I mmr mmm semete— _—— Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. 2, 1800. rer LOVE THAT LASTS. Love that lasisa lifetime through, Hearts that travel lightly, Eyes that choose the sunny view, Lips that laugh so sprightly; Happy they that hand in hand Thus go onward singing, All their world’s a fairyland With magic chime-bells ringing ! For all things love the souls that love, And smooth the road they're wending; The dimpling sky smiles from above Around their rapture bending; And stars in heaven’s midnight blue, O shine they ne'er so brightly As on the souls that love 1.fe through, The hearts that travel lightly ! —St. Louis Republic. ‘THE LOBSTER. We called him Lobster from the first. He was overgrown and stupid, his trousers bagged at the knees and were too short— I suppose he never dreamed of creasing them—and be wore celluloid collars and cuffs and any kind of necktie. He attend- ed school with us, but, aside from mathe- matics and physics—which he seemed to know without studying—he could not learn. His mother tried to teach him how to dress, but he took no interest—had ab- solutely no idea of what makes a gentle- man. As for his sister, she said that she preferred him as he was, for then he was natural; but that was just like her. He had a most disagreeable manner, too. He would look you right in the eyes until you got through talking, and then say nothing at all, or turn his back on you. We did not care to associate with him, and he spent most of his spare time wan- dering ahout the woods with an old gun, or down in a little shop that he had rigged up in the garden. Here he would busy himself for hours on some kind of jim- crackery—first one thing, then another. One day—we were all about twenty then —he brought out after school hours what he called a model flying machine—a lot of wings and fans and clockwork about three feet long—and Charlie and Jack and I fol- lowed along to see the fun. He wound it up and was just ready to start it when Charlie pushed me, and I fell against Jack, who fell over the machine and smashed it. Lobster looked awfully cheap,and I laugh- ed until I cried, but Jack did not. He eoaxed Lobster to fix it up and try it again so that we conld see it go, and even help- ed him carry it back to the shop. After a while they brought it out, and this time I pushed Charlie and he pushed Jack. The machine was totally wrecked, but we did not laugh much, for Lobster got into a ter- rible rage. He grabbed Jack and held him =o that he could not move; then,when he had recovered his breath—for Jack was nearly as big and strong as he was—he pounded his face until Jack was nearly dead before he let him go. He did not touch Charlie and me. Luck for him, too, for we would have had him arrested. That was what we hoped Jack would do, but when we proposed it on the way home he just kicked us both and said nothing. I thought it was very unkind, and I never knew him to act so strangely before; for, the first thing in the morning, he apologized to Lobster in the presence of the whole school, and told Charlie and me that he would take it upon himself to keep insects like ns from harassing him, and that if anybody in the school ever called him Lobster again in his presence he would break that person’s head. So after that we called him George, and only used Lobster in the third person, and when Jack was not around. They became great friends, though why, I could not un- derstand, for Jack was a gentleman and his father had millions. He was a good rider, swimmer aud yachtsman, and own- ed the fastest catboat on the bay, while Lobster had neither money, brains nor re- finement. But his sister Jennie was very pretty, and very nice. At least I thought so then,and on heraccount I had to tolerate the brother whilg I was calling on her. But there came a time when she told me I bad better not call on her any more, and after that I did not care how I treated him, for I think that he influenced her. Charlie took my place and seemed to get on very well with Jennie. At least he did a great deal of boasting, though it may bave been just to tease me. However, af- ter Miss Swinton, Jack’s sister, came home from abroad I did not care what be said. Jennie was one of those blond, fluffy- haired girls, but Miss Grace Swinton was tall and dark-eyed—a statutelike sort of girl. She had finished her education in Europe, and was very self-possessed and aoccomplished—as much an athlete, almost, as her brother—and she had such a dreamy way of listening while you talked that yon bardly knew what to say, and when you were through talking you could not tell whether you had impressed her or not. We graduated, in time, and Jack went. to college, while Charlie and I secured positions in the city, going to business early in the morning and going into so- ciety every evening. I got on swimming- ly with Miss Swinton. I knew she liked me because, after we had become well ac- quainted, it was so easy to make her langh and I should most oertainly have proposed to her if Charlie had not interfered so much. Some- thing had happened between him and Jen- nie, for he stopped calling on her,encroach- ing on my preserves instead. We almost quarreled about it. but Jack came home at vacation time and spoiled both our chances, for be took up with the Lobster and brought him to his house. Then Miss Swinton seemed to lose all interest in Charlie and me, and developed a most un- accountable interest in Lobster, going down with her brother to Lobster’s old shop, where he would talk mechanics with her and show her his inventions. His last was a chainless bicycle which he had just patented. He made frequent trips to the city on this business, and would come back with new collars and clothes and things to make himself appear better, but he could not succeed in this. no matter what he wore, and neither Charlie nor I could understand what Miss Swinton saw in him. They would take long walks together just the same as though he was her social equal, and Charlie and I would follow a short way back until, one day—well, we got tired of following them. We told Jack, however, that he ought to look out for his sister and not allow her to go walking with such a ruffianly brute, but he merely said something about the Lobster’s sellin his patent for twenty thousand and royal- ties, and said something more about folks minding their own business. So we stop- ped trying to meet Miss Swinton in so- viety. hen the term began Jack went back to alll ceeurred which prevented the Lobster from meeting Miss Swinton in society. Charlie and I over-took him as we walked up from the station in the evening. His hat was gone and he was muddy, damp and dis- heveled. He could barely stumble along and every few yards he would stop and cling to a tree or paling for support. But he was not intoxicated, as we thought at first. He told us, when we inquired, that he had been out with his gun, and early in the day had fallen into a swamp. Then, to prevent catching cold, he had bought quinine in a neighboring town without getting directions, and, as he had never taken it before, he ignorantly swallowed the whole purchase—thirty grains. It would have killed Charlie or me, but only weakened him and made him dizzy. We accompanied hia along, for his way home led past the Swinton place and we want- ed to see any possible results. Sure enough, there was Miss Swinton at the window. That evening we met her—accidentally —and she inquired about Lobster. Now if we had told a lie there would be some reason in blaming us; but we did not—we simply said, jokingly too, thas he had taken too much of something or other, which was the truth. Miss Swinton mere- ly smiled a little and turned the subject. We never supposed that she had taken us seriously until, afew evenings later, when Lobster had recovered, we were near the Swintons’ place—accidentally, understand —and saw the Lobster go up the front steps, and a minute later come down. And there was Miss Swinton at the window. She was ‘‘not at home”’ to him, and all in all we agreed to let the matter alone. We had been told to mind our own business, and it served him right for his presump- tion. Next day Miss Swinton left for the city to spend the winter. Though both she and Jack were back for the Christmas holidays I am sure that neither met the Lobster, who had taken to his old clothes again and become more un- sociable than ever. During Holiday week he found urgent business in the neighbor- ing town where they were making his bicycles, and of conrse Jack was puzzled and called repeatedly at his house. But Jennie could not tell what ailed him, and I supposed Miss Swinton had never spoken of the matter at all, while the Lobster, of course, was too stubborn to tell anybody. So things went on in this way—Charlie and I going into society every evening.and calling on every young lady in town except Miss Swinton and Jennie—until the fol- lowing summer, when Jack came home on his vacation again and his sister returned from the city. Jack hunted for Lobster, but the big fool was still on his dignity, taking long bicycle rides and getting up early and re- turning late, so that all Jack found when he called was Jennie. However, he per- sisted, which at the time seemed strange in Jack, and after a while Miss Swinton, too, became very friendly with Jennie,and the three were always together—so much so that Charlie and I began to fear that Jennie was concocting some scheme for her brother’s benefit. But the Lobster him- self, in his own peculiar way, reassured us. He was in town one day, and Charlie and I were right behind him—he was go- ing our way, but of course we did not join him—when Miss Swinton came around the corner and met him face to face. We saw her start slightly and flush a deep red, but Lobster swung by her with his long stride as though not conscious that she existed. He was anything but a gentleman : he did not know that a young lady is not to be taken too seriously. Miss Swinton was so shocked by his manner that when she passed Charlie and me she was frightfully pale, and did not even see us. And we were so agitated ourselves by this occur- rence that we did not make ourselves known, as we might have done under oth- er circamstances. Then came that awful trip in the yacht. Jack had fitted out his catboat, and we learned in a roundabout way that he would take his sister and Jennie for a sail down the bay. So we put on our yachting suits that morning and managed to be at the club-house when they came down. Jack invited us, but in a rather unkind way, I admit. He said : ‘Come along, and if there’s any wind I'll take the starch out of those duds.” We accepted, of course, though we would not have gone without Miss Swinton, for we did not like yachting any more than we liked Jennie. Miss Swinton was very agreeable and Jennie tried to be,but found herself almost ignored, tor we addressed ourselves only to Miss Swinton and Jack. It was lovely weather and we sailed miles and miles down the shore until long after midday, then dropped the anchor in a lit- tle bay to have luncheon. Then, just as we had finished and were lighting our cigarettes, and were having the most en- joyable time, who should appear on the beach but the Lobster with a smashed bicycle on his shoulder ! Jack was all excitement at once, and bailed him, but the Lobster started toward the road with his wheel, paying no atten- tion whatever. So Jack jumped into the little boat and pulled ashore. We saw them meet, shake hands and talk a little, then turn back to the beach. Out they came in’ the boat, talking earnestly, and Charlie and I were awfully afraid that they were explaining things concerning us. But it was only Lobster’s way of telling how he had left his repair kit at home and smashed the wheel. He was still talking as he lifted the machine over the rail and climbed up, saying that this meeting saved him a ten-mile tramp to the station. Miss Swinton had gone right down into the cabin when she saw him coming, but my friend and I greeted him decently, and Jennie made some sisterly comments on the condition of his clothes—all dust and mud. He just nodded to Charlie and me, told Jennie to stop scolding, and asked Jack where he was to put his wheel. “Down below,’’ said Jack, and down went Lobster. Charlie and I strained our ears, but there was nothing said, and soon he came up, red as a beet. Miss Swinton, equally constrained and embarrassed, fol- lowed in a few moments. In fact it was very embarrassing for all of us—except Jack and Jennie. They did notseem to mind. ‘We started back now, but had not gone far before the wind died away, and it be- gan raining. The young ladies went be- low, and Charlie and I followed to close all the little round windows in the cabin to keep tbe rain out. Then we stayed there, in spite of Jack’s remarks, for we did not want to spoil our clothes, Lobster, however, remained up in the rain. His clothes could not be spoiled. But we found his old bicycle was right in every- body’s way and his sister called to him to take care of it. So he came down too, and was just putting it into a berth—all dirt as it was--when Jack yelled down : : “Stand by for a squall. Come up, all of you. , Before we could get to the steps there was an awful sound of wind, and the hoat began to tip. We all slid over to the side college, and afew days later something of the cabin, then a lot of water came down bm A BE WAH the steps, the door closed with a bang, and we were in darkness with the floor and ceiling perpendicular. The boat was on her side. Of course every one screamed—all but Lobster, who swore. He groped his way to the door, but could not open it. Then he growled : ‘‘What fool built this death-trap ? Door at the side and opening outward.’ Just then all the little round windows that were under water opened and let in a perfect rush of it. Lobster yelled to close them, and we had to get right down al- most under water in order to do it. Bub one was broken, and when Lobster learn- ed of it he made us climb up and make sure that the upper ones were screwed tight. When this was done the cabin was half full of water, and we sat on the cen- treboard-box, which made a broad shelf in the middle. Jennie was awfully frighten- ed—oerying like a baby, and she asked her brother if there were any real danger. “No little girl,” he answered, ‘‘we won’t sink unless the air leaksout. We're floating on compressed air; that’s what makes our ears buzz so. The door is un- der water, and so is the broken deadlight, but the upper ones seems to be tight and the centreboard-box opens on deck, so not a drop more of water can get in ; and be- fore long Jack can get help to right us. but we must remain as quiet as possible.” Then I heard him mutter : It happened once hefore.’” But at the time I did not know what he meant. We could hear the sound of the storm above and Jack’s boot-heels on the door as though he was trying to kick it in. Lob- ster climbed back and played a tattoo on the ceiling with his knife-handle, and we learned afterward that he was telling him by telegraphy, which both of them un- derstood, to cut away the mast if he could, but not to open the door. as it would sink the best boat and drown us all. I was a little frightened, I admit ; and I know Charlie was too, for I heard him saying his prayers, and after a while I heard him crying. He said afterward that he did not cry until he heard me cry- ing, but I know better. Jenny was still crying, but not a sound came from Miss Swinton’s lips. Lobster bad not spoken to her nor she to him. By this time we could see things by the little light which came through the round windows, and Lobster left the steps and climed toward his bicycle, which he ex- amined all over. It was badly damaged, but the big foot-pump which he always car- ried under the top-bar was intact, and also the tire- valves: He unwound the wire which held one of thé valves to the tire and cut off the coupling-screw at the end of the pump-hose, replacing it with the valve, which he bound on with the wire exactly as it had been bound to the neck of the tire. In spite of our danger he was the same ill-mannered boor, for when I asked him why he did that he answered, without looking at me at all : “To make little boys ask questions.” He unscrewed the head of the pump, took out the plunger and reversed the leather ; then he putit back. 1 did not understand until afterward that he was changing an air-compressor. into an air-ex- tractor—a contrivance to pnll air into the cabin. When he had talked with Jack again by their telegraphy, he dived under water and secured a small brace and bit from a locker. Then, telling Charlie to ‘ stand by with the pump,’ he bored a hole in the cabin over our heads, stopped the hole with his finger until Charlie had reached him, and then screwed in fhe valve—which had an outside thread and was just the size of the hole. Next he firm- ly bound the pump by its stirrup to the thumbscrew of one of the windows, so that it hung upside down. He pumped care- fully a few strokes, found that it worked, and said : ‘Good enough. No present danger of suffocation, though we’ll have to pump a- gainst two atmospheres at least. Now lis- ten, all of you. One must pump, the rest remain quiet so as to consume as little ox- ygen as possible. You two Miss Nancys will take turns with me at the pump—and if you don’t stop that sniveling I'll hold your heads under water until you do.” He was always the same. No extremity of danger or example of cultivated society could make the least improvement in him. . Then began that horrible labor for life which lasted eighteen hours, while Lob- ster made new plungers for the pump, as they wore out, from the leather in his shoes, and afterward from Charlie’s and mine. Jennie stopped crying after a while, and she and Miss Swinton sat with their arms about each other, while Lobster, Charlie and I took turns at the pumping. By lying face upward on the centre board- box we could just reach the handle and pull downward, but it was awfully hard work, and every breath of air that we pull- ed in came charged with the odor of the lubricant in the pump. After a time—a long time, during which Jack. up above, occasionally hammered— the boat began to pitch and toss, and Lobster said that if she were not half fall of water she would right herself now even against the weight of the mast and sail. Either the motion of the boat affected me, or it was the bad air, and I became so deathly sick and weak I could not pump. The others continued until Charlie, too, gave out. Then Lobster pumped alone. I noticed how hard and heavy he breathed, and that Miss Swinton was the same. Per- haps it was because they were much larger than the rest of us and really needed more air. I known my own suffering was fright- ful. By and by I heard Charlie crying again and trying to pray. It made me think of what we had said about Lobster, and though I tried to put the thought away it would come back. I felt that we had not treated Miss Swinton right in allowing her to deceive herself, and that if I was to die I ought to say something about it. So I crawled over to where she sat with Jen- nie, and told the real truth in a low voice so that no one else might hear, and was called a ‘“‘contemptible little wretch’ for my pains. Then Icrawled back. I could hardly move now and did not care to speak to Lobster. It was afterward that I learn- ed that Miss Swinton was unconscious in 3 ennie's arms and that I had confessed to ennie. I think I went to sleep or faiiited after this incident. I know that I did no more umping, and have a dim recollection of ing pushed about; but it seemed to be a week, after the boat tipped over, when I was awakened by sliding off the centre- board-box into the water, and all I cared abont was to make sure that my head was out. Then I went to sleep again, reclin- ing against the centreboard-box. After a long sime—1I donot know how long—I was wakened again by a crashing noise and a rush of water in my face; and there I was, up to my neck in it, looging at a square of light formed by the open door; and floundering toward us through the water was a man who brought with him the sweetness and freshness of the morning air above. ‘Jennie —Grace,’’ he called in gasps, for SAE ‘on his shoulder. he seemed to be choking. ‘‘Are you alive? I can’t see—speak, somebody !"’ ‘‘Here, Jack,’’ said Jennies voice be- hind me. ‘‘Take Grace.” I looked around, and there was Jennie supporting Miss Swinton and barely able to hold her own head above water. Charlie was climbing out of a berth, and Lobster, still and quiet and blue in the face—and with the awful look of a dead man on it— was leaning against the slanting centre- board box with one haud extended to the handle of the pump. It did not take us long to get to the door you may be sure; but quick as we were, Jack was ahead of us with his sister, whom he carried as he might have carried a child. He placed her on the deck above. She was breathing, though unconscious. Down he went again and brought up Jennie, who had fainted in his arms, and whom he was kissing as though she were the only girl on earth. Then, taking a long breath, he went for Lobster, and when he brought him he brought the pump too; for though Jack had strength to carry him he had not strength to twist his fingers from the pump handle. He was not dead. but might bave been had the boat grounded ten minutes later. It was the going down of the tide that righted her, sliding us off the centreboard box, and afterward enabling Jdck to open the door. A little pounding and shaking brought Lobster to a breathing condition, and a little cold water dashed in her face revived Jennie. No one talked or wanted to; we just lay sprawled around that deck and breathed fresh air, while Jack looked first at one, then at another, and smiled— such a smile. He was not theJack we knew at all; his hair had turned gray and he seemed unable to close his lips, which were twisted and drawn into an expression of pain, while his eyes were sunken deep in his head. It was the suspense after we had stopped answering his signals, he said later, that had made him old within a few hours. Horrible as Lobster looked, Jack looked worse, especially when he smiled. His hands were covered with blood and forward were signs of the work that had made him bleed. He had whittled half way through the masts f.obster was breathing in great, convul- sive sobs, his chest heaving four inches high, and Miss Swinton was not much bet- ter. Bat she came to her senses first, and Jack assisted her to sit up. She looked around in a dazed kind of way, then, spy- ing Lobster flat on his broad back, she pushed Jack away, crawled to Lobster’s side, and looked into his face a moment as though she could devour him with her eyes. Then, with a little whimpering moan,she fainted beside him. But Lobster did not know it. Jack lifted her away from him and nursed her back to conscious- ness; and when Lobster came to himself, afterward, and sat up, he simply shook hands with Jack and kissed Jennie without saying a word. But he paid no attention to Miss Swinton, nor to Charlie and me; in fact, he never did notice Charlie and me unless we spoke to him first. Miss Swin- ton kept her big dark eyes upon him until his manner became too apparent, then they filled with tears, and she did not look at him any more. Although we had not eaten for nearly twenty four hours we were not in the least hungry, but we were very weak, and it was three hours before we felt like leaving the boat. Then she was high and dry, and Jack tied a long rope to a nearby tree, to hold her when the tide should rise again. On the way, Jack and Jennie paired off ahead and seemed to be talking earnestly, and Lobster, who, of course, would not walk with Miss Swinton, and I, who did not care to just then, walked together, leaving Charlie to follow on with Miss Swinton. Suddenly Jack and Jennie stop- ped, stared hard at Charlie and me and called to Lobster. He joined them, and they talked for a few moments while I fol- lowed Miss Swinton and Charlie; then Jack called his sister and she went back, while Charlie and I walked on. I had to explain now, for he was very curious to know what was going on—and I knew. I knew that Jennie had heard what I had only meant Miss Swinton to hear, and that she was telling. Of course, Charlie called me all kinds of fools—it is a habit he has—but I would not listen, and turned my back on him to look at the others. Miss Swinton was standing close to Lobster, with one hand She was talking excited- ly, while he looked down into her face and the others listened. I knew by the shin- ing of her eyes that she was crying, and though I could not hear what she was say- ing I guessed—she was pleading forgive- ness. I turned on Charlie and was giving him just as good as be sent when I heard a snarling sonnd behind me; then Jack was u us. His horrible eyes blazed in his horrible face; he was in a perfect fury of rage—cer- tainly insane—and before we could escape he buried his bloody hands in our bair and —never uttering a word, remember—just’ bumped our heads together. It was tor- ture. He held us while we called for help and bumped and bumped and bumped. And Miss Swinton and Lobster and Jennie merely looked on—never offering to inter- fere. At last, just as I thought I was go- ing to fi int he let go and Charlie went one way while I went the other. We swooned in earnest then, and when we recovered they were gone; so we went home without them. We have not seen any of the four since then, as we have not gone into society very much lately; but we have learned that the two weddings will come off together. How- ever, there is one thing that Charlie and I are agread upon—if we are invited we will just send our regrets.—By Morgan Robert- son in Saturday Evening Post. ——By the accidental discharge of a gun James Barry, aged 19, son of Henry Barry, of Mount Airy, Fulton, lies at the point of death. He started out to enjoy the first days’ gunning of the season. Before cross- ing a fence near his home he rested his gun against a post, when the top of the rail broke and Harry fell on the weapon, which was discharged. The load passed through his shoulder and his right arm fell help- less at his side. Pluckily holding the mem- ber to his side he ran to his home, a quar- ter of a mile distant. There are no hopes of saving his life. ——Fred Hatfield, employed as car in- spector at Long Siding, near Huntingdon, was painfully and severely injured on Sat- urday afternoon last, when he was bumped off the platform of a car, falling to the track. He succeeded in withdrawing his body from the rails, but his left arm was caught below the elbow and run over at al- most right angles. Singular to relate, while the flesh and muscles were badly crushed and torn, the bone was not splin- tered nor broken. ——Suberibe for the WATCHMAN. Wonderfal Growth of Many Cities. Figures That Show Notable Facts as to 159 Munci- palities. Of These 38 Have Over 100,000. Pitts- burg. Seattle, Los Angeles, Kansas City, Kan., Port- land, Ore., Birmingham and Otner Places Make Great Advances. Nebraska Has Decreased. Three Places in the State of Washington Indicate the Most Significant Advance in the Last Decade. The Census Bureau summarizes the re- turns of population of cities having 25,000 inhabitants or more in 1900. There are 159 of these, and the bulletin shows that the precentage of increase in their popula- tion from 1890 to 1900 was 32.5, as against 49.5 for the same cities in the previous de- cade. The absolute increase in the popu- lation of these cities from 1890 to 1900 was 4,839,136, or 82,426 less than the absolute increase from 1880 to 1890, when it was 4,921,562. The 159 cities combined have a population in 1900 of 19,694,625 against 14,855,489 in 1890 and 9,933,927 in 1880. Of this 159 cities, divided into four classes, 19 had 200,000 and over, 19 had 100,000 and under 200,000; 40 had 50,000 and under 100,000, and 81 had 25,000 and under 50,000. In 1880 there were but 20 cities which contained more than 100,000 inhabitants, but in 1890 this number had increased to 28, and in 1900 to 38. In 1900 there are 78 cities of 50,000 in- habitants or more, as compared with 58 in 1890 and 35 in 1880. NINETEEN FIRST-CLASS CITIES. The combined population in 1900 of the 19 cities of the first class is 11,795,809, as against a population in 1880 of 8,879,105, representing an increase during the ten yeais of 2,916,704 or 32.8 percent. The same cities showed an increase from 1880 to 1890 to 2,567,452 or 40.6 per cent. The 19 cities of the first class comprise New York, which with more than 3,000,000 inhabitants, properly stands by itself; two cities, Chicago and Philadelphia, each of which has a population in excess of a mil- lion; three cities, St. Louis, Boston and Baltimore, which have a population of half a million each; five cities, Cleveland, Buf- falo, San Francisco, Cincinnati and Pitts- burg, which have a population of between three and four hundred thousand each, and eight cities—New Orleans, Detroit, Mil- wankee, Washington, Newark, Jeisey City, Louisville and Minneapolis—which have a population of between two and three hun- dred thousand each. SOME NOTABLE CHANGES. Since the announcement through the newspaper press of the population of cities having 25,000 inhabitants or more at the present census, some changes have been made inclading these : Philadelphia, population of ward 22 decreased from 64,832 to 64,655, and the population of ward 24 increased from 53,- 023 to 53,200. This makes no change in the total population of the city. York (Pa.) population increased from 33,654 to 33,708, owing to an increase in the population of ward 12 from 4540 to 4594. Cleveland and Buffalo have both increas- ed materially in population during the last ten years, and now takes precedence over San Francisco and Cincinnati, which, in 1890 were the seventh aod eighth places in point of population. Pittsburg is now the eleventh largest city in the country, having exchanged places with New Orleans. BIG JUMPS IN POPULATION. Among the most notable changes in the rank of cities which has taken place in 1900. as compared with:1880, may be men- tioned that of Seattle, which has advanced from the one hundred and fiftieth to forty- eighth place; Los Angeles, from the one hundred and thirty fifth to the thirty sixth place; Duluth from the one hundred and fifty sixth place to the seventy second place; Kansas City, Kausas, from the one hundred and fifty third to the seventy sixth place; and Portland, Oregon, from the one hun- dred and sixth to the forty second place. Other noticable changes in rank from 1880 to 1900 are Birmingham, from 154 to 99; Tac: ma, from 155 to 103; Spokane, from 157 to 105: Dallas, from 137 to 68; and Saginaw, from 136 to 89. STATES WITH NO BIG CITIES. The following named States and Terri- tories in 1900 do not contain any city with a population of 25,000 or more; Arizona, Idaho, Indian Territory, Mississippi, Neva- da, New Mexico, North Carolina, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Ver- mont and Wyoming. Of the whole num- ber of cities having 25,000 inhabitants or more in 1900, 70 are found in North Atlan- tic division, 48 in the North Central divi- sion, 18 in the South Central division, 12 in the Western division, and 11 in the South Atlantic division. Massachusetts has the largest nnmber of such cities, namely, 20, and is followed by Pennsylva- nia, with 18, and New York, with 12. MOST SIGNIF ICANT GROWTH. The most significant growth of cities is that for the three cities in the State of Washington, namely Seattle, Spokane and Tacoma. These cities combined had only 4981 inhabitants in 1880, but their popula- tion bad increased to 98,765 in 1890, and to 155,233 in 1900, the increase during the past decade being equivalent to 57.1 per cent. Nebraska is the only State in which the combined population of the cities contain- ed therein showed a decrease from 1890 to “Of the total population represented by the 159 cities in 1900 (19,694,625) 10,198, - 696, or 51.3 per cent. is contained in the 70 cities situated in the North Atlantic division, and 6,071,861, or 30.8 per cent. in the 48 cities situated in the North Cen- tral division, leaving only 17.9 present for the remaining cities situated in the other three geographical divisions. Wilkesbarre Miners Hold a Jubilee. The miners of the Wyoming Valley had a celebration Saturday in honor of their victory. In Wilkesharre there was a parade of the members of local assemblies of United Mine Workers. Ten thousand men were in line and music was furnished by several brass bands. The men all wore badges of the miners’ union and carried canes of patriotic colors. Entire good nature prevailed through- out the march, and when the offi- cers of the Lehigh and Wilkesbarre Coal company were reached the men gave three rousing cheers, thus showing the good feeling which exists between the men who are nearly all employes of the Lehigh and Wilkesbarre, and the officials of the com- pany. The Mine Workers of Georgetown and vicinity had a monster demonstration Sat- urday evening to celebrate their victory. ————————————————. The World's Largest Toy Factory. The largest toy factory in the world is in New York, where playthings in tin are manufactured literally by the million. It stands five stories high, and turns ont 1,- 607 distinet varieties of tin toys. The out- put of circular tin whistles is 2,000,000 per annum. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. The indiscriminate collection of a variety of dishes does not constitute a good menu, no matter how delicious the various eata- bles may be in themselves. The selection requires to be made with a view not only to variety but toa proper sequence of courses and diversity as regards appearance flavor and garnishing. To the ordinary diner. and perhaps to the majority of wom- en diners, the absence of these points may not be conspicuously apparent. But the gourment regards and studies them just as the artist studies color harmonies, and is as much distressed by a poorly arranged din- ner as he of the brush by a miserable com- position. Thick soup should be followed by a fish, plainly fried, roasted or grilled, accompan- ied by a sauce that in no way resembles the soup. Or if clear soup be chosen, the fish may be supreme de truite. When selecting the entrees, care should be taken that the first at least is entirely different in charac- ter and appearance from the fish and the second entree should be in every way a contrast to the first. And if one of the en- trees is of the croquette order, that is with- out sauce, it should be served before the salmis or wol-au-vent. Be careful that the sherbit in no way resembles the ice pudding and if plovers’ eggs or peas in aspic are to be served as an entrement, a jelly with macedoine garnish should not appear as one of the sweets. After deciding on the dishes for the vari- ous courses, their respective appearance and flavor should be considered. As regards the former, the garnishes and colorings should be as varied as possible, and care must be taken so that the more elaborate entrees are quite distinet in appearance from the sweets. This point should not be lost sight of, for coloring enters much now into all parts of the menu. In respect to flavoring, to be correct, no flavor should be repeated throughout the dinner. There- fore if truffled cutlets are down anywhere on the menu truffles should not again ap- pear in any form. The success of a dinner depends almost as much on the observance of these seem- ingly little points as it does on the costliness of the viands served, or the excellence of the cooking. They are points, too, that rest entirely upon the housewife’s jadg- meet. So she can easily see to it that her dinner is artistic from the gourmet's standpoint. Few women seem properly to value the possession of a fine suite of hair until it is a thing of the past and must be laboriously coaxed back again. Nothing is more com- mon than to hear a woman say, “'I used to have a fine head of hair until after that ill- ness last year.”” And yet probably that hair might have been saved almost intact by a little care and forethought. In the confusion and alarm caused by sudden or severe illness the patient’s hair is apt to be forgotten by members of the family, and even the trained nurse is not always as careful as she should be in this matter. In the first place, the hair should be carefully plaited, not in one heavy plait, which is apt to get in the way of the toss- ing head and cause annoyance. A number of small plaits will serve the purpose much better. As soon as the patient is able to sit up her hair should receive at least fifty strokes of the brush each day. It should also be allowed a daily sun bath if possible and to hang freely about her shoulders as much as possible. If to these simple at- tentious the use of a good quinine tonic is added, it is safe to predict that one recov- ered invalid will still be able to hoast of undiminished locks. Now that winter is coming ou, lotions are in demand for chapped hands. An in- expensive home made remedy is composed of ten cents worth of alcohol, five cents worth of liquid benzoine and ten cents worth of glycerine and rose water. Mix the alcohol and benzoine, and allow them to set for several hours. Then add the glycerine and rose water. Shake well be- fore using. All sorts of rumors are abroad in regard to arranging the hair this winter. Some of the girls are parting their bair and knot- ting it low inthe neck. There are also rumors that smooth shining braids will be in vogue coiled around the head. This style is not becoming to many and it is doubtful if it will be generally adopted. The hair parted on one side and slightly waved has taken the place of the pompadour. The wave, however, must have no suspicion of crimpiness. It must be like the natural curl so much sought af- ter by all women. The hair droops well over the forehead and is worn in the pres- ent high knot. This style goes hy the name of the ‘Marie Antoinette’’ and will probably remain the favorite coiffure for the winter. All the new hats show the the hair pushed forward below them so we can count on this style of hairdressing for the coming winter at least. All sleeves are long and close fitting, the trimming, if there is any, is kept quite flat and tucks and cording are immensely popu- lar, A new sleeve which has just made its appearance has four tucks running from shoulder to wrist, where the tucks are left free, and form a little ruffle or fullness over the hand. With lace, taffeta and velvet boleros, a novelty has been introduced in slashing the sleeve all the way up the out- side of the arm and lacing the edges to- gether with fine gold cord. A white lace bolero worn over a pale blue chiffon blouse had the sleeves arranged in this pretty fashion, allowing the blue chiffon to show through the opening. From an inspection of the tailor-made creations from the fashionable English tail- ors it is evident that the bolero isstill tore- main with us,and is as taras ever from hav- ing exhausted ite prssibilitiesfor novelty. Tailor-made cloth a1 d hom: spun skirts are much braided, strapped aud stitched, eith- er with taffeta or with cloth of a contrast- ing shade. Appliques of cloth and leather are also used for this style of gown. As to skirts there is a tendency toward greater amplitude at the feet, and a certain amount of fullness is necessary in the centre of the back; but otherwise a plain, close fit is es- sential in the front and hip breadths. nin Belts are either very parrow or else deep, bus always dianwn down intoa front, which is becoming to the o Great attention is given to the small de- tails of the toilette—cravats, collars, vests ete., exquisite workmanship and finish be- ing bestowed on every item. Buttons are a great feature on dresses and wraps; the the majority are large and quaint, in gold, silver, enamel or mother-of-pearl; others are minute and dainty. For out door gar- ments wrought iron and oxydized silver are largely used. —— Subscribe for the WATCHMAN.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers