sm —
Denorraiic Agatdpnt
Bellefonte, Pa., August 16, 1901.
HER ANSWER.
They were old friends, but.they hadn’t met
In many, many years ;
And the tide of life had hurried on,
With its joys aad hopes and fears ;
But both the women had met at last—
0ld playmates once again ;
They talked of girlhood’s dreams, now past—
Its buoyant hopes now slain.
«Ah, Kate,” said Madge, “you’re not the
same—
You've lost your charm of face—
You've lost your pretty, rosy cheeks—
You've lost your form and grace.
Your chestnut hair has turned to gray,
Your lips have lost their red;
All things have changed—and soon our day
Will turn to night instead.”
“Dear one,” Kate said, ‘I've nothing lost,
For here's my hair of brown
On Prue’s dear head—my eldest born—
And Bess has not a frown
On her sweet face, that’s just like mine
Of thirty years agone—
While Kitty’s blue eyes dance and shine
Like sunlight in the morn.
“Mine shone in just the self-same way
When you, dear, saw me last,
And Margaret's lips are just as red
As mine in days long past, :
No, no, my dear, I’ve nothing lost,
My life is on the wane;
My .chiidren have my own youth cost—
In them I live again!
— Madeline K. Van Pelt in Success.
A ————————————————
A DREAM OF RED ROSES.
A Lamarque rose vine. covered one en-
tire end of the Hollingsworth house, so
that in blossoming season the chimney
made its way upward through wreath after
wreath of snow; but at the other end of the
house a James Sprunt spread its branches
and its blood-red flowers; and be-
tween the two vines, each Autumn and
Spring, the old war of white and red was
renewed. The vines belonged to Louise
Hollingsworth, She was a great gardener
and had a way of making each of her
friends plant something for her, just as an-
other girl would have asked them to write
verses in her album, or give her a bangle
for her bracelet or a uniform button, per-
baps. They had been planted on the same
day—the Lamarque by John Maynard, a
young minister who was. taking his first
charge in Pontomoc, and the James Sprunt
by Joe Bainbridge, a Pontomoc boy who
bad joined the Navy, and was home only
at long intervals. Both the Lamarque
and the Sprunt grew phenominally. There
seemed to be a race between them as to
which would reach the eaves of the house
first, and, thauke to the favor which the
Pontomoe climate shows to roses, each ar-
rived on the third anniversary of their
planting; there was not a foot of growth
to choose between them, but the Sprunt
had several buds just ready to open, while
the Lamarque lacked a week of bloom-
ing.
On that day the two young men called
on Louise. Bainbridge had been home on
leave for a month and wae daily expecting
a summons to rejoin his ship, which was
undergoing repairs before starting for the
Philippines. He was the first to come
sauntering along the driveway and around
the corner of the house. Louise, bedecked
with sunbonnet and big’ flannel gardening
gloves, was cultivating around the James
Sprunt. When she heard his step she
straightened up, and her bonnet, falling
back on her shoulders, revealed a flashed,
moist face.
“My love is like the red, red rose,”
Bainbridge declared with a trace of senti-
ment in his voice. He was big and bonny
and looked refreshingly cool. ‘‘Hello,
Sprunt will be in blossom tomorrow, won’t
he.”
“‘Sprunt! echoed Louise. ‘‘I don’t see
why vou didn’t plant me a rose with a
pretty name. Think of planting James
Sprunt as a souvenir.”’ She sat down on
the door step and eyed the young man in a
somewhat hostile way as she fanned her-
self with her sunbonnet. He was carrying
a long string of fish. ‘‘And those ? she de-
manded pointing at them. ‘‘Don’t you
know that not a soul in this family eats
fish?”
He sat down beside her and held up the
string for admiration. ‘‘Nice fellows,
aren’t they ? I didn’t bring them to you;
I brought them to Sprunt. My sister Con-
nie plants all the extra fish that are brought
to the house around the rose vines, and
you onght tosee how they bloom. I knew
poor Sprunt would never get any fish down
here, so I stole this string for him. Shall
I give him all of them, or pull off one
listie fish for you ?"’
‘Pull off half of them,’ said Louise,
‘ and bury them around my Lamarque.’’
*‘John Maynard's white rose—not a fish.
It wouldn’t bloom pure white and saintly
any more if Idid, These are stolen fish.”
‘“‘John Maynard bas some sentiment,’’
Louise declared pensively. ‘‘He planted
me a rose with a self-respecting name. La-
marque and James Sprunt! There's a
contrast for youn.”
““A rose by any other name.”” Bain-
bridge recalled, and th-th-th- think what
difficulty John would have in ex-pr-pr-pr-
pressing his sentiment aloud. He's oblig-
ed to do it in some sly, still manner. Now
I=" he looked at her with mock-languish-
ing eyes, with laughter ready to break
through and shine from them. Louise per-
sistently looked down. After a moment
he took the hoe she had been using and
deftly but deliberately buried the fishin a
circle around his rose. Then he went to
the rusty pump at the driven well, and
washed his hands. By this time Lonise
was watching him with what appeared to
be a very remote interest. He wiped his
hands on his banderchief and stood look-
ing off between the trees at a blue glimpse
of the bay’ . It danced in the bright Feb-
roary sunshine, and two or three sails
showed upon it, flashing from light to
shadow and back to light again as they
tacked toward: the drawhridge. A very
serious, faraway expression came into his
eyes, and after a little while he turned to |.
Lonise. She met his eyes as first and then
looked down. gpl
“Yon know I love you dear,’’ he said.
She did not answer. Her hands, the
heavy mittens she had been wearing
thrown aside, lay clasped in her lap. He
saw their clasp tighten a. little—that was
all. ‘{And-yon love.me,’’ he added a.mo-
menk Jater. the boat mn
, His voice was tender, hut yery calm and
cerfain, There ws sok ols of pleading
in it." Louise wa wot quite ready to ad-
niit'any mad’$'tight to sdoh'a toné; but be-
fore she could vedent it]’a voice spoke for
her-around the cormér:of the house: ;
frAhg really? itsaid.: ooo gD
: Louise flashed a look at Bainbridge that
was equal to.peals of .laughter: It was
John Maynard’s voice. > He-was not speak.
ing to her, but to Dorothy, her married sis-
ter. who was guiding him around the cor-
ner of the house to the two cultivators of
the Sprunt. John Maynard was a good
young man, and everybody liked him, but
nobody thought that conversation was his
forte. He talked fairly well from the pul-
pit to an assembly of people, and probably
he talked exceedingly well to himself, but
as yet he had no happy medium of social
chat. His face would flush and his voice
would stick in his throat at the slightest
provocation, and when he stammered it
was not because he had not plenty of ideas
but because he was too bashful tosay‘‘boo”
or anything else that was forceful to a cat,
much less to man or woman.
It was for these reasons that Dorothy was
escorting him around the corner of the
house instead of sending him around
alone.
“Ah, good morning,’ he managed to
say with great success to Louise, but at
sight of Bainbridge and with the knowl-
edge that he ought to say it over again, his
tongue refused to act, and he merely nod-
ded solemnly. To himself that morning
be bad said, *‘I love her and so does Bain-
bridge. It isthe first time I ever loved
one woman better than another in ‘my life,
and he has probable left sweethearts in
every port he has visited, yet God knows
his chance with her is better than mine.”
And then because there a rose in his heart
such a longing to be worldly, since the
ways of worldly men appeared. to have a
charm for women, and because, mixed with
his longing there was a sharp jealously of
Bainbridge and resentment of his worldli-
ness, he bad finished out his thought with
such a wordless prayer as any man would
be the better for sending up to Heaven—
a prayer for charity, for love to all men,
and for holiness, either to deserve the girl’s
love that he coveted, or, missing if, to keep
his life as high and sweet and unembitter-
ed as if it had been crowned with joy.
And yet here he stood at the encounter
with these two, blushing, speechless. He
made a wild clutch after words.
“Ah, the roses—birthday Bainbridge,”
gasped. : !
The other man looked over him with a
frank amazement which was as fresh each
time they met as it had been the first. ‘I
don’t understand,’’ he said.
‘Ah, really, ? said Maynard. ‘‘You've
f-f-forgotten ? Three years ago you plant-
ed this. I planted Lamarque at the other
end of the house.
_ ‘Joe bas no sentiment about anniver-
saries,”’ Louise declared. ‘‘He never re-
membered a friend’s birthday, much less a
rose’s, in his life. If he ever marries and
anyone reminds him of his wedding day,
he'll say, “is that so?’ I remember the
circumstances, but I'd forgotten the date.”
Maynard looked at Bainbridge with
commiseration. “‘Really ?’* he asked.
“Yes,”” said the placid young man,
“and I presume I should "have been mar-
ried long ago, hut whenever a wedding
has been set it has slipped my memory.”
Maynard knew that he was being guyed,
but there was no escape from the one word
at his command. ‘‘Really ?”’ he ejaculat-
ed, and flushed redder than before with the
full knowledge of his stupidity.
Bainbridge nodded. ‘‘Really ?’’ he as-
gented without a sign of mirth.
Dorothy, the kind-hearted, looked up at
the rose on the wall. ‘‘Why, Louise, your
Sprunt will be in blossom tomorrow,”
she said.
It’s ont of season,’’ Louise answered a
trifle sharply. ‘‘When a rose tries to
blossom in February, even in Pontomoc, it
simply tempts a frost. © Now your Lamar-
que is wiser, Mr. Maynard. “There are no
large buds on it.” : : .
“It’s wiser because it’s not on the sun-
ny side of the house,” Bainbridge asserted.
*‘Sprunt is as cautious as anybody when
he dosen’t feel the sunshine.’’
‘It’s my opinion that about tomorrow
morning, he’ll he wishing he’d been cau-
tious with the sunshine,’”’ Louise returned.
““There’ll be frost tonight.”
Maynard listened, his pulses throb-
bing with the suggestion that sharpness to
Bainbridge might be translated into some
sort of hope for him. He longed to cap
their sparring with some neat, convincing
bit of allegory in which Lamarque should
figure as the image of his flawless but
very backward love; he opened his lips
twice, breathlessly, and then his voice
came and he said ‘‘Really *—you think
there will be frost.”
“‘Let’s go back and look at the Lamar-
que,”’ said Dorothy.
She led the way, and Maynard followed,
but Bainbridge stopped Louise.
‘“We’re not going away from Sprunt,’”’
he said. “‘If you want to hear anybody
say ‘Really 1,1 can say it for you.” .
Her cheeks flamed with displeasure.
“Indeed, I'm going,’’ she declared.
“First take back what you said about
the frost.”
“I can’t. It’s sare to come.’
‘‘Are you in earnest ?’’
“Perfectly earnest. You've taken too
mueh for granted always.”” |
She tried to pass him, but he again de-
tained her.
“Louise don’t answer me out of resent-
ment because I’ve spoken the wrong way,’
he hegged. ‘‘I did take things for grant-
‘ed. perhaps. 1 Soong we understood
each other without a lot of talk. Think
what it means to me to ‘be turned down
right now—when I may be ordered away
any minute. Are you sure you want to
freeze me out this way ?’’
‘“You ?’’ she said lightly.
hard to freeze.
James Sprunt.’’
She went by, then, and he did not try
to keep her. His face had’ reddened as
angrily as hers. He was offering her his
whole life, and she knew it, and yet she
put him off with perverse talk about the
freezing of a rose. “‘Very well,’”’ he told
her, ‘‘talk about Sprunt and talk about
Lamarque and stutter with John May-
nard.”’ He stalked at her heels until she
reached the ofbers; then he said: good
morning. «© : ;
Dorothy disappeared soon after Bainbridge
Maynard was working around his rose.
When he found himself alone with the
be
“You're too
I’ve been talking about
‘girl he loved hie-dropped his hoe and came
across tothe step where she sat ‘watching
him with eyes that seemed to see nothing
in the world. - . : 2 eae
“#$M-m-miss' Louise ?’’ he began. .
She pulled herself together with ‘a start.
Qh, don’t’, she said.’ free
“The bewildered ‘blood rushed into his
face and he stood as if she had struck him.
The thought in his mind had been so clear
and urgent, it seemed so easy to say for it
was, *‘I love you. Without hope, without
encouragement, I have loved you for three
years. ' Until the day I planted this rose
I never cared more for one woman than an
| other—had scarcely dreamed of the differ- |
ence that love can make. If you cannot
love me, Ishall go on loving you always,
and shall pray to be worthy to love you,
eyen without returh: But'if you can love
me-=oh, love me!": Love ‘me! My life is
atiyourfeer.?’ | 2eiiu me Bhai Ld
It had seemed to hil that the: words
would speak themselves, his heart was so
full of them, and yet his tangue had trip-
ped, and now he stood searching his mind
for some inate sentence to justify him for
having dropped his hoe. :
“J—J—that frost?’’ he stammered.
“Do you think it will really freeze to-
night 2”? ;
*“Yes, Ido,” Louise answered firmly
“and your slow Lamarque buds will be
cut off just like the big James Sprunts.’’
“Really 2”! he said. The color left his
face, for he understood what she meant—
it was time to begin that prayer. For a
moment he waited, trying at least to say
the part of his thought about loving her
always, whether she loved him or not; the
words would not come but there was a lit-
tle thing which he could accomplish with-
out words. He pulled down a spray of
the Lamarque, picked its most nearly open
bud, and crammed it into an inner pocket
of his coat.
“Some men have sentiment,” thought
Louise.
That night it was long before she could
sleep, but Maynard’s sentiment was Dob
what haunted her. In the afternoon when
she went to the village for the mail, she
heard that Bainbridge had just received
the order to rejoin his ship. All the even-
ing she had expected him; the earliest
train he conld take did not pass throungh
till ten o'clock. Surely he would say
good-bye; but he had not come. She bad
sat up until she heard the train whistle,
and then went to her room without tell-
ing the news even to Dorothy. Joe had
been cruel, brutally . cruel, she told her-
gelf, with a sharp pain. What if she bad
promised him a frost for all blossoms that
ventured too much—were not he and she
old friends? She stood at her window
and listened to a northwest wind whip-
ping noisily through the tree tops; there
seemed to be little doubt that the buds on
the tangible rose he had planted for her
would all be frozen before morning, and
she felt a sudden pity for the daring red
flowers trying to unfold out there in the
bitter wind; it seemed as if her prediction
had brought the cold to them, so that love
and its symbol might both suffer. Red for
love—had he thought of that, he who had
no sentiment?
She went to bed at last and tossed about
listening to the wind and wringing her
heart with reproaches, sometimes for her-
self and sometimes for him. Why need
he have been so tantalizing and she so per-
verse? Between them they had spoiled a
sweet old comradeship, and, yes, she final-
ly flung out her arms with a moan and ad-
mitted | that they bad spoiled far
more. Would he ever come back ? Would
he come back unchanged, or would his
love wither and blacken asthe roses would
blacken after the frost? His love and the
roses! How the wind blew! It seemed
as if it were really his love out there in
the cold.
Suddenly she sat up, thinking of his
real danger—the danger of war. He had
laughed at the idea that there was any
real fighting left for the Navy, that the
thought of peril for him had not come in-
to her mind at first, but after it came she
could not dismiss it, and when at last she
fell asleep, it was between heartache and
visions of bloodshed and consciousness of
the cold blowing of the wind.
Of course, she dreamed. At first she
was standing by the Sprunt with Joe, and
she was saying something provoking
about red roses. She looked np at the
vine, and all its buds had opened wide,
splotching it with red. ‘‘Red as blood,’
she thought, and then she realized with
one of those cold shudders of which dreams
are so often made that the spots were
blood—blood instead of roses. The house
and the garden had changed toa ship at
sea, and the blood was from wounded men.
She began searching among them for Joe;
her feet were heavy as they only are 1n
dreams, and she kept saying to herself
“‘A rose by any other name would smell
as sweet.”” It seemed to be a terribly sad
quotation. A fresh anguish came to her
every time she said it, as if it were a dirge
for Joe, and she plodded on for endless
time among dead men, with tears rolling
down her cheeks.
The tears woke her. She was actually
crying and so weak and frightened that
she could scarcely gather courage to sit up
in bed and try to shake herself free. She
dared not go to sleep again—dreams were
so much worse than waking. She
drew the blankets up around her and be-
gan a vigil with the latter. hours of the
night. A clock below stairs struck them
off at ‘marvellously long intervals—three,
four, five—while the wind began to lull for
morning. The coldest hour came just be-
fore daybreak, she told herself, thinking
of the rose. At lasta gray light showed
at her window, then the clock struck six,
and she stole out of bed and dressed, mak-
ing no noise. The rest of the family would
not rise for an hour or two, but she would
wait no longer; she must see what had
happened to the rose. Even if it were
frozen, the sight of it growing naturally
upon the wall, would take away the lin-
gering chill of her dream.
As she went outside a soft glow of fawn
color, the. first realization of sunrise,
spread across the bay. Fhe air touched
her face like a caress. e faint breeze
that still stirred was from the south. and
it brought her the scent of roses.
She hurried around the house to the
unt,
Oh,’ she cried when she came in sight
of it, ‘‘Oh 1”
Joe Bainbridge was standing beside the
vine, reaching up for a half-open bud.
His hand dropped, and he hurried to Lou-
ise.
~ ¢“J—JIwanted to get one whether they
froze or not,” he explained, stammering
almost like Maynard. ‘I thought you’d
be asleep--Louise ?
After her first surprise, she had not
opened her lips, but her face bad spoken
for her. He gathered her up ina great
clasp that gave her no chance to contradict
what it bad said.
When he put her down he himself gave
the first word, much in his old tone.
‘The weather moderated in the night,
didn’t it ?’’ he asked
‘‘Look’’ was her answer. :
The first level sunbeams were gilding
the reaches of calm water beyond the trees
but she was pointing at the Sprunt. While
they had forgotten it, and by that mysteri-
ous process which one may watch for but
can never see, the half open bud bad un-
folded into bloom.— Mary Tracy Earle—in
the Delineator. aE
i i
——Mr. Kennard—‘‘I had a very strange
dreamy last night. Lucy. I thought I
saw another man running off with you.”
Mrs. Lucy Dennard—‘ Well, and what
did you say to him?” ~~
Mr. Kennard—*I asked him what he
was running for.”’—Town and Country.
i —=—{‘Oh, yes, he adores me. I’ve
it for a fortnight.” io
“Then what’s bothering you?’
“What's bothering me? Why, I've got
to wait for him to find it out.’’—Brooklyn
known
Life.
On Trail of Robbers.
Former Employe of the Selby Smelting Company
Arrested. Other Suspects to be Arrested—The Re’
ward for Conviction of the Robbers and Recovery
of the Gold, $25 000.
The hiding place from which the des-
peradoes who robbed the Selby smelting
works of $280,000 in gold bullion watched
the plant to execute their marvelous coup
successfully was discovered on Wednesday.
The discovery was made, not by the score
of detectives engaged on the case, but by
the independent investigations of the San
Francisco Examiner.
The smelter is built on the shore of Car-
quinez straits, two miles in width at that
point. A search of the opposite shore dis-
covered a cunningly contrived place of con-
cealment. High, steep bluffs overhang the
shore, where there is a narrow beach.
On that little strip under the bluffs was
built a semi-circular rampart of rocks. The
rampart was pierced with holes, through
which the smelter, two miles away, could
be watched for signals. There were two
ramparts, one inside the other, and within
the outer was a pile of dry tules—bull-
rushes—on which the watcher probably
slept by day.
At night he would undoubtedly be on
the lookout for signals from some con-
federate in the works.
It is beyond doubt that there was a con-
federate who knew just when the robbery
would yield the largest return. The aver-
age nightly holdings in the safe of the
smelter varies from $50,000 to $100,000.
On the night of the robbery the safe held
nearly $460,000, and this was by far the
largest sum in hand for months.
Besides the bed of bullrushes found with-
in the ramparted hiding places, the rob-
bers left behind a pair of sailor’s duck
trousers and a bottle of oil used to lubricate
the point of the drill working on the steel
bottom of the safe. In addition to these
articles there were two sacks resembling
Chinese rice mats of strong material and
fitted for holding the heavy bullion and
gold bars.
Behind the rampart the robbers were ab-
solutely secure from observation. They
could not be seen from across the straits
because of the rock wall, and the bluffs be-
hind them overbang at this point. com-
pletely concealing the hiding place from
observation of that side. They had a clear
view of the smelter, and could themselves
be seen by none.
There is not mach doubt now that the
bullion was carried away in a boat. The
gold bars would weigh about 1,200 pounds,
and it would have been impossible to carry
so much weight up the high bluffs behind
the smelter. In fact, a rowboat was seen
about midnight on the night of the robbery
lying close to the wharf at the smelter.
A mysterious sloop was seen cruising in
the neighborhood for some days before.
For the most part it lay off Vallejo, but
out of sight of the smelter. It was seen at
nightfall on Monday, a few hours before
the robbery off Vallejo.
In less than an hour the sloop could bave
moved up close to the smelter, so as to get
in touch with the boat. Considering the
great weight of the bullion, 1,200 pounds,
it does not seem probable that any land
carriage was attempted.
The situation of the smelter and the lo-
cation of its safe are such as made the rob-
bery possible with the aid of a fifty-foot
tunnel. The men burrowed in at one side
of the house wall, got under the founda-
tions, and came up on the other side. The
shaft was built up against the outer wall
of the building.
Once given access to the bottom of the
safe, it was comparatively easy to break
in. There were firebricks under the safe,
but they presented no serious obstacle to
the skilled ingenious workmen.
From the condition of the holes drilled
around the elliptical section broken out of
the bottom of the safe, the work, it is evi-
dent, had heen months in doing.
The holes were drilled with so fine an
adjustment of the instrument that only the
slightest thickness of steel prevented them
from being seen from the inside of the safe.
Another remarkable feature is that twen-
ty men were at work all night in the room
with the safe while the robbery was in
progress.
It will not be an easy matter to establish
the identity of the inside confederate.
All the employes engaged in the night
gang know just how much bullion the safe
contains when it is locked up for the day.
The night gang carries in the bullion and
puts it in the safe every evening, and it is
then locked up for the night. There are
twenty men engaged in this work.
A flashlight signal, it is believed, was
given to the robbers from within.
It was at first suspected that Richard
Phelan, a recently paroled convict from
the San Quentin penitentiary, was engaged
on the job, but he has heen located and
claims to be able to establish an alibi.
Phelan was formerly a mining superinten-
dent, and his familiarity with the use and
operation of drills helped to direct suspicion
his way.
It seems probable, however, that the
rohbery was planned in the San Quentin
penitentiary. That notorious swindler,
“Sir Harry Westwood Cooper,’”’ was re-
leased from that prison less than six months
ago. Almost the first place where he es-
tablished himself after his release was
Crockett. where the smelter is located.
He visited the works frequently, and ex-
pressed a great deal of interest in their
operations, He posed as a practicing
physician. It is probable the police think
that he knows a good deal about the rob-
bery. Hes now in jail on a charge of
forgery committed while at Crockett.
No. definite clew, . however, has been
obtained to the robbers.
No vessel except the schooner Confiden-
tial, bound for Eureka, is known to have
passed out of the Golden Gate on Monday
night, and she sailed, from Sasaulito, on
the north side of the hay. :
A score of detectives are at work
and day. i
The Selby company has increased to
$25,000 the reward offered for the recovery
of the “bullion and the arrest and convic-
tion of the thieves or a like proposition for
the amount recovered.’’ ;
SUSPECTED OF COMPLICITY.
The San Francisco, police have now
in custody a man known as ‘‘Jack’
Winters, who is suspected of complicity in
the robbery of the Selby smelting works.
“He was employed in the works until about
six weeks ago, when he quit, saying that
he was ill. He lived in a cabin half a
night
had been missing from Sunday night until
he was taken into custody yesterday. He
has been subjected to a rigid examination
by the anthorities. They. refuse to reveal
any of the facts they may have learned,
but express confidence that they are on the
trail of the criminals. sib Blade ;
It is also reported that men: now in the
employ of the smelting company, are under
suspicion, and with the facts they. have in
hand the police appear to be confident of
we TBARS oe
mile from the smelting plant, and it is said | K
the next few hours. The authorities are
disposed to believe that some experienced
Eastern crooks were connected with the
robbery, owing to the clever manner of its
execution.
Special guards are now stationed at night
in the neighborhood of the works, armed
with shotguns.
As a stimulus to the efforts of the army
of detectives who are working on the case,
the Selby smelting company bas increased
the reward offered from $5,000 to $25,000.
This award will be paid for the arrest and
conviction of the criminals and for the re-
turn of the gold.
The company places its exact loss at
$283,005.
————————
Hunger Makes Them Blind.
Russian Peasants Victims of a Peculiar Disease
Caused By Hunger.
A traveler chancing in the district of
Elizabethgrad, province of Kherson, South
Russia, would find men and women who,
endowed -with serviceable visual powers as
long as the sun is visible, become totally
blind the moment the twilight sets in and
must be led home. This is one of the queer-
est diseases known to medical science and
is one of the camp followers of the famine
which is officially admitted to exist in this
district.
Mention has been made from time to
time of the drouth which has visited many,
though no very large districts of Russia
last year, and of the efforts made by the
government to alleviate suffering resulting
from it. The ministry of the interior re-
peatedly declared the famine had been con-
quered, food had been distributed and seed
corn provided for the current year.
The existence of famine was an incon-
venient fact at a time when negotiations
were pending for foreign loans. Access to
the famine districts was made difficult for
non-residents of them, and the charity
workers, who were not directly under the
control of the state, were sent back to their
homes, and the agencies they had created
were placed under the Red Cross, which is
as much a branch of the government as
any ministry.
These measures did not still the natural
curiosity to ascertain the truth about the
matter, and certain people with influential
connections, which could not be ignored,
sent a trustworthy young man to Elizabeth-
grad to. investigate for himself. - He re
ports the following facts : ‘The city and
districts of Elizabethgrad, with a popula-
tion of 600,000, -are suffering now from
famine and disease incident upon famine.”
The investigator found general destitution;
many cases of acute destitution; some peo-
ple dying of starvation; ‘‘spotted’’ or hun-
ger typhus prevalent. Whole families are
attempting to exist on rations allowed for
a single child. The government rule is to
count persons not actually sick with dis-
ease who can be labeled as able-bodied
working people.
The governor of Kherson is Prince Ob-
olensky. It.is upon him that the govern-
ment relies for its reports. Prince Oholen-
sky has visited many of the villages which
are soffering, hut local report and the ob-
servaticn of the investigator indicate = that
he showed no great desire of ascertaining
that there was a considerable want.
Elizabethgrad is in the heart of the
Black Earth zone. It was formerly so
flourishing before the ignorant and shift-
less farming methods wearied the almost
inexhaustible soil and impoyerished the
people that single agricultural villages of
30,000 would grow up. ‘The great prov-
inces of Samara and Saratoff aud many
other large districts are threatened with
an almost total crop failure.
Nearly $800,000 Vanishes.
Strange Disappearance of Postal Savings Bank
Funds in Hawaii.
W. F. Macl.ennan, the chief of the divis-
jon of book-keeping of the treasury de-
partment, returned to his desk on Wed-
nesday after spending three months in
Hawaii, where he was sent by Secretary
Gage to effect the readjustment of the isl-
and obligations which the United States
bas in part assumed. The task was one of
more than ordinary difficulty, as the ac-
counts ran back through the republican
and monarchical governments, and includ-
ed the operations of the government postal
‘savings banks, which proved tobe in a
badly mixed condition. The debs of the
island government, amounting to $4,186,-
000, has been refunded by federal bonds to
the amount of $4,000,000. Most of the
old island bonds were presented by resi-
dents of the islands, the largest holding
outside heing in San Francisco, where there
were nearly $1,000,000 owned.
A remarkable fact appears from the con-
dition of the postal savings banks. The
total amount of deposits was $764,000, of
which not a dollar was to be found. The
island government in one administration
or another had spent the deposits in public
improvements. The United States has
been obliged to pay the whole amount.
Suspected of Wife Murder.
The finding of the dead body of Mrs.
Seth Davis, aged 49 years, on. the hill-side
near Pottsville, on Wednesday, seemed to
indicate that her husband, who hanged
himself, last Saturday from a tree on the
premises of his nephew, Thomas Griffith,
at Pottsville, murdered her and then com-
mitted suicide.
The couple were last seen together by
their eldest daughter last Friday, when
they were going towards Pottsville. Only
the man reached Pottsville and it was then
suspected that he made way with his wife.
This suspicion was further strengthened
when the woman did not put in an appear-
.ance even at the funeral of: her husband.
Several searching parties have been scour-
ing the hills since the funeral of Davis, on
Sunday. Wednesday Jacob Hull, a labor-
er, found the woman dead near the powder
magazines, a couple of miles from Potts-
ville. The back of the woman’s skull was
crushed in and the indications were that
she was the victim of foul play.
Sr ———————————
Entirely Safe.
Teddy—!‘Won’t you come and see our
new baby ?’’
Old Maid Teacher—'“Yes, dear, when
your mamma is better.”’ ass ;
Teddy—*'Oh, but it ain’t eatching.’’
—Oswego, Kan., Democrat.
THEIR SECRET 18 Our.—All Sadieville,
{y., was curious to learn the cause of the
vast improvement in the health of Mis. S.
P. Whittaker; who had for along time,
endured nntold suffering from a chronic
bronchial trouble. ‘‘It’s.all due to Dr.
King’s New Discovery,’” writes her hus-
band. It completely cured her and also
cured ourlittle grand-daughter of a severe
attack of whooping. cough. It positively
cures coughs, colds, la grippe, bronchitis, all
throat ahd lung troubles. Guaranteed
bottles 500 and $1.00. Trial bottles free
being able to make further arrests within
at Green’s drug store. ;
adopted in
sight-fitting,
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
The abnormally long point at the waist
line in front is not now considered in good
taste by modish women. A slight point
must prevail. The best guide is an inch
an da half or two inches below the normal
waist line.
There is no question that this is far more
graceful than the belt exactly around the
waist ; but 80 many women, and especially
young girls, have so exaggerated this fash-
ion and made it ungraceful by their ex-
treme manner of wearing it that the well-
dressed women have at once used the belt
with only a slight point.
Girls who are pulling their belts down to
four inches below the waist, as some of
them are doing, should remember that it is
not the fashionable line any more than the
belt around the middle of the waist is.
It would be well for every mother who
is going away from home with young chil-
dren to take away with her one or two
boxes of prepared barley flour, to have on
hand in case of sudden need, for you must
act promptly.
If there is vomiting in young children,
egg water will often ‘be retained when
nothing else will. To make this take the
white of one fresh egg, one-half pint of
cold water, pinch of sals, and one tea-
spoonful of brandy ; place all the ingre-
dients in a bottle and shake thoroughly,
then strain through a cloth and feed a lit-
tle at a time, cold. Sometimes this will
be retained better if fed to the child
through a medicine dropper than if taken
from the bottle or spoon.
ETIQUETTE OF THE DINNER.—We will
suppose that a lady is taking her seat at a
dinner party.
She immediately removes her gloves
places them in her lap, unfolds the nap-
kin, takes the roll of bread from within it
and places it on the left hand, on the table
and lays the napkin across her lap.
At each place there may be,on the right,
two large knives, a small silver fish-knife
and a tablespoon, and on the left three or
four silver forks, one of them a fish fork
and one an oyster fork.
The oysters are served on the shell and
must be eaten whole, not cut in halves.
Soup is taken with a tablespoon and
from the side of the spoon; one must never
tilt one’s soup plate to secure the last
spoonful ; and one must never be served
twice to soup.
For the fish course, the silver fish fork
and knife are used. :
Batter is not served at dinner. It is not
good form to eat bread between the courses
as if one were hungry. .
Some entrees, such as cutlets or sweet-
breads, may require the knife and fork;
for others, such as patties, timbales or cro-
quettes, a fork only is used.
Meat is cut as required, a small piece at
a time.
When eating vegetables the knife is laid
on the plate, the blade resting near the
centre.
The knife must not be placed across the
edge of the plate, nor with the handle rest-
ing on the table. The fork is then taken
up in the right hand, the handle of the
fork resting easily on the hand between the
first finger and thumb. If need be, a crust
of bread may be used with the left hand to
press a morsel of food toward the fork.
When cutting meat the finger must never
rest on the blade of the knife, but on the
handle.
After one has finished eating, the knife
and fork must be placed close together in
the centre of the plate.
Lettuce is eaten with a fork, the edge of
the fork being used to cut the leaf, which
is then folded.
Small birds, such as quail and squab,
are served whole, one for each person, and
one cuts the meat from the breast and eats
each piece at the time of cutting it.
With the dessert plate is brought the
small silver to be used for dessert. A
finger-bowl rests on the plate, and one re-
moves the finger-bowl and the tiny doily
which is beneath it, placing them at the
left on the table.
At dessert a fork is used in preference to
a dessert spoon when this is possible.
Coffee is sometimes served before the
guests leave the . table, but the better cus-
tom is to have it. passed later in the draw-
ing room. In either case the small coffee
cups, sugar and cream are passed on the
tray, and the guest prepares the coffee ac-
cording to fancy.
The hostess gives the signal to rise from
the table. All rise immediately, and
guests leave their napkins unfolded on the
table and must never replace their chairs.
The gentlemen remain standing until the
ladies have left the room. The hostess al-
lows the ladies to preceed her when passing
out of the room. Later the gentlemen
join the ladies in the drawing room.
Tailor-made frocks are getting a little
shorter, aud also a little fuller. Sleeves
are distinctly gaining in circumference.
August, although the height of summer
always is regarded as the proper time to
introduce fall fashions.
Among the prophecies for modes is one
that the habit back skirt will be resucitated.
Another is that the walking suit for
general wear is to be prominent in fashion-
able wardrobes. The skirt will have no
flounced effect, but a straight line flare,
with stitched lower edge, and men’s suit-
ings of light quality will be largely ‘used
for these suits. The Norfolk jacket will be
many cases. In others the
double-breasted basque, and
and still in others the Eton, with fancy
waistcoat of men’s vesting goods, are to be
seen. The skirte of the walking suits
should clear the ground evenly and all
around about.two inches. It is believed
that this suit will almost abolish the plain
tailor-made with dip back.
In fancy tailored gowns, the ‘Louis coaf,
with hip seams, coat tails, hip pockets and
wide revers, will be a conspicuous feature.
There is every indioation, too, of the re-
turn of the closely-fitting basque, ending a
few inches below the waist-line. The ef-
fort to establish the postillion continues,
but with limited sucness.
The new flannel waists are now showing
the buttoned back idea almost entirely.
Women are learning that it is by no means
impossible to fasten them without assist
ance and the effect is certainly much pret-
tier than is possible with the front button-
ing. The favored colors in flannel waists
will be decidedly brilliant, including na-
tional blue, golf red, myrtleand Nile green
‘and the new chasseur shade, which is sim-
ply the old-fashioned hunter’s green.
AISA.
A Question As to Good Form.
Auntie— ‘It isn’t good. form to hold
your fork in that, way.”’
Little Niece—‘‘Auntie, do you think it
is good form to stare at people while they
eating ?'’