rm Bemorni aca. Bellefonte, Pa., April 2, 1909, MAKE-BELIEVE, Let's dream, ifke the child in its playing; Let's make us a sky and a sea; Let's change the things ‘round us by saying They'1e things that we wish them to be; And if there is sadness or sorrow, Let's dream till we charm it away; Let's learn from the children and borrow A saying from childhood—*"Let's play.” Lev's play that the world’s full of beauty; Let's play there are roses in bloom ; Lets play there is pleasure in duty And light where we thought there was gloom; Let's play that this heart with its sorrow Is bidden be joyous and glad; Let's play that we'll find on to-morrow The joys that we never have had. Let's play that regret with its rueing Is banished forever and aye; Let's play there's delight but in doing; Let's play there are flowers by the way, However the pathway seems dreary, Wherever the footsteps may lead; Let's piay there's a song for the weary If only the heart will give heed. Let's play we have done with repiciog; Let's piay that our longings are still; Let's play that the sunlight is shining To gild the green slope of the hill; Let's play there are birds blithely flinging Their songs of delight to the air; Let's play that the world's full of singing, Let's play there is love everywhere. —J. W. Foley. THE BETTER PART. Mrs. Joseph Pelbam received ber visitor in the long, old-fashioned parlor of the Rose Hill Hotel, ‘‘Mise Susan Loveridge,”’ the red-cheeked maid bad announced, stand- ing and looking into the chamber door with frank interest. ‘‘She wants to know if you feel able to see her.” “Able tosee her?’ Mrs. Pelham smil- ed inwardly at the word. Miss Susan Loveridge’s advent was a positive boon. Anything was hetter than sitting alone in the bess bedroom of the Rose Hill Hotel, listening to the wind, and thinking of thas dreary journey over the flat bleak country where her husband bad been born and eo, according $0 Joo Sdigion, must he buried with bis family. Alone in the de of the hired coupe, she had followed the blundering horses shat drew the hearse. The few men, who, re- membering Joe Pelbam in his youth, bad braved the snow drifts to him this last tribute had od a rough: ow coated farm horses to their clumsy sleighe aod had plodded bebind ber daunslessly. Is was the deepest snow that Rose Hill bad kaown in many years. She glanced into her mirror as she pre- pared to descend —a handsome, fair woman of filty-eight whom art and nature made possible to pass as forty-five. She noted approvingly thas black was becoming to ber. It accentuated the fairness of the thick bair shat had kept much of ite youth. ful gold. She bad won moss of life's battles by reason of her beauty and she did not undervalue its potency. As she Swept into the parlor with a rus. tle of silken skirts, a little figure in a shab- by black coat and woolen gloves rose to meet ber, and two brown eyes, set in a delicately wrinkled face became suffused with tears, as her visitor took her two heavily jeweled bauds between her own roughly gloved palms. “Please forgive me for coming in like shis when you must be so tired and sad,” she said impulsively. “But I heard you were going back tomorrow and I felt I must see you. I felt no one could under stand all about it so well as I, becavse— you don’t mind my saying it now, do you, now that be is laid away?—1've loved Joe ever since I was a girl.” : Mre. Pelbaw stared as ber strange guest for an instant. She spoke rapidly in an eager, inconsequent fashion which took no beed to the danger of being misconstrued. Evidently she had been shaken to the depths by Joseph Pelham’s death and had been left no regmid for conventionalities. ream ay er waving grey bair ud she did nos take the trouble to readjust ““Then you are one of my husband’s old friends, Miss Loveridge?”’ Mrs. Pelham asked in her refined, well-modulated voice, overlooking intentionally the possibility of anything warmer than friendship between thie brown-eyed woman and her dead hus. ‘Ob, yes yes, his friend —alwaye his friend,” answered Susan Loveridge, gnick- , sitting down on the hard old sofa and rawiog Mrs. Pelhaw down also in her ex- cited, resistless way. ‘‘Bas I couldn't un. derstand the way I do it I had only been that. I wouldn't pretend to. Bas, you wee, I loved him, Tm not ais to it—every one knows it, anyway, —I1 lov him just as you did when you married him, I was to him when be went away —1 was getting my wedding things ready when he wrote and told me he bad made a ‘mistake. It wasu's very loug after thas that we heard he was married to you.” There was no resentment in her manaer. Plainly her love bad been too great so hold any bitterness, A oorious harshness crept over Mrs, Pelbam’s handsome features, ‘How exaos- ly like Joe to do a thing like that!'’ she Aig, sn sie bitterness which the other woman escaped fog Bat the rhabhy little woman as her side med, ‘Ob, vo, it wasn’t. It wasa's ® bis like Joe. I know it must have hors Then, too, my father bad joes died and left we half-a-million dollars,” re. 2 ek RAN * was lost upon ber ‘Oh, y i you were es thas that differ- have lived with your father asked Mrs, Pelham, a faint interest in this foolish little person stirring ‘Ob, yes, father has no one but me. He was aogry with Joe, at fires, but when he saw how I took it he sald if I could stand it he guessed be could. We've read ahont — time and time bim in the again, Of course we didn’t believe some of the things weread. We knew Joe too well,” she Mrs. Pelbam thought of some of her brilliant hasband’s meipods. ab m she said, ‘yon probably saw some a unscrupuloos and not al- together honest.” “Oh, everyone has enemies !"’ exclaimed Sasan Lov . *“We knew how things like that got printed. They were jealous of his success. Joe not honest ? , We knew better !”’ “He preferred {lair means, I think wy- sell,” remaiked the woman Joseph Pelbam bad married judiciously. But Susan Loveridge's memories bad taken another turn. She was smiling at some tender t. ‘I was glad it was » boy,” she said. *‘We read about thas, too, in the papers. I'd bave given anything to see Joe's boy. Idon’t know whether you will mind my telling you or not, I always somehow felt that belonged just a little bit tome, too. I Bope you don’t mind my saying it. Maybe, i Jou put yourself in my place, you can erstand.”’ A change came over Mrs. Pelbam’s face —a great softness followed by an unrelent. ing mterness, “Yes,” she maid, “I can understand. Five years ago he married against m wo I bave never forgiven bim, and never will.” “Ob, on will,” replied Susan Tree “oofdent] . “You'll forgive him now becanse he is Joe's son. You'll ve him now, Joe is dead.” words brought her new sorrow back to her and her eyes brimmed over. “You are 80 very brave to beso quiet about it all,” ehe said, looking as the fair tace of the woman beside ber admiringly. “I wonder, if I should bave been able to beso brave if Joe had married me. Of course, it muss be beautiful to know thas ou’ve really bad everything. There must Loy, many lovely things to think of. But it must er, too, in some ways.” She rose as she spoke. ‘‘I must burry back to father, now. He is so old that I cannot leave him for long. Bat I had to eee you,” she said, as she ber hood over her bair. “You did not mind my coming ” Mrs. Pelham rose, too. The lamp light shown upon her elaborately coils of fair bair and the diamonds and ires on her hands flashed dazzingly. ‘‘No,” she answered, ‘‘I am glad that Isaw you.” Again the woolen gloves of her visitor enfolded Mrs. Pelbam’s soft white bands. “Thank you,” she said. ‘‘I know people laugh at me and say I'm . They uy it is because I was inppoiaied in love. don’t mind, though. y, when I rough not iin g ad n B marry me, I can’t m ode ud Besides, I've alwaye loved bim ust the rame.’’ Mrs. Pelbam gazed into the soft brown eyes below hers, the eyes that bad all Shee childish wonder at the m of e. “No it is I that have been d nted in love, not you,” she said sadly.—By Margaret Seaforth, in Shop Talk. What Makes Popcorn Pop? When you went to buy a bag of butter- ed popeorn from the man with tbe listle wagon on the corner of the street, have you not often stopped to watch him pop some corn; or hetter yet, have you not lain on the rug in frons of your own open fire, and as you watched the little dull, yellow ker- pels dance about in the popper until with a pop and a jump they turned themselves into she beautiful foffy-looking litsle white balls thas taste so bave you not often wondered bow the heat of the fire acted on them to make them transform themselves so prettily? Well, science has been investigating the matter, and bas found out that ise all brought about by steam. The steam ex- pands and pops the corn. Each little ker- # nel of is a receptacle tightly . ed iD ny starch grains. The interior of the kennel ie divided inty numerous little celle, like sing boxes, the sides of which are quite strong and able to resist consider- able re. Each of these little boxes contains moisture, and when they are held over a brisk fire shis moisture is turned to steam. Now youn know when steam is con- fined in any way it always tries to get out; 80 it is in this case. The steam, finding itself shus up in the tiny cells, burets the walls and makes its escape by “Do koow where Broad is?" “Say wot take me tas “Well, ie ie?” “‘Aw, don’s youse believe I know?" “Yes, of course, but I doe’s know.”’ “Tell me how to get there from here.” “Aw, youse know how.” “Idonot. Iam a straoger. I haven't the lass idea where is is.” “Quis yer kiddin.” o“ way?" je— Broad “G'wan?"’ “This or that way " “Yer Proce me." “Will you tell me where Broad way is?" “Hey, Jimmy, bere’s a guy wot sez he don’t know wi Broadway ie!” —*''See here,” growled the in the cheap restanrant, ‘‘this coffers. cold.” “Dat ep ?*’ retorted the polite and intel. ligens af 8. “Well, dis isa guick- lunch jdint; so if de coffee woz hot yer couldnt drink it in a hurry.” [Written especially for the Warcusax. | CHAPTER VII. Using Chas. E. Flapdreau, U. 8. Indian agent for the Sioux, for authority. Ink- pa-du-ta and his band, some 200 to 300 warriors, in the Autumn of 1856, began their maravding depradations against the white settlements bot were suocessfully kept at bay uotil March 7th, 1857. The beavylsuows of the winter still lay on the ground. On this date they went to the log house of Howland Gardner, dragged she family out of the house one by one, beating their brains out with sticks of stove wood, piling the seven mangled bodies in a heap in the snow and ransacking the house, taking such thioge for use or pleasing to their fanoy and the sole survivor of this family, Abbie Gardner, a comely Miss of 15 years, was taken into captivity and made the enforced slave wile of a young brave (?) Six men were soon alter met on the way and Dr. Harriott and Soyder, Maddock, Granger, Luce and Clark, were beaten to death with clubs, their horribly mangled bodies being found byfthe lake shore almost in sighs of their homes. The Howe family was next visited and the family of four were all murdered and lefs on a pile in the snow and the houee burned to ashes. The Marble bouse was burned, Mr. Marble beaten to death and the young wile taken captive. This young girl, together with the other young wife were mercilessly forced and plunged into hopeless immoral servitude to there inhuman, fiendish mon- sters, whom they bad seen murder sheir en- tire families in the most heartless manner. Theyjwere both ransomed during the year and were in later years happily married ; Mrs. Marble Silbaugh now living in Cali. fornia and Mrs. Abbie Gardner Sharp, widow, in a new home, within speaking distance of the graves of her loved ones. In like mannper, the slanghter oonsinued throughout the settlement. Jobn Stewart, on his{return home found two heaps—ashes and mangled bodies of wife and swo obil- dren—the Woods brothers near their store aod many others, besides a company of men traveling in search of a location and never heard from. A rescuing party of volunteer soldiers from Fs. Dodge, 90 miles distant, buried 41 bodies, found three badly wounded and twelve missing, four of whom were later found to be Mre. Thacher, Mrs. Noble, Mrs. Marblejand Abbie Gardner, the two latter ransomed as above stated, making a total of fifty-one, an entire frontier settle ment wiped oot; fiendishly, heartlessly murdered. Sarely this was an ‘‘event” in Iowa which ‘‘attended its settlement,” and anthority making it ‘‘hietorical”’ will be noted in this article. As that period there were no railroads, no telegraph and practically no mail eo thas the only means of transmitting information was by ‘‘foot or horseback.” The very heavy [all of snow during shat winter, which was just beginning to melt and run away, wade it worth as much as a life to traverse the vast expanse of unbroken prairie coun- try with its swollen streams, bus somehow word reached Fs. Dodge, the nearest settle. ment 90 miles away. Three volunteer companies of 37 men each under state authority were hastily formed and on Mooday, March 30th,arrived at the scene of this murderous devastation. The march of these citizen soldiers, was certainly one tbat tried men’s souls. With the swollen streams to wade,deep snow and in places drifted to flounder through, long nights to pass with wes clothes and no sleep, no shelter and the only comfort a fire by some wooded stream and the frozen bite to appease hunger, fearful anxiety and ambition to relieve the distressed, buoyed them up so activity. Fourteen men were badly frozen and two died from the exposure on the way. The writer was permitted to converse with several of these men who were in at- tendance at the Legislature in 1894 when the law was enacted authorizing the ereo- tion of » monument, the Hon. John F. Duncombe, who just lately passed away and who was appointed a member of the commission, being one of the number. On their arrival at Spirits Lake they at once saw no necessity for relief and at once etarted “‘in pureuit of the ruffians.”’ They found the evidence of campfires, old derepit equawe abandoned and the trail strewn with all sorts of goods and material thrown away to expedite their flight to- ward the wilde of the almost unknown Dakotas. Finding it futile to continue the pursuit, they returned, made a thor. ough search of the community,gathered up the bodies and buried them within five yards of where the Gardner family fell, As has since been related, the flighs of the Indians was an experience of frightfal privation and suffering to the four young women captives. They were soon sold or bartered away to beroes (?) of the tribe and forced to travel on foot through the melt. fog enow from light sill dark and catoh some sleep in miserably conssructed sepees, in wet clothes from sheer exhaustion, fre- quently compelled to wade etreame to their necks, perform menial labor and submis to the every dictation of iheir savage masters, After the first lew weeks existence of Mrs. Noble became unknown for a time, until one night, ber tepee was set up near Abbie Gardoer’s. During the night she was heard begging for ber life and positively refusing demands made by a son of old [uk-pa-du-ta, when she wae dragged out. side, a dull thud, a scream, another thud, a moan, still aoother thud and all was still. When the camp wae abandoned next morning, ber mangled body was lel lying in the crimson snow. Soon after, Mre. Thacher became so ob- Forty Years in lows. J streperous that ber lord and master, who rode bis pony across a stream waited for her as she waded over, met her on the bank with a pole, taunting her for a while, re- fusing to permit ber to land, and finally .strack her a death blow over the bead and her body floated away. Daring the summer months, friendly Indians revealed to the agent at St. Paul, the whereabouts of the other two and through fear and other agencies a ravsom was consummated and they were retarned to relatives in eastern Iowa were later in life they married as before stated. Abbie Gardoer Sharp's husband died a few years ago leaving ber with a daughter. Some twenty years ago, she retarned to the aw- fal scene of her childhood, regained pos- session of her old home, built a new house and with her daughster’s family is passing her days on the spot where ber father, mother, brothers and sisters so tragically loss their lives avd are lying in the sleep that knows no waking. We omitted to state that st the time of the massacre, the Indians burned all of the houses except the Gardver bouse, took away all of the horses in the settlement, killed over a hundred head of cattle, tak- ing ooly the horns for powder horos, Daring two sessions of the Legislature, the writer had the pleasure of frequently conversing with Mre. Sbarp and learned from ber much of the story herein given. To her pereonal efforte much ie due in pro- curing the appropriations to commemorate the memory of ber loss loved ones. Two years ago we visited this historic spot and was entertained at her home. When we first met her some eighteen years ago, she appeared to be in the prime of her womanhood though evidences were apparent of the ordeal sbrough which she passed. Bat these additional years have changed her to a white haired, genial, kindly disposed old lady, the ever present evidence of ber life sorrow being plainly discernible. When asked the question, that with the graves of her family the old log house, the monument and all the re- maining evidences of her loss,al ways plain- ly in sighs did not sexve to promote a feel- ing of dietress she said ‘‘ob no. I can- not obliterate the past, or call them back sod while is all seems like a terrible dream and the memory of that awful morning in- delibly stamped on every fiber cf my nature, Iam bappy when sitting in the old house aod keeping their graves green.” The old log house stands just as it did 50 | years ago, but is well protected by a larger building whiob entirely encloses it. It ie neatly farnishbed just as nearly as possible the same as when she was torn away. The ocruade open stairs, the two rooms above with beds located and dressed as when the family occupied them. The one room be- low bas some furnitare bus is well stocked with Indian curios, photographs, postal cards and other nioknacks on sale, from whioh she derives a livelihood, together with an admission charge of 25 cents. Several years ago, tourists and sammer dwellers at the lake began carrying sound cobble stones from the shore untila cove was piled up some 5 or 6 lees high near the cluster of graves. Is etill remains, being about 5 feet at the base, slanting to a single stone at the apex. The General Assembly of 1894 passed a bill appropriating $5000, to place a monu- ment oo this spot to commemorate an ‘‘event’’ which certainly ‘‘attended to she settlement’’ of northwest Iowa. Commis. sioners were appointed : Hon. J. F. Dun- combe, one of the volunteers of the relief expedition—R. A. Smith, Charles Aldrich, late curator of the historical department whose funeral was beld from the rotunda of that building this last summer ; Mrs. Abbie Gardner Sharp, avd with our good ex-Pennsylvanian, then Governor of Iowa, Cyrus C. Carpenter, as chairman, who de- livered the dedicatory address, pronounced one of the best ever,and made and so by his pathetic and sympathetic nature. Is is made of Minnesota granite sat on a base 14 feet square, it io five feet square at tho base and rises toa height of 55 feet, the top being shaped like an arrow head. It is adorned with four bronze tablets, two showing the names of she murdered settlers and soldiers who marched to sheir relief, the other two being commemoratory, giving history dates, eto. It was dedicated by she state officials on the 25sh of July, 1885, and this action makes it snrely ‘historical.’ Other, many other events might be re. cited, but they fill volumes, and we leave further references in detail to ac official of our historical department, whom we have asked to fornish a better article at some future date and who is mach better equip- ped shan the writer. The reader perhaps knows of our gread Lincoln being once a soldier in she Black- bawk war on Iowa soil and Brigham Young passing sbrough our State leaving hun- dreds of dissenters, who settled in southern Iowa, and baeilt up Lamoni and are still fighting poligamy fiercer than she Metho- diste, Before closing this article, which is now much lounger shan intended, we bave a question to ask and a proposition to sab- mis to. As assistant postmaster at Roland, at the age of 18, the writer was fairly well in- formed as to the location of every burg in Centre county. Maps and Atlases bave been dug through recently down at our ‘‘right nice little bailding,’’ otherwise the State House. But where is Lauvertown ? As a point of interest, it must be a twin sister to Striptown. Should she writer be among the living and be possessed of a sufficient supply of influence with the commissioners of the pext International Fair, be will endeavor to bave two State buildings, as nearly as possible merged into one sérueture, or if not so to have the said two buildings erected ‘‘side by each” —i. e., close up together with bat one buge banuer across the front of both bearing this ‘‘gush :" Pennsylvania and Iowa ! the two bright- est stare in the American Constellation ! Gooid-hye, 8S. W. Baker, Des Moines, Iowa, March 15h, 1909. There are times in every life when the vital forces seem to ebb. Energy gives place to languor. Ambition dies. The corrent of the blood crawls sluggishly through the veins. [sis a condition com- mouvly described by saying, “I feel played out,”” Forsuch a condition there is no medicine which will work so speedy a cure a4 Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery. Is contains po aloohel. Isis not a mere stimulating sonic. Is contains no opium, cocaine nor other sarcosio. Is does nos drug the nerves into insensibilisy. What it does is tosupply Nasare with she ma- terials out of which she builds perve and muscle, bone and flesh. A gain in soand flesh is one of the first results of the ase of “Discovery.” Harvard's New President. From William Roscoe Thayer's “Abbott Lawrence Lowell” in the April Century. That the choosing of a successor to President Elios should be regarded as an evens of national importance measures the diguity to whioh Mr. Eliot bas raised the presidency of Harvard and the of his influence daring the forty years of his ad- ministration. As his election, the academic world understood so little the course of evolution for the higher education in America.and they had gaged so inacourate- ly Mr. Eliot's latent powers, thas they did 3h 3eeoipaian lor & long time thas in him Yory the one man predestined for the A very different reception bas greeted Prof. Lowell’s election. The needs of Har- vard, and, incidentally, of American uni- versities are known, and, after the olosest sorutiny of many candidates, his superior equipments is almost universally copoeded. In old simes is was ht that a coll could be safely ins: only toa os ter or to a olassioal professor. Now the bead of a great institution like Harvard must poasess not only an interest in soholar- ship, but knowledge of affairs, executive efficiency, social aptitude, and abilisy to speak in public ; he must enjoy the oon- fidence of the alumni and of the outside su, of the university ; and—if the Pt are lavish in their gifte—~he will know tu capture and hold the loyalty of the students. Abbots Lawrence Lowell has these di- verse qualifications in unusnal abundance. The Prison Bird. The peculiarity of the prison bird, a feathered beauty of Africa, is that he is the most tyrannical and jealous of hausbande, imprisoning his mate shroughout her nest. ing time. Livingstone watched the bird's babiss while in Monpour, and in bis sub- sequent observations referred to the nest as a prison sug the female bird as a slave. e nest is built in the hollow of a tree through an opening in the bark. As soon a8 it is completed the mother bird enters oarefally and fearfully and settles down in is. Then papa walls up the opening, leav- ing only just space enough for air and food to pass through. He keeps faithful guard and brings food at regular intervals with- ous fail. The female thrives under her en- forced retirement. Bus if the prison bird is killed or ip any other way prevented from fulfilling his duties the mother and ber listle ones must die of starvation, for she cannot {ree herself from y Normally she imprisonmens lasts until the chicks are old enough to fiy. Then the male bird d the barrier with his beak and liberates his family. “Is is charming,” writes Livi ‘0 see the with which she listle ers greet the light and the unknows world.” A — A Temperance Medicine. There is one feature of Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription in which it differs from nearly all other medicines put up for a I neith- cocaine nor other narcotic. Werds of Wisdom. You can give a man good advice until you are blue in the face, but give hima good seare aud you will see resaits. Some men are 80 convinced that they are ulin 50 wake 4) autse worpiog aed fod Ives fanrous thas they can't sleep. It makes a small man big so staud on hie dignisy. Moss of us are prondest of the th we intend to do. Some people are only tireless in making other people tired. Give your children a laxative medicine which will not re-act on the system or leave injurious after effects. Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets are the best medicine for Shilase, They do vot produce the pill | ay uitus-—-2 love— Mies Anteek—Ab! Tes suspected it all along—you naughty man 3 I love the delicious freedom of Miss Anteek—Brate ! ~——A young cadet was complaining of the tight fis of his uniform. Why father. he declared, the collar presses my Adams apple so bard I can taste Sitting on the beach with the sun shin. ing on your book. Staring at the water when the sap is at its brightest. Si so the shifting light and the sha- dow of leaves from the poreh or arbor play verge irregularly on she page. Letting the eyes get sunburned. Doing fine needlework in the dim light of a house shaded for eoolness. Yachting or canoeing without a broad- brimmed bat or veil as a protection [from the glare. I i FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls must dive be- low. —~John Dryden. Now that spring ie really here and the shops are gay with all kinds of materials from which ere fashioned garments for wear in the warm weather season, mothers of ‘young children will do well to lay ina Pleauifut sapply of cool, comfortable © Simplicity is the keynote ip making ehil- dren’s clothes, and should be rigidly ad- a rocks should be elaborate only in the sense of fineness, daintiness and exquisite quality in materials and a touch of well- chosen trimming. In the warm months children There is usually 8 narrow buttoned bel and a or two. Rompers are admir-$ able when made of plaid in biue and white or pink and white obecked mercerized ngbam, coarse linen in white or colors, in crash, They are worn by emall ih aud boys alike, and are charming, and y The listle sack frock for the small daugh- ter ie another pretty fashion. Isis all in one hangs straights from the shoul- der like a peasant’s suek, and is delight- fully cool e. This garment is exceedingly attractive when made with a square neck, outlined with a narrow bise baad of the material or with the square neck, and a deep hem finishing the shors skirt. Madras and percale are also among the materiale for children’s frocks, and stand the ravages of tab and laundress well. Only one or two undergarments need be worn in mideummer, and these are very simple, made of five muslin and trimmed 3 rufiles and narrow embroidered edg- bg. French nanisook frocks, trimmed with clusters of tiny tucks, Valenciennes in- sertion and lace ng or five Sebroidery severe little slips of linen simply em . ered, and frocks of flowered muslin and lawn, are all good choices for afternoon wear. One-piece slips of old pink or old blue linen, worn with or without all-over em- broidery guimpes, are also in good style. These way be embroidered at neck and wrists with a simple design or trimmed with a design in narrow sontache braid- ing. laid frocks are very goodlooking and are as their best when made of linen with piping of a harmoniziug color. An »sdwmirable frock for cool days ies regulation suit of black and white herd’s plaid, with shield of white linen and chevrons and trimmings done in scar. let floss silk. ES 2 i Has and Coat.— Linen or duck hats, with Sig bis al cevuas Shel Souls a, dee alwaps style for morning, a more elaborate hat or bonnet of straw, with a small cluster of blossoms or a swiss of rib- bon, is admirable for afternoon wear. A poke honnes or rough straw with a orown and a soar! of soft satin with fri t, for is gives a very parrow-shoul- , slender look so the most corpulent figure. Collarsare lees exaggerated than they were a year ago, and the shaw! collars and coliarless necks of the new coats are sn hoon to women who do their own tailuring. They are awlully good style and very easy i : he £y H 1 griid ir § : i : Hi
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers