Bellefonte, Pa., September 24, 1909. IN CHURCH. In front of my pew sits a maiden, A little brown wing on her hat, With its touches of tropical azare And sheen of the sun upon that. Through the rose colored pane shines a glory By which the vast shadows are stirred, Bat I pine for the spirit and splendor That painted the wing of the bird. The organ rolls down its great anthem, With the soul of u song it is blent, Bat for me, I am sick for the singiog Of one little song that is spent, The voice of the curate is gentle, “No sparrow shall fall to the ground,” But the poor, broken wing on the maiden Is mockiog the merciful sound. Close and sweet is the breath of the lilies Asleep on the altar of prayer, But my soul is athirst for the fragrance Far out In the bountiful air, Aud | wonder if ever or pever, With pinions unbroken and furled, 1 shall find the white spirit of pity Abroad at the Heart of the World, Mrs. T. W, Brown. SOUS OMBRE. Down there in the French Quarter they bad grown up ; iv ove of the fiue old honses that looked sternly opon the street and smiled only within the privacy of she walled garden where a fountain cooled the beated air aod tall palms gonarded the state- ly entrance (buge iron doors, which rarely swung open to let out the troop of merry, laughing children). Their mother, incapable of realizing the necessity of action, had drifted on with she tide, when she found herself, at the close of the war, a widow with three listle girls, agmall income, a great house, avd a horde © domestics, as incapable of taking care of themselves as was she. She made no change in her way of living ; she did not know how. Thearmories were replenished as regularly as the seasons changed, and the lissle Jarreaus presented as school as dain- ty an appearauce as though Monsienr Jar- rean still rode, watchfully, through tbe the fields of cane and no ruinous mortgages menaced the splendid estates that bad de- soended in hie family from generation to Keugsation, It bad almost broken e's bears that, as her girls grew old- er, she was forced to send them to public schools, where they not only mingled with Americans, but were taoght by them. “Mon Dien '- What will they be?’ she oried. The Americaines are so ocrnde— they bave no waoners !'"? Alas ! The time came whon Madame was forced to live in the midst of ces Americain- es. The old house out of her posses- sion, afid the terrible question of seif-sup- port presented itself. *‘What shall we do, my children ? I bave 20 little, that is nothing.” It was Jeanne, the eldest daughter, who answered this ap- “We will move aplonn ; we will take a house there ; we will have hoarders ; I will teach music. Clemence will give French lessons. Angele sball help you keep the bouse.” ‘Impossible I" said Madame Jarrean. “Never yet bas one of my house disgraced bersell thus. Ne, it shall not be, We sball etarve first.” She threw ou: her bands with a fierce gesture, ber delicate features were suffused with indiguans culor. Bat the cool, common sense of Jeanne pre- vailed, and before very long the little fami- ly were established, in a large house in the garden district, so high above Canal Street that not a sound of that other life of she old town penetrated to sadden them with vain suggestions in their brave efforts to attain iudependence. Madame Jerrean did not concen herself much about the house ; yer 30 gentie. When be came in to dinner Jeanne wouold exclaim, her eyes alight with mischief : “Le roi ! Le roi I" Clemence would make room for him to sit heside her ; hut the little Angele said nothing, would only give him one swils glance from under her long, black lashes ; and it was perhaps for this reason that bis eyes were ofteness fastened upon her de- mare face. It came about very quietly. One day Angele said to her mother, “Mamma, I have promised tomarry Andreas de Ceril- lo.” “Yon have promised to marry Andreas de Cerillo !"* cried Madame, horror-strick- en. Mon Dieu ! What are yon coming to? Is is I, your mother, who should have made a marriage for you, aod you, a hahy, tell me that you have promised to marry ! It is impossible, I say !"’ Angele laughed and repeated obstinate. ly : “I bave promised to marry Andreas. I am an American now. I will marry like au American girl, the man I love, nota man picked out for me.” “My father sail to me,” Madame Jar. rean hegan, feebly, ‘‘‘Moosienr Jarrean bas done une the honor to ask for your band. I bave promised it.” And I , ‘I thank you, my father,” avd I wasa glad aod bappy wife.” *‘Is 18 all chavged,” said Angele. “] will pever consens,”” said Madame, But she did consent in the end. The way bad been pointed ous tco long for her to be able to tiead a path of her own mak- tion of confiding to one of the boarders, in her charming broken lish, the state of wind iu which she [ herself : “Me! I wae astonish when Angele say to me, ‘Mamma, I go to marry Andreas de Cerillo.” Those girls make me astonish, tout le ens ; they are nos like the young girls thas I knew. They wish to be like the Americaines ; they wish to marry like the Americaines ; and, mon Dieu, they bave come to treat me like the Ameri- caine mothers. Is it not one outrage? Me, mysell—That Moosieur Cerillo he is reech, and is loving Angele a great deal—bar—I do not know-~me—it is all so strange and 80 out of nature—'' Bus the little Angele did nos think so. She went about now with a new light in her dark eyes. She sang more gayly in the mornings when she gave ous the linen, and she was seen sit- ting in corners, shyly rolling and whipping the dainty ruffles that are so large a pars of a creole tronsseau. The whole family rolled and whipped ruffles, and did dainsy hemstitching ; and there was many a gay laugh and jess. Andreas himsell was nos backward in adding his share to the kindly teasinge stiat brought she rich color to she young girl's soft cheeks. Tte world seemed fall of love. The balmy breath of the tea-olive filled the air. Never before bad she magnolias opened their smooth loveliness more lavishly to the moon. Never before had the roses flung their sweetnsss more prodigally upon the summer night, Every whispering breeze was laden with love, and Andreas and Angele walked in thas enchanted garden of youug hope where every Jubvay led so the altar of a united life. e dage sped, and they were counting the moments, when a change came over the life of the old town; an excitement, at first suppressed, grew into a terror that pictured issell upon she faces of the timid, thas forced the fool foolhardy into bravado, and the brave into helpfal action. As first there was only a | whisper that ‘‘the fever,” thas dread | scourge of the semi-tropical town, bad, aga:0ss ail precautions, forced itself into New Orleans. The women and obildren, wherever 16 Was possible, were sent away, and soon on the honses of the rioh and poor alike were recu the placards tbat waived the passers-by of the tainted atmosphere. Brave men aud women were organized into relief bauds, to vurse the sick and bury the dead, aud wavy fell by the roadside, aud oue of these was Andreas. No longer the night lured the lovers into the garden, no more the moth sod the fire: fly fluttered aronod them. Tue lesson of love 18 paiu, aud Angele was learning hers she thonzht it was enough that she, the window of Omere Jarrean, doors ; besides, there was and old Lisette in the kiichen, and who could ask more than to Jriok er coffee, aud to eat the delicious gumbos, for which she was so justly cele- brated ? aly It Madame $ook any interest in the wel- fare of the hoase, it was shown in her firm but conrteons, insistence upon credentials. Bhe knew too weil what was due to her, to allow the vew or the vulgar rich to peve- trate the atmosphere of aristociatio 1efine- ment which ber old name and her old sil- ver slike helped to crease. They were very brave and very cheerfal, those oreclo women. All day the two older girls went from house to house, giving their lessons ; and all day the little Angele tripped np and down the long stairs, en- couraging and scolding the old servants, who had known her as a little child ; and all day Madame, who used to sit in a high, ooo! chamber, with vines clambering over the windows, «atin a little gallery-room such as ber servants had, and mended her children’s clothes, and sighed over a past. that would never come back again. In the evenings they all made toilettes for dinuer, and they were so gay, #0 brighs, ®o full of mirth and laughter, tbat one could not imagine that they could be tired. Often they went to the cpera, and if the soles of their little shoes were not above reproach, the dimpled shoulders that rose from their simple muslin dresses were, and the sparkling, animated faces, radiant with courage and with health, drew many an ege to their box, and made youth and age alike panse beside them. Oftentimes on Sunday they had soirees. There was music and conversation, and sometimes dancing ; listle cakes and ices were banded about. Some of the borders did nos approve of this; they thonght it would he better if the lunches were less meagre and the soirees fewer. But they were frugal Americans of New England stock. Perbaps they could not know shat Shese orele girls, with sheir Celtio temper- aments, their love of exoitement, would have dropped and withered under she monotonoons existence which the hoarders would have prescribed as benefitting their poverty. What did they know of getting aliead ? What did they care? They had a home, they had the necessities of lite, and God bad planted in their hearts the neces sity of song, and so they sang. And one sang with them. He was a creole too. e was a oreole too—that is, he was a Cuban, and be bad come into their midst with a certain little air of mystery and re- Serve, which bad melted away under the genial inflaence of their home. He was some, in a swarthy way, and there was something that was melancholy in his soft dark eyes. Unlike most Cobans, he was tall and athlcticin his build. After the first barriers were passed, he took his place as prime favorite in the household, in the hours of anguigh which rhe spent ! alone while Andreas gave his very energy should open ber | and thought to the saviug of life in the stricken oisy. Oue day shey brought him home and laid bim on his bed. He knew no one and babbled incessantly. Madame Jarrean, who bad long siwce given over her old opposition to him, sat beside bim and pursed bim teudetly. Angele crept in from time to time and would stand motionless beside him, hut he seldom knew her. His oon- sciousness came and went as intervals, For the moss pare, the room was very still avd dark, aud she high bed with its cauopied top seemed like a catalalqae, and Madame sisting there, the Mother of Sor- rows. One morning Angele opened the door of the sick room aod ushered in a closely veiled woman. When she threw back her veil it was seen that she was al. most white, and that her features bore a striking resemblance to those outlined apun the pillow, a resemblance that made Madam stare baoghtily, and awakened an unea<y interest in Angele's breast. The woman did not wait to be interrouased, but advaneed swiftly and softly. “Is he asleep?’ she said. “No,” Madame answered; ‘‘he isina stupor.” e woman sank down upon her knees at the bedside and litied oneol she shin bands, kissing is passionately. Andreas opened his eyes aud gased upon her with no apparent recognition. ‘My son,’’ she said, softly, ‘‘do you not know me? My son, speak to me.” This time ber voice seemed to penetrate the dulled brain; one of the recurrent intervals of consciousuess bad come, bus the effort to remember seemed painful to him; there was almost a look of agony in his eyes. “My son," she whispered again, ‘‘do you not know me?" ‘Yes,’ he said, faintly. Madame Jarreau listened eagerly. Augele no longer flustered in the doorway. e leaned against is for support, “Mammy! My mammy,’’ said she sick man. . Madame Jarceau breathed freely. Angele closed the door softly and went away, a stiange lightness at her heart. The cetoroon rose to her feet. She was very tall aud ber black gown fell in grace: ful lines about her figure. Her bands stembled a little as she removed her: bon- vet and veil, “Yon will let me watch beside him," she said, pleadingly. Madame consented. It had been many nights sinoe she bad slept unbrokenly, and in those troublous times it was no uncom. won thing to socept service even from strangers, and Andreas bad called her “Mammy.’’ There wae so little so be done in the sick-chamber, only to watch the patient and cool the parched lips, Madame established the woman in her own obair, repeated the dootor’s instructions, aud left the room on tiptoe. and it was perhaps not uonataral that the When she came back, some hours later, ing. But «be could nos resist the tempta- |} dieas. He was raving delirionsly, and whenever bis nurse would approach him be became more violent. “She ia black, I tell you. Take her away. Bleed it out! Bleed it out!” he would cry. “Save me from that woman!" Then be would change. ‘Where is mam- wy?—I waot her—mammy, mammy!”’ he cried, like a pesalant ebild. A tortured soul looked out from the oo- toroon’s eyes. “I muss go away,” she said, desperately, “Ido him harm, not good—avd I would give my life for him.” She cangbt up her bonnet aod left the honse, For a week the chances of life and death hung evenly balanced, and every day ata certain hour a veiled woman came to ask news of the sick man. One day she found upon the door. She did not ring the bell, but passed into the house ubcballenged, and into the chamber of death. Angele was there alone, kneeling at the hedside. Everything bad been done; the figure lay calm and straight, the hands were folded on the breast, and upon the beautiful features of the Cuban wae stamp- ed the seal of divine love and strength. The woman stood silently beside the sob- bing girl. She neither spoke nor weps. Angele looked up. “Why are you here?’ she cried, fiercely. *‘Is is you who bave killed him. He was doing very well until youn came. What right have yoo—"' “I am his mother,’’ answered the woman. “Oh vo, no!" Angele said, shuddering- y. ‘‘He denied me,” the woman went on, in a montonons voice; ‘‘he called me bis nurse, and I bad borne bim. ‘Mammy,’ be called me, hecause my skin is yellow, aud he knew that your pride would make you spurs him if he told youn of that one festering drop of black blood in his veins. I let it pass when I thought that he would live, but now I have come to claim my dead! What does it matter? Black and white are the same to God.” Angele shrank from her in speechless horror, the warm blood rushed hotly through ber veins. The shame of is was more than she conld bear, The love with- in her seemed turned to hate. She gazed upon the dead man’s face with loathing. He bad deceived her,be had dared to dream of linking to ber pare blood she blood of a degraded people. It was a crime. Her tears had ceased to flow; ber bears seemed tarned to fire; she walked haughtily to- ward the door. The woman oaught her havd. “‘Ah no, do not leave me!’ she cried. ‘‘Listen and I will tell you how it happened. ‘‘I was a free woman, on? of those unfor- tunate women, too good for a negro’s wile, and pot good enough for a white man's. But one white man saw me, and loved me enough to make me his wife. Not bere, oh no; be took me to Eogland and married me there. When my son was born we were in Cuba, where no one asked why my skin was dark. “When my busband died, Andreas, who was always hot-headed, got himesell mixed up in one of the political plots thas are always going on in Cuba,and he was forced to come away—he was prescribed, and be came here to live. I followed him, to find myself once more despised, to realize that it he was to be respected, to make his way in the world, I muss keep my distance— that I must give him up. And eo I bave kept apart from him, and now—he is dead.” For the first time the woman showed emotion, She wrung her hands in av- guish. The nobler qualities of Angele’s nature awoke. She threw her arms around the woman's neck, and they wept together. **We both loved bim- yon more than [," Angele said softly. She took the mother's haod avd stood with ber for a loog time, gaziog silently upon the face of the dead. ‘*‘Auvdreas,”’ she called. The name lin- gered on the silence, but the peace of the dead face was unbroken. She drew the sheet up. “It is better that he cannot avswer,” she said. Nobody knew bat Aogele that the tall yellow woman, who stood in the back- ground as the coffin was slipped into the vault where the bone of the dead Jarreaus bad reposed for generations, was the moth- er of Andreas de Cerillo. Sometimes the girl goes to see her in the convent, where the sad and sorrowful of a despised, race find refuge; and sometimes they meet in the old St. Loais Cemetery, each with her hands fall of flowers; and sometime, God willing, the heart will blocm again, itz season of blight be over and its flowering shall be all the sweeter because of the deeper nature that God gave her in place of the child's heart which bad heen buried in the grave of her young lover; hat the heart of that other wowau, the mother, who bad been born in the shadow, would have no belated bloa- Souitg.~-By Louise C. Bowles, in Harper's sar. ——=The Paris fashionmaker bas won his greatest trinmpb. He bas stripped the veil off the faces of Mobammedan women, thereby overcoming a custom oensuries old. e Princess Hafza evidently isa young wowan with the courage of her con- viotions. She is a cousin of the Khedive of Egypt and could not reason why her fresh loveliness should be hidden by a veil from the world. She realized the Paris fashionmaker enhanced her attractiveness, #0, attired in the latest importations, she walked the streets of Cairo in trim figure and with her face uncovered. Little won- der the devout Mobammedans petitioned the Kbedive by am, by letter and orally to discipline bis daring consin. Bat what was the Khedive to do? He might exert pressure on one of his male relatives, but he was powerless before a girl of 20, defiant in ber youth and charms. He did nos interfere, and of course that inspired other Mobammedan women to follow the example of the Princess. And as a result Cairo bas become more interesting to for- eign visitors, for a lot of Oriental prettiness bas come from behind the veil. CL ————————————— Sin and Sickness. If there were no sin there would be no sickness, for ein is the ‘“‘tra on of law,” aud sickness is the punishment of that transgression. Nature accepts no ex. cusea, She punishes the malicious law breaker no more harshly than she punishes the little child who breaks the law in ig. norance. And yet suffering through ignor- ance appeals pathetically to the human Benst. igh $osse bio Young whi suflering in consequence gnorance, her hody racked with pain. Dr. Pierce’ Favor- ite Prescription comes as a God-send to those, who through ignorance, bave allow- ed disease to fasten on the delicate woman. ly organs. It always helps. Is almost always cures. ~——You miss a good thing if yon don's take the WATCHMAN. " EE —— gitls should spoil him. He was #0 big and | there was a change for the worse in An. Women the Water. All women should leara to swim. Though this fact bas been advaaced many times, but few women are able to do so. Oae of the first questions asked by the woman who realizes the necessity is: “How cap I learn to swim ?”’ It is very easy il one just determines to learn and to keep on trying until success is attained. Swimming is an accomplishments that takes a certain amounts of fearlessness, aud it is nenally the ove with this trait who learns the quick: est. One of the great faults with women in the water is that shey insist on remaining rigid. Swimming can never be accom- plished in this way. Nor can there be any ear of getting bair wet. The head must he pearly submerged. In the water the body should not be rigid, bus supple and Sey (0 bend with each movement. The position in the swimming lesson is to thruet the right arm forward, then draw it backward in a balf-circie. This is repeated with the left arm, and then again with the right. This is probably the easiest way to swim, though the heginver is apt to nee the ‘‘dog stroke,” that is, stroking with the hands up and down likea dog in the water, and allowing the feet to bang limp. Swimmiog can be accomplished in this way, but it very soon tires the swimmer on account of the strength needed in the powerful up and down strokes. Remain. iog cool is always a great help, and the slow, easy strokes are the best, better re- sults being attained and the strength heing reserved. After the swimming stroke is learned there are many other things which will come gradually to the swimmer, among them heing the resting position, where one can lie flat on one’s back in deep water. without moving a muscle, and take a good rest. Then there is the floating position, which is easy for the awimmer, by folding her arms and just keeping her head ahove the water. For those who have never heen nearer a great body of water than the bathtub it is almost useless to teach them the important strokes, as they muss first become accus- tomed to the water. Many of the best women swimmers depend very much on the powerful side strokes for their progress. ——Do you know we have the old style Sugar syrups, pure goods at 40 cents and 60 cents per gallon, Sechler & Co. Intertor of Taft Home. Eutering the Taft house on the Beverly side, the large living room on the lefs is lighted by long French windows opening on the verauda facing the ocean, and by four stained-glass windows over the land- ing on the main staircase. The sycamore paneling and wide staircase leading to the apper story and surrounding balcony both strongly suggest a typical old English conn- try seat, as does a cozy fireplace,over which is 8 mirror where lady visitois take sly ps to eee if their bats are ‘‘on straighs.” pening off the balcony, avd reached by the staircase from the living room, are six bedchambers, while she third story cou- tains additional rooms which may be used for guests, In Mrs. Taft's home one paturally ex- pects to find a music room, and, sare enough, here it is to the right of the living room. On the lefs is the beaatifal library, equipped with telephone aud telegraph service, hy which routine and cypher messages will be sens shis sammer. Be. yood the liviog room on the left she long dining room commands views of the ever. restless surf and the historic Marblehead {shore with its stirring memories of privateer ‘ days. This room, bhaodsomely paneled in En. glish oak to the heighs of lour leet, is deco rated with tapestry paper surmounted by a heavy white cornice. The solid mabog- any diving table, Chippendale buffes and colonial chairs promise solid comfort as well as suitable effects, and the greas fire place foretells thas many cozy chats around the blazing logs are in store for the Taft family when the antuwu days tinge she foliage of the North Shore and President Taft leads with increasing ardor his cohort of golfers. The Myopia links are some dis- taoce from the house, but that is a small master when there is an automobile al ways ready to dash over the dusty thoroughfares, carrying the President acd his friends to the scene of contest, —‘‘Affairs at Washing- ton,”’ Joe Mitchell Chapple, in the National Magazine. ——Do you kuow that youn can get the finest, oranges, bananas and grape fruit, aud pine apples, Sechler & Co. London Police vs. the Sociat Evil, It is agreed in London that there is no connection between the police and the social evil, and that while street-walkers are too prominently visible in many quar- ters, there has never heen a charge that they were subjected to blackmail or collec- tions. The attitude of police and public toward the social evil is very different in London from that in New York. In Loon- don they igoore ite presence unless it be- comes personally aggressive, and flaunts itself loudly and offensively. These women (and they are a hig army) are, of course, well known to the police, especially in the vicinity of the large botels and in lar thoroughlares, and they are seen at all hours of the evening, but they are never interfered with anless they com- mit an overt act of disorderly act or offensive solicitation. Their liberty is otherwise as sacred as that of the h woman in the land, and it is so laid in the rules. When the evil becomes ly offensive, plain clothes men are here. Assignation houses are policed, but I could find no trace of mail or protection money.—September Cen- tury. Hi fh ——Not merely is our ex-President des- es Sati es,” w are y from public view, and for his ve elephante, lions, bippopotami, camel. leopards, rabbits and other balf-wild beasts in the preserves of Sonth Africa. According to reports from Washington he may enjoy the singuiar prestige of having introdoced to the country one interesting but deadly tsetse fly, which produces the ‘‘sleeping sickness’’ and numbers yearly its many thousands of African victims. It is related that in unpacking several lots of Roosevelt hunting trophies at the Smithsonian Insti- tute numerous eggs of the tsetse fly were found in ekins of rabbite and bares. Steps bave been taken to thoroughly steril- ize the skins, itis said, and thus to prevent the propagation of the malignant insect and its spread over the land.— Record. ~—Do you know we have the old style sngar syraps, pure goods at 40 cents and 60 cents per gallon, Ssohler & Co. ——Subsoribe for the WATCHMAY. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN, DAILY THOUGHT. Look for goodness, look for gladness, you will find them all the while ; , If you bring a smiling visage to the gins you meet a smile. Do not look for wrong or evil, you will fisd them if you do ; Ax ¥ measure for your neighbor he will measure back to you. = Alice Cary, est fancies for the summer buogalow. This | furniture, despite iw somewbas balky and FARM NOTES. —Daring 1908 more than 4,000,000 dozens of egus were exported from the United States. Great Britain slone hongbs 2.000.000 dozen. Alaska, Hawaii aod ! Porto Rico are heavy busvers of American | eggs. —A horse that ie gentle and sale nnder ! all conditions is easily worth three times as , much a« ove of equal ability that cannot be trusted. When buying a horse look for width between the eyes, a large brain, a | pleaant look oat of the z5es and a fine cons Indian eplint furniture is among the lat- ! ruddy appearance, is by vo meaosinexpen- | sive, for the splint chair backs and seats are the strips of galvanized steel cleverly wor. en through she splints make the farnitore very durable and solid. To mateh these hig, swart looking obairs and low seats | there are splins topped tables and footstouls and splint-woven scrap haskets and the | very up-to-date bunvalow will bave splint. paveled walls divided off by uprights of weathered oak. There are many openings that show hoth auntumo aod winter site, but the balf has bas nos been shown. We kuow the gen- eral lines for this season and the trimmings as well as the fabrics. Bat it is not uotil Octobe: that we get all the many touches that really count. If ove bas to buy an autamnp sais now, and it is the fashion to do 30, the choice should be a moderate long coat and a shors plaited skirt. Is is time to purchase the winter soit when winter comes. The American woman now gets a mid-season coat and skirs of lightweight fabric, which she wears from September until Thavks- giviog, and puts away with many hopes that it will be in tashion the first of April. It is not possible in this changing cli- mate to get a suit of heavy fabric in Sep- tember and make it serve until spring. It one does not indulge in the Iuxury of the wid-season suit, it only means that one must wear faded owve piece frocks on the days that are warm and sultry. There is someathing about the first touch of cool weather that demands a coat of some kind; not for warmth, hat for looks. Is may be of linen or of heavy cotton rep , but it is a coat, avd it looks correct on the train, in the trolleys and in the shops. Its only rival is a smart one-piece gown of dark and good material. Tuese pew saits for autamn are of chev- iot, serge and homespun iu the lightest weight. The surface is rough and slightly bairy, and there is usually a stripe, 8 woven plaid effect, or a wide wale run- niog through it diagonally. Even strips of different color {rom the surface are allowed, and a bias thread of black is frequent and fashionable. The colors are green, preferred, with dall red coming next. Alter this are blue, amethyst and brown. Gray, with a hair line of black, is very much in etyle and | the small shepherd's plaid of black and gray is back in favor. In green one gets okra, fir, bottle and linden as shades. All are quite at the top of style. In red one gets deep claret, crush- ed raspberry and garnet. The latter is especially worked ont in a good looking weave of homespun called basket oloth, which has alternate blocks of garnet and black. Every one seems to unite on the fact that the reds and the greens will have everything their own way this year, not only for she street bus for the house and important social occasions. The uniform coat is 46 inches for the entire seaon, but the autumn conte are shorter. Many of them bave a narrow pavel of plaite let in down the back, and others have a three-inch stitched band of the fabric pat around the figure about two inohes below the hip live. This hand ie only attached at the npper edge. It seems to be quite a smart touch on many of the high-priced coats, and is nsed on the short as well as the long ones. On she latter it dips down a listle at the back, bunt this is not a pretty line for a short coat. Nearly all the models have the shaw! collar, and do not begin to fasten until the waist line is reached. An inch or two above it is allowable for the first button, bat the entire effect must he shat of a loose top and a tight fit over the hips and to the knees. Not that the coats curve in below the waist a2 they ozce did hy means of nar- rowed gores, bat they are fastened snugly over the hips, and then fall into straight lines against the figure. The skirts are plaited; not in the Moyen age style, for that is ont. The plaits are irregular and paneled and placed at dif ferent depths around the hip line. Even with this fulness introdnced there must be no flare at the hem. The line must be en- tirely straight, and this can be obtained hy omitting a petticoat. If one must wear the latter garment, shen a straight narrow one is the thing with only a knife plaiting at the edge. A ruffle throws the hem of the outer skirt out of plumb, The wide shawl collar or rever, as you may choose to call it, is faced with Otto- man or velvet or moire, hut not with satin. That fashion seems to bave been eolipsed. Well, pretty as it was it has bad a long reign and been very mach abused. Some of these hats have hecoming brims turned back s! ly atthe side something after the style of the summer hat, while others are in tricorne shape. In colors there are new greens, blue, browns and swoke grays, while the trimmings are of the simplest variety. One of the prestiess of the beaver bats is in a soft shade of gray. The brim is turn- ed baclr sharply across the front, and lasten- ed to the crown with mercary wings. Hall the of smartness in a bat is the way it is eet on the head, saye a famous milliner in The Housekeeper. This is the reason provincial millinery #0 often betrays itself to the urban eye. Sha and mode of trimming may be quite fanit- less ex of the pre mode ; colors may be indubitably correct, bat-- the hat is put on wrong and there’s the end of is. Often the last citified whim of ad- jnsting a hat seems intensely exaggerated to the woman not aconstomed to the new le—just as the Paris millinery for fall, with its smashed down. eclipsing effect over the diminished ooiffare, i= startling New York at this very mute. All the new fall bate set well down on the head and they bave large head sizes and slanting brims which inorease this low effect. If a bandean ie used it is one of the flat, disk- like affairs which serve not in the least to raise the bas, but only to keep it from slid- ing Som pletely over the wearer’s ears. And the fall bats are to be tip-tilted to one side just a wee bit whenever there is a roll brim to exouse it, In fact, all the new styles seem to hint at coguetry and bewitching obarm rather than the dignity and olassio stateliness of the mode just past. | get used to is. | lished by fowls. mounted in frames of weathered oak and | Jon Tn of hair. —Piotessor James E. Rice, in bis Cornell Reading Courses for Farmers, says corn is an excelleot grain, It is, perhaps, the grain Therein lies the davge:r. Fowles eat it so greedily that, 18 being a fattening food, ihey are likely to become over-fas if it is feed too frequently. ~In beginning to feed pew corn and corn fodder to any avimals, feed only a fall awoont at a time votil the animals With horses on dry bay aod gran, gradually reduce the dry feed and gradually increase the new corn. New corn, stalk and ail, is nutritious, easily digestible, and very palatable. —An experienced horseman bas found equal parte of corn and oats ground to- gether to be one of the best grain rations tor growiog colts, Is furvisbes elements veeded for the production of fas, bone and muscle. Adding bran or linseed meal to the ration aids very much iu keeping the bowels regular, and avoids constipation, aud iu this way lessens the liahilisy of dis- ease. —Tbe South Jersey ponltrymen stall- feed to a certain extent. They give only the purest of food, do not allow too much exercise, and two weeks before markesin, the stock is placed in fattening pens . thus put into a condition where the meat is soft and tender and the carcass plump and fat. That is South Jersey's secres, and Jae is what wade ‘‘Philadelphia poultry’? amous. —Lewis Roesch, the veteran nursery- man, says the beet time to plant every Bing except strawberries, black raspberries an perbaps peaches, is in the fall, say from October 15th antil the ground freezes up. The nexs best time is as early in the spring | as the ground is dry enough to work. In case the ground to he planted is exposed to severe winds or else is #0 damp as to heave io winter all stock bad better be planted in spring. —As from 700 to 800 people are killed, twice as many ivjured and an immense amount of property destroyed by lighting every year, Professor Henry, of the Weath- er Bureau, thinks more attention should be given to protection from lightving. The professor bas recently prepared a paper on this subject, and is ha® heen published as Farmers’ Bulletin No. 367, of the United States Department of Agriculture, and will be sent free. —The “Jersey brand’’ of dressed poultry bas probably a bester commercial record than poultry from any other section of the country. It stands well in the front and commands the highess prices, especially in the New England aod the New York city markets. In these markets it is kuown as ‘‘Philadelphia poultry,” although the pro- duct is pot grown in Philadelpbia, but principally comes from the southern part of New Jersey. ~The United States Department of Agri- caltore is conducting experiments in the manufacture of oil from potatoes, by the introduction of four varieties of coarse, heavy,starch-producing potatoes from Mos- cow, Rus<ia. These are sorts adapted to the steppe region of Russia, and are be- lieved to be promising for our Great Plaine. It is hoped that these potatoes will demon. strate whetber it will be profitable for our farmers to grow a sp cial alcohol crop. —The best time for the principal prun- ing of grape vives is soon after the leaves drop in autumn, hut pruuing can he done in any time during the winter when the vines are not frozen. Summer pruniog consists in pinchivg lateral branches in or- der to encourage the development of the fruit and the bearing wood for the snceeed- ing year. The pruning for the first two years must he done with reference to the system ander which the vine is to be train- ed after it begins fruiting. Daring this time the vine shonld hecome thoroughly established. —Althoogh less is beard of late years about the Rocky Ford melon of Colorado, | that section has been sending lage ship- ments east, and is is thought the crop will amonnt to ahont BOO car loads. ese veem to be well known varieties, the repu- tation of the Rocky Ford melons depending upon the high flavor brooght about by the sonny climate of that section rather than to any difference in varieties. These Rocky Ford melons seem to have hrought pretty good prices in the east, in a season when the market was very much over-sapplied with moskmeloos and cantalonpes from other sections. ‘ —Twenty-five dollars a bushel, or about 75 cents each, is the price paid an Oregon orobardiet for wo boxes of apples for Presi- dent Taft. The high price was handed over by a keen admirer of the big Presi- dent. The apples selected are of the win- ter bavana v , big, golden-bued pomes Mi a blush of yu on 938 Gide wud a vor suggestiog the tropical fruit from which is gets its name. It is asserted thas they will be the finest boxes of apples ever in this country. The bushel boxes in which the fruit will be packed will bold aboat 36 es, #0 the little s will stand Mr. ’s friend $50 for about 72 apples. —A specimen of insect, taken from a Carolina poplar tree, was received at the Division of Zool of the Pennsylvania Department of be from Columbia county. The person sending it said thas two trees bad heen badly eaten by insects, which bore through the bark, then work np towards the heart of the tree, making a hole six or eight inches long, and larger than a lead pencil. He wanted to know Widiber the “‘bug’’ was the cause of the ng. State Zoologist Surface replied as follows: “I think I recognize the description of the boring of your Carolina poplar trees as being done by the insect known as the larva of the Goat Moth. Yon can best destro this boring larva hy .njecting carbon bisul- fide into the holes, using a spring bottom oi! can, and then close them with mud. The beetle which you dug from ove of the boles and sent to us ie not cae of the borers, but was doubtless feeding on some of the ap within the hole which was left by the er. A Waste of Time, Most men fool away so much valuable time trying to be like somebody elce thas they have no chance to a mount to any- thing as themselves.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers