Benet
Bellefonte, Pa., August 20, 1909,
IN THE FIELDS.
For the Warcumaxs.
I've been out in the fields to-day,
The fields around my home,
1 have gathered fern aud flowers gay,
And drank from the waters ‘neath heaven's
blue dome.
1 have gazed on the the golden beauty
Of summer bravely drest,
Heard the chorus of feathered songsters,
And chatter of woodland guest,
1 hear the drowsy hummipg bee,
And the rush of the water fall,
Bat the distant sound of chiming bells,
Stern thoughts of life recall,
And a prayer ascends for strength and grace,
As 1 pass through the summer of life,
‘While the rustling leaves of autumn,
Fortell the winters strife,
1 stretch out my hand for guidance.
Through the darkness, mist and rain,
So that my heart and I'll find rest,
From our infinite sorrow and pain.
By M=s. Nonwoob.
I —
A PRIVATE IMPRESSIONIST,
How can yan talk such nonsense!" said
Edward Buss to his father, George Buss R.
A., in a tone which was now both angry
and disrespectful.
“The world bas been going round
since you were a young man. It's a sheer
waste of energy for me to discuss Impres-
sioniem with you. We sball never con-
vince each other. Les’s drop it. You can’t
deny that Impressionists sell their pio.
sures, and I eay that the other chaps don’t.
Things bave obanged. I admit that ten or
fifteen years ago the Impressionists were
scoffed at. Everybody knows that passage
in Zola’s L'Ocuvre describing the laughter
of the public over Paul Rougon’s Impres-
sionist picture at the Salon, with ite blue
shadows and the rest of is. Well, those
are the very people who now..."
“Exactly,” interrupted Buse, R. A,
“she very same fools who sneered at
Whistler whep be bad bis lawsuit against
Ruskin are now his most enthusiastic ad-
mirers. It is the case of the wind rushing
into a vacuum.”
“Vacuum or no vacaum,’’ answered
Edward Russ, impatiently, ‘‘the Impres-
sioniet pictures sell, and the old-fogey
school which yon stand for bas bardly any
market left. You know, father, that used
to be your test of excellence—you can't
deny it—the market price, the verdios of
the sale-room. For years you have put
that particular spoke in my wheel when-
ever [ praised Mones, or Renoir, or any
other great Impressionist— ‘What price
does he get? Depend upon it, my boy, the
blic is the final judge. Vox populi, vox
i. The public is not such a fool as you
thiok. 1f Manet aud Sigoac are right, then
Rembrandt and Robens were wrong.’
Well, in one respect I admit that you are
right. In the long run the publio is and
must be the judge. Manet’s Olympia is
pow in the Louvre. Remember that!”
The younger man’s voice rose. ‘‘Manet’s
Olympia is now in the Louvre!’’ he reiterat-
ed, trinmpbaotly. ‘It’s in the Louvre
obeek by jow! with Ingres and Delacroix,
and the oid masters! Of course it is to the
paying public that the greatest artists of
all time have made their appeal. There
cau be no art without a public, and no
artist great or small ever denied that.”
“Every clown must have some sort of a
sircus,”’ interpolated Buss, R. A., resigoed-
ly. ‘“‘An American portrait-painter once
explained tome why he bad temporarily
given up painting when motoring became
fashionable—'Its no gocd monkeying,’ he
said, ‘npless there's some one looking
on.
“Of course, it's not the public that
makes the artist,”” continued the junior
Bass, argumentatively, ‘‘bat it isin the
easence of art, whioh is an utterance, to
have a public. And I say that the publio is
big enough for all of ue. What the is con-
semptible is effort of she old-fogey clique to
make out thas they alone have the ear of
the judge. All good work will in the long
ran meet with ite reward. It may take
sime—"’
“During which time,” suggested Buss,
R.A.. “‘the artist may starve.”
““There again I join issue with you,” re-
plied the son. ‘I believe all those stories
of artists starving to be fairy-tales. Some
of them may bave died of drink. Haydon
committed suicide, but be was wad. Taur-
per—take Turner! Who was more abased
and attacked than Turner? Yet he died
rioh, and was the greatest Impressionist of
us all.”
“Hm! muttered Buss, R.A.
* ‘Hm! " echoed his son, furiously.
“ ‘Hm! indeed! What a feather it would
bave been in the cap of your argument if
be had starved! I don't believe you cenld
quote a single case of an artiss of any talent
starving, When an artist starves (and I
bave never heard of it happening), it is be-
cause he is nos an artist.”
A far-off remiviscent gaze came into
Bum, R.A.'s eyes, and bis lips tighten.
“The fact is, father,’’ shouted the son,
“1 believe youn are jealous.”
Boss, R.A, gave a start. ‘‘Jealous!"
Then after a pause. ‘‘Jealous...”...”
«Of whom . ..of what?’ that's what
you were going to say,’’ supplemented the
son. ‘‘Jealous of me—jealous of the fact
that I sell every picture thas I pains, and
though, of course, I don’t ges the prices
that you do, I get fair prices, and [am
able to live by my art. I don’t profess to
bave the genius of a Monet, who easily
gets twenty-five thousand dollars for a
re, and that’s a price that even an
A. wouldn't sneeze as. Bat I get fair
prices, and I have no aitieulty in placing
my work. You know, and I know them
too, father, more than one eminent painter
of your generation who hae literally ceased
to sell. There was Burkets Brown lament.
ing the other day that, while five years ago
Berlin meant a clean thousaud pounds a
year to bim, the Be:lin buyers now invest
all their money in Impressionist landscapes
—chiefly French and Awerican. Idon’t
helieve your own pictures sell as they used
to.
“Have you sold “aysbing in Berlin!”
asked Buss, R.A., amiably interested,
“Not that I know of, but it is quite
possible,” answered Buss, junior. “‘Isell
everything through Simkin, the dealer, so
1 don’t come into touch with the ultimate
buyer. He may be making a corner in
Busees, for all ier, as they bave done
with Degas. In any case, Simkin takes
every pioture I paint. He doesn’t paya
first-class price, but it is a decent price, a
living wage, and I bet you that if some of
your vaunted friends knew of it their
mouths would water.”
“By George !"’ exclaimed Base, R A.
throwing off his reflective air and speaking
briskly, “I believe you are right, my son.
1 believe I am jealons of you. Not of your
success, lad, for God knows I don’t grudee
you that. Bat I aw jealous of your splen-
3id contentedness. Yon will never make
me swallow thas idiot Cezanne, nor Gau-
guin, a ball-baked Red Indian who daubs |
the color op his canvas which was meant
for his nose or sowe other part of bis body,
bat, damp it all, if Impressionism art can
make a wan as bappv as you are,
say God bless ir.
round to that American bar and havea
drink, for all this ars talk bas made me
thiresy.”’
Buse, R. A., placed his band on the
young man's shoulder and looked into his
eyes with a glance of keenest affection.
Buss, juniors face still wore a somewhat
beated look. The conversation had really
irritated him, and, onlike his father, he
did not easily recover bis temper once is
bad been disturbed. However, there was
no resisting the elder Bues's paternally
winning wanoer, and so he accepted the
proffered refreshment, and allowed hie
fathe: to link his arm in his, still thinking
pevertheless, that from the point of view
obit this illostrious R. A. was a Shock tok
old fogey, ‘‘un view pompier,”’ a8 he put it
to himself in the French studio jargon
which he had learned in Paris. Apart
from that the old man was tolerable enough,
pig-headed, but amenable to a certaiu sort
of reason if the proper pressure were put
upon him. As far as it was ible for
Edward Buss to love anybody but himself
he loved Boss, R. A.
Is was at Dieppe that this conversation
bad taken place, and is was in a little peas-
ant’s cottage near Dieppe, smartened up
with sage-green paint op the wooden shat-
ters, and red and white checkered curtains
on the windows, that Edward Buss bad
been settled for some years now, paintiog
Impressionist pictures, mostly landscapes.
No doubt be was bappy. Luckily hie am-
bitions were limited by a sensitive egotism.
He disliked society because experience bad
taught him that be did net shine io it. He
admired himself, on the other band, for
baving thrown off the more cumbersome
trammels of civilization, living with osten-
tations simplicity in a ‘‘loss corner’ of
Normandy, dressed in something like a
pavvy’s costume, the moss characteristic
desaile of which were the broad trousers
and tight fisting vess of blue cotton, such
as French stone masons wear, and black
ologs, the whole crowned with a ebivy
pointed Tonkines straw hat. Thus accon-
tred, Edward Buss delighted to swagger
along the streets of Dieppe at all seasons.
He bad married a Dieppoise, who bad been
an artist’s model—a buxom, blond fisher
girl, with eals burns bair, who had borne
him three children, the eldest of whom, a
boy, now thirteen, a little freckled sand-
lark, talked patois and sniggered at bis
father’s English accent.
Edward Buss was in the main a water-
colorist. He had tried oil, and still used
this medium occasionally, bus instinctively
he preferred the other medinm. “Is is co-
rious,” he would eay to his father on the
rare occasions that Buss, R. A., came over
from London to visit him, ‘‘I sell my oil-
paintings just as well as the water-colore,
bus 1 don’t feel so much as home in them."’
Whereupon Bass, R. A., would recite a va-
rians of the old studio rhyme :
“C'est tres difficile
De {aire la peinture a I'huile,
Mals c'est tout aussi beau
De faire ia peinture & I'ean.”
—which would put Edpard Buss in a tary.
Still, though be conld not resist teasiug
him from time to time, old Buss passion-
ately loved his son. The young man re-
sembled bis motber—the same intense ner
voueness revealing iteell by the constant
twitching of an eyelid, the same restless
ness which ou the part of the mother bad
caused 80 many domestic troubles in the
household, aud bad straived almost to the
breaking point Buss, R. A’s, capacity for
forgiveness. She was gone now, poor thing
aod Buss, R. A., loved her memory all the
more devotedly that she was no longer
there to upset his illusions. Visibly what
remained of ber was juss that oval live of
her son's cheek, the arch of the dark eye-
brow, and the datk look of she eyes be-
neath them. Then there was this, too,
that the late Mrs. Bose bad ever fels and
frankly expressed a profound contemps for
ber husband’s art. She bad kuowa noth-
ing Rhos giving, and her views on the
subject been cordially communicated
to her by a third party, but no doubt from
this inherited revolts bad been developed
the son's Impressionism. As least, so Boss
R. A., thought, and in an odd sort of way
it made him cherish Edward all the more.
Edward Bass’s Impressionism was not
much like anybody eise’s Impressionism so
far ae technigue was concerned. He was
neither a techiste like Henri Cross, nor a
pointilliste like Henri Martin, nor a wild
blotohist like poor mad Von Gogh, though,
if asked his opinion of the work of any of
these masters or their disciples, his invaria-
ble reply was, “I think it rather nice.”
His attitude towsrd Nature was entirely
personal. If Nature had been at all recep-
tive, it is surprising what she might have
learned from Edward Boss. He was con-
stantly explaining ber to herself, giving
ber hints as to conduct and deportment,
rearranging and reshaping her dress as to
color and cut. He never allowed her to be
whats she apparently wanted 10 be
taken for. If he caught ber in a mood
which might bave been interpreted by in-
artistic minds as an effort to appear green,
he promptly and firmly pus her down ob
his paper or his canvas as yellow, or blue,
or purple, or pink, as he thought proper,
there it was ; there was no getting over
it. no appeal from his decision, for this was
Buss, junior’s Impression, this was art—
Nature seen through the temperament of
Edward Buss. One thing, however, is cer-
tain, that it the neighborhood of Dieppe
could bave visioned itself to most people
as it did to Edward Buss, it would have
been much less frequented than it was by
seaside exoursionists, and this, perba
would nos have been altogether an unmix-
ed evil. The general note of his work was
gloomy, due, perbaps, to a savage sense of
temperamental distinction from the world
as large.
Nothing of this was unknown to Buss,
R. A., but be, nove the less, rejoiced, in
bis practical Philistine way, thas his son
should have an occupation that he should
feel himeelt to he fairly successful. ‘‘It’s
awfol rubbish that be turns out,” he
would say to himself, ‘bat it gives him
the sense of independence. It bas made a
man of him, inspired him to marry and
settle down—though, of course I couldn't
receive his wife in Evogland—and saved
him, perbaps, from goodness knows what,
for with his weak tempezament he could
never bave done a reasonable stroke of
work at any other honest business.’
Three weeks had ela) since Edward
A., for the last
time. He was seated at the door of his
Songs, painting bis fortieth or fiftieth im-
on of the low line of hills covered
i
i
with green pollarded oak which lay in she |
distance before him. In toe centre of his
canvas be bad jnst drawn a little carling
piok ribbon. This vertical smear was a
commencement, aud Buss, jovior, was
pondering 10 bis mind whetber it might
pot be considered final, when a telegram
was banded to bim. It aonounced the
seriops illness of bis father, and an hour
later was followed by another, which told
him that Buss, senior, bad passed away.
Both were signed by the family solicitor, a
then I | letter from whom, received the same even-
At least, #0 [ar as you | ing, gave particulars of She sudden death,
are concerned, Edward. Aud vow let's go |
from apoplexy, of the illustrions R. A.,
and requested the son to come over at once
to London. The survivor most visibly af-
fected by the sad news was she Dieppoise
Mrs. Buss. She sobbed poisily, and was
quickly sorroonded by a crowd of sym-
pathizing relations of her own, who, though
they had never seen her father-in-law, good-
paturedly joined their lamentations to hers.
She iosisted, in spite of Bose’'s opposition,
on sending out great quantities of letires de
faire part avpounciog the death, large
square double sheets of paper with heavy
biack borders, npon which all the members
of her extensive family were set out ina
Jong list with their full names aod the
varying degrees of their relationship by
marriage with the deceased gentleman.
This was objectionable to Edward Bass,
hlack forming no pars of the Impressionist
palette, and for this reason be bad thought
of not wearing monrning. Bas bis wife
would bear of vo such thing. With magi-
cal rapidity she and the little sand-lark,
ber :0n, and the two girls enveloped them-
selves in black, the boy with an enormous
crepe scarf round his black bowler has aod
a white necktie, the girle and the mother
swathed in black crepe from head to foot.
Throughout the journey to London tbe
Dieppoise kept a pocket bandkercbiel
pressed to ber eyes, and on the pier where
they took the boat to Newbaven all ber
relations bad come to kiss ber. Buss,
junior, felt rather self-conscions during this
performance, but he was far from disap:
proviog of it. Is helped to distinguish
bim from bis own clase. It entered into
bis scheme of life. For bimsell, be bad
been contented with slipping a black baud
over the sleeve of a brown sorduroy jacket.
Wish bis large brown velvet bas and broad
corduroy trousers of peg-top shape he look-
ed quite av artistic personage from behind,
but in front the effect was rendered in-
decisive by the bard nervons eyes and tbe
neat but insignificant oval of the face. At
Newhaven he honght several of she London
newspapers, but merely cast a casual eye at
the column which in each case was devoted
to the obituary of Buse, R. A. Perbaps ba
wae right not to read these long psragrapbs
of glowing enlogy with which be could nos
possibly agree, about a being whom in his
way he bad been fond of. As Victoria the
odd-looking party got into a four-wheeler
and drove at once to the residence of the
late painter, which wae in Westbourne
Terrace. Waiting in the ball to greet them
wae the solicitor, who bad been the de-
ceased R. A.'s most intimate friend and an
eager purchase: of his works. He was
deeply moved. After a lew words suitable
to the sad occasion, the solicitor, who bad
taken a seat in the dining room, and was
particularly impreseed wish she appearance
of Edward Bass, whom be now saw for the
firss time, thought it best to plunge at once
into the details of the will.
‘All the property has been left to you,
Mr. Buss, apart from a souvenir to myself,
your poor father's sole executor. I have a
choice of one of the finished pictures in the
studio. I was always a very great admirer
of bis immense talent. His business ar-
rangements bave been in my bands for
many years, so that there will be no diffi.
onlty about the probate. I anderstood,and
till now believed, that be bad po secrets
from me as to his investments. But 10 my
surprise I bave found that there is ove ex-
ception, I think the only one. I mention
it to you at once, for there is no reference
to the matter in the will. At the top of
this house is a room which contains a large
collection of what I jodge to be pictures.
They are certainly not by your poor father,
for all bis work is known and catalogued,
as you are doubtless aware. 1 bave nos
looked at them. They are piled one upon
the top of the other,and covered with dust.
There must be at least two or three buoo-
dred of them. My private impression is
that they are the work of some unbappy
mao whom your father may bave known
and pitied, a starving artist, a man, per-
bape, with a wie and large family and no
talent, one of those who bave fallen by the
wayside, whom be desired to belp. You
know how generous he was. Oo the other
baud, they may he worke of value, so I
think, perbaps, you bad better see them at
once, though if they were valuable I feel
sure that be would have spoken to me
about them.”
“Yes,” said Buss, junior, “I think we
may as well look as them. I bave no
doubt they are rubbish. Father's taste
was pretty bad.” The lawyer, who was
familiar with she house, led the way. In
a glase roofed attic, which bad sometimes
served Buse, R. A., as a spare studio, were
arranged symmetrically on the floor, and
with a certain appearance of order, piles of
canvases, all unframed as the lawyer had
said, showing their white canvas edges
studded with blackened pins. Buss, juo-
for, lifted the topmost pioture. His
twitching eyelid began to twitch with
that spread to his whole
face. He bad recognized bis own last
work for which Simkin bad paid bim two
hundred and fifty dollars, an Impression
of the Dieppe cliffs in pink and blue. He
snatched eagerly at the canvas underlying
it. It was his, too, a still-life which Cez-
anne himself would have been proud to
own—a bright red porcelain plate, on
which ip a rigid row were three perfectly
flat purple apples. Simkios bad eaid it
was a masterpiece and would go toa mu-
senm. ‘‘Mine,” be gasped, ‘‘both mine!”
ig ah i og
y ight, a heavy dau 5
suggesting a baystack in flamed. “All
mine!” And Buss, junior, fell flat on bie
back in one of those dead fainting fits to
which his mother, poor woman, bad been
go subject when laboring under special ex-
citement. The last thing he was conscione
of was hearing his father’s execntor say in
a tone of deep oe “I am very, very
sorry !”” Some cold water from & spooge
soon brought him to, and then the ambi-
uity of these worde, which was quite un-
ptentional on the lawyer's part, struck
him with wonuding force, for he was ina
state of mind to be wounded by anything.
The solicitor discreetly left the room.
Buss, junior, spent & couple of hours turn.
ing over the two hundred odd canvases,
the Impressionist witnesses of a lifetime's
effort. Not a single one was missing.
Probably no such complete collection of an
artist's output had ever been made before.
—By Rowland Strong, in Harper's Weekly.
——————————C A C———.
——Do you know where to ges the finest
canned goods and dried fruits, Seobler &
Co.
Ad veriise tn the WATCHMAN.
Empress Tsi-An at Home.
Not many western women enjoyed the
experiebee of diving with the late Queen
Dowager of China. Belle V. Drake, in the
New York Evening Poss, describes some | by being just.—Raskin,
things that impressed ber when she was
entertained by this great lady in Peking.
Sbe says:
“She moved among her guests so guiet- Freuochwomen still are clinging to long
ly, quickly, and unuostentationsly that is | lines in linen coats, and are
was a study in good breeding to watch her.
She was a satisfaction to the eye—color,
form, texture, movements, all in soob bar-
mony that she was a veritable moving pic-
ture—without she strain oo the optic
perve. The voice, too, was so soft aod
sounded like the musical twittering of a
bird, as she dropped a bit of ber classic
Chinese bere and there. Her bousewilely
interest was greatly in evidence at the
table, and ber sense of bumor wust have
had a treat in our mauvipulation of ber
chop-sticks. They looked so guiltless, too,
in ber bands that it seemed incredible they
conid be the means of 20 much bumiliation
to one who meant thew no barm.
“When the various delicacies bad run
their courses, and bird's vest soup, fungus,
shark's fins, ser-cucumbers, and other in-
teresting Oriental et oeteras were contend.
ivg for barmonions digestion, sabe cuta
pear into dainty montbfals and passed
around the table, giving each a ‘taste’ and
asking us bow we liked the Chinese vari:
ety.
When she was quite sure each woman
had finished her repast a eunuch wae som-
moned, and, as be lay face downward oo
the floor, be bambly placed in her bands a
little gold box, and, npon opening it, ehe
took out a little gold spoon and helped ber-
sell first to the powdered, aromatic con-
tents. With this tess to inspire our confi-
dence, she again passed down the table
and placed a spoonenl in the mouth of each
woman, who stood bird-like and took her
medicine.
“Is was donbtless their substitute for
the peppermint or wintergreen so accepta-
ble to oar after-dinner palates.
“Then. of conrse, there must be a visit
to ber hedroom, for this was a real bears-
to-beart encounter, and we must be shown,
pot only the meat and drink on which oar
Cesar fed, bus the use where he slept
and grew so great. The agility with which
she climbed up on ber bigh k’ang or bed
proved ber joints were exceedin ly well
lubricated and in good ruvning order.
“Jt was here we bad onr most delightfal
glimpse of the unofficial woman. The al-
moss loving stroke of her band, her evi
dent desire 10 tease the emperor, who came
tauntiogly into the room, ber rogunish tonch
with this or that lady-in-waiting, proved
ber a delightfal comrade and ready for a
frolic whenever the time was fitting.
“She was at the same time taotfal and
thougbtlal for others, neglecting the com-
fort of no one. It was ‘homey’ to havea
cup of tea on the bed, and is would have
been a delicious flavor without the exquie-
ite jade cup and gold saucer to recommend
it. Is is delightfal to recall shat dainty |
little woman, eager and anxious to give
pleasure, elegans and remote in all that
makes a refined, sensitive nature, yet ac-
cessible and companionable even though
ber back could immediately stiffen, and
the angust empress might take the place on
a moment's notice.
“And when she took your band and said
‘good by,’ and expressed the hope that you
would like China, and tbat she mighs soon
see you again,you somehow wished to take
ber into your sisterhood aud accord ber the
full privileges of its protection from slan-
der and nnjust accusation.
“Doanbtless, when she was bad ehe was
horrid, bat when she was good she was
very, very good, and, I am sare.if yon bad
seen her you would have liked ber. Every-
body did, for her personal charm was great.
The human side was lovable, womanly,and
exceedingly attractive. So, when irrespon-
sible generalizations are made it makes one
who knows this side feel as if he will
never, never again express an opinion or
pase a judgment upon something he knows
nothing about. It is pot eafe, for it too
often becomes history.”
~——Do you know that you cac get the
finest, oranges, bananas and grape [ruit,
and pine apples, Sechler & Co.
Nervousness is a common feminine dis-
ease. Women try all kinds of nerve quiet-
ing potions which are offered as a cure for
pervousness, in she form of ‘‘compounds’’
or ‘‘ervines.” And yet no care is ef-
teoted. The relief is only temporary. The
reason is that these potions are opiates and
parcotics. They put the nerves tosleep for
a time, but when they wake again their
condition is worse than before. Modern
| medicine recognizes the relasion of this
pervons condition in women to the forms
of disease which affect the sensitive woman-
ly organs. To cure the nervousness the
cause most he removed. The use of Dr.
Pierce's Favorite Prescription will result
in the cure of weakening drains, inflam-
mation, ulceration and bearing-down pains,
the common causes of nervousness in wom-
en. Nothing is just as good as ‘‘Favorite
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barmless or as sure. It contains no alcohol,
and is absolutely free from opium, cocaine
and other narcotics.
—
——41 hear, Mike, that your wife bas
gooe into society. Has she become a ciub
woman yet 2’ “Indade an’ she bas not
got into that class ; she still uses a flatiron
cor.”
——Do yon know where to get your
garden seeds in packages or by measure
Sechler & Co.
How much do I know about myself ?
Such a question honestly asked and an-
swered would show at once the need of a
Dieppe | medical work such as Dr. Pierce's Medical
Adviser. It is a book dealing with the
plain facts of physiology, b giene and re-
production, in plain Eoglish, and is vent
free on receipt of stamps to pay expense of
mailing only. Send 21 one-cent stamps for
per covered book, or 31 stamps for oloth
Dor. Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Bul-
falo, N. Y.
——An American bride of an English.
man finds it bard to keep warm in London.
Why not pat on a few more diamonds?
———————————
——Do you know we have the old style
sugar syrups, pure goods at 40 cents and
60 cents per gallon, Sechler & Co.
——*In makin’ your mark in the world,
be perfectly sure that it won’s turn outa
d ration.’
Do you know we have the old style
sugar syrups, pure goods at 40 cents and
60 cents per gallon, Sechler & Co.
—It much reading maketh a full man,
by the same token too much reading makes
a fool woman.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
— Keep hoes sharp with a file.
| —Protect vour poultry from spring
DAILY THOUGHT.
To know anything about God, you must begin | rains.
—Sour table scraps are not good for
Paris contingents tell us that, although | poultry.
rumor hints at the coming of ashortercoat, | _ Hens do better if kept in separate lots
of twenty-five each.
edicting their
continuance through not ouly the automo, —Whole corn is good for laying bens
| but she winter. b ot line bas a terri- | during cold weather.
| ble sud, as well, a delightful bold on the js.
Parisian woman. If she continues to stand Table scraps should be cooked and
given to the laying hens.
— Large hreeds should never be kept in
the same flock with small breeds.
—Make three successional plantings of
Wet corn this month, at ten-day inter.
vals,
her ground in this master of the up-acd-
| down outline, we may hope for the long,
| lithe woman in satumn street clothes as
well as in party frocks The
Parisian coat sleeve of cluse fis shows the
! trend in favor of long lines, as does a very
| popular cus of coas haviog a long seam in
| front, like a dart, extending up into the
shoulder seam.
You will see it on the tires figure at the
left of the drawing in a patural colored
linen costume, with dark blue silk on the
collar and cuff«. The hlue isa becoming
tonch of color for the woman who caonot
otherwise wear the trying linen shade. The
figared vest is also a method of introducing
the necessary color in =owe costumes.
On the coat of the lady whois resting
black moire silk has been used to border
the coffs and the square-cornered lapels.
The contrast is pice with the saxe blue
linen, aud, by way of an early fall sugges.
tion, this eame moire will be effective with
dark bine serge. The hat, too, is sufficient.
ly advanced — it is one of the heavy velvet
crowns—1t0 he sale for the coming season.
The third aod last figure also shows
length of line, even to the extreme of it,
in the well buttoned coat and the fairly
close hat. The large toque is predicted,
and with it the very narrow sleeve and
scant coat lines are becoming and much af-
fected by the wonld-be-tall. It is a notice-
able fact thas wider bat brime admit of a
slight sleeve fulness as the shoulder.
These intricacies in the matter of bats
and sleeves and their effect in combination
prove the necessity for getting the costume
| together, as a whole at least, in mind.
| Buying bit or miss is rarely a success, and
| the coat suit should be religionsly worn on
| the search for a becoming hat that shall be
| in keeping with the outlines of the costume.
Throughout the vogue of the covered
{ and embroidered butsop, crocheted buttons
| have never lost their place as the first
| choice of the particular woman. They are
| used upon linens, upon obiffon gowne, on
| cashmere, and even upon foulards. On lin-
| gerie waists, too, they are very popular, for
they trim prettily and daintily.
Sometimes these buttons are quite round,
again quite fat; but whichever shape they
— When hens acquire the feather-pulling
habit they should he sent to market as
once.
--Give the laying hens [resh water slight-
Iv warmed three times a day during cold
weather,
—Roosts for poultry should be placed on
a level, so thas there can be no preferred
poeitions.
—In some of the public schools in Con-
necticut agriculture bas been introduced in
the upper grades.
—Feed the laying hene at daybreak and
sundown, and keep them working the en-
tire time between.
—Mix carbolic acid with kerosene for
the roosts and don’s neglect to use it. Once
a week won't hurt,
—Never pick berries for market when
they are wet. And, when picked, hurry
them to a cool place ous of the sun.
~Interview the hens and if any one of
them fails to declare its intention sto begin
laying right away, see that it departs.
—Cat off, at any time, any suckers youn
may find growing at the foot of Irait trees
or on the trunk or main limbs where
branches should not grow.
—Mozzle the horses and pad the outside
portions of whiffletrees and harrow when
cultivating the orchard; thus avoiding all
braised and ‘‘barked’’ trees.
—Pay an occasional friendly visit to the
little trees set this spring. Rab off an-
necessary sprouts; and make sure that no
label wires have been left on the trees to
choke them.
—Watch for the little slugs—darkish,
slimy fellows—that are likely to he on
pear or cherry leaves now. Fire, dry dust,
it thrown io she trees, will kill every slug
it covers. Or almost any of she regulation
may be they are effective and improve the orchard epraye will exterminate this peet.
garment upon which they appear. —Oue onnce of California bubach dis-
— solved io shreg gallons of water i2 a good,
Lace and embroidery should be ironed | non-poisonous” spray a plication for cab-
on the wrong side, with several thicknesses | bage worms and lice. e imported *‘Per-
of cloth or a piece of flannel underneath. | sian insect powder’’ is the same thing, but
. - is not so fresh and effective as the Cali-
fornia article.
—Two experiment stations—Kaoeas and
Nebraska—have had satisfactory results
from seeding a mixture of alfalfa and brome
— grass for permavent pastures. The pres-
Emery powder and oil made into a paste ence of the hrome grass so reduces the dan-
is ao excellent mixture to clean steel. Rab | €er from bloat thai the value of alfalfa
on well and polish, after which rab with | Pastures becomes available.
an oiled rag and then polish up again with —Cahbage and other plants can be pro-
a clean duster. tected from ontworms hy erecting a two-
— inob-bhigh paper fence around each stem.
When you sprinkle clothes for ironing | Lap the paper ends aud push the ‘‘fence’
cover the basket with a big, heavy blanket | 38 inch into the soil to bold isin place.
and clothes will keep moist and not mildew | The paper shonld not come nearer to the
or sour in the hottest weather. Place the | 8tem thao about oue aud one-half inches.
basket in a cool place, especially if articles | Teste at the experiment stations show
are sprinkled at night to iron the next day. | ghas nitrate of soda is superior to both
— barnyard manure and mineral [fertilizers
To make a green mayonnaise for a vege- | for forcing the growth of tomatoes, and
tahle salad, add scalded chopped parsley to | that nitrate of soda 18 only slightly less ef-
ordinary salad dressing. fective than the complete fertilizers. These
results, bowever, do not apply in the case
of poor soils or upon heavy olays.
—Valnable information in detail about
milk will be found in Farmers’ Bulletin
863, ‘“The Use of Milk as Food,” recently
issued by the United States Department of
Agricoltare. This bulletin supercedes an
earlier one of the series and may be obtain-
ed free upon application to the Secretary
of Agriouitare, Washington, D. C.
—In Denmark the farmers are compelled
by law to destroy all weeds on their prem-
ives, and in France a farmer may prosecute
his neighbor for damages if the neighbor al-
lows weeds to go to seed. It would save
millions of dollars in thie country il laws
prevailed which prevented farmers from
growing weeds to seed on their own as well
as others’ farms.
—The asparagus beetle is a troublesome
pest, not easy to control, says Rural New-
Yorker. Chickens are fond of them and
will rid garden beds of she adults, bat, of
course, can be of little benefit in large
fields. Clean ousting, especially in ridge
culture, keepe them well under control in
spring, but the slugs or larvae do consid-
erable harm later.—Farm Journal.
—There are two drawbacks to hop pick-
ing. One is so-called hop poisoning, which
is simply a sort of Py heat or rash,
gometimes produced by contact of face and
arms with the nettle-like fuzz oo the stalks
of the bop vine. It does not affect all pick-
ers. The other is the dark staining of the
bande resulting from the resin of the blos-
som. It may be removed with the crushed
green leaves of the hop.
—A horse authority says that scabs on
the legs of horses may be easily removed by
either of the following simple remedies :
Wash well with warm water made to a
suds with castile soap and dry with a clean
cloth, Mix well one ounce of oxide of zino
ing are often perplexad as to what kind of | and three ounces of vaseline, and apply
a bathing suit to make for the chubby lit- | once each day, rubbing well into the af-
tle youngster, who is probably juss getting | fected parts. Another remedy is one table-
anxious to paddle in the waves. This can | spoonful of sulphur and three of hog's lard
be made over his own Russian blouse pat- | applied in the same way as suggested for
tern, bloomers and all. These swiss shuld the remedy above.
be made of woolen maorial, and ST | prot Harlan, of Calitoria, ba
because it does not thicken as does flannel djatoveied it tho arise), Blasi at wi)
when wet. The belt can also be used. injuring the trees or leaves in the least. He
says their work is more complete than thas
accomplished by spraying or by any ofl the
imported insects. The auts are captured
by placing a plate of sugar near an ant hill,
and when covered with ants the plate is
put in the forks of the infected tree. The
ants leave the sugar and go to work on the
scale. As scon as they all leave the sugar
the plate is placed at the foot of the tree
and as the ante come down alter having
cleaned the tree of scale, they again as.
semble on the sugar and are thus easily re-
moved to another tree.
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~The motto of chivalry ie also the
motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love
For afternoon tea toast seems to be bet-
ter liked than almost anything else. It is
thin and is ont in round or diamond-shaped
pieces.
The one-color idea has become very pop-
ular with women this summer and prom-
ises to he even more so during the autumn.
This does not only mean the dress, but aleo
the accessories to the wardrobe. It gives a
barmony effect and the unity of dress that
is pot to be had by wearing many and
varied colors. For blondes all shades of
purple from dark violet to the delicate
beliotrope are well suited. For brunettes
the favorite colors are green and blue, from
olive green and navy blue to sea green and
sky blue. For the women whose hair bas
a reddish tint brown is best, and all shades
can be nsed with good results. When ge-
leoting the color the wearer should select a
shade which is somewhat lighter than the
bair and eyes.
A dainty finish is given to the pigue gar-
ments for the baby if they are ornamented
with hand embroidery on the cape, collar
and tarn back coffs.
Lingerie coats are very often trimmed
with Irish crochet lace, and when this is
done the buttons bave fastenings of Irish
crochet to correspond.
The little pique bootees which have come
into recent popularity are made on a sole
of pique, and the whole affair is as soft and
orushable as a pocket handkerchief.
Many dainty embroidered effects are ob-
tained on these by buttonholing around the
top and by having some conning little
ique ornament or embroidered tab on the
nstep.
Pretty bibs are easily made at home by
utilizing a pookes handkerchief and sbap-
ing itso that is will fis properly and lie flat
against the little neck.
Many mothers who go to the seashore or
the lake resorts where there is good bath-
For Huckleberry Shortoake.—Sift two
heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder and
one of salt into a quart and a pint of flour.
Chop into this two tablespoonfuls of lard
or other fat and two of butter. Beat two
light, add them to a pint of sweet
milk. Make a bole in the flour, pour in
the milk and eggs and mix with a wooden
spoon. Turn out upon a pastry board and
roll into two sheets, about a third of an
inoh in thickness.
Line a biscuit pan with one
sheet, cover it three-quarters of an inch
thick with huokleberries, strew these with
granulated sugar, fit the upper shees of
dough on the pan and bake ina steady | only one.
oven until done. Cut into squares S——
send to table. Split, and eat with butter «The dutifainess of children is the
and sugar. foundation of all virtues.