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
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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
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