute
cases an emetic of twenty grains of sulphate
of zinc in water is very useful, and it is
desirable to abstain from sugar, sweets,
highly seasoned foods, cucumbers, salmon,
pickles and other articles that are found
indigestible to the individual. A milk
diet is generally the most suitable.
Geneva bands or lawyers’ stocks are the
newest neckties on the market. The
Geneva band is a bit of white muslin love-
liness. It passes twice around the neck
and then, by a twist of the wrist, its crisp,
clear, starched, wedge-shaped ends are
drawn through the folds and down on the
chest. The lawyers’ stocks are only dif-
ferent in detail. No fripperies of lace or
embroidery must mar the severe beauty of
the Geneva bands, the like of which Presby-
terian clergymen wear in the pulpit, and
English, French and German lawyers wear
daily in the courts. A dear little mode
that ten years ago every woman wisely
adopted, is now, after a period of neglect,
coming back to us. That is the pretty
practice of tying a bit of black velvet about
the neck. Throats never look so round
and white as when clasped by the dense
black band that simply laps over and pins
at the back. No pearls or white light of
diamonds gives half the ornament effect of
this quaint device, and a number of young
girls wear, as did their mothers, wee heart-
shaped lockets strung on the velvet hand.
—
Transparent sleeves are more popular
among good dresses than was supposed to
be possible—a stylishly dressed leader going
into town the other morning from the
North Shore in an all-black rig lightened
very becomingly and a bit dashingly by
transparent sleeves of black silk muslin,
not shirred and puckered tightly, but full-
ed into a wristband of taffeta ribbon and
wrist ruffles of black and white lace. This
sleeve completed a waist of corded black
taffeta with a white lace bow at the throat,
tiny black muslin ruches trimming the
stud band and the shaped hip skirts. The
skirt was of black veiling, with a shaped
flounce trimmed with three milliner’s folds
of black muslin, one at its head, one at its
hem, one through the center of the flounce.
The belt was of black muslin with a rosette
behind, the hat all black with diaphanous
muslin bows and one black featker. She
looked very cool in spite of the sable tones,
the skirt so softly clinging, the sleeves so
loosely transparent, the cravat so filmy
and the hat so light and pompon-like.