EI Ps go Beworwaii aldwan. Bellefonte, Pa., February, 3, 1911. UTOPIA. There is a garden where lilies And roses are side by side: | And alll day between them in silence The silk butterflies glide. 1 may not enter the garden, | ‘Though I know the road thereto: And morn by morn to the gateway ! 1 see the children go. ‘They bring back light on their faces: But they cannot bring back to me ‘What the lilies say to the roses, Or the songs of the butterflies be. —Francis Turner Palgrave. A JUNGLE GRADUATE. The moonlight fell upon Schreiber's bald head a*he jerked his body out {al 2 i i t 23 g : 235. HH g ; Rizets ii B® F ; going mad he would i have on the i z th H i was mad, all to think | -outang He sit alongside his old head to know man was so excited The brute didn't know of the | dreams of Monsieur Pierre Lesohn. No, | my friend. He didn't know that the Frenchman was going to make a tal | of his wisdom upon which he climb and kiss his fingers to the Milky Way. Oh, no! He was only an orang-outang | and he didn’t know that e would pay four thousand marks a week to see him stick his blue nose into a stein and puff at a cigarette. Ach! it sickens me. “Then one da got sulky | £8 iL g i stinking mud banks of the Samara. | was here tonight snake escaped. thinking of the | chokes the whistle of the cicada and it boule- | seems to e Sank-Cols in Hiuimel § how , from waving I rE on | Tee ae he 1h ee the am not t t T even here, and probably will be found for t. And I things that can feel in a way that | RS The Last English Wolf. The wolf is a very hard animal to ex- terminate. It is practically absent from the eastern United States, but stray in- I dividuals are still found in the mountains when the vermilion Often in the forest it stop the little blades of When: can- centuries to cane. There are wolves in not feel are much afraid. every great country of the Continent of “It was that kind of a silence that I after many centuries of civiliza- feel when Iwas going up the path to tion. In France several hundred are kill- Lesohn’s bungalow. It was like ice upon ed every year. In Great Br.tam, how- my spine. It came around me and touch- ever, tnere are no wolves. 1radition ed me like ten thousand cold hands. I records that the last one was kiled in am not imaginative, no, but in the jungle the year 1700, and the story of how it one gets a skin that feels and sees and was'done has been told by many a nre- hears. And my skin was working over- sige. time just then. It was telling my brain It is in Southerlandshire, Scotland, that something that my brain could not un- the scene of the tradition 1s laid. A shep- derstand. herd named Polson had discuvered in tne “I walked on my toes through the man- rocks near Flen-Loch the den of a woll grove bushes at the top of that path. I wnicn naa veen ravaging the country. know not why, but I did. Iwas near to poison nad witn hsm ms son and anoth- making a discovery. | knew that. i paper, the monkey at the that went with it. and would not do a single thing. I think the re of | Lesohn was drunk that day. He must e have been. The brute was sulky and the : £ : : , stopped and peeped through the branch- es and | saw something. Gott! Yes! saw something that made me reach out er young snepherd boy. ‘Ine moutn of the uen was very narrow. Discovering irom certain signs that the oid wolt was The | week at the Royal it It turned me sick. to me. 83 2s g I said nothing. “ ‘Well?’ he snapped, ‘] asked you what des Primroses Boating ! you thought of it. “ ‘Not much,’ I said. not. “‘You old fool! he cried out. ‘That he donesomething.” a, Music Hall in Picca- ed to pulsate as Schreiber monkey is earning two hundred dilly. He is making a fortune for his “4 do not care,’ I said, ‘I am not con- cerned one little bit.’ ysterious “‘Ho, ho!" he sneered. ‘You want to | the lonely bu the | work in this stinking jungle till you die, | tive, wide-ey like you and me. | Frenchman was drunk. Pierre told me was sitting at a desk smoking a . of it afterward. The mias knocked over | making a bluff that he was . the SHecimencases and werit cranky. | t , Lesohn I handed the paper | saw the boulevards an too. He the house at ! Passy and the ballet-girls and the Cafe away on the mon- e got sick. He got went cranky, key's tantrums, and ‘It interests me very sick. He swigged away at the flat ! bottle till he went nearly mad, and then le appear- ted in his | story to listen again to the sounds that | came from within. There was a witc in the soft night. It touched one wit ‘'m i fingers. It watched outside alow, wondering, inqusi- The bluey depths of the jun “He must have been mad,” continued had, but I didn't in- | the German, “mad or very drunk. The by Lesohn's to be buried out here | bungalow, and the Samarahan was alive at that place. Dirty, ugly, scaly-backed crocodiles Sept in the mud there all day hate crocodiles. They turn the Cafe des | though—mad with drink and mad ‘be- Dyak mat was stretched did not relax. | eh? I have other thingsin my mind,Schrei- | He gave one the impression of a man | ber.’ I knew he sifting the noises of the night with his lerrupt him just then. ‘Yes,’ he cried | Samarahan flowed right whole body. out, ‘l do not want Suddenly his head came sharply down | with the wahwahs singing the "Dead | between his shoulders, and the chair | March” over my grave. I want to die in groaned a test as he left it with a | Paris. And I want to have some fun be- | long. Ugh! spring. A line upon the | fore I die, Schreiber. There is a little | me sick. The Frenchman he was mad, mocn-whitened path, the heavy Ger- whose father “man pounced upon it with the agility of acat. “It is that damn vermilion snake,” he ted, holding the thing up By the tail as he ON poi the door. ‘ is the second time he has escaped.” When the chair had again recei him with a long-drawn creaking sound, I put a on. Did you see him before he started across the path?” I asked. “No.” snapped Schreiber. “1 just felt that things are not right. That is easy. When he escaped it caused alittle silence and just a little change in the note of | those that didn't keep altogether quiet. Listen, please, now.” From inside the darkened bungalow came a peculiar wasp-like buzzing, that filtered unceasing into the mysterious | night. The surrounding jungle to be listening to it, At first it d lang J Mon Dien! Whydid I come to | cause he thought the orang-outang was this wilderness?’ “ ‘And how will that help you?’ ed, pointing to the paper that had th picture of the smart monkey in it. I ask- | { turning stupid.” “Well?” 1 gasped, “what happened?” e The night was listening to the story. The i buzzirg noise from the prisoners died “‘How?’ he screamed. ‘How? Why, down to the faintest murmur. you old stupid, I, Pierre Lesohn, will train | an orang-outang too. "It is not good to make a brute into a “Well,” repeated the naturalist, “Pierre t that orang-outang a lesson He tied the animal to the | Lesohn tau, : in obedience. human,’ I said. ‘I would not try if I were | trunk of a tree near the mud banks—yes, rou.’ i near the stinking, slimy mud banks that “Lesohn laughed himself nearly into | smell like assafoetida and then he, Pierre, convulsions when great joke to him. and laughed for ten minutes without un- out of Paris. The smart men should al- ways stay in the cities. The jungle is not for them. It agrees only with men face. He was a smart man, | Lesohn—too smart to come | Lesohn laughed. He told me of this af- Shpeared who have made a proper assay of their ' big mias was afraid, very much afraid. | defied the | faculties. Lesohn never had time to make | You know the cold eye of the crocodile? I said that. It was a!laid himself down on the veranda of his He fell on the bed | bungalow with his Winchester rifle in his ! lap. “*“The orang-outang whimpered, and {terward. The orang whimpered again | and again. Then he cried out with fear. i A bit of the mud started tomove, and the attempts of the ear when it sought to an assay. He was too busy scheming.” | It is the icicle eye. It is the eye of the analyze the medley, then the different’ noises asserted themselves slowly. It was the inarticulate cry of the German's | prisoners. There was the soft moaning | of the wakeful gibbon, the pat pat of the civet, the whimper of the black monkey, the snuffling of caged small things, and | the rustle of snakes that crawled wearily | around their boxes. The sounds seemed | to bring to the place a peculiar aura that | put the bungalow apart from the uatram- | Mcled jungle that surrounded it on all “They are all right now,” murmured the German cotentedly. “They are quiet | so." “But how did they know that the ver- milion snake had escaped. They're in in the dark.” The naturalist laughed, the pleasant laugh of the man to whom aquestion like mine brings the thrill of subtle flattery. “How?” he repeated. “My friend. the bbon in there felt it in his blood, ja. | e whimper softly, oh, so softly, and the news run along the cages. The dark makes no difference tothe wild people. Every little bit of their bodies is an eye. Every ' little hair listens and tells them some- thing. That is as it should be. I felt the change in their notes. [ was dreaming | of Jan Wyck’s place in Amsterdam just then, and | wake up mighty quick. The black monkey stopped quiet, for the black ' monkey is wise, but the tune of the oth- ers changed to pianissimo very, very sud- den. A snakeis a fellow that can get in | anywhere. Listen to them now. I did. not tell them that he was back, but they know.” i A feeling of nauseation crept over me as the German spoke haltingly, groping | for the words to express himself. Tome the bungalow appeared as a leprous spot in the jungle of wild, waving tapang, pan- danus, and sandalwood, laced together with riotous creepers. The whimpering, snuffling, and protesting rustling a, me shiver, and I surprised myself by icing my thoughts. “It seems so infernally cruel,” I stam- mered. “If you look at—" The naturalist interrupted me with a quiet laugh, and I remained silent. The big Seerschaum was being puffed vigor- y. “It is not cruel,” he said, slowly. “Out there,” he waved a hand at the blue-black smear of jungle that looked like a foun- dation upon which the pearly sky reared itself, “they are dining on each other. My prisoners are safe and have plenty. Did you not hear just now how it trou- bled them when the snake escaped? So! The black mon has a little one and | she was afraid. jungle life is not a! lengthy one for the weak. I was at Am- sterdam five years ago—Ach Gott! it seems fifty years ago—and at Hagen- | beck’s I see a one-eared mas that | trap- | ped years ago. She looked well. Would she be alive here? I do not know." The irritating droning noise continued | to pour out of the bungalow. It floated out into the night that appeared to be all ' ears in an effort to absorb it. i “No, captivity is not bad if they are treated right,” continued the naturalist, and can you tell me where they are not treated well?” I didn’t answer. Confronted with a re- quest for reasons to back up my stam- merad protest, 1 found myself without any. ber’s captives were well fed. | The baby monkey was guarded from the The big German smoked silently for several minutes, his eves fived on the. i ju belt in front. . : zoological treat their ani- mals better than treats human beige” he said, tly. “And the nat. ? Well, treat them well. | never knew one who did not." ‘ He 2 for i i en | gave a throaty gurgle. mory i pushed forward something that displeas- ! “I madea mistake,” he remarked harsh- : would cry out. . that was just two days. It did so. Schreiber stopped and ward in the big chair. gone astray in the buzzing noise from the prison-house, and like a maestro he lis- tened for the jarring note. Softly he rose from his seat and slipped into the interior darkness. When he returned he relit his pipe slowly—the jungle life makes a man's movements composed and deliberate— then he settled himself back in the seat of his own manufacture. "The little one of the black monkey is ill,” he ained. "If it was in the jun- e it would die. Here it will live, I think. ut we will get back to Lesohn, the smart Frenchman who should have stayed in Paris. He pasted that picture of the man- ape over his cot, and he looked at itevery day. It got between him and his sleep. "“Two hundred pounds a week,’ he ‘Think of that, you old, squarcheaded Dutchman. That is nearly five thousand francs! That is four thous- and marks! Could we not train one too?’ “‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I like the orang- outang just as he is. He suits me like that. If he got so elever that he could smoke my cigars and read my letters I would not like him onebit. He would be out of the place that God gave him in the animal kingdom.” “1 annoyed Lesohn by telling him that. I Suvoyed in ay i ree days afterward a tra an orang-outa: tting out of its aug and the Frenchman t it “It is just the size I want,’ said to Fogelberg and me. ‘I want to train it as quick as I can. Ho, ho! you two fools, just wait. There is a little girl whose father keeps the Cafe des Primroses— wait, Dutchman, and see thi Prof. Pierre and his wonderful trained orang-outang! Five thousand francs a week! Is it not good?’ “But Fogelberg and I said nothing. We knew the status of the orang-outang in the Snima) kingdom, oud we were oy tent to leave him on his proper Mother Nature fixes the grades, and she knows that the orang is: not the fellow that shall send notes to his sweetheart or puff cigars when he is sitting in tight boots that squeeze his toes that have been made for swinging him through the palm trees. From the ant-eating manis with his horn armor, right up to Pi Lesohn, Mother Nature has settled things very Property and very quietly L n was not the man for the wil- derness. No, my friend. He was all bub- ble, all nerves, and he wanted to feed on excitement ten times a day. And there is no excitement here. Not a bit. Peo- ple in the cities think that there is, but they are mistaken. Thisis a cradle where you get a rest if you sit quiet. Do you understand? The Frenchman could not Sit iat. His ine ngtion made him a millionaire after ad that orang-outang It bought him a uick. house at Passy, and a and the smiles of the Grand Casino. Some men are like that. They make their imaginations into gas- wagons and ride to the devil. And Lesohn was Siang something that didn’t improve things. He kept a square bottle under his cot, and he toasted the monkey and the good times that he was going to have in Paris—toasted them much too often for my liking. “That monkey learned things mighty fast. He was a great mimic, a very great mimic. Every time Foghorn I pull ed down to Lesohn's , French- poi Jroted the damn hairy brite out to or our approval. Fogelberg didn't like it. 1 didn’t like it. Nein! We told Lesohn and he laughed and made fun of us. I rT sri ou , you two -snarers You wait! Professor Pierre Lesohn and his trained orang-outang at five thousand francs a week! Five thousand francs! Think of it! In the Cafe des Primroses I will think sometimes of you two fools on carriage and pair, ballet-girls at the | in leaned for- | monte sharp. No animal has such a cold mething had | eye. The shark? Nein! The shark has ' (a fighting eye. The crocodile doesn’t fight. He waits till all the cards are his way. Heis a devil. That tied-up pet of Lesohn’s attracted the dirty brute in the | mud, and the orang-outang had been fool enough to tell him by that whimper that he was heipless. See? “The crocodile watched him for one hour—for two hours—for three hours. He thought it might be a trap. Lesohn watched, too. He was teaching the mon- key what mighty smart fellows come out of Paris. “The crocodile knocked the mud off his back to get a better view, and the orang screamed out to Pierre to save him. He screamed mighty hard. He chattered of the things he would learn if Lesohn came to his aid quick, but Lesohn smiled to himself and sat quiet. "The crocodile dug himself out of the mud and looked at the mias, and the mias | shivered in every bit of his body. Lesohn | told me all about it afterward. He said | | the monkey cursed him when the croco- | dile flicked the water out of his eye and | moved a little farther up the bank. That | icicle eye had the orang-outang fascinat- | Ey il rere prayed in m gi i that gave the crocodile plenty heart. Ach yes! He thought that he held four aces in the little game with the orang, and he { thinks it good to take a chance. He made a big rush at the tree, but Pierre was waiting for that rush. He threw the | rifle forward quick, the bullet took the | brute in the eye, and he flopped back into | the stinking mud with a grunt of disgust. “You see what Lesohn was? He was a madman. Next day when Fogelberg and | EL So thee e Sol uw al! about it, | a a lot. orang-outang was so mighty afraid that Lesohn would repeat the stunt that he was h round doing i | I raround in my brain and I was petting , lips got dry. , from the mud, and then—why, | knew! : had happened. Yes, I knew. | the orang, and I clutched the rifle tight | | and it was there as a | Pierre was helpless. It was plain—oh, so | and then it was too late. -| ed back a dozen times, still crying, time | out there”"—the German waved a hand at ‘No more sulks from him! Here!’ he yelled to the he WY Sorel ’ 't that monkey rush to get it You bet he did. He went as if Ke matter of life and death to him, and I SUPDUGE i Was 30 is And Le- shrieked with laughter till you could Brunei. a Itam- | orang, | i " EE3 siers space. It died away suddenly, leaving an of expecta t put one's nerves on a tension to listen for something that it y “Go on!” I cried excitedly. Tell me | Schreiber, quietly, “I down the Samarahan. When I came in front of Lesohn’s bungalow I called out to him, but I got no answer. ‘He is in the forest,’ and get a drink.’ It was a day, and the Samarahan is not a summer resort. Nein! It is not. “Did you ever feel that a silence can be too much silence? Sometimes in the jungle 1 feel a hush that is not nice. It Tell me what ™ “Four eet night,” said Seas I said to myself; ‘T will go up to the hut y " - not at nuine, and being himsesn 100 large for the news that my skin was trying 10 1g enter wie Uen, Polson sent the two tell me. 1 knew, and 1 did not know. Do boys In to see it there were any young you understand? 1 chased that thing all ives. ‘The boys crept in, and presently dis- closer to it each minute. The things covered a bed in which hve lusty young thought of made it come cioser. and my wolves were lying. I'hey called out; I thought of what Leschn «g ! Father: We've found the littl had done to that orang, how he had tied Segthey Fattier: 'Weive foun tne ttle him to the tree and frightened him into a wp ; ’ ick!” Polson shout- fit with the cold stare of that scaly-back- oq he 5 Shoke em) que sun Smo ed crocodile, and while | thought of that The poys began to beat the young I watched the veranda of the bungalow. ives with their sticks, whereupon the I seemed to see that monkey tied to the jive animals set up a ternble yelping, tree and that icicle eye looking at him hich could be heard outside the den. Suddenly the she-wolf jumped out of a It came on me like a flash. | felt as if [ 3 Ln bush close by and rushed past the was hit with a sandbag. herd and into the narrow hole that led to For three minutes I could not move, pa. nest. then | staggered toward the veranda. Do you know what was there? Tha! big ug- Fbruteof a mias was fumbling with the Lrenchmar's rifle, and he was crying like a lyuman. “Father! “‘Where is Lesohn?' 1 cried out. from within, "what is it that stops the ‘Where is he?’ And then I laughed like a }ight?” madman at my own question. My skin, “You'll find out,” exclaimed Polson, “if that was all eyes and ears, had told me the tail breaks!” where Lesohn was. Jah! It was so. * He held manfully to the she-wolf’s tail, “The big mias sprang up on his feet however, his feet braced against the en- and he looked at me just as if he under: trance to the cave. The young wolves stood every word said. My legs were yelped, the she-wolf struggied. It was a as weak as two blades of grass. 1 hed terrific tussle, with the she-wolf’s mother- not seen the thing done. Ach! It was Jove pitted against the man’s father-love. strange. I thought [ had dreamed about Presently the shepherd, bracing himself it, but then I knew I hadn't. It was the anew, managed to whip out his hunting- silence, and the crying mias, and some- | knife, and stabbed the wolf repeatedly in thing inside me which told me it is not the haunches and sides. She could not good to teach a brute too much. ‘Where turn about, and the man had the advan- 1s he?” 1 cried out again. ‘Show me tage as long as he could cling to her tail. where he is?’ + She sankdown dead at last, and, as the “The orang wiped the tears from his . boys had already succeeded in killing the ugly blue nose and touched me with his | litle wolves, she was the last wolf killed big, hairy arm, and then he started to ' on British soil. shamble toward the mud banks where the Frenchman had tied him to give him that little lesson in obedience. i “l was sick then. That atmosphere turned me all upside down. I knew what She leaped so quickly that Polson could not stop her until she had partly got into + the hole; but he managed to seize her by the tail. Father! the boy called out : The Trick of Breathing Flames and Sparks From the Mouth. Fire tricks were practiced in very My mind | anelent times. The first known fire had pieced things together like the pieces | yregther was a Syrian slave named of a picture puzzle. knew what Lesohn | ppg oy jeader in the Servile war in had done to the brute, | knew the imita- | jelly. 130 B. ". He pretended to have tive ways of the mias, and I knew that | Ys * Lar AC : Pierre was often drunk—very often drunk. immediate communication with the And then there was the knowledge which | gods. When desirous of inspiring his my skin had strained out of the silence. followers with courage he breathed A cold sweat ran from me as 1 followed | flames and sparks from his mouth, In order to accomplish this feat Bu- as I got near the mud bank and looked | yug pierced u nutshell at both ends, around for something to confirm the hor- | and, having filled it with some burn- ror that my soul had sensed. And the ing substance, he put it in his mouth proof was there, It was a coat sleeve : tied to the tree where the Frenchman had and breathed through it. The same trick is performed today in a more tied the mias a week before,and thesleeve wasn't empty. Nein! The cordshad been approved manner. The performer rolls tied around the wrist of Pierre Lesohn, some flax or hemp into a ball about and the cords were very strong. They ' the size of eo walnut, which he lets had stood the strain of the pull, and— pyupy until it is nearly consumed. rolls around it more flax proof of what had | Then he is still burning. By this happened. | while it must oes HB Dan Te while | means the fire is retained in the ball he was drunk it had come into the ugly | for a long time, He slips this ball head of that brute to let Pierre get a!into his mouth unperceived and thrill from the icicle eye of the scaly-! breathes through it. His breath vre- backed Gevils in the TE He had tied i vives the fire, and he sustains no in- Lesohn to the tree, and then he got | jury ro lon he inhales only through Hie HI eric he Frncman by sitting | JY ro duns i 3 on the vi to watch fort rstone: yr \ : i Yarious theories have been advanced of those things that would find out that | to account for other feats of this sort performed by the ancients. An old ordeal was the holding of a redhot iron by the accused, who was not burned if he were innocent. Probably some protective paste was used on the hands. The peculiar property of mineral salts, such as alam, in pro- tecting articles of dress from fire has long been known. An old Milanese devised a costume consisting of a cloth covering for the body which had been steeped in alum, A metallic dress of wile gauze was added to this, and thus protected a man might walk on hot iron.--Harper's. plain to me. But the Frenchman, in educating that had f en to teach him how toload a rifle. It was un-! fortunate, was it not? The rifle was empty, and when the dirty brutes came out of the mud, the mias could do nothing. Gott ! no! He just fumbled with the breech and cry like a human being till I came along, “What did you dothen?” I cried, as the German's heavy bass tones were pursued and throttled by the tating silence. “I did nothing," sai ber, quiet- ¥ "Lesohn had told me what he had ne Jo that bras, Fate -Nemesis- <al ] it what you wi y looked at the orang-outang, and bi ed away from me, crying. And he look- till the | Somewhere London's Dramatic Censors. London has had its absurd dramatic censors even if it cannot quite come up jungle swallowed him up. the dark forest that was watching and | to Vienna. Colley Cibber in his auto- listening—*“there is an oranff with | plography tells us of one master of the R arp y on his mind."—By James revels who was responsible for the li- Dwyer, in Harper's Weekly. A Planter of Pearls. censing of plays in those days expung- ing the whole first act of “Richard 1[1." cn the ground that the distresses of Henry VI. would remind weak people We hear of try farms, and bee arms farms of King James, then living in 'rance. farm h OF cattle but, ang Gop fo Jus, and In fact, Shakespeare has more than once been censored, for “King Lear" far there is only one farm. It is a large farm, i ty Ore pearl Tar. JE 3 large was inhibited during the {illness of and suqare miles and is covered by shal- | George III. George Colman when low water. The site of this farm is Tor- | reader of plays bauned the use of such oo Sire; t, at the northmost point of | words as angel and heaven.—London It belongs a capitalist kuown in that Chronicle. ENS uarter of world as “the king of pearl- fishers.” He stocked it with one hun- Dew Authors. The society of dead authors has this advantage over that of living men— they never flatter us to our faces, or slander us behind our backs, or intrude upon our privacy, or quit their shelves until we take them down.—Colton, What They're Not Doing. When two women get their heads to- gether in a parlor it's un safe het that harvest is no mean one, for the when sold in London, fetch two hundred thousand dollars FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. Let us be of good cheer, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.—Oliver Wendel! Holmes. The peasant features are being empha- sized in most of the indoor frocks worn by small girls in this winter season, and some of them hang in a straight smock like a French workman's blouse, without belt or break. It is the approved thing, just now, to make these littie dresses as narrow and straight as possible, and with- out ornamentation, as this style enables the wearers to slip into and out of their coats and wraps much more easily. Some o: these little frocks look as though they were falling from the shoulders, and were only held there by the inserted guimpe and stronge stitches. The kimono sleeves are not as comfortable for a restless, active child to wear as those where the armhole seam allows greater movement to the arms. Although every precaution should be taken to prevent children from catch- ing cold while they are out exercising each pleasant day, it is a great mistake to overclothe them. Dressing tkem too warm ly is worse than the other alternative of insufficient clothing, and makes them even more liable to suffer from cold. This is especially true of boys who are anxious to run and jump and engage in active winter sports. It should always be re- membered that children are more warm- blooded than adults, and therefore a dif- shep- ferent rule applies to them, and they should have coats of varying warmth, the selection being made after consulting the thermometer. For the use of the little white-clad chil- dren, rubber overshoes of white have been manufactured, and nowadays when one | goes to buy a pair of overshoes for a child, it is not difficult to match his leggins, for the three styles of black, brown and white about cover the range of variety in those articles. Party shoes of black velvet, intended to be drawn over the slippers and silk stockings will be found most useful for a young girl's wearing to the winter festiv- ities permissible while she is still attend- ing school, and just the thing for a long automobile trip, because they are so warm and comfortable. They are by no means clumsy in appearance, and are fitted neatly into rubber soles. The costume of the schoolgirl should never be a matter of indifference to those who decide what she shall wear, for she is a good subject for simple tailor-made effects. As soon as her frocks touch her ankles, the young girl is ready for tailor- made gowns, and her slim figure carries | off those chic little costumes of cloth, or i zibeline, or artine, in the best manner ! possible. The idea of "girlishness” should i never be lost sight of until she is “out” | in society, as there is no more ridiculous : sight than a slip of a schoolgirl assuming | the styles and manners of a grown-up woman before she arrives at that estate. Charming is the young girl who keeps + within her giriist ness, without any desire of imitating her older sisters, her man- ner and attire both carrying out this idea. A certain girl of this type has a gown of tan-colored zibeline for everyday school wear. [tis a semi-princess model made on the simplest lines, with a shirred chif- ‘fon guimpe and a band oi tucked trim- ming around the skirt-hem, bordered on both edges with black velvet. This same trimming borders also the shoit, one-but- toned coat, and is inserted, epaulette-wise in the shoulder, under a narrow shawl- collar of black velvet. Her tan-colored ! velvet mushroom hat has :ts becomingness enhanced by a "milliner’s curve” above | the face, and there is a large double bow of self-colored Liberty, which extends "halfway around the crown. She wears some pretty lipis beads, and big cross-fox | muff with a bushy tail swinging below | Mr. Reynard’'s sly old nose, and as she : strides along she makes a charming pic- ture, of which she is quite unconscious. Vogue Points.—The fad for ornaments | in the form of the butterfly is probably Ee Hy Tg | fancies being erally the out-form | ripples of a Ea splash of some new | excitement, the butterfly wings itself over iawide area. The design is shown in i fabrics and laces and makes a striking corsage ornament in gold andsilver mesh. The butterfly motif is shown alike in veii- i ings and handsome garniture. It ' a charming hair ornament in gold and ‘silver filigree, and the milliners have ' been quick to seeits possibilities for their (ends. Butterfly bows of satin are used | effectively on smart folks. And lastly, i rhinestones in the wing design are a ‘ novelty for black satin slippers. . The cord-and-tassel seem about the | only concession granted the waistline at | present. However, it is making the most | of its opportunity, and we have it alike ! on evening gown and morning blouse. It , is the distinctive finish for the ci ; waist, that smart little model ends. And again, a cord tied at one side made a most effective note for a handsome tunic woven colored beads of dark blue or gar- | net. Some of these handles are merely | plain, s t shafts so others are finished with | smart style of handle feat: a | polished piece of beautiful wood finished TP | color. Handsome of gold richly | engraved are also displayed. “Blood Tells.” That old saying may have many appli- tions. When the face is blotched with i ! i » ca and upward every year. they're not discussing the weather.- pimples, the body vexed with eruptions rr ————————— Detroit Free Press, jor eaten by sores, the blood is telling of Smart tailored stocks are now shown ,—————— { its impure condition. as we put out in for wear with the linen and ma-| This is the best day the world has | 4 red or yellow flag in the front of the which are a special feat- | ever seen. Tomorrow will be better.— | house where a ngerous disease is ure of a . One exceedi R. A. Campbell. rampant, so Nature puts out the yellow smart stock has a linen collar quite h EE flag of saffron skin, or the red flag of rash with a one-inch turnover divided front The Announcement Followed. ' or eruption to indicate the diseased con- and back. With this collar a satin foulatd | She—They say there are germs In dition of the blood. r symptoms stock tie with a bow worn, and the | kisses. Now, what do you suppose a | of a disordered condition of the blood ap- white polka dot with black or navy blue | girl could catch that way? | pear. the use of Dr. Pierce’s Golden is the most effective. This stock wasseen | He—A husband.— Ladies’ Home Jour edical Discovery should be begun at early in the winter with the riding habit. | nq; | once. It purifies the blood perfectly. It It was especially remarked at the Horse at esis an | removes the poisonous substances which Show. Ascotstocks in the new figured A pound of care will not pay an | Cause blotches, pimples and sores. The "| ounce of debt.—Dutch Proverb. | and healthy blood. result is a smooth
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers