1 do not need to know what stones and stubble
Have bruised and hurt my sister's tender feets’
Mive but to lead her for one restful moment
Where wayside grasses spring up cool and
aweet,
1 may not know on what fierce field of conflict
My brother man received his battie-scars,
«Or on what plains of agony he suffered,
Lying all night beneath ihe watching stars;
The tale belongs to him and to his Maker—
For record of the past I may not eall;
Where angels pause, | would not seek to enter,
J know he is my brother, that is all.
1 need not know what load the pilgrim carries,
1 may not peep within that covered pack;
Bat | can place a hand beneath the burden
To help along upon the upward track.
Qur earth sight ever shall be finite,
Bat with the Infinite we share che right divine,
«On aching wound and smarting bruise and blis
ter
In soothing drops to pour the oil and wine,
To love is greater than lo reason,
To serve is better than to know;
The God that limited our human vision
Decreed for us that it is better so,
~—By Blanche E. Dunham,
THE OLD THING.
So Kathie's coming home, is she?’’ said
Judge Lamb, “Well, well, who'd have
shoughs it after more than twenty years of
Europe! It's a pretty sudden move, eh?
By the look of you, I should say you bad
something to do with it, young man.”
“Oh, vo,” answered Jerry Fetterling
modestly, “I only pointed ont what was
she matter with her.”
hud what ids 4b rs ol ba
“Well, to put it tively, roots
were thirsty for her native soil.”
“Hompb! Did you tell ber that the old
homestead was to be sold?”
“Yes, I told her thas. Perbaps she
means to bay it and —well, settle in.”
“Alone?”
“As to that I can’s say,” said Jerry,
with a touch of color in his brown face.
“Bat I hope —"
“Oh, you hope!’ said the Judge, sar-
donically. “I see.”
The young engineer looked worried: *'I
wish J did}”
Then ove day in mid-April Katherine
Brodie arrived, in a whirl of snow that
bowed down the blossoming apple trees.
She was nos mes at the station, for she bad
sens no word of her coming, being anxious
fo steal back into her old place aud get the
home feeling again before any one should
koow that she was there.
As the train moved away, she stood
apart on the platform, looking rather wist-
fully from face to face. They were all
stravge to her and yet now and again one
wad oddly familiar, aa if it belooged to
some kindred of the people she bad known
many years before.
The station was muoh like her memor
Jisture of is, but smaller and dingier. It
ed a= if its walle had not been painted
or its stove blacked since abe left Centre
ville; while even the square wooden spit.
toons seemed to hold the accumulations of
years. The one ‘“‘back’’ had the rame
musty blue curtains that she remembered,
only the driver was strange, The street
leading up into the town was horrible, as
she had seen it before, with a mixture of
mud and snow and grit from the blast.
faroace; and she growth of the town seemed
to be marked chiefly hy an ioorease of tin
onos and advertising boards in the vacant
ota.
When the hack had creaked and splashed
round the corner by the post office, Kath:
erine shut her eyes for a moments, afraid to
look at she old hamestead in which three
generations of her family bad lived and
died. Then, with a leap of the heart, she
reaiized thas is was not so changed. To bz
sare, the brickwork looked dingy and the
garden uukemps over agaioss the new hotel
that now hid tbe river and the caval, and
a For Sale sign havg on the front gate; but
the steep gable, like thas of a Dutoh farm.
house, the little Gothic porch, she shady
front yard with its shraobs along the fence,
and she kitohen standing apart fiom the
honse, were, at first glance, most comfors-
the same. Yet even as she lingered
there, she disillusionment began; a broad
walk bad replaced the tao-bark path, the
flowering quince ander whioh she used to
lie and sing and dream and catob lady- birds
in the tall striped grass, bad disappeared,
and the old peach tree from which she used
seoretly to collect the only chewing-gum
she ever knew—the peach was plainly a
le!
Toe kitchen door opened and a womaa
came out, shielding her face with a sho wl
against the wind. Katherine gave a listle
ery because the re was so familiar and
the face was altered and showed no
eign of recognition antil she herself called
out, “Sophie.” Then only some look or
triok of the voice bronght back memory,
#0 that she was welcomed home by the old
woman who had served three generations
To is enough Katherine's first
was erine’s firs
question: ‘Sophie, it was a peach tree,
wasn’t it?’ And when Sophie bad made
out her meaning, she answered: *‘1 mind
it was struck by lightning, and Jone grand.
father set ont a young maple, the very day
be was took bad. It was the inst tree he
planted.”
“Twenty years ago,’”” murmured Ksth-
erine, and found hersell wringing ber
hands,
There was the white-pillared, brick:
floored veranda, but the great sestle with
its green chintz cover was gone; and she
had no heart to look ap among the rafters
for her old swing, . . .
Saddenly she gave a little piteous ory
that hronght Sophie to her side: ‘Where
is the well?”
“We've had the town water laid on this
ten years and more,’”’ was the proud an.
swer. “Yoor Aant Esther alwaye liked to
keep things up as long as she lived. It's
only since . . . but perhaps whoever hays
the plage . . . but your grandfather
wouldn’t have liked to see it in strange
bande, wonld he? . . . The trunks is in,
and I'll be getting youn some supper, if you
doa’t mind being by yourself a little.”
But Katherine sparcely heard. The well
was filled up—the deep well which, as a
child, she ued $0 believe, wens th h
the earth #0 that there was always a thrill.
fog chance that a pig-tailed Chinaman
TE be bauled up in the bucket. It was
choked and grass ew over its grave! With
loss, she saurned the
place was already in t and
the farniture was indistinet, bus the air, or
the shadowy outlines of the walls, or some-
|
ty
Hi]
th
ref
|
li
i
EpEggee
£if
i
1
iF
i
aod sewing baskets and toys and “‘good-
ies.” Nay. her memory served to replace
the look and position of each obair and
table, and of the very pictures on the
walle. The rocker in which she was sis-
ting--surely, yes, it stood by the
—would be that in which grandfather had
often orooned her to sleep.
But even ae she realized that ber hands
“Your Aunt Esther alwaye liked things
up to date,’’ said Sophie proudly,and add-
edsthas supper was ready.
That night, Katherine oried herself to
tleep with a feeling of utter desolation. All
these years she lived with Aunt Nina
across she seas, not dreaming that her life
was fatile until Jerry Fetterling came and
explained her likeness toa trzneplanted
tree that had never taken proper root. But
for him she thought in some anger, by this
time she might bave been married to
Hayward. Then she remembered
how Jerry had said, *“‘Couldn’s call bim
Tom, could you?’ and her anger melted
into a faint gratitade that this fate at least
she had escaped. But, nevertheless, she
was passionstely disappointed. Her sense
of vague uorest bad found relief in the
thought that what she needed was to come
home and take root among the old things;
and now she was bere, and the old things
bad vanished down the stream of the
years,
In the morning she bad a visitor before
she bad left she breaklast-table—Jerry
Fetterliog. He bad brushed past Sophie
withoas ceremony:
“I bad to be the firsts. It's all over the
town, though, that you're back. I heard
it on my way to the office. Is that cap of
your Eoglish tea, I guess. And how does
it feel to be here? Pretty goon?"
‘“‘Hateful!’’ she said bisterly. ‘The old
things are all gone!"
He was clearly puzzled: “Whas things?’
“I mean thas this place is all ebanged
and shere’s nobody lefs bat Sophie, and
what on earth oan [ do with myself ¥"’
*‘Bus youn koew all that helore you came,
didn’s you ?"’
“Ob, you wonldn't uoderstand ! It was
foolish of me, of course ; but I bad a feel-
ing that if I came back here where I was so
happy as a child—perbaps something of it
—the old joy, I meaun—might return ! Bat
there’s only the empty shell lefs of every-
thing I ioved !"
‘‘Give voarsell time —give yoursell a lit.
tle time,’’ he urged.
But she remained uncomforted : “Time
won's bring them back.’
He did not know exactly to what the
‘‘them’’ referred, hus he thought is safe to
«ay : “No, bas it will belp you to settle in
aud find things natural. You'll do it fast
enough. I know how I felt for the first
week or two after I came home from Ea-
rope ; then I buckled down to work and
was all right.”
“Iv’s differents with you,” she said sor-
rowfally. “Yon had your work. Bat
whatever shall I find so do in this place ?"’
He leaned his elbow on she stable and
his obin in his hand, stodyivg her a while
bel.re he answered : ‘What did yoa do in
the Old World? Eat and sleep and dress
and go to church and shows and parties,
and read a bit and make calls? . . . They
do all shose things here,”
She shook her head with soft persistence:
‘You don’t understand the difference.”
Still he looked at ber, stadying her deli-
cate, piquant fsce, her graceful ease of
speech avd manner, her neatral-tinted
gown ; and he admitted presently : ‘Yes,
I think I do—more or less. But we're all
human here jast the same. Yoa'll give ue
a fair trial, won't you ?"’
“Oh, I came to do shas,’’ she said.
He astempted argument: ‘‘You see,
after ail, yon belong here as much as [ do.”
Butshe would not agree to that : **Your
e are still alive I"
e tried a forlorn sort of humor : “Well,
you'll ind this town isn’t as dead as yoo
teem to think, and you've no end of couns-
ins §
“Ab, consins,” she answered remotely,
and avgered him.
“Good Lord I" be retorted with some
heat. *‘If you can’t find any other oconpa-
tion, you might just vet to work to civil
the place !"’
’ She was JUE0 ats Suniuljdon vies dhe
ifted softly re; eyes to bis, saying:
“Ob, Jerry, Jerry ! See what yon have got
me indo I"?
away to the window, returned and stood
leaning over her, red bus determined ; ‘If
you treat me that way again, I eball call
you Kathie, and yon must make the best
A good deal more was to be read in
his face than his words implied.
She bis her lip, frowned, then smiled,
finally said : ‘I never can remember thas
Pe are grown up, or take you quite ser.
ously."
He did not anbend : “You said some:
thing of the sort in London ; and—it’'s a
pretty serious matter for me.”
She was suddenly penitent :
~]""—and could go no farther.
“Never mind,” said be. ‘‘You either
will or you won't—the Lord knows which;
and I suppose I shall, some day !”’ There
upon he departed abruptly, almost without
leave-taking.
Very soon after, Judge Lamb harried in:
“Well Kathie, well ! Glad to see you ! Bat
you might have wired. It's been a long
time singe you went away. Are you really
going to buy she old place and settle in
and —marry somebody here?"
“Who told
She reddened with anger:
yoo all that #"’
“Nobody. Guoessed it,’’ said he, with a
twinkle, adding: yg might do Wore)
She was a granted: ‘‘Yes,
perhaps I Tes worse, But indeed —
it was only that I was homesick for—the
old things ; and just now I miss more those
Jins are gone than I care for those that are
t.
The Judge did not pursue this theme,
bus said reflectively : ‘I never could un-
derstand shis business of running a
from your own country. It's good
for me. Plenty ol breathing space and
| plenty of money, if you've your wits about
“I'm sorry
coffee for me? [+t will taste bester ban
He pushed back his chair and walked |
you. Come now, honestly, tell me what
you find over there—aoross the pond —thas
we can’t give you 2 “at
I'm afraid Ican’s explain. IV's vot that
there’s more to live upon—but more— well
art of living.”
avAnd Shas do Jou mean by ‘ars of liv.
asked cousin, very sceptical.
TO aio ho So she, feeling sure that
be would not understand, “it’s a question
of of relative values. You
Te ee et
proportion
Sellout ,, hades of meaning—and all
“Kathie,” interrupted Judge Lamb,
“I’m a plain mao and I don’t know what
you're talking about. All I can is, we'd
be mighty glad to bave you stay with us;
bat if you feel like that, I’m afraid you
don’t belong bere.”
“Buve} aa she, lifting publ
eyes, ‘I don’ there guite. There
pot much d it’s infinitesimal,
bat it exista—I les! is, and feel it, the
Eoglish, and I'm afraid is will never van.
ish. And if I come back here, there’s more
than twenty years of Eogland to live down
—Y00 See———"" :
“Well,” said the Judge, ‘‘you know
on’re welcome $0 stay in the old honse as
ong as you like—unless an unex
purchaser should sarn ap; and in thas case
we shall always be glad to bave you at our
place. The family will be descending on
you soon. I must beoff . . . You'll bave
to put up with a lot of callers, I guess.”
er cousin was right. All Centreville
came; at leas, all the women, in their best
clothes of the latest fashion but one ; and
they talked politely of the great world
with which Katherine was familiar, and
showed as much uaintance as ble
with Royalty and Nobility and of
Interest; and they invited ber to come and
see their babies and to attend club meet.
ings and oburch sappers; and even, as they
grew better acquainted, offered to teach her
the latest shing iv fanoy work. .
It was a slow and—to Katherine—dreary
business, Bridging over the gape, scoial and
intellectual, between Centreville and Lon-
don. More than once during the frst
week, she was on the point of cabling to
Aont Nina that she would return. She
went to varione club meetings, admired all
the bahies, attended dutilally to the fancy
work, imparted such knowledge as she had
of the world of dresa outeide, and won for
herself a degree of popularity—with re-
serves. Centreville felt that she did not
give herself with the heartiness that mighs
be expected of Deacon Brodie’'s daughter ;
while she, in turn, conscious that many
things in which she was interested, would
be as upintelligible as Saoskrit to her
neighbors, felt hound to keep safely with.
in the narrow circle of each day for issell,
Is was a positive relief one afternoon, when
Jerzy Feiterling came to drive her ons to
his home. To bim at least she could talk
freely.
She waited with eagerness for his quick
“Well, how are things going ?"’
“*Not at all,’ she auswered, shaking her
head sadly. ‘Is won't do, I'm afraid. Bas
I’m giving it a fair trial.”
“Centreville 2’' said Jerry, and added
with unusual griwvess : *'I hope it is prop.
erly grateful.”
“Don’t be sarcastio,’”’ she pleaded. *'I
want to talk to you—reasonably.”’
“Very well," said he, still uot without
histerness. ‘‘Sarcasm is noreasonable, isn’s
it?—in a place as—what’s the word ?—
primitive as Cenmieville.”” Before she could
avswer, they came out on she river-bank,
with she open hills beyond. ‘‘Anvway,”
| said be, ‘‘it's pice convsry, isn’t it? Yun
know all about that eors of thing ; aud is
doesn’t change.”
“Bas,” she protested, with her pretty
smile, “‘oue can’s live by scenery alone.”
And agaiv he was stirred to anger : “Youn
seen to think we are altogether impossible!
Is human patore ¢o different in Eoglana?’'
‘‘If you were impossible,” she appeased
him, ‘‘should I be talking to you like shi?
Bot shose women !"’
Her challenge irritated him, and yes be
scarcely knew how to set about the defence.
“I knew yon were different,” he said,
moodily flicking his whip. “'Of course I
koew shat--and yet I hoped. ... Yon
mu«t have somethivg in common with
them, if you counid only find is ous !”’
“Oh !I'" she cried, in grieved that
he should place her eo apart; bus he would
nos retract. “‘I suppose your place is over
there !"?
Aud after that there was an uncomfort-
able silence besween them until they reach-
ed the hollow in the wood where she look-
ed to find the square brown house of which
Jerry had spoken to her in London. For
a mowent, she thought her memory had
failed ber, ther she saw that somebody.
Jerry, no doabt--had been busy with paint-
and additions until the old-fashioned
estead was become a gingerbread villa,
Within, it was no beer. He pad spared
no expense on carpets oartains, suites
2 furiniture gud sets = bok) 1 haves.
ess, uninteresting, ex ve. A
savor of individuality had been carefully
removed. The worss of it was, she had a
baunting suspicion thas this renovation
which bad come about recently, was a
Jitetiue attempt to be more in accord with
own ideals; and she had a momentary
impulse to ran away to the other end of
the world.
Nor bad Jerry confined his efforts to his
home. He bad persuaded his father from
cowhide and homespun into broadeloth
and patent leather, his mother to lay aside
the gi apron thas alone might have
afforded solace to her idle bands ; he had
encouraged his little sister into finery and
bad given her unwisely of art jewelry.
They were all very nervous, very anxious
and very still until Katherine began to
talk of Jerry; and ihen they unbens to an
alarming degree. She could see all too
plainly, whether i fault or their own
shrewd ng, were keyed into an
expeotal of having soon to deal with her
as one of the family. Her indiguation was
turned into amusement when she saw the
discomfort on Jerry's face; be deserved the
ponishment, she thought.
They had scarcely turned hack out of
the lave,on the drive back into town, when
he faced her with a quick ‘‘So that’s a fail-
are, too I"
She chose to misunderstand him : “You
should have left them as they were.”
It was his turn to look bewildered :
“What ”
“Your home—r our people. You've only
made them nnnasaral and unbappy. For.
give me—I koow I'm im nent.”
It was a long time he answered.
She glanced at him shyly several times.
His face was hard-set, as she could see even
in the swilight ; bat sbe had no clue to his
thought nntil be broke out with : “There !
I hope that's over ! I saw the moment you
entered the honse what a——{fool I'd been!
We're different, Su ana I—as different as
Centreville and . But it can’ go
on, koow.”’
hat _ » She asked Seny. ik
m re not your m
I'm nok Joureart: | Wint's the Seog of iy
fret abous it; it’s not your fault,”
he said, after a long silence.
And again, when they were near Centre-
“There are some things pass a man’s
And still farther, when he drew up at
the door of her bouse : *'I hope you—don’s
mind whas I said. Tt was rather an ous-
break and-- I'm ac . I'd been castle-
building.-wi y lepndation, it seems,
and I muss n_ “80 forgive that, $00.”
He was arrested by a curious little sound
as of a hasty intake of breath; and looking
to her suddenly, found thickly gathered
tears in her eyes.
“Will you come in ?"’ she stammered in
confusion; and after a moment, he tied up
his horse and followed ber into the big par-
lor with its amber-shaded lamp.
She was standing y the table, drawing
off ber gloves; a Yor all her invitation,
she seemed to fir” “ing to say.
A te A WATE UP Tost
ong e things ng it
tween his fi : “This would look
mighty out of in my old home.”
A sudden gleam of laughter crossed her
trouble : ‘“Nos as your home is now. That
is what is the matter. You've tried to pus
your family into suede gloves and
don’t fit. You should have kept to the old
things. . . . I should have liked it all as--
as you told me about it--over there.”
He was v pale, even in the ruddy
light, and with great difficulty managed to
get out : “What am I to understand ?"’
She turned away her face, saying almost
inandibly : “It’s very--hard on the wom-
an--when the man is--stupid or--shy.’’
Thereupon he went round the table and
seiziog her elbow, drew her, not strongly
resisting, within the oircle of light. In
sheer nervousness she wens on : ‘‘Some-
times people pnt a false valoe on—things.
I wanted to come back to the old life—not
the farnitare; and all that gave it a value
is gove. 1 waoted—but Ididn’s know it
until today—wbat —'’
Then he was not so stupid : *‘Could I
possibly give it to you, do you think ?*’
She only smiled by way of answer ; hat
her eyes and on her lips he read invita-
tion,
And when presently he said : ‘I can’t
believe it yes. When I remember how you
feel about the old things —*"
‘Bat, Jerry,’ she interrupted softly,
““ian’t love the oldest thing in the world *’
--By Edith Ricket.
It has been remarked that when rain
falls in the desert it at once hegins to
develop verdare and beauty. These arid
stretches of sand contain in themselves the
elements of beauty, only needing the pro-
per conditions to reveal all that lies hidden
beneath the bleak and barren sarface.
Something like this is the condition of the
buman hedy, Health is every one’s pre-
rogative, Yet people live along in suffer.
ing aod sickness, not realizing shat the fair
flower of health would spring up in this
harren life of theirs noder 1ighs conditions.
What rain is to the desert Dr. Pierce's
Golden Medical Discovery is to the body.
Is vitalizes and vivifies. It takes the
germs of health and makes them fruitful.
Is pushes ont the blood taints and foul dis.
eases which mar and maim the body and in
place gives an increased flow of pure blood,
whioh nourishes and builds up the body in
ail its parts and organs. The blood is the
life. The *‘Discovery’’ makes new life by
making new blood.
——Do you know we have the old style
sugar syrops, pare goods at 40 cents and
60 cents per gallon, Sechler & Co.
——*"You accuse this aviator of trespass
ing in your garden ?"’
“Yes, judge. I caught him among my
air currents.”
Nearly every woman who spends a few
days ont of she city should bave a well-fit-
ting, jaunty sweater. Besides the recog-
nized warmth of this important article, the
style element enters largely into this fall’s
showing, ne long oh Sum Ye
n vogue season, and it is a
gray, white and other plain colors, with
ittle color touches on the border.
——Do you know that you can ges the
finest oranges, banannas and grape frais,
and pine apples, Sechler & Co.
Good looks are coveted by every woman.
There is hardly any sacrifice which a true
woman will not make to ber com-
plexion from the rude assaults of time.
Bas good looks are absolutely incompatible
with a diseased condition of the delicate
womanly . Hollow eves, a sallow
complexion and a wriokied skin, quickly
the woman whose fanotions are ir-
regular, or who is a snfferer from ‘‘female
weakness. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Preserip-
tion has heen taken by many a woman
simply in hope of a oure of prost dis-
eases, who, to her astonishment has found
the roses booming anew on her cheeks at
the result of she cure of her diseased condi-
tion. ‘‘Favorite Presoription’’ makes
woman healthy, and health ia Natare's
own cosmetic.
font
~—Dentist— Youn should have taken
as [ suggested, sir. You would have
no pain. Vietim—Me take gss | Me, with
£20 in my pooket ! No fear. Get it over.
—Keeping cabbages : Select a dry place
in the patch, pull up the cabbages and
staad closely ther, heads down. Cover
with soil from five to ten inches, thinly at
first so they will not heat, covering only
enough to prevent as the season
ad vances, burying may be made
from four to six feet wide.
~——Do you know where to get the finest
canned goods and dried fruits, Seohler &
Co.
~——Mre. Knioker—How do yon make
your books balance ? Mrs. Booker—That's
easy. I always spend the exact sum I re.
ceive right away.
——Do you know where to get the finse
teas, coffees and spices, Seohler & Co.
Do you think I can stand an opera-
tion, dootor ?"’
“You know your financial condition bet.
ter than I do.”
~—Anger is 8 stove cast into a wasps’
nest. !
i
! affair.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
DAILY THOUGHT. .
We can fix our eyes on perfection, and make
almost everything speed toward it.— Channing.
Chamois gloves will be worn all winter
in the morning and for sports, and this
means a to the woman who must
consider ex; iture carefully, for there is
no glove so economical. The best quality
short ones can always be bad for $1.00 or
$1 25 a pair, smartly finished with picked
seams and arrow When washing
them remember to les them dry slowly in
a cool place, away from the fire or radiator,
otherwise they will be stiff and bard.
In rearranging an old gown some of the
touches noticed in pew models may be
adapted with good effect. One of these is
a shirred ribbon girdle, carried across she
front of the waist only, with plain loops to
stand ous at either side. The ribbon is
about three inches wide, the shirrings run
from edge to edge without heading. From
under loops she ribbon is carried round
the back of the waist. This makes a very
pretty belt acd one that will be quite out
of the common.
The fashion for rough cloths, such as
twisted zibelines, widn wale cheviots, Eng-
lish homespun and diagonal serge have
made the cape an artistic possibility. The
new ones are quite enchanting. ey are
circular; but narrow, with long slits at the
sides for she arms,
They are fastened in fronts with olive-
shaped jet buttons through bustonholes
that are cus a la Chinese eyebrows. The
latter was hroughs out last spring on linen
coat suits, and it is to be quite popular this
winter.
These capes come to the shoe tops if not
to the ankles. They are modeled after the
Sidsime, opera cloak which every woman
possessed.
The style will rule for evening, but in
satiny materials. White will be tabooed
as much a= it bas been for the last two
years; vivid colors will be uvsed instead,
such as the new pink and peacock green,
king's blue and amethyst. These will be
antrimmed except for the velves or fur col-
lar, whichever a woman prefers.
Those for country wear, for traveling,
aud especially for motoring, are of green
zibeline or Havana brown cheviet. Some
bave shaded stripes on the bias which are
quite effective.
For motoring there ie a new cap, quite
smart indeed, made of the same material
smoothly stretcbed over a erinoline founda-
tion with two stitched pieces like ear tip-
pets applied at the sides, from which flows
a voluminous chiffon veil,
Those who like the comfort and ease of
the jersey made of silk webbing hope that
it will become accepted as a good fashion,
but they doubt is. They have good reason
for their fears. It is quite trae that the
jersey idea is already adopted on the best
house gowns, hut whether the garment
itself will hecome the substitate for a shiri-
waist, which it once was, is the question,
The majority of women do not care for it,
but the young girls are readily taking it
up. For such it is quite pretty, espcoially
in gray, and cream, and white, worn under
their everyday suits of rough, dark serge.
This taro of affairs does not make for
economy. For years the American. woman
bae worn her high-priced coat suit with a
separate hlouse to almost every day time
She has overdone the thing, bus she
was defiant abous it, and as she certainly
looked smart and trim in it, criticism was
feeble. This season she must wear a long
skirt for school affairs, or if she rebels, she
must wear 8 one-piece frock and a top coat,
The new street wnit is going to be as
rongh and ae trig and as unadorned asa
man’s suit. It is to stand alone. She can
have as many other elaborate costumes as
she wishes, bat on the streetand in the
morning she will dress as a typical Ameri-
can woman; no more fuss and feathers, hus
as well-groomed and harnessed as a thor-
oughbred horse. .
A claret cup is always a favorite hev-
erage. Dissolve six lamps of sugar in a lit-
tle water, then add one liguenr jptandfel of
rum, two pints of good claret, jnice of one
lemon and one orange and one lime sliced
thin. Place the paring of a encumber and
& large piece of ice in a pitcher. Stir thor-
oughly and in a few minutes remove the
cucumber rind. Pur 10 one hottle of soda
and add a baoch of mins.
—
Rbabarb Sherbet.—As well as being a
very refreshing bev this ie a moet
wholesome drink for children. Boil seven:
or eight stalks of rhubarb ina quart of
waiter for 10 mioutes. Strain the ligoor
into a pitcher, in which you have the thin
rind of one lemon; add two heaping table-
spoonfuls of sugar. Let it stand for a few
hours and it will be ready for nse.
Moire has invaded the realm of the
blouse ; supple moire, which is lustrous
aud lends itself to graceful adaptions in
tailored designe, is of course, the material
to which we refer. The watered effect
gives generally enough ornamentation and
allows extreme simplicity of line in the
making of the waist. It is sometimes deco-
rated with cable, whioh is covered with
the same material. But this fabric loses if
treated in elaborate syle.
It looks very much as though the short.
skirted coat suit would be only worn this
searon for strictly informal hours. This
includes all morning affairs, except, of
course, a ncon wedding, but these are be-
coming more scarce each season.
Everything will be dove to make these
suits unfit for even casual social occasions,
To begin with, smooth materials are ont,
and coarse, rough ones are in. And never
ha a shaggy material look well in a draw-
room.
The skirt will be cut to the instep, if not
to the ankle. The coat will be any | h
that is becoming to the figure, bus prefer-
ably forty-six inches, The polonaise is
influencing everything.
Braid will not be used to any extent.
Buttons will be of the ma touched
with jet and in a hone rim, or of hone
itself. The only ornament will be she big
shawl collar moire, Ottoman silk or
panne velvet. In truth, the coat suit, as
the smart woman will wear it, is again
strictly American. It bas drilted from
under the influence of the Frenoh. This
is as it should be. The sturdy, sensible,
weil-filted coat suit for the open is an
Anglo-Saxon production, and no other
country cat. make it or wear it,
wDo you know that you can get the
finest, oranges, bananas and grape fruit,
~—Cows that are aliowed to go dry too
long never attain their best.
—Provide some device for su wa
ter in the stable for the cows. Ppiying
—The cows that bave the most comfort
are the ones that give the owner the most
profis.
— More than one horse has been ruined
for life hy being made to pull bard when
young.
—Daon’t lorges the calves aud yearlings.
Don’s leave them out in the cold nights
until they are pinched and baggard.
—Go down to the stable before bedtime
and see that everyshiug is all right with the
boises. You may save a good horse by
juss thas listle thing.
—An easy way to fight lice is to drive
down posts in the yard; wind ao old bran
sack soaked in orade kerosene about is and
let the hogs do the rest.
—A spirited borse will in the end be
made slow and spiritiess by constant nag-
ng, twitching of the lines, peevish urg-
and other wearing processes that fres-
tal drivers practice.
A a Hoe Denes of oducs th
ry pal ous as
rg Erg son Mor ob ego Bong vi a
ing yonog oalves. It will save the tromble
of carrying calves throngh.
—Match your farm horses. They should
be alike in size and shape, bus by far the
they should
possess like obaracteristios of temper and
disposition so they will work in barmony.
—Do vot sell a faithful, worn-out horse
to a pedler. Five dollars is usnally the
most he will give for such a horse, and few
men would care to be kept awake as nights
by dietarbing thoughts of how they came
by the five dollars.
—In an address op the subject of corn,
Professor Beal remarked shat she most
ear was the bess for seed ; of two fields, one
planted with seed taken at random and the
other selected in she field, the latter yield.
ed as much again as the former,
—It rye is sowed this fall as a green
manure for potatoes next season, I believe
it would be better to plow it under next
spring after it gets a good start ‘and no
wait till it gets tall. Then the rye will rot
better before planting time and you will
get more good from it.
—The next time yon ran up agaives a
coutrary hog that refuses to go through a
chate into the wagon, try the followin
plan : Clap a feed basket over his head,
he will back anywhere you waus him to
go. By a little maneuvering you can bave
the hog in the wagon before he knows is.
—I claim, and always bave claimed, that
any intelligent man can stack grain well
enough 80 that is will arn water. I will
put it this way: Any mao who knows
enoughjto operate a farm properly need not
hesitate about learning bow to stack grain,
athough I have known lots of men who
thrashed from the shook, giving as the rea-
son that they didn’t know bow so stack.
—Give mea well conditioned horse every
time. You can’t ges horsepower oat of skin
and boues any more than you can get fire
out of ecrap iron. Is takes big broad,
plump muscles to do work. The reason
that a horse gets thin when he works hard
is not because in thas condition he is bes-
ter fitted to do bard work, hut bscause all
the energy in hie body that is stored up as
fat hae been reduced.
—The following method will appeal to
every farmer as the easiest, quickest and
leass expensive plan for storing all kinds of
fruit avd vegetables, from a potato to a
Jutpkia : Arrange the fruit or vegetables
oa long row, as high and as wide as
would seem advisable. Spread a little hay
over them, aud ves ap fodder on each side
to the desired thickness —say, three or four
feet. This affords excellent piotection from
ordinary cold ; and in the case of pnmpkin,
turnip or cabbage storage, or any other
article fed to stock, youn have the means as
bavd with which to form a most desirable
balanced ration as you feed out the corn
and fodder. This method will prove espe-
cially valuable to renters and others who
are compelled to move early in the spring,
when it wonld be extremely unbandy to
through the frozen ground, and *‘fish
out” fruit or vegetables from the old-
fashioned ‘‘hole’ or pit. From October
Farm Journal,
State Zoologist Sarface, Harrishurg, has
had his attention called to the prevalence
this year of a white scale on raspberry
bushes, which has done much damage. In
replying to one correspondent, who stated
that » number of his y stalks were
killed by the scale, Professor Surface said :
This pest is known as the Rose Scale,
and is sometimes called the Raspber
Scale. It does not attack trees, bus it
quite injuiions to rose bnshes and rasp-
berry bashes. 1t is to he killed by a good
contact insecticide, such as can be nsed
successfully for San Jose Scale. I have
friends who bave entirely cleaned it up in
their fields by the thorough use of the
lime sulpbar-wash spray. I shonld use
either the commercial lime-sulphur-wash,
dilated one to eight, or the home-boiled,
using the formula of seventeen pounds of
sulphur and gil-Ive of lime, boiled
together one r, with enough water to
boil, and then sufficient water added to
make fifty gallons, supplying most of the
water after boiling.
“This is she regular lime-sulphur.-wash
as for San Jose Seale. It is in.
tended only for dormant plants, or, in
other words, to be applied when the leaves
are off ; but it can be used on the trunks of
trees and the stems of raspberries and
roses, where it does not get on the new
growth of this year nor on the leaves.
You can apply it to all parts of the tree
ahove eave those which have grown
this year. It can be applied with a paint
, but it will be quicker and more
economical to nse a epray pump, and a
more thorough job can be done.
‘‘Instead of spraying the old raspherry
canes for soale at this time of year, I re-
commend cutting them ont and burning
them as once. This gets 11d uf 8 great many
pests. The canes have already done their
duty by bearing fruit and is will give more
room for new stalks to develop. It would
he excellent practice to ont and burn old
raspberry and blackberry bushes as soon as
the Irait ie gathered. You would nos only
kill insect pests but also destroy disease
germs. To get the beat possible results,
one should have a hot brash fire built, upon
which the newly oni stalks could be
thrown, even burning them before
wilt, if all the pests are to bedenivoped;
some of the young inseots escape to the new
canes they will not mulviply rapidly hg
to prove serions, and this fall, after
Ee BO ar ae Be
and pine apples, Sechler & Co.
wash, just the same as for San Jose scale.”